SHOWS HOW MOLLY HAYES AND A KETTLE OF SCALDING WATER PLAY THEIR PARTS
For a moment Ben Cooper was so startled that he could not speak, and
his astonishment was as plain in his face as in his manner. It was
perhaps fortunate for him that a turmoil in the room took Bleekwood’s
attention from him, otherwise he would have undoubtedly attracted that
person’s attention in a way that he would not have cared to do.
The turmoil grew louder, high voices became higher; the inn people were
clustering about in a fright; but still Ben gave it no attention. His
brain was so busy with some truths which had just dawned upon him, and
for the time he knew nothing else.
“Beware of a man named Seaforth, and of the Crossed Keys,” had been the
warning of Johnson Quinsey. And within a very few hours afterward the
lad had been mistaken for Seaforth, had been directed to a place which
turned out to be an inn called the “Crossed Keys,” and Bleekwood, the
man whom Seaforth was apparently to meet, had mistaken Paddy Burk for
Ben himself.
“Now let me get it clear in my mind,” was the boy’s thought. “There is
some sort of a plan against me by Hawkins and his confederates; a part
of this was heard in some chance way by Johnson Quinsey. This scout,
Seaforth, is a friend to the enemies of General Washington; and he was
the man sent for to ride to York to-night; of that I am confident.
One other was to bear him company; he was to have the selection of
that other, and I am convinced that it was to have been I. But, as
it chanced, he was gone when his orders came; and by a still greater
chance, I was selected in his place. And, now, here I am face to face
with the agent of the plotters, if not one of them; and he, not knowing
Seaforth except by name, thinks I am he. And poor Paddy, who stands so
innocently beyond there, is placed in the danger that should be mine.”
But his attention was drawn from Paddy at that instant by an increase
in the disturbance before mentioned. All eyes were turned in the
direction of the uproar, and well they might, for never before was
there so much noise by one person. It was a gigantic young man with
an inflamed face and a reckless air; he seemed possessed by alternate
spirits of destruction, mirth and combat. First he would lift a heavy
oaken chair and dash it to pieces against the stout walls; then, as
though highly amused at his own performance, he would burst into a
gale of laughter; and a moment later, his humor changing, he would
brandish his enormous fists in the faces of those nearest him and dare
them to grapple or fisticuff with him. But all declined the invitation
with much promptness, at which the young giant resumed his work of
destruction once more.
Finally, unable to bear it longer, the landlord approached.
“What’s this, sir?” demanded he with an air of assurance, which he,
perhaps, was far from feeling. “Must you break up my furnishing, young
gentleman? Has a madness come upon you that you should do the like?
Have done, sir; have done at once.”
The young giant glared at him; here at length, so it seemed, was one
who would oppose him.
“Ah, so you are there, are you, mine host of the Crossed Keys?” cried
he, delighted at the prospect of having some one at whom to level his
humor and perhaps receive his blows. “And so you object to my amusing
myself, eh?”
“I object to your destroying my property, sir,” said the host. “It is
a wanton injustice to do such a thing in a peaceable house. Have done,
sir. The damage already here will cost a pretty penny!”
“What, would so brawny a fellow as yourself cry out about an
injustice?” demanded the giant. “Would you prefer to make a complaint
of the tongue rather than one of the hand? Surely a fist like that of
yours was made for brisker work than you do. Come then,” and here he
shattered another chair upon the oaken floor. “You will do something to
prevent the like again, I’m sure.”
“I am not given to the bandying of blows,” said the landlord, who for
all his bulk was soft and ill conditioned. “It is not my trade, sir; I
ask you if you be a gentleman to cease your mad behavior.”
And with this mild admonition, the host, seeing his obstreperous guest
advancing toward him, retreated down the room in the direction of the
table at which sat Ben Cooper and Master Bleekwood. The latter turned
nervously to the boy, and said:
“One always meets with conduct such as this in a crowded inn. It is
most unseemly and objectionable; and its effect upon my weakened
nervous state is ill, indeed.”
As the landlord’s retreat was a trifle hasty, the advance of the giant
did not come up with him; he had entered the kitchen and closed the
door by the time his pursuer had covered half the distance, and so the
huge young man leaned against a table and held forth as to cowardice.
“He who will not risk his great carcass in defense of his property is a
poltroon,” delivered he, loudly. “If any were to do the like by me, I’d
fight him if I had but one leg to stand on.”
As it chanced the table against which he leaned was that of Bleekwood
and Ben; and as he continued to volley forth, the former touched him
upon the arm and ventured mildly:
“I ask your pardon, sir, but if you have no very serious objections
would you select another leaning place?” And as the giant turned and
glared down at him, he hastily continued as though in explanation: “You
see, your present attitude is somewhat interfering with my comfort, and
as I am a person of no very robust health I must look to it that my
comfort is not taken from me.”
