DEEPER TROUBLE
I had been welcomed like a brother by Polly Johnson. Claudia, too, made
a little fete of my return, unscathed from my first war-trail. And after
I had completed my report to the Continental Major, who proved
complacent to the verge of flattery, I was free to spend the day at the
Summer House--or, rather, I was at liberty to remain as long a time as
it took a well-mounted express to ride to Johnstown with my report and
return with further orders from Colonel Dayton for me and my small
command.
A Continental battalion still garrisoned the Point; their officers as I
had been forced to notice in the orchard, were received decently by Lady
Johnson.
And, at that crisis in her career, I think I admired Polly Johnson as
entirely as I ever had admired any woman I ever knew.
For she was still only a child, and had been petted and spoiled always
by flattery and attentions: and she was not very well--her delicate
condition having now become touchingly apparent. She was all
alone,--save for Claudia,--among the soldiery of a new and hostile
nation; she was a fugitive from her own manor; and she must have been
constantly a prey to the most poignant anxieties concerning her husband,
whom she loved,--whatever were his fishy sentiments regarding her!--and
who, she knew, was now somewhere in the Northern and trackless
wilderness and fighting nature herself for his very life.
Her handsome and beloved brother, also, was roaming the woods,
somewhere, with Walter Butler and McDonald and a bloody horde of
Iroquois in their paint,--and, worse still, a horde of painted white
men, brutes in man's guise and Mohawk war-paint and feathers, who
already were known by the terrifying name of Blue-eyed Indians.
Yet this young girl, having resolved to face conditions with courage and
composure, after her first bitter and natural outburst, never whimpered,
never faltered.
Enemy officers, if gentlemen, she received with quiet, dignified
civility, and no mention of politics or war was suffered to embarrass
anybody at her table.
All, I noticed, paid her a deference both protective and tender, which,
in gentlemen, is instinctive when a woman is in so delicate a condition
and in straits so melancholy.
Claudia, however, I soon perceived, had been nothing tamed, and even
less daunted by the errant arrows of adversity; for her bright eyes were
ever on duty, and had plainly made a havoc of the Continental Major's
heart, to judge by his sheep's eyes and clumsy assiduities.
For when he left the veranda and went away noisily in his big spurs, she
whispered me that he had already offered himself thrice, and that she
meant to make it a round half-dozen ere he received his final quietus.
"A widower," quoth she, "and bald; and with seven hungry children in
Boston! Oh, Lord. Am I come to that? Only that it passes time to play
with men, I'd not trouble to glance askance at your Yankee gentlemen,
Jack Drogue."
"Some among them have not yet glanced askance at you," remarked Lady
Johnson, placid above her sewing.
"Do you mean those suckling babes in the orchard yonder? Oh, la! When
the Major leaves, I shall choose the likeliest among 'em to amuse me.
Not that I would cross Penelope," she added gaily, "or flout her. No.
But these boys perplex her. They are too ardent, and she too kind."
"What!" I exclaimed, feeling my face turn hot.
"Why, it is true enough," remarked Lady Johnson. "Yonder child has no
experience, and is too tender at heart to resent a gallantry over-bold.
Which is why I keep my eye upon these youngsters that they make not a
fool of a girl who is easily confused by flattery, and who remains
silent when dusk and the fleeting moment offer opportunities to impudent
young men, which they seldom fail to embrace."
"And seldom fail to embrace the lady, also," added Claudia, laughing.
"_You_ were different, Jack."
"I saw that ensign, Dudley, kiss her behind the lilacs," added Lady
Johnson, "and the girl seemed dumb, and never even upbraided the little
beast. Had she complained to me I should have made him certain
observations, but could not while she herself remained mute. Because I
do not choose to have anybody think I go about eavesdropping."
"Penelope Grant appears to find their company agreeable," said I, in a
voice not like my own, but a dry and sullen voice such as I never before
heard issue out o' my own mouth.
"Penelope likes men," observed Lady Johnson, sewing steadily upon her
baby's garments of fine linen.
"Penelope is not too averse to a stolen kiss, I fear," said Claudia,
smiling. "Lord! Nor is any pretty woman, if only she admit the truth!
No! However, there is a certain shock in a kiss which silences maiden
inexperience and sadly confuses the unaccustomed. Wait till the girl
gains confidence to box some impertinent's ear!"
