A NIGHT IN BONDS.
Holmes stepped back and took a survey of the building. His practiced eye
at once took in its strong points. The doors were of hewn oak, crossed
by heavy iron clamps. On the inside, so Van Curter told them, were heavy
bars of seasoned wood, tough and elastic as so much steel, set into iron
rings upon either side of the door. These bars were four in number, at
equal distances from each other. No common power could force one of these
doors from its fastening. These entrances were two in number, one at
the front and one at the back. The windows were seven in number; two
in front, two on each side, and one at the back of the house, fastened,
like the doors, by solid wooden bars. These particulars they gained from
Van Curter, who was angry at the young captain for refusing to yield. He
determined to try him once more, but found him very obstinate. He then
demanded that his daughter should be permitted to leave the house. This
was refused at once.
“Let me understand you, Joseph. Do you mean to tell me, seriously, that
you intend to keep my daughter in the house during the attack which will
be made upon it?”
“I do.”
“Then by that act you at once cancel any trust between us.”
“Let it be as you say. I will make a new bond between us.”
“Will you let my daughter and her cousin go?”
“No, I will not.”
“Why?”
“I keep them as a safeguard. They are the tools by which we will drive
these Yankees away from Good Hope. You will understand it better when you
know that there is to be no childs’-play here—no fighting with cudgels,
as we fought at Windsor. But, with bullet, knife and sword we will make
the house good. Every ball from a rifle which enters this house will put
the life of your daughter in jeopardy. Katrine also will be in danger,
which _is_ a pity, since she is beloved by worshipful Boston Bainbridge.
Where is that godly youth? He should be here to defend her.”
At these words there was a slight commotion in the rear of the group, and
a man strode forward and addressed the captain. It was Boston Bainbridge.
But, what a change had taken place in him! His hair, before rugged and
unkempt, was now allowed to fall loose upon his shoulders after the
manner of the cavaliers. He was carefully and richly dressed; the belt
which encircled his waist bore a long sword and a pair of pistols. His
air was defiant, as seen in the gory light of the coming morning.
“You have called for Boston Bainbridge,” said he, “and he who hath borne
that name for years now stands before you in his own person, Lieutenant
Robert Holmes. What is this I hear? Does yonder knave dare to make women
a target for his protection? How now, sir; do you claim to be a _man_,
and yet need a woman for a safeguard?”
“So Boston Bainbridge is dead, and one has arisen who is of my degree,
and we may cross swords with honor. What care I for what man can say of
me? I know my power. The fair Theresa is in my hands; Katrine is in those
of Carl Anselm. Believe me when I say that they might better be in the
hands of the devil. Draw off your men and leave the place, or we will do
that which will make you and them wish they had never been born. Away, I
say.”
The fearful threat implied in the words of Van Zandt startled his
listeners; there was a quick glance from man to man, to see if every face
looked as ghastly as each felt his own to be. The girls were in the power
of this villain indeed. How could they be succored?
“Joseph,” said the commandant, in a pleading tone. “Remember that we have
been friends for many years, and that I have ever listened kindly to your
suit. You are jesting now. You would not harm my child. Throw open your
doors and let us enter.”
“I will not. We will fight while a hope remains, and when that hope is
gone, you shall have your daughter, as she will be then, not as she is
now!”
“God’s curse upon you, villain. Do you not heed a father’s agony?”
“Not a whit. You have given up the work like a coward, and I no longer
respect you.”
“This shall be answered at the sword’s point,” cried Van Curter, striking
his hand upon his sword-hilt until it rung loudly in the scabbard.
“As you will. I fight no old man without teeth unless he forces it upon
me. Your young friends there might take it off your hands.”
“And they shall!” cried Robert Holmes, Boston Bainbridge no more. “Or my
right hand has forgot its cunning. Hark you, sir; _dare_ you come out and
fight me?”
“I hope I am not such a fool. What surety have I that I should ever see
the inside of this house again?”
“My word.”
“Bah! The word of Boston Bainbridge!”
“Boston Bainbridge is dead. I stand here in his place, a man of honor and
of family, and dare you to the fight.”
