"John Clark he was wounded,
On him they did fire;
James Caldwell and Crispus Attucks
Lay bleeding in the mire;
Their regiment, the twenty-ninth,
Killed Monk and Sam I Gray,
While Patrick Carr lay cold in death
And could not flee away--
"Oh, tally!" broke out Sir John; "are we to listen to such stuff all
night?"
More laughter; and Sir George Covert said that he feared Sir John
Johnson had no sense of humor.
"I have heard that before," said Sir John, turning his cold eyes on Sir
George. "But if we've got to sing at wine, in Heaven's name let us sing
something sensible."
"No, no!" bawled Claus. "This is the abode of folly to-night!" And he
sang a catch from "Pills to Purge Melancholy," as broad a verse as I
cared to hear in such company.
"Cheer up, Sir John!" cried Betty Austin; "there are other slippers to
drink from--"
Sir John stood up, exasperated, but could not face the storm of
laughter, nor could Dorothy, silent and white in her anger; and she rose
to go, but seemed to think better of it and resumed her seat, disdainful
eyes sweeping the table.
"Face the fools," I whispered. "Your confusion is their victory."
Captain McDonald, stirring the punch, filled all glasses, crying out
that we should drink to our sweethearts in bumpers.
"Drink 'em in wine," protested Captain Campbell, thickly. "Who but a
feckless McDonald wud drink his leddy in poonch?"
"I said poonch!" retorted McDonald, sternly. "If ye wish wine, drink it;
but I'm thinkin' the Argyle Campbells are better judges o' blood than
of red wine.
"Stop that clan-feud!" bawled the patroon, angrily.
But the old clan-feud blazed up, kindled from the ever-smouldering
embers of Glencoe, which the massacre of a whole clan had not
extinguished in all these years.
"And why should an Argyle Campbell judge blood?" cried Captain Campbell,
in a menacing voice.
"And why not?" retorted McDonald. "Breadalbane spilled enough to teach
ye."
"Teach who?"
"Teach you!--and the whole breed o' black Campbells from Perth to Galway
and Fonda's Bush, which ye dub Broadalbin. I had rather be a Monteith
and have the betrayal of Wallace cast in my face than be a Campbell of
Argyle wi' the memory o' Glencoe to follow me to hell."
"Silence!" roared the patroon, struggling to his feet. Sir George Covert
caught at Captain Campbell's sleeve as he rose; Sir John Johnson stood
up, livid with anger.
"Let this end now!" he said, sternly. "Do officers of the Royal Greens
conduct like yokels at a fair? Answer me, Captain Campbell! And you,
Captain McDonald! Take your seat, sir; and if I hear that cursed word
'Glencoe' 'again, the first who utters it faces a court-martial!"
Partly sobered, the Campbell glared mutely at the McDonald; the latter
also appeared to have recovered a portion of his senses and resumed his
seat in silence, glowering at the empty glasses before him.
"Now be sensible, gentlemen," said Colonel Claus, with a jovial nod to
the patroon; "let pass, let pass. This is no time to raise the fiery
cross in the hills. Gad, there's a new pibroch to march to these days--
"Pibroch o' Hirokôue!
Pibroch o' Hirokônue!"
he hummed, deliberately, but nobody laughed, and the grave, pale faces
of the women turned questioningly one to the other.
Enemies or allies, there was terror in the name of "Iroquois." But
Walter Butler looked up from his gloomy meditation and raised his glass
with a ghastly laugh.
"I drink to our red allies," he said, slowly drained his glass till but
a color remained in it, then dipped his finger in the dregs and drew
upon the white table-cloth a blood-red cross.
"There's your clan-sign, you Campbells, you McDonalds," he said, with a
terrifying smile which none could misinterpret.
Then Sir George Covert said: "Sir William Johnson knew best. Had he
lived, there had been no talk of the Iroquois as allies or as enemies."
I said, looking straight at Walter Butler: "Can there be any serious
talk of turning these wild beasts loose against the settlers of
Tryon County?"
"Against rebels," observed Sir John Johnson, coldly. "No loyal man need
fear our Mohawks."
A dead silence followed. Servants, clearing the round table of silver,
flowers, cloth--all, save glasses and decanters--stepped noiselessly,
and I knew the terror of the Iroquois name had sharpened their dull
ears. Then came old Cato, tricked out in flame-colored plush, bearing
the staff of major-domo; and the servants in their tarnished liveries
marshalled behind him and filed out, leaving us seated before a bare
table, with only our glasses and bottles to break the expanse of
polished mahogany and soiled cloth.
Captain McDonald rose, lifted the steaming kettle from the hob, and set
it on a great, blue tile, and the gentlemen mixed their spirits
thoughtfully, or lighted long, clay pipes.
The patroon, wreathed in smoke, lay back in his great chair and rattled
his toddy-stick for attention--an unnecessary noise, for all were
watching him, and even Walter Butler's gloomy gaze constantly reverted
to that gross, red face, almost buried in thick tobacco-smoke, like the
head of some intemperate and grotesquely swollen Jupiter crowned
with clouds.
The plea of the patroon for neutrality in the war now sweeping towards
the Mohawk Valley I had heard before. So, doubtless, had those present.