I knew not why, yet never, I think, had any news sounded in my ears so
distastefully as the news I now had of this girl, I remembered Nick's
comment,--"Like flies around a sap-pan." And it added nothing to my
pleasure or content of mind to turn and gaze upon that disquieting scene
in the orchard yonder.
For here, it seemed, was another Claudia in the making,--still unlearned
in woman's wiles; not yet equipped for those subtle coquetries and
polished cruelties which destroy, yet naturally and innocently an
enchantress of men. And some day to be conscious of her power, and
certain to employ it!
* * * * *
Flora came, wearing a blue and orange bandanna, and the great gold hoops
in her ears glittering in the sun.
Each day, now, it appeared, Lady Johnson retired for an hour's repose
whilst Claudia read to her; and that hour had arrived.
"You dine with us, of course," said Lady Johnson, going, and looking at
me earnestly. Then there was a sudden flash of tears; but none fell.
"My dear, dear Jack," she murmured, as I laid my lips against both her
hands.... And so she went into the house, Claudia lingering, having
shamelessly pressed my hand, and a devil laughing at me out of her two
eyes.
"Is there news of Sir John to comfort us?" she whispered, making a
caress of her voice as she knew so well how to do.
"And if I have any, I may not tell you, Claudia," said I.
"Oh, la! Aid and comfort to the enemy? Is it that, Jack? And if you but
wink me news that Sir John is safe?"
"I may not even wink," said I, smiling forlornly.
"Aye? So! That's it, is it! A wink from you at me, and pouf!--a
courtmartial! Bang! A squad of execution! Is that it, Jack?"
"I should deserve it."
"Lord! If men really got their deserts, procreation would cease, and the
world, depopulated, revert to the forest beasts. Well, then--so Sir John
is got away?"
"I did not say so."
"You wear upon your honest countenance all the news you contain, dear
Jack," said she gaily. "It was always so; any woman may read you like a
printed page--if she trouble to do it.... And so! Sir John is safe at
last! Well, thank God for that.... You may kiss my cheek if you ask me."
She drew too near me, but I had no mind for more trouble than now
possessed me, so let her pretty hand lie lightly on my arm, and endured
the melting danger of her gaze.
She said, while the smile died on her lips, "I jest with you, Jack. But
you _are_ dear to me."
"Dear as any trophy," said I. "No woman ever willingly lets any victim
entirely escape."
"You do not guess what you could do with me--if you would," she said.
"No. But I guess what you could do to me, again, if you had an
opportunity."
"Jack!" she sighed, looking up at me.
But the gentle protest alarmed me. And she was too near me; and the
fresh scent of her hair and skin were troubling me.
And, more than that, there persisted a dull soreness in my
breast,--something that had hurt me unperceived--an unease which was not
pain, yet, at times, seemed to start a faint, sick throbbing like a
wound.
Perhaps I assumed that it came from some old memory of her unkindness; I
do not remember now, only that I seemed to have no mind to stir up dying
embers. And so, looked at her without any belief in my gaze.
There was a silence, then a bright flush stained her face, and she
laughed, but as though unnerved, and drew her hand from my arm.
"If you think all the peril between us twain is yours alone, Jack
Drogue," she said, "you are a very dolt. And I think you _are_ one!"
And turned her back and walked swiftly into the house.
I took my rifle from where it stood against a veranda post, settled my
war-belt, with its sheathed knife and hatchet, readjusted powder-horn
and bullet pouch, and, picking up my cap of silver mole-skin, went out
into the orchard.
Behind me padded my Saguenay in his new paint, his hooped scalps
swinging from his cincture, and the old trade-rifle covered carefully by
his blanket, except the battered muzzle which stuck out.
I walked leisurely; my heart was unsteady, my mind confused, my
features, unless perhaps expressionless, were very likely grim.
I went straight to the group around the twisted apple-tree, where
Penelope sat knitting, and politely made myself a part of that same
group, giving courteous notice by my attitude and presence, that I,
also, had a right to be there as well as they.
All were monstrous civil; some offered snuff; some a pipe and pouch; and
a friendly captain man engaged me in conversation--gossip of Johnstown
and the Valley--so that, without any awkwardness, the gay and general
chatter around the girl suffered but a moment's pause.