“Ah,” said the giant, “and so you must look to your comfort, must you?
Well, Mr. Longshanks, I’ll see what I can do to aid you in that.” And
with that he stretched out one huge hand, gripped Master Bleekwood and
dragged him to his feet. “Your comfort must not be interfered with, do
you say, my gentleman?” demanded the giant. “Ah, well, let us see what
can be done to add to it, for one like you should be coddled, indeed.”
“Sir,” spoke Master Bleekwood, not making a move in his captor’s grasp,
“this is most undignified. Release your grasp upon my shoulder, I beg
of you.”
“Not until you have asked my pardon upon your knees,” said the giant.
“I feel, good sir, that I have been most grossly insulted, and if this
is not----”
Suddenly Master Bleekwood’s whole aspect changed; with a tremendous
wrench he freed himself from the grasp of the other, and with a
deftness that could only have been gained by long experience, he spun
about and planted a half dozen short, powerful blows upon the man’s
face. With the blood streaming from mouth and nose, and roaring with
pain, the young giant steadied himself for a rush. But before he could
make a move a door behind him opened, and a strong girl with red hair
and a freckled, good-looking face stepped into the room.
“Gintlemen, gintlemen!” she cried, with a brogue as thick as Paddy
Burk’s own, “will you give over your noise? Sure, how in the world can
a poor wounded officer on his way home to his ould father get a wink of
sleep if you go on like this? Is it a bedlam instead of a decent inn
that we’ve got into?” Then her quick, bright eye noting that the giant
was responsible for most of the turmoil, she marched sturdily to his
side. “Young gintleman,” she continued, “will you close your mouth and
give over your great talk? Is it do harm by your noise to a soldier,
who got his hurts in his country’s cause, you’d be doing?”
The young man turned his inflamed face upon her.
“Take yourself off, you kitchen wench,” he growled. “Hold your tongue,
while I grind the bones of yon pretty gentleman.”
But the freckle-faced lass was not to be daunted by a savage tone of
voice.
“Is it me you call a kitchen wench?” she demanded, her arms akimbo.
“And I’m to hold my tongue as well, am I? Well, sir, I’ll not do that,
but,” and with a swift movement she suited the action to the words,
“I’ll take hold of your ear for you, you villain of the world.”
Taken aback, the giant glowered.
“Let go, you virago!” he shouted.
“Sit down!” ordered she, shoving him into a chair. “And stay there!
Faith, it’s ashamed of yourself you ought to be, to be after raising
such a pother about the place. Keep quiet now, for if it’s again I
have to come out to you, it’s the back of my hand I’ll give you, so it
is.”
And with that and a whisk of her short skirts she was gone. And as she
departed the landlord reappeared armed with a stout staff and backed by
a number of his ablest waiters and hostlers, also armed. But the blows
of Master Bleekwood, and the fearless front of the Irish girl had had
their effect upon the giant, for he kept his chair quietly enough; what
remained of his humor was vented in a low muttering, the purport of
which was not intelligible.
And after things were fairly quiet once more, Ben Cooper spoke to
Bleekwood.
“It were a thousand pities, sir, that your health is not what it should
be. Otherwise you would be able to resent such affronts as that fellow
put upon you.”
The lad spoke drily; there was a suspicion of mockery in his eyes.
“Why, as for that,” said the man, “I have often thought that health is
a thing greatly to be desired. But it is a boon not meant for me, that
I sadly fear. If I were possessed of it, I might be able to do some
little thing to protect myself; but as it is----” and he shook his head
and sighed.
This, then, was a favorite pose of the melancholy Bleekwood; he desired
to seem backward in any matter requiring physical effort, and a nervous
weakling in things calling for courage.
“But,” thought the lad who sat near him, “he is a pretty fighter
enough. Indeed, I would say that it would go extremely hard with any
but the best who faced him.”
“It were well that I could provide myself with a half dozen strong
fellows to-night, so that there might be no missing the point of our
efforts,” said Bleekwood.
“Ah; and so there are some others?” said Ben.
“To be sure. It would require one much more stalwart than I to venture
upon a matter of this sort, alone. No, no! I can plan and I can direct
others as to what to do; but to engage in the matter in other ways--no!”
“Master Hawkins is not here, by any chance?” said Ben, with a studied
carelessness.
The cadaverous one shook his head.
“No,” said he, “he remains at York.”
“And Master Sugden?”
