"TRY IT"
The early morning sun, slanting in through a small window, found Major
Studholme seated at his table lost in deep thought. The letter Dane
had brought was lying open before him. Occasionally he glanced toward
it, and each time his brow knitted in perplexity. At length he rose
and paced rapidly up and down the room. With the exception of the
table and a few stools this office was destitute of any furniture. It
was as bleak as the hill upon which Fort Howe was situated. Here the
men of the garrison received their orders, and it was here that the
Major interviewed visitors from Portland Point, and couriers from all
sections of the country. This commanding officer was the same to all
men, so the humblest workman in the trading company's employ, or the
uncouth native from the heart of the wilderness received just as much
attention as men of high rank. Stern and unbending in the line of
duty, Major Studholme realised the importance of his position, and that
as a superior officer in the service of his King he must render
even-handed justice, irrespective of color or rank. A sharp
rat-tat-tat upon the door startled him.
"Come in," he called.
At once the door swung open, and a stalwart, sturdy man entered,
carrying a stout stick in his hand which he used as a cane.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Simonds," the Major accosted, his face
brightening with pleasure and relief as he held out his hand. "I
didn't expect you so early."
"Umph! this is not early," the visitor replied. "It seems late to me.
Why, I've been up all night. Not a wink of sleep have I had. But,
say, I've something here that'll refresh us both."
Drawing a flask from an inner pocket, he stepped forward and placed it
upon the table.
"Have a noggin, Major. The _Polly_ arrived last night, straight from
the West Indies, and Leavitt brought me some special Old Jamaica. I
thought maybe you'd like to test it."
In a twinkling two mugs were produced, and filled to the brim.
"To the King, God bless him," Simonds toasted.
"To the King," the Major responded, as he raised his mug and clinked it
against the visitor's.
When this toast had been drunk, the Major again filled the mugs.
"Now, another," he cried. "To the Loyalists, especially to Colonel
Sterling's daughter, the fairest of them all."
"To the Loyalists and the Colonel's daughter," Simonds repeated.
Again the mugs clinked, and two honest men drank their second toast.
This done, they took their seats at the table, and settled down to
business of a most important nature.
James Simonds was really the business pioneer of Portland Point. He
was a man of outstanding ability and remarkable energy. For years he
had been the moving spirit and leader in numerous enterprises. Of him
and his partner, James White, it was said that "At one time the fishery
claimed their attention, at another the Indian trade; at one time the
building of houses for themselves and their tenants, at another the
dyking of the marsh; at one time they were engaged in the erection of a
mill, at another the building of a schooner; at one time they were
making a wharf, at another laying out roads or clearing land; at one
time they were furnishing supplies and cordwood to the garrison, at
another in burning and shipping lime." In addition to this they owned
and employed a score of vessels, both schooners and sloops, which plied
not only on the river, but beyond the Bay to distant ports.
It was only natural that the commanding officer of Fort Howe should
call upon the senior partner of the company for advice and assistance
in time of need. And two serious problems had now been thrust upon
him. One was the care and disposal of the three thousand Loyalists;
the other, the arrival of Dane Norwood with news of threatening trouble
up river.
"How many vessels have you on hand?" the Major asked.
"Only a few," Simonds replied. "But I expect several more in a few
days. The _Peggy & Molly_ is already spoken for by the people on the
_Union_. They haven't disembarked, as they plan to go up river at
once."
"And you say the _Polly_ arrived last night?"
"Yes, and she is unloading now."
"Well, I want you to keep her for Colonel Sterling, and a number of
other people."
"So the Colonel is going to leave, is he? I was hoping that he would
stay here. Where does he expect to settle?"
"It is not decided yet. However, we shall know in a few days when the
lots are drawn."
"There will be a big load, I suppose. They'll want to take their
boards, shingles, and household effects, no doubt."
"Yes, if you can manage it; otherwise Leavitt will have to make two
trips. And there is something else I want to send."
The Major leaned forward, and touched the letter lying upon the table.