The young officer who had writ verses, now read them aloud amid lively
approbation and some sly jesting:
IN PRAISE
"Flavilla's hair,
Beyond compare,
Like sunshine brightens all the earth!
Old Sol, beware!
She cheats you, there,
And robs your rays of all their worth!
"Impotent blaze!
I shall not praise
Your brazen ways,
Nor dare compare
Your flaming gaze
To those sweet rays
Which play around Flavilla's hair.
"For lo, behold!
No sunshine bold
Can hope to gild or make more fair
The living gold,
Where, fold on fold,
In glory shines Flavilla's hair!"
There was a merry tumult of praise for the poet, and some rallied him,
but he seemed complacent enough, and Penelope looked shyly at him over
lagging needles,--a smile her acknowledgment and thanks.
"Sir," says a cornet of horse, in helmet and jack-boots--though I
perceived none of his company about, and wondered where he came
from,--"will you consent to entertain our merry Council with some
account of the scout which, from your appearance, sir, I guess you have
but recently accomplished."
To this stilted and somewhat pompous speech I inclined my head with
civility, but replied that I did not yet feel at liberty to discuss any
journey I may have accomplished until my commanding officer gave me
permission. Which mild rebuke turned young Jack-boots red, and raised a
titter.
An officer said: "The dry blood on your hunting shirt, sir, and the
somewhat amazing appearance of your tame Indian, who squats yonder,
devouring the back of your head with his eyes, must plead excuse for our
natural curiosity. Also, we have not yet smelled powder, and it is plain
that you have had your nostrils full."
I laughed, feeling no mirth, however, but sensible of my dull pain and
my restlessness.
"Sir," said I, "if I have smelled gun-powder, I shall know that same
perfume again; and if I have not yet sniffed it, nevertheless I shall
know it when I come to scent it. So, gentlemen, I can not see that you
are any worse off in experience than I."
A subaltern, smiling, ventured to ask me what kind of Indian was that
who enquired me.
"Of Algonquin stock," said I, "but speaks an odd lingo, partly
Huron-Iroquois, partly the Loup tongue, I think. He is a Saguenay."
"One of those fierce wanderers of the mountains," nodded an older
officer. "I thought they were not to be tamed."
"I owned a tame tree-cat once," remarked another officer.
My friend, Jack-boots, now pulls out a bull's-eye watch with two fobs,
and tells the time with a sort of sulky satisfaction. For many of the
company arose, and made their several and gallant adieus to Penelope,
who suffered their salute on one little hand, while she held yarn and
needles in t'other.
But when half the plague of suitors and gallants had taken themselves
off to their several duties, there remained still too many to suit young
Jack-boots. Too many to suit me, either; and scarce knowing what I did
or why, I moved forward to the tree where she was seated on a low
swinging limb.
"Penelope," said I, "it is long since I have seen you. And if these
gentlemen will understand and pardon the desire of an old friend to
speak privately with you, and if you, also, are so inclined, give me a
little time with you alone before I leave."
"Yes," she said, "I am so inclined--if it seem agreeable to all."
I am sure it was not, but they conducted civilly enough, save young
Jack-boots, who got redder than ever and spoke not a word with his bow,
but clanked away pouting.
And there were also two militia officers, wrapped in great watch cloaks
over their Canajoharie regimentals, and who took their leave in silence.
One wore boots, the other black spatter-dashes that came above the knee
in French fashion, and were fastened under it, too, with leather straps.
Their faces were averted when they passed me, yet something about them
both seemed vaguely familiar to me. No wonder, either, for I should
know, by sight at least, many officers in our Tryon militia.
Whether they were careless, or unmannerly by reason of taking offense at
what I had done, I could not guess.
I looked after them, puzzled, almost sure I had seen them both before;
but where I could not recollect, nor what their names might be.
"Shall we stroll, Penelope?" I said.
"If it please you, sir."
Sir William had cut the alders all around the point, and a pretty lawn
of English grass spread down to the water north and west, and pleasant
shade trees grew there.
While she rolled her knitting and placed it in her silken reticule, I,
glancing around, noticed that all the apple bloom had fallen, and the
tiny green fruit-buds dotted every twig.
Then, as she was ready, and stood prettily awaiting me in her pink
chintz gown, and her kerchief and buckled shoon, I gave her my hand and
we walked slowly across the grass and down to the water.