“It will not do,” replied the other. “I have the advantage now, and
relinquish it I will not. Go your ways, Lieutenant Boston Bainbridge
Holmes, spy and cheat that you are, and let us go ours. It will be
better.”
The friends drew off and consulted for some time. There seemed no
feasible way of getting into the house, with the fearful menace of Van
Zandt before their eyes. It was fully concluded to appear to draw off
from the house, and by underhand means to gain an entrance. This was
communicated to the defenders of the house, and every one appeared to
leave the spot. Leaving the window to the care of one of his men, the
Dutch captain turned aside into the little room in which the girls were
confined. They sat upon the bed, with their arms entwined about each
other, weeping, for every word of the conversation without had come to
their ears.
“Go into the next room, Katrine,” said Joseph, “and do me the favor to
keep your ear from the crack. I wish to talk with Theresa.”
“I shall stay here,” replied Katrine.
“Fool!” was the uncomplimentary rejoinder. “Must I send for Carl Anselm
to drag you out by force?”
“No, no!” pleaded the girl. “Any one but Carl.”
“I should please you if I sent for Bainbridge, only that worthy is dead.”
“Was it true,” said Katrine, turning her tearful eyes upon him. “Is he
indeed dead? Tell me when and by whose hand. I heard you say that he was
dead. Until then, I thought it was _his_ voice.”
“He died by his own hand,” was the pitiless reply. “Boston Bainbridge
is no more. The man whose voice you heard was Lieutenant Robert Holmes.
Leave the room.”
Katrine obeyed, passing into the next apartment and closing the door.
She took the precaution to bolt the door upon the inside, so that Carl,
who had uttered fearful threats since she had been a prisoner, could not
enter. He came soon and rattled at the door, but she would not let him
in.
In the next room Joseph and Theresa stood face to face. There was a
settled gloom upon the face of the man. His fate was following him so
close that it appalled him. He begun to doubt if, after all, he should
succeed in his undertaking. Ho grew desperate, as he looked at the girl,
who was wonderfully calm in his presence.
“Why do you come?” she asked.
“I come to speak for your good, Theresa. I have told you many times that
love for you had taken a deep root in my heart. Do what you can, be cold
or disdainful, the feeling is the same. You have made me a desperate man.
I have you utterly in my power, you and Katrine. One thing only will open
yonder doors, and set you free.”
“And that thing—”
“Is to take a solemn oath upon this holy sign” (making the cross on his
breast) “that you will never marry another while I live, and that you
will be my wife when I ask it.”
“If you had studied all your life to devise a cruel sentence, your study
could not have brought to life a more wicked one than this. No, Joseph
Van Zandt, you have had my answer. I have nerved myself to meet death, if
it must be, sooner than be your wife.”
“You must swear it upon the cross,” he rejoined, “lest a worse fate come
to you. Reflect, and tell me if there is not at least one thing worse
than death. Reflect, too, that this fate shall be yours, and that of the
sniveling fool in the next room, if you refuse. The threat of what I
would do has driven your brave friend away from the house. I have sworn
to do it, and I will keep my word.”
“God will protect me.”
“I am an unbeliever. Your faith can not shake me. Perhaps He will protect
you. Perhaps He will batter down these strong gates, and let your friend
in. It is very probable! Foolish girl! yield while the way is clear.”
“No, I will not. My friends will attack the house and set me free. You
shall feel what it is to arouse the vengeance of a true man. Go; you are
a coward. The heart of a dog beats in your breast. You threaten a woman,
and make her love for her friends work against her for your own foul
ends. You never had one true feeling in your heart. What you call love
for me is only a passion, which would burn itself out in a twelve-month.
Leave me, and do your worst.”
He rushed from the room, closing the door violently behind him. Carl
stood with his face against the wall of the room, gnawing his nether lip
with such energy that the blood started from beneath his white teeth. The
two men saw in each other’s faces the mirror wherein to read their own
hearts.
“I hear strange sounds,” said Carl; “and blood seems to run before my
eyes. If she were to open that door now, I should kill her. I am getting
mad, I think. Was I not right about that devil upon earth? I will kill
him yet, for he is the cause of all this.”
