TELLS HOW A BULLY ENTERED THE “KING’S ARMS”
There were sundry other patrons of the “King’s Arms” gathered in the
public room at the time, dining on the wholesome food for which the
inn was noted. There were officers of the colonial army; there were,
also, citizens of the town, who, judging from their discourse, were
of various political complexions; and, also, there were many smartly
attired ladies of apparent consequence.
The peppery Lee and his successor in command of New York had shown a
marvelously short temper in their dealings with the more vigorous of
the Tories; but for all that there were many of them left in the town,
and, too, they were not of the sort that keep a still tongue to gain
favor.
Indeed, as he listened to the conversation going on upon all sides,
young Prentiss was greatly astonished. Round about Boston, the king’s
men had not dared to express themselves since Boston fight; but here
they not only proclaimed their views, but the patriots listened
patiently.
“It is because the matter has not progressed so rapidly here as in
Boston,” he reasoned with himself. “The king’s army is not strong
enough to take the initiative--and the friends of liberty have not yet
abandoned hope of patching up matters with the ministers at London.”
Very near to George, one of these discussions was fast gathering
volume, but, as his breakfast on board the “Nancy Breen” had been of
the slimmest, he gave more attention to his dinner than to the dispute.
But gradually, as the voices grew in sternness, the young fellow
noticed something familiar in them; so turning his head he recognized
Merchant Camp, his partner Dana, and the heavy-faced young militiaman,
Camp’s nephew.
The old Tory merchant, a napkin tucked about his neck, was flourishing
his fork and airing his opinions with much relish. He sat directly
facing his nephew, and seemed to be scorching him with sarcasm and his
private version of the facts.
“Keep to your opinions, if you style them as such,” he was saying. “You
are only a lad and I will not quarrel with you because of them. But, as
sure as the sun shines at this moment, there will be wreck and ruin for
many because of the loose thinking of you and the like of you.”
He put down the fork carefully upon his plate and now shook his finger
beneath the sullen young man’s nose, while he went on:
“Because your party has forced a handful of king’s troops to keep
behind the walls of the fort--because you have taken the government’s
cannon with none to prevent you, you must needs fancy yourselves great
fellows, indeed. And because the king’s frigates do not open upon you,
you think it is because they fear you. Bah, sir, bah! I never credited
reasoning creatures with so little sense. The reason why the garrison
remains quiet--the reason why Lee and Putnam were permitted to seize
the guns--the reason why the frigates below there have withheld their
broadsides, is because they are biding their time. The answer will yet
come, never fear; and when it does, trust His Majesty’s officers to
make it full and complete.”
The heavy-browed young man shook his head, stubbornly, and looked more
sullen than ever.
“They are awaiting reinforcements,” said he. “We all know that. But
what difference does it make? Let them come. By the time they get here,
General Washington will also have arrived with the American army. He
drove the British out of Boston, and he’ll drive them out of New York.”
“He drove them out of Boston--I grant you that. But it was because
vigorous measures had not been taken in the first place. Gage was too
lenient--too easily gulled. He did not dream that British subjects
would ever take up arms against their sovereign. But here it is
different. Howe knows the full measure of this treason, and he should
come prepared to cope with it. He’ll be provided with fleets and
armies and equipment; and no doubt he’ll have his instructions as
to how to act. It’ll not be the case of Gage over again. Trust the
king’s ministers for that. And another thing,” here the old man’s
voice was pitched a key lower, “in the colony of New York, your brave
Washington and his fellows will have a different people to deal with.
The countryside will not be with him as in Massachusetts. There will be
thousands of loyal gentlemen; and besides, there will be the Johnson
family.”
In spite of the lowered voice, the words were caught by those seated
close by; and George Prentiss noticed that every one near paused and
looked up.
“Hah! Those Johnsons!” grumbled a gentleman of undoubted Dutch
extraction at the table at George’s right. “A dangerous set of rascals,
indeed!”
“If I may make bold, sir,” asked the young man, “to whom does he refer?”
The pursy gentleman looked astonished at this.
“Is it possible,” said he thickly, “that there is any one who does not
know of Sir William Johnson, once His Majesty’s Indian agent?”
“But is he not now dead?”
“Yes, but his descendants still live,” complained the other, his broad
Dutch face full of indignation. “Sir William made vast wealth in his
office; he was almost actual sovereign of the Six Nations. His family
have all his riches and all his power over the Indians, and they
threaten to bring the tomahawks upon us if we persist in our demands
for justice.”
George could not help a shudder at this; that the British might resort
to the Indians to help their cause had never occurred to him.
“And, uncle,” demanded the heavy-browed young man, “do you approve of
so barbarous a method of putting down the popular will as Guy Johnson
or Colonel Claus could supply?”
Here Mr. Camp was seized with a fit of coughing; that he did not
approve of it was plain enough; but he was not the man to give an
opponent in debate the slightest advantage. It was Mr. Dana who next
spoke.