Here was a great silvery iron-wood tree a-growing and spreading pleasant
shade; and here we sat us down.
But now that I had got this maid Penelope away from the pest of suitors,
it came suddenly to me that my pretenses were false, and I really had
nothing to say to her which might not be discussed in company with
others.
This knowledge presently embarrassed me to the point of feeling my face
grow hot. But when I ventured to glance at her she smiled.
"Have you been in battle?" she asked.
"Yes."
After a silence: "I am most happy that you returned in safety."
"Did you ever--ever think of me?" I asked.
"Why, yes," she replied in surprise.
"I thought," said I, "that being occupied--and so greatly sought after
by so many gallants--that you might easily have forgotten me."
She laughed and plucked a grass-blade.
"I did not forget you," she said.
"That is amazing," said I, "--a maid so run after and so courted."
She plucked another blade of grass, and so sat, pulling at the tender
verdure, her head bent so that I could not see what her eyes were
thinking, but her lips seemed graver.
"Well," said I, "is there news of Mr. Fonda?"
"None, sir."
"Tell me," said I, smiling, "why, when I speak, do you answer ever with
a 'sir'?"
At that she looked up: "Are you not Lord Stormont, Mr. Drogue?" she
asked innocently.
"Why, no! That is, nobody believes it any more than did the Lords in
their House so many years ago. Is that why you sometimes say 'my lord,'
and sometimes call me 'sir'?"
"But you still are the Laird of Northesk."
"Lord!" said I, laughing. "Is it that Scottish title bothers you? Pay it
no attention and call me John Drogue--or John.... Or Jack, if you
will.... Will you do so?"
"If it--pleases you."
She was still busy with the grass, and I watched her, waiting to see her
dark eyes lift again--and see that little tremor of her lips which
presaged the dawning smile.
It dawned, presently; and all the unrest left my breast--all that heavy
dullness which seemed like the flitting shadow of a pain.
"Tell me," said I, "are you happy?"
"I am contented. I love my Mistress Swift. I love and pity Lady
Johnson.... Yes, I am happy."
"I know they both love you," said I. "So you should be happy here....
And admired as you are by all men...."
Again she laughed in her enchanting little way, and bent her bright
head. And, presently:
"John Drogue?"
"I hear you, Penelope."
"Do you wish warm woolen stockings for your men?"
"Why--yes."
"I sent to Caydutta Lodge for the garments. They are in the house. You
shall choose for yourself and your men before the Continentals take
their share."
I was touched, and thanked her. And now, it being near the noon hour, we
walked together to the house.
The partition which Sir John had made for a gun-room, and which now
served to enclose Penelope's chamber, was all hung with stout woolen
stockings of her own knitting; and others lay on her trundle-bed. So I
admired and handled and praised these sober fruits of her diligence and
foresight, and we corded up some dozen pair for my white people; and I
stuffed them into my soldier's leather sack.
Then I took her hands and said my thanks; and she looked at me and
answered, "You are welcome, John Drogue."
I do not know what possessed me to put my arm around her. She flushed
deeply. I kissed her; and it went to my head.
The girl was dumb and scarlet, not resisting, nor defending her lips;
but there came a clatter of china dishes, and I released her as Flora
and Colas appeared from below, with dinner smoking, and clattering
platters.
And presently Lady Johnson's door opened, and she stepped out in her
silk levete, followed by Claudia.
"I invited no one else," said Lady Johnson, "--if that suits you, Jack."
I protested that it suited me, and that I desired to spend my few hours
from duty with them alone.
As we were seated, I ventured a side glance at Penelope and perceived
that she seemed nothing ruffled, though her colour was still high. For
she gave me that faint, enchanting smile that now began to send a thrill
through me, and she answered without confusion any remarks addressed to
her.
Remembering my Indian outside, I told Flora, and Colas took food to him
on the veranda.
And so we spent a very happy hour there--three old friends together once
more, and a young girl stranger whom we loved already. And I did not
know in what degree I loved her, but that I did love her now seemed
somewhat clear to my confused senses and excited mind,--though to love,
I knew, was one thing, and to be _in_ love was still another. Or so it
seemed to me.
My animation was presently noticed by Claudia; and she rested her eyes
on me. For I talked much and laughed more, and challenged her gay
conceits with a wit which seemed to me not wholly contemptible.