“You were right enough. He is a brave fellow, in his gay clothes.”
“To see him now, with his hair curled and his sword at his thigh! To hear
the grand tone in which he speaks! Will he take her, now that she is in a
more lowly station than he? It would be much to hope that he would slight
her now. Oh, that he would?”
“But he will not. These Puritans have queer ideas of honor, and would
think it a shame to their manhood to break faith plighted to a woman. I
have given your little fool a bitter pill to swallow. I told her he was
dead. She heard enough of our conversation to hear us say that, and she
believes it. Do these rascals show any signs of a desire to attack us?”
“I have lost sight of some of them, and can not tell where they are gone.
The rest sit out yonder by the other houses, eating breakfast.”
“Whom do you miss?”
“Robert Holmes is gone, and so is your friend Barlow. What if they
_should_ set the girls free.”
“The windows are bolted.”
“I know it, on the inside. What is to hinder the girls from opening them?”
“They are spiked down. I tell you they have not the strength to open
one, even if they could get a signal from the outside. Did you see those
fellows go away?”
“They slipped out of sight, and I think went out of the gate. After that,
I came to this door and tried to get in.”
“And failed.”
“Yes; it is bolted.”
“I didn’t think Katrine would do it. I begin to respect her. What is
that, Jan?”
The man who was at the window spoke:
“The truce is over, sir.”
“Are they coming?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Get your guns ready, then. Where is your rifle, Carl?”
“Here, sir.”
“Mark that Barlow.”
“I can not. My bullet has another work to do. When Robert Holmes is dead
it is at your service.”
“Say you so. Well, I do not care. I have no love for him. These rascals
come on slowly. They are well versed in woodcraft. Something different
from the way our blockheads came up to the stockade at Windsor. Fire
whenever you get a chance, boys.”
The men of Windsor came forward with care, sheltering themselves as
well as they could behind the buildings in the works. As they came to
the last one, they paused and begun a close fire upon the house. Every
head which showed itself at a loop-hole became the mark of a bullet. One
of Van Zandt’s men was shot through the head before they had been in
action five minutes. The defenders saw that it was no boys’-play now, and
hesitated about approaching the windows. The captain ordered them all to
lie down, knowing that their fire could do no harm unless the men exposed
themselves. He took his place at one of the loops to watch, taking care
not to give any of the marksmen a shot. But a lively fire was kept up,
and he dared not go away.
“Watch that side, Carl,” he said, pointing to the other loop. “If they
get under the walls we shall have trouble.”
The moment Joseph left the room Theresa was upon her feet, and the strong
bar dropped into its place before the door. Then, looking into the other
room, she called to Katrine.
“Rouse up, dear,” she said. “Do not lie down like a child. You have
bolted your door—good. When these dear creatures in the next room come
for us we may not be here. Bring me that stool. We will give them the
slip yet. See if we do not.”
“Oh, Theresa,” said Katrine, rising, “_he_ is dead!”
“Don’t you believe it. That fellow can lie, and you know it. Hold this
stool steady so that I shall not fall.”
Katrine obeyed, and Theresa mounted the stool, and took down a stout
saber which hung from a pair of branching antlers over her head. She
lifted the stout weapon, and looked at it with beaming eyes.
“My grandfather’s sword,” she said. “It has struck good blows for
the honor of his nation. May it do as much for the honor of his
granddaughter.”
Assisted by Katrine, Theresa mounted the wide window-sill, and strove to
pry up the spikes which had been driven in to close the lattice. But they
were strong and resisted her best efforts. Seeing the uselessness of this
attempt, she begun to cut away the inner fastenings of the lattice bars,
and with the aid of the now active Katrine, at length succeeded with but
little noise, in detaching the ends of these bars. The way of escape was
then gained, since it was hardly five feet from the ground.
“We are safe,” whispered Theresa. “Let us thank God.”
The two fell upon their knees for a moment, before they attempted an
escape. The shots had begun to fall about the building. Katrine passed
out first, and Theresa followed, still bearing her grandfather’s sword.