He waxed pathetic over the danger to his vast estate; he pointed out the
conservative attitude of the great patroons and lords of the manors of
Livingston, Cosby, Phillipse, Van Rensselaer, and Van Cortlandt.
"What about Schuyler?" I asked.
"Schuyler's a fool!" he retorted, angrily. "Any landed proprietor here
can become a rebel general in exchange for his estate! A fine bargain! A
thrifty dicker! Let Philip Schuyler enjoy his brief reign in Albany.
What's the market value of the glory he exchanged for his broad acres?
Can you appraise it, Sir John?"
Then Sir John Johnson arose, and, for the only moment in his career, he
stood upon a principle--a fallacious one, but still a principle; and for
that I respected him, and have never quite forgotten it, even through
the terrible years when he razed and burned and murdered among a people
who can never forget the red atrocities of his devastations.
Glancing slowly around the table, with his pale, cold eyes contracting
in the candle's glare, he spoke in a voice absolutely passionless, yet
which carried the conviction to all that what he uttered was
hopelessly final:
"Sir Lupus complains that he hazards all, should he cast his fortunes
with his King. Yet I have done that thing. I am to-day a man with a
price set on my head by these rebels of my own country. My lands, if not
already confiscated by rebel commissioners, are occupied by rebels; my
manor-houses, my forts, my mills, my tenants' farms are held by the
rebels and my revenues denied me. I was confined on parole within the
limits of Johnson Hall. They say I broke my parole, but they lie. It was
only when I had certain news that the Boston rebels were coming to seize
my person and violate a sacred convention that I retired to Canada."
He paused. The explanation was not enough to satisfy me, and I expected
him to justify the arming of Johnson Hall and his discovered intrigues
with the Mohawks which set the rebels on the march to seize his person.
He gave none, resuming quietly:
"I have hazarded a vast estate, vaster than yours, Sir Lupus, greater
than the estates of all these gentlemen combined. I do it because I owe
obedience to the King who has honored me, and for no other reason on
earth. Yet I do it in fullest confidence and belief that my lands will
be restored to me when this rebellion is stamped on and trodden out to
the last miserable spark."
He hesitated, wiped his thin mouth with his laced handkerchief, and
turned directly towards the patroon.
"You ask me to remain neutral. You promise me that, even at this late
hour, my surrender and oath of neutrality will restore me my estates and
guarantee me a peaceful, industrious life betwixt two tempests. It may
be so, Sir Lupus. I think it would be so. But, my friend, to fail my
King when he has need of me is a villainy I am incapable of. The
fortunes of his Majesty are my fortunes; I stand or fall with him. This
is my duty as I see it. And, gentlemen, I shall follow it while life
endures."
He resumed his seat amid absolute silence. Presently the patroon raised
his eyes and looked at Colonel John Butler.
"May we hear from you, sir?" he asked, gravely.
"I trust that all may, one day, hear from Butler's Rangers," he said.
"And I swear they shall," broke in Walter Butler, his dark eyes burning
like golden coals.
"I think the Royal Greens may make some little noise in the world," said
Captain Campbell, with an oath.
Guy Johnson waved his thin, brown hand towards the patroon: "I hold my
King's commission as intendant of Indian affairs for North America. That
is enough for me. Though they rob me of Guy Park and every acre, I shall
redeem my lands in a manner no man can ever forget!"
"Gentlemen," added Colonel Claus, in his bluff way, "you all make great
merit of risking property and life in this wretched teapot tempest; you
all take credit for unchaining the Mohawks. But you give them no credit.
What have the Iroquois to gain by aiding us? Why do they dig up the
hatchet, hazarding the only thing they have--their lives? Because they
are led by a man who told the rebel Congress that the covenant chain
which the King gave to the Mohawks is still unspotted by dishonor,
unrusted by treachery, unbroken, intact, without one link missing!
Gentlemen, I give you Joseph Brant, war-chief of the Mohawk
nation! Hiro!"
All filled and drank--save three--Sir George Covert, Dorothy Varick, and
myself.
I felt Walter Butler's glowing eyes upon me, and they seemed to burn out
the last vestige of my patience.
"Don't rise! Don't speak now!" whispered Dorothy, her hand closing on my
arm.
"I must speak," I said, aloud, and all heard me and turned on me their
fevered eyes.
"Speak out, in God's name!" said Sir George Covert, and I rose,
repeating, "In God's name, then!"
"Give no offence to Walter Butler, I beg of you," whispered Dorothy.
I scarcely heard her; through the candle-light I saw the ring of eyes
shining, all watching me.
"I applaud the loyal sentiments expressed by Sir John Johnson," I said,
slowly. "Devotion to principle is respected by all men of honor. They
tell me that our King has taxed a commonwealth against its will. You
admit his Majesty's right to do so. That ranges you on one side.
Gentlemen," I said, deliberately, "I deny the right of Englishmen to
take away the liberties of Englishmen. That ranges me on the
other side."
A profound silence ensued. The ring of eyes glowed.
"And now," said I, gravely, "that we stand arrayed, each on his proper
side, honestly, loyally differing one from the other, let us, if we can,
strive to avert a last resort to arms. And if we cannot, let us draw
honorably, and trust to God and a stainless blade!"