“He is also there. Ah,” regretfully, “they have the skilled portions
of the work to do, and while I try not to envy them, I cannot help a
slight feeling somewhat akin to it. The Marquis,” in a dreamy sort of
way, “makes a splendid companion.”
“The Marquis?” questioned Ben.
“The Marquis de Lafayette, that is.” Master Bleekwood clasped his
hands behind his head and fixed his eyes upon the ceiling; and his
aspect was that of one who sees pleasant things. “A splendid companion,
indeed,” he went on. “So much of the spirit of youth, so much dash and
enterprise and the desire for adventure and experience.”
“He is with Tobias Hawkins, then?--and Master Sugden?”
“At York,” replied Bleekwood. “At York. The Marquis is no idiot. He has
been here long enough to see how matters stand. Youth seeks success,
not failure. And Washington is not the winning general.”
“Ah,” said Ben Cooper.
His eyes went about the room, seeking Paddy; but the Irish lad was
nowhere to be seen. Indeed, now that he thought about the matter, he
had not seen his friend since a few moments before the now subdued
giant had begun his destruction of the furniture.
“I don’t see my friend,” said he to the man opposite him.
Bleekwood took his eyes from the ceiling. “There were one or two of
my fellows close at hand a few minutes ago, and I signaled them that
he was the person they were waiting for. I rather think,” languidly
glancing here and there, “that they have managed to draw him away
somewhere.”
With the full knowledge strong upon him as to what this meant, Ben
Cooper was startled. But he did not permit it to be seen.
“You were speaking of the Marquis,” said he, insinuatingly. “But, to be
candid, I do not see just why he should be bothered about. He is but a
boy--he has no experience as a soldier. If Master Hawkins desires to
attract officers from Washington’s army, why does he not make an effort
upon Greene, or Sterling, or Wayne?”
But Bleekwood waved one long, thin hand.
“Greene and Wayne and Sterling are all very well,” said he. “Most
excellent generals, every one. But we are not seeking generals, my dear
sir. No, no! far from it. We have generals a-plenty. What is required
is the influence that will count across the sea.”
“Across the sea?” said Ben.
“In France, to be more explicit. Master Silas Dean and Master Benjamin
Franklin have done much to arouse interest there in the American cause.
And now that a great victory has been won at Saratoga, France will see
her way clear to taking definite steps in the matter. If the French
king sends over a fleet and an army, which he will now no doubt do, his
stated preference to Congress as to what leader his commander shall
deal with will have a powerful bearing upon Congress.”
“And Master Hawkins thinks that to win Lafayette to his side will turn
the favor of France toward General Gates?”
“He has some such notion--and a most excellent one it is, I think.”
“But the Marquis is not in the king’s good graces. He ran away here to
America against the king’s wishes.”
“The king was forced to forbid his going because of political reasons.
But, secretly, he was delighted when he made safely away; for France
desired some one to overlook conditions here and speak the truth
concerning them. Another thing, the gallant conduct of the Marquis in
sacrificing everything to take up the cause of liberty aroused great
enthusiasm in Paris. They rave over him; the queen and the other great
ladies sent him offerings of their admiration. Lafayette is but a lad,
it’s true,” spoke Bleekwood, “but that faction which holds his support
will have a heavy advantage.”
“Master Hawkins is a far-seeing man,” said Ben, thoughtfully. “There
are few points in the game that escape him.”
“There are none,” claimed the cadaverous Bleekwood, in high admiration.
“He misses nothing.”
And no sooner had these words been uttered than there again came a
great noise from somewhere within the inn. Voices were lifted, steel
clashed upon steel, and footsteps rushed to and fro. Thoughts of Paddy
came to Ben, and he leaped up, drawing his pistol. But the shouts
changed in tone, the blows ceased; but the rushing footsteps increased;
then a door was flung open and a half dozen rough looking fellows,
swords in hand, came pouring into the public room, cries of fear
upon their lips. Behind them, her blue eyes shining with indignation
and bearing a huge kettle of scalding water in her hands, was the
red-haired Irish lass who had subdued the roystering giant a short time
before.
“Out with you, you thieves,” cried this redoubtable person; “out upon
you! Is it kill a decent boy you’d be doing? Out of my reach now,
or I’ll scald the dirty hides off every one of you. Arrah, don’t be
threatening me now, for sorra the bit is Molly Hayes afraid of your
bodkins, you blackguards. Go along now, or I’ll dash every drop I have
here into your ugly faces.”
And as she stood there in the doorway, the steaming vessel held aloft,
fronting the scowling men, Ben, to his great relief, saw peering over
her shoulder the grinning face of Paddy Burk.