"I received this yesterday from Davidson," he explained, "and he
requests immediate help."
"He does? What's wrong?"
"The slashers are giving him no end of trouble. There is danger of a
serious outbreak, and he has not enough men to cope with the situation."
"So he wants you to send soldiers?"
"He does, and at once. But I cannot spare any men now, as I have
barely enough to guard this place. There are rebels in our midst, and
it is hard to tell what mischief they are planning."
"How do you know that?" the trader asked in surprise. "I thought they
were all up river."
"And so did I until last night. But the young man who brought this
letter from Davidson was attacked by three slashers as he was searching
for me. They met him as he was coming from your store along the
waterfront. Fortunately he was able to put the three to route."
"How did he know they were slashers?"
"Because they demanded the letter he was carrying. It proves that they
were spies, and knew from whence the courier had come."
"It does seem reasonable," the trader agreed. "But I did not know they
were hanging around our store. There has been such a crowd there,
though, the last two days that I could not tell the slashers from the
Loyalists. However, I shall keep a sharp watch after this, and if I
catch them I shall let you know at once. But what about Davidson? He
must be hard pressed, or he would not have sent you that urgent appeal."
"I can't send him any men, Mr. Simonds, that's certain," and the Major
thrummed upon the table as he spoke. "Why, it would take a regiment to
do any good, and I have barely fifty men in all. But I am going to
send him a supply of guns and ammunition. They must go on the _Polly_,
and you are to give Leavitt strict instructions to see that they are
delivered to Davidson as speedily as possible. That is the best I can
do."
A sharp rap sounded upon the door, and at once a soldier entered. He
advanced to the centre of the room, stopped, clicked his heels
together, saluted, and stood at attention.
"Well, Parker, what is it?" the Major asked..
"A man to see you, sir."
"A courier?"
"Yes, sir."
"Send him in at once."
"Yes, sir."
Again the soldier saluted, wheeled, and left the room. In another
minute Dane entered, and at once walked over to where the two men were
sitting. His free and easy manner was in striking contrast to the
soldier's, and this the Major noted. He admired the courier's frank
open countenance, and clear, fearless eyes. He was a man after his own
heart.
"I am glad to see you on time," he accosted.
"I generally try to be," Dane replied. "Have you the message for
Davidson?"
"It's not ready yet, but I shall write it at once."
The Major turned to the table, drew a sheet of paper toward him, and
picked up a quill pen, which he examined critically before dipping it
into the ink. Again he turned to the courier.
"The situation is serious up river, is it not?" he asked.
"It certainly is. Davidson must have help."
"Where is the greatest danger?"
"That is hard to tell. The slashers are scattered over a wide extent
of country, and are to be found in most unexpected places. Why, you
have them in and around here. My Indian and I were fired upon
yesterday while crossing the Kennebacasis, and I was attacked by three
while leaving the trading post."
"And you were fired upon yesterday, you say?" the Major asked in
surprise. "How far out?"
"About ten miles. We had just crossed the portage from the main river
to the Kennebacasis when we heard the slashers at work. We launched
our canoe, and were heading for this side when they blazed at us
several times."
"Dear me! Dear me!" the Major groaned. "I didn't know they were as
bold as all that."
"And they will be bolder yet," Dane warned.
"In what way?"
"They will stir up the Indians, if I am not much mistaken."
"But the Indians are friendly to us. Why, we made a treaty with them
right here nearly five years ago."
"I know that. But the Indians have become quite restless of late.
When the war was on they received special attention from the English
and the Americans. Both sides were anxious to win their good will and
support, and gave them many presents. But now that the war is over the
Indians are neglected, so they are becoming surly, and ready for
mischief. Mark my word, the arrival of these Loyalists will make
matters worse."
"In what way?"
"The slashers will do their utmost to stir up the Indians. They will
tell them that these newcomers will settle on their hunting-grounds,
and kill all their game, while they will be driven out and left to
starve."
"Surely they will not do that."
