Allow him not a parting word;
Short be the shrift, and sure the cord!
--_Rokeby_.
The peddler and his companion soon reached the valley, and after pausing
to listen, and hearing no sounds which announced that pursuers were
abroad, they entered the highway. Acquainted with every step that led
through the mountains, and possessed of sinews inured to toil, Birch led
the way, with the lengthened strides that were peculiar to the man and
his profession; his pack alone was wanting to finish the appearance of
his ordinary business air. At times, when they approached one of those
little posts held by the American troops, with which the Highlands
abounded, he would take a circuit to avoid the sentinels, and plunge
fearlessly into a thicket, or ascend a rugged hill, that to the eye
seemed impassable. But the peddler was familiar with every turn in their
difficult route, knew where the ravines might be penetrated, or where
the streams were fordable. In one or two instances, Henry thought that
their further progress was absolutely at an end, but the ingenuity, or
knowledge, of his guide, conquered every difficulty. After walking at a
great rate for three hours, they suddenly diverged from the road, which
inclined to the east, and held their course directly across the hills,
in a due south direction. This movement was made, the peddler informed
his companion, in order to avoid the parties who constantly patrolled in
the southern entrance of the Highlands, as well as to shorten the
distance, by traveling in a straight line. After reaching the summit of
a hill, Harvey seated himself by the side of a little run, and opening a
wallet, that he had slung where his pack was commonly suspended, he
invited his comrade to partake of the coarse fare it contained. Henry
had kept pace with the peddler, more by the excitement natural to his
situation, than by the equality of his physical powers. The idea of a
halt was unpleasant, so long as there existed a possibility of the horse
getting below him in time to intercept their retreat through the neutral
ground. He therefore stated his apprehensions to his companion, and
urged a wish to proceed.
"Follow my example, Captain Wharton," said the peddler, commencing his
frugal meal. "If the horse have started, it will be more than man can do
to head them; and if they have not, work is cut out for them, that will
drive all thoughts of you and me from their brains."
"You said yourself, that two hours' detention was all-important to us,
and if we loiter here, of what use will be the advantage that we may
have already obtained?"
"The time is past, and Major Dunwoodie thinks little of following two
men, when hundreds are waiting for him on the banks of the river."
"Listen!" interrupted Henry, "there are horse at this moment passing the
foot of the hill. I hear them even laughing and talking to each other.
Hist! there is the voice of Dunwoodie himself; he calls to his comrade
in a manner that shows but little uneasiness. One would think that the
situation of his friend would lower his spirits; surely Frances could
not have given him the letter."
On hearing the first exclamation of the captain, Birch arose from his
seat, and approached cautiously to the brow of the hill, taking care to
keep his body in the shadow of the rocks, so as to be unseen at any
distance, and earnestly reconnoitered the group of passing horsemen. He
continued listening, until their quick footsteps were no longer audible,
and then quietly returned to his seat, and with incomparable coolness
resumed his meal.
"You have a long walk, and a tiresome one, before you, Captain Wharton;