"One might think you had been drinking of good news," quoth she; "so
pray you share the draught, Jack, for we have none of our own to quench
our thirst."
"Unless none be good news, as they say," said Lady Johnson, wistfully.
"News!" said I. "Nenni! But the sun shines, Claudia, and life is young,
and 'tis a pretty world we live in after all."
"If you admire a marsh," says she, "there's a world o' mud and rushes to
admire out yonder."
"Or if you admire a cabinful o' lonely ladies," added Lady Johnson, "you
may gaze your fill upon us."
"I should never be done or have my fill of beauty if I sat here a
thousand years, Polly," said I.
"A thousand years and a dead fish outshines our beauty," smiled Lady
Johnson. "If you truly admire our beauty, Jack, best prove it now."
"To which of us the Golden Apple?" inquired Claudia, offering one of the
winter russets which had been picked at the Point.
"Ho!" said I, "you think to perplex and frighten me? _Non, pas!_ Polly
Johnson shall not have it, because, if she ever makes me wise, wisdom is
its own reward and needs no other. And you shall not have it, Claudia!"
"Why not?"
"Mere beauty cannot claim it."
"Why not? Venus received the apple cast by Eris."
"But only because Venus promised Love! Do you promise me the reward of
the shepherd?"
"Myself?" she asked impudently.
"Venus," said Lady Johnson, "made that personal exception, and so must
you, Claudia. The goddess promised beauty; but not herself."
"Then," said I, "Claudia has nothing to offer me. And so I give the
apple to Penelope!"
She refused it, shyly.
"Industry is the winner," said I. "Thrift triumphs. I already have her
gift. I have a dozen pair of woolen stockings for my men, knitted by
this fair Penelope of today. And, as she awaits no wandering lord,
though many suitors press her, then she should have at least this golden
apple of Eris to reward her. And so she shall."
And I offered it again.
"Take it, my dear," said Claudia, laughing, "for this young man has
given you a reason. Pallas offered military glory; you offer military
stockings! What chance have Hera and poor Aphrodite in such a contest?"
We all were laughing while the cloth was cleared, and Flora brought us a
great dish of wild strawberries.
These we sopped in our wine and tasted at our ease, there by the open
windows, where a soft wind blew the curtains and the far-spreading azure
waters sparkled in the sun.
How far away seemed death!
I looked out upon the mountains, now a pale cobalt tint, and their peaks
all denting the sky like blue waves on Lake Erie against the horizon.
Low over the Vlaie Water flapped a giant heron, which alighted not far
away and stood like a sentry, motionless at his post.
A fresh, wild breath of blossoms grew upon the breeze--the enchanting
scent of pinxters. From the mainland, high on a sugar-maple's spire,
came the sweet calling of a meadow-lark.
Truly, war seemed far away; and death farther still in this dear
Northland of ours. And I fell a-thinking there that if kings could only
see this land on such a day, and smell the pinxters, and hear the
sweetened whistle of our lark, there would be no war here, no slavery,
no strife where liberty and freedom were the very essence of the land
and sky.
* * * * *
My Lady Johnson wished to rest; and there was a romance out of France
awaiting her in gilt binding in her chamber.
She went, when the board was cleared, linking her arm in Claudia's.
Penelope took up her knitting with a faint smile at me.
"Will you tell me a story to amuse me, sir?" she said in her shy way.
"You shall tell me one," said I.
"I? What story?"
"Some story you have lived."
"I told you all."
"No," said I, "not any story concerning this very pest of suitors which
plague you--or, if not you, then me!--as the suitors of the first
Penelope plagued Telemachus."
Now she was laughing, and, at one moment, hid her face in her yarn,
still laughing.
"Does this plague you, John Drogue?" she asked, still all rosy in her
mirth.
"Well," said I, "they all seem popinjays to me in their blue and gold
and buff. But it was once red-coats, too, at Caughnawaga, or so I hear."
"Oh. Did you hear that?"
"I did. They sat like flies around a sap-pan."
"Deary me!" she exclaimed, all dimples, "who hath gossiped of me at
Cayadutta Lodge?"
"Penelope?"
"I am attentive, sir."
"I suppose all maids enjoy admiration."
"I suppose so."
"Hum! And do you?"
"La, sir! I am a maid, also."
"And enjoy it?"