"They have been doing it already, although they know nothing as yet
about the coming of the Loyalists. They have been filling the minds of
the Indians with all kinds of false stories. So far their words have
had little definite effect, but when the natives see so many white
people settling along the river, I am afraid they will remember what
the slashers have told them, and trouble will follow. Some of the
Indians, I am sure, will stand by the treaty, but I have my doubts
about many others."
During this conversation Mr. Simonds had been a silent and interested
listener. When, however, Dane had ended, he brought his stick down
upon the floor with a bang.
"I believe you are right, young man," he began. "White and I have had
our suspicions of this for some time, and your words confirm what we
have by chance heard. Where do you live, and how is it I have never
seen you before?"
"I live in no special place," Dane replied. "My business as the King's
Arrow takes me everywhere, although this is the first time I have been
sent here."
"How did you come to get that name?"
"Davidson gave it to me. You know, every white pine that is considered
suitable for the King's navy is marked with a broad arrow, I guess that
suggested the idea to Davidson, as I am always darting here and there
like an arrow. Anyway, the name has stuck to me ever since."
"And well that it should," the trader agreed, nodding his head in
approval. "Don't you think so, Major?"
The latter, however, was busily writing, so did not hear the question.
Presently he paused and turned to the courier.
"So you think the Loyalists will be in danger along the river?" he
asked.
"They will, unless the slashers and others who are against the King can
be stopped."
"Who is the ringleader in this rebellion?"
For the first time since entering the room Dane failed to reply. His
bronzed face flushed, and his eyes dropped. This both the Major and
the trader noted, and their curiosity became aroused. They felt that
this courier knew more than he was willing to divulge.
"Are you afraid to tell?" the Major questioned.
Dane suddenly lifted his head, and an angry expression glowed in his
eyes.
"Do you think I am afraid?" he demanded. "Do I look it?"
"Well, no," and the Major slightly smiled. "But why will you not tell
me the name of the ringleader?"
"Because I have a special reason."
"Suppose I make you?"
"Try it."
Although this reply was low and calm, yet the Major had sufficient
knowledge of human nature to know that those two small words meant a
great deal. He truly realised that nothing, not even death, could
force this sturdy courier to divulge the secret against his will. He
wisely dropped the subject, and turned again to the table. Nothing now
was heard in the room but the scratching of the quill across the paper
as the Major fashioned the bold comely letters of his answer to William
Davidson, the King's purveyor. When he had signed his name, he picked
up a small sand-box, and lightly sprinkled the paper. This done, he
rose to his feet, crossed the room, and opened the door.
"Parker, bring me a fire," he ordered.
The soldier thus addressed evidently knew what was needed, for in a few
minutes he entered, bearing in his hands a small iron receptacle
containing a few hot coals. He stood perfectly rigid before the table
while the Major held a stick of sealing-wax to the hot iron, and
allowed a few drops to fall upon the back of the folded letter. When
the Major had pressed his signet ring upon the wax, the task was
finished, the soldier saluted and left the room. After the Major had
addressed the letter, and sprinkled it until the ink was dry, he handed
it to the courier.
"Take this to Davidson," he ordered. "I am glad that I have met you,
young man, and I hope to hear from you again."
Dane took the letter, placed it carefully in an inside pocket of his
jacket, bade the two men good morning, and at once left the room.
"What do you think of him?" the Major asked turning toward the trader.
"A remarkable young man," was the emphatic reply. "But I am surprised
that I have not heard of him before."
"It is strange. But look here, Mr. Simonds," and the Major brought his
fist down heavily upon the table, "if I had a regiment of men like that
courier to send to Davidson, we would have no more trouble with the
slashers and other rebels."
"You're about right, Major. But I'm wondering why he refused to tell
us the name of that ringleader. I must get White to work at this. He
may be able to find out, for he can do more with the Indians than
anybody else."
"I wish you would look carefully into this matter," the Major replied.
"If we can round up that ringleader, it may put a sudden stop to the
whole trouble. I shall send half of my men to capture him if he can be
found."