“Far be it from any of us to desire bloodshed of whatsoever kind,”
said he. “For my part, I fervently hope that the misguided people of
these provinces will shortly see their error, and abide by what the law
plainly requires them to do.”
Here the sullen young man laughed scornfully.
“There will be blood letting and plenty of it, never fear,” exclaimed
he. “The Sons of Liberty will never give a step in their demands; and
England’s present ministers are not of the sort to let a rich prize
slip from them without a struggle.”
“And why should they?” demanded Mr. Camp in a high voice. “Why should
they, nephew? These colonies cost men’s lives and much treasure to
acquire, and why should the government not defend them?”
Here he plunged into an angry defense of any action that the ministry
might take; his voice was so unguarded and his manner so violent that
the waiters went scurrying here and there; and finally the landlord
himself approached hastily.
“I must beg of you, Mr. Camp,” suggested he in a smooth voice, “that
you moderate your language. You are giving offense to my guests, sir.”
For a moment it seemed as though the short-tempered old king’s man was
about to flare forth as he had upon the wharf earlier in the day. But
a remembrance of what had followed that outburst, perhaps, deterred
him. He waved his hand, and said:
“Ah, yes; I had forgotten. I ask your pardon.”
Highly gratified at quelling a possible disturbance so easily, the
landlord was about to turn away when a voice bellowed:
“Come now, a place--a place! Must I be kept waiting as though my money
were not as good as another’s? Get me a place, blockhead, or I’ll see
what cudgeling will do for you.”
A frightened little man in a huge apron fluttered about somewhat
helplessly.
“Here is a place,” said he, drawing back his chair at a table in a
shadowy corner. “And a very good place, too, sir. Much to be desired,
indeed.”
“You’ll tempt me to lay my stick over your back yet,” bellowed the
impatient guest. “What sort of a situation is that for a man of my
quality? A fitting place for a dog to curl up, but not for a gentleman
to eat his dinner in.”
“This way, sir,” interposed the host, much in haste, for complaint was
distasteful to him. “This way. Here is a place well lighted and well
aired,” and he drew out a chair at George’s table. “The young gentleman
will not object, I’m sure,” and he bowed to George.
“Not in the least,” said George, and as he spoke he glanced up. At once
he recognized in the noisy, ill-tempered guest the burly personage whom
he had seen a few minutes before in conference with Major Hyde and the
dragoon officer, across the way.
“Object!” said the big man in a harsh voice. “Object! Why should he,
I’d like to know? This is a public inn, and I think I know my rights in
such a place.”
So saying, he slapped his dusty beaver hat upon the table and sat down
facing George with noisy ostentation. There was something deliberately
offensive in the man’s manner, and George darted a sharp look at him,
though he said nothing. The newcomer noted the look, and thrusting his
head forward inquired, bluntly:
“You have nothing to say, I trust, young sir?”
“In my turn,” replied young Prentiss, quietly, “I trust that I shall
have no occasion to say anything.”
The burly man did not seem to know how to take this; but evidently he
suspected some hidden meaning in the saying, for his little eyes began
to snap.
“I make it a point to pay as I go, and ask favors of no one,” declared
he. “What have you to say to that?”
“It’s a good resolution, as such things run,” returned the youth. “But,
believe me, sir, I can do very well without the particulars as to your
private affairs.”
The burly personage was taken somewhat aback at this, and his surprise
was so evident that several persons who had been listening laughed
outright. Among these was Herbert Camp, and instantly the big man
selected him from the others and whirled round in his chair.
“I hope, sir,” said he, with much directness, “that you are not
laughing at my expense.”
The sullen-faced lieutenant flushed as he saw the eyes of all within
hearing turn upon him. But he answered readily enough:
“I would be very sorry, indeed, to do anything at your expense.”
“Ah, would you so?” and the man eyed him with singular intentness.
“Well,” with a nod of the head, “I’ll bear you in mind, my lad. It is
possible that I’ll make some small effort in your direction before a
very great while.”
From the time that he had seen his neighbor in conference with Major
Hyde and the officer of dragoons and had caught their gestures, George
had had no doubt but the man’s intentions in entering the “King’s Arms”
was in some way connected with himself. He had given both officers
offense during the morning, and he had felt that the burly one’s errand
was some scheme of retaliation.
The offensive manner of the man toward him seemed to clinch this
belief; but now, as George went sedately on with his dinner, all
the time observing his neighbor, his suspicions gradually changed.
The newcomer paid no further attention to him; indeed, for all the
knowledge he betrayed of his presence, young Prentiss might as well not
have existed.
This seemed odd to George and piqued his interest; he was still
speculating upon its meaning, when he made a peculiar discovery. The
man before him sat, as stated, with his arms folded across his chest;
his eyes had also closed, and a casual observer would have pronounced
him fallen into a doze. But several little things pointed out the real
facts to George. The big man was intently listening to the conversation
which had been resumed at Mr. Camp’s table.