"Yes, sir.... Do not you?"
"What?"
"Do not you enjoy admiration? Is admiration displeasing to young men?"
"Well--no," I admitted. "Only it is well to be armed with
experience--hum-hum!--and discretion when one encounters the flattery of
admiration."
"Yes, sir.... Are you so armed, Mr. Drogue?"
At a loss to answer, her question being unexpected--as were many of her
questions--and answers also--I finally admitted that flattery was a
subtle foe and that perhaps experience had not wholly armed me against
that persuasive enemy.
"Nor me," said she, with serene candour. "And I fear that I lack as much
in knowledge and experience as I do in years, Mr. Drogue. For I think no
evil, nor perhaps even recognize it when I meet it, deeming the world
kind, and all folk unwilling to do me a wrong."
"I--kissed you."
"Was that a wrong you did me?"
"Have not others kissed you?" said I, turning red and feeling mean.
But she laughed outright, telling me that it concerned herself and not
me what she chose to let her lips endure. And I saw she was a very
child, all unaccustomed, yet shyly charmed by flatteries, and already
vaguely aware that men found her attractive, and that she also was not
disinclined toward men, nor averse to their admiration.
"How many write you verses?" I asked uneasily.
"Gentlemen are prone to verses. Is it unbecoming of me to encourage them
to verse?"
"Why, no...."
"Did you think the verses fine you heard in the orchard?"
"Oh, yes," said I, carelessly, "but smacking strong of Major Andre's
verses to his several Sacharissas."
"Oh. I thought them fine."
"And all men think you fine, I fear--from that soldier who pricked your
name on his powder-horn at Mayfield fort to Bully Jock Gallopaway of the
Border Horse at Caughnawaga, and our own little Jack-boots in the
orchard yonder."
"Only Jack Drogue dissents," she murmured, bending over her knitting.
At that I caught her white hand and kissed it; and she blushed and sat
smiling in absent fashion at the water, while I retained it.
"You use me sans facon," she murmured at last. "Do you use other women
so?"
Now, I had used some few maids as wilfully, but none worse, yet had no
mind to admit it, nor yet to lie.
"You ask me questions," said I, "but answer none o' mine."
At that her gay smile broke again. "What a very boy," quoth she, "to be
Laird o' Northesk! For it is cat's-cradle talk between us two, and give
and take to no advancement. Will you tell me, my lord, if it gives you
pleasure to touch my lips?"
"Yes," said I. "Does it please you, too?"
"I wonder," says she, and was laughing again out of half-shy eyes at me.
But, ere I could speak again, comes an express a-galloping; and we saw
him dismount at the mainland gate and come swiftly across the orchard.
"My orders," said I, and went to the edge of the veranda.
The letter he handed me was from Colonel Dayton. It commended me,
enjoined secrecy, approved my Oneidas and my Saguenay, but warned me to
remain discreetly silent concerning these red auxiliaries, because
General Schuyler did not approve our employing savages.
Further, he explained, several full companies of Rangers had now been
raised and were properly officered and distributed for employment.
Therefore, though I was to retain my commission, he preferred that I
command my present force as a scout, and not attempt to recruit a Ranger
company.
"For," said he, "we have great need of such a scout under an officer
who, like yourself, has been Brent-Meester in these forests."
However, the letter went on to say, I was ordered to remain on the
Sacandaga trail with my scout of ten until relieved, and in the
meanwhile a waggon with pay, provisions, and suitable clothing for my
men, and additional presents for my Indians, was already on its way.
I read the letter very carefully, then took my tinder-box and struck
fire with flint and steel, blowing the moss to a glow. To this I touched
the edge of my letter, and breathed on the coal till the paper flamed,
crinkled, fell in black flakes, and was destroyed.
For a few moments I stood there, considering, then dismissed the
express; but still stood a-thinking.
And it seemed to me that there was indecision in my commander's letter,
where positive and virile authority should have breathed action from
every line.
I know, now, that Colonel Dayton proved to be a most excellent officer
of Engineers, later in our great war for liberty. But I think now, and
thought then, that he lacked that energy and genius which meets with
vigour such a situation as was ours in Tryon County.... God knows to
what sublime heights Willett soared in the instant agony of black days
to come!... And comparisons are odious, they say.... So Colonel Dayton
occupied Johnstown, garrisoned Summer House Point and Fish House, and
was greatly embarrassed what to do with his prisoner, Lady Johnson.... A
fine, brave, loyal officer--who made us very good forts.
But, oh, for the dead of Tryon!--and the Valley in ashes from end to
end; and the whole sky afire!--Lord! Lord!--what sights I have lived to
see, and seeing, lived to tell!
* * * * *
My memories outstrip my quill.
* * * * *
So, when I came out of my revery, I turned and walked back slowly to
Penelope, who lifted her eyes in silence, clasping her fair hands over
idle needles.
"I go back tonight," said I.
"To the forest?"
"To the trail by the Drowned Lands."
"Will you come soon again?"
"Do you wish it?"
"Why, yes, John Drogue," she said; and I saw the smile glimmer ere it
dawned.
And now comes my Lady Johnson and her Abagail for a dish of tea on the
veranda, where a rustic table was soon spread by Colas, very fine in his
scarlet waistcoat and a new scratch-wig.
Now, to tea, comes sauntering our precious plague of suitors, one by
one, and two by two, from the camp on the mainland. And all around they
sit them down--with ceremony, it's true, but their manners found no
favour with me either. And I thought of Ulysses, and of the bow that
none save he could bend.
Well, there was ceremony, as I say, and some subdued gaiety, not too
marked, in deference to Lady Johnson's political condition.
There was tea, which our officers and I forbore to taste, making a civil
jest of refusal. But there was an eggnog for us, and a cooled punch, and
a syllabub and cakes.
Toward sundown a young officer brought his fiddle from camp and played
prettily enough.
Others sang in acceptable harmony a catch or two, and a romantic piece
for concerted voices, which I secretly thought silly, yet it pleased
Lady Johnson.
Then, at Claudia's request, Penelope sang a French song made in olden
days. And I thought it a little sad, but very sweet to hear there in the
gathering dusk.
Other officers came up in the growing darkness, paid their respects,
tasted the punch. Candles glimmered in the Summer House. Shadowy forms
arrived and departed or wandered over the grassy slope along the water.
I missed Claudia. Later, I saw Penelope rise and give her hand to a man
who came stalking up in a watch cloak; and presently they strolled away
over the lawn, with her arm resting on his.
Major Westfall and Lady Johnson were conversing gravely on the north
porch. Others, dimly visible, chatted around me or moved with sudden
clank of scabbard and spur.
Penelope did not come back. At first I waited calmly enough, then with
increasing impatience.
Where the devil had she gone with her Captain Spatter-dash? Claudia I
presently discovered with men a-plenty around her; but Penelope was not
visible. This troubled me.
So I went down to the orchard, carelessly sauntering, and not as though
in search of anybody. And so encountered Penelope.
She and her young man in the watch-cloak passed me, moving slowly under
the trees. He wore black spatter-dashes. And, as we saluted, it came to
me that this was one of the officers from the Canajoharie Regiment; but
in the starlight I knew him no better than I had by day.
"Strange," thought I, "that young Spatter-dashes seems so familiar to my
eyes, yet I can not think who he may be."
Then, looking after him, I saw his comrade walking toward me from the
well, and with him was Colas, with a lantern, which shined dimly on both
their faces.
And, suddenly: "Why, sir!" I blurted out in astonishment, "are you not
Captain Hare?"
"No, sir," said he, "my name is Sims, and I am captain in the
Canajoharie militia." And he bowed civilly and walked on, Colas
following with the lantern, leaving me there perplexed and still
standing with lifted cap in hand.
I put it on, pondered for a space, striving to rack my memory, for that
man's features monstrously resembled Lieutenant Hare's, as I saw him at
supper that last night at Johnson Hall, when he came there with Hiokatoo
and Stevie Watts, and that Captain Moucher, whom I knew a little and
trusted less, for all his mealy flatteries.
Well, then, I had been mistaken. It was merely a slight resemblance, if
it were even that. I had not thought of Hare since that evening, and
when I saw this man by lantern light, as I had seen him by candles, why,
I thought he seemed like Hare.... That was all.... That certainly was
all there could be to it.
* * * * *
Near to the lilacs, where candle light fell from the south window of the
little lodge, I stumbled once again upon Penelope. And she was in
Spatter-dash's arms!
For a moment I stood frozen. Then a cold rage possessed me, and God
knows what a fool I had played, but suddenly a far whistle sounded from
the orchard; and young Spatter-dash kisses her and starts a-running
through the trees.
He had not noticed me, nor discovered my presence at all; but Penelope,
in his arms, had espied me over his shoulder; and I thought she seemed
not only flushed but frightened, whether by the fellow's rough ardour or
my sudden apparition I could not guess.
Still cold with a rage for which there was no sensible warrant, I walked
slowly to where she was standing and fumbling with her lace apron, which
the callow fool had torn.
"I came to say good-bye," said I in even tones.
She extended her hand; I laid grim and icy lips to it; released it.
There was a silence. Then: "I did not wish him to kiss me," said she in
an odd voice, yet steady enough.
"Your lips are your own."
"Yes.... They were yours, too, for an instant, Mr. Drogue."
"And they were Spatter-dash's, too," said I, almost stifled by my
jealous rage. "Whose else they may have been I know not, and do not ask
you. Good night."
She said nothing, and presently picked at her torn apron.
"Good night," I repeated.
"Good night, sir."
And so I left her, choked by I knew not what new and fierce
emotions--for I desired to seek out Spatter-dash, Jack-boots, and the
whole cursed crew of suitors, and presently break their assorted necks.
For now I was aware that I hated these popinjays who came philandering
here, as deeply as I hated to hear of the red-coat gallants at
Caughnawaga.
Still a-quiver with passion, I managed, nevertheless, to make my
compliments and adieux to Lady Johnson and to Claudia--felt their warm
and generous clasp, answered gaily I know not what, saluted all, took a
lantern that Flora fetched, and went away across the grass.
A shadow detached itself from darkness, and now my Saguenay was padding
at my heels once more.
As we two came to the mainland, young Spatter-dash suddenly crossed the
road in front of my lantern. Good God! Was I in my right mind! Was it
Stephen Watts on whose white, boyish face my lantern glimmered for an
instant? How could it be, when it meant death to catch him here?...
Besides, he was in Canada with Walter Butler. What possessed me, that in
young Spatter-dash I saw resemblance to Stevie Watts, and in another
respectable militia officer a countenance resembling Lieutenant Hare's?
Sure my mind was obsessed tonight by faces seen that last unhappy
evening at the Hall; and so I seemed to see a likeness to those men in
every face I met.... Something had sure upset me.... Something, too, had
suddenly awakened in me new and deep emotions, unsuspected, unfamiliar,
and unwelcome.
And for the first time in my life I knew that I hated men because a
woman favoured them.
We had passed through the Continental camp, my Indian and I, and were
now going down among the bushes to the Vlaie Water, where lay our canoe,
when, of a sudden, a man leaped from the reeds and started to run.
Instantly my Indian was on his shoulders like a tree-cat, and down went
both on the soft mud, my Saguenay atop.
I cocked my rifle and poked the muzzle into the prostrate stranger's
ribs, resting it so with one hand while I shined my lantern on his
upturned face.
He wore a captain's uniform in the Canajoharie Regiment; and, as he
stared up at me, his throat still clutched by the Saguenay, I found I
was gazing upon the blotched features of Captain Moucher!
"Take your hands from his neck-cloth, cut your thrums, and make a cord
to tie him," said I, in the Oneida dialect. "He will not move," I added.
It took the Indian a little while to accomplish this. I held my rifle
muzzle to Moucher's ribs. Until his arms were tied fast behind him, he
had not spoken to me nor I to him; but now, as he rose to his knees from
the mud and then staggered upright, I said to him:
"This is like to be a tragic business for you, Captain Moucher."
He winced but made no reply.
"I am sorry to see you here," I added.
"Do you mean to murder me?" he asked hoarsely.
"I mean to question you," said I. "Be good enough to step into that
canoe."
The Indian and I held the frail craft. Moucher stepped into it,
stumbling in the darkness and trembling all over.
"Sit down on the bottom, midway between bow and stern!"
He took the place as I directed.
"Take the bow paddle," said I to Yellow Leaf. "Also loosen your knife."
And when he was ready, I shoved off, straddled the stern, and, kneeling,
took the broad paddle.
"Captain Moucher," said I, "if you think to overturn the canoe, in hope
of escape, my Indian will kill you in the water."
The canoe slid out into darkness under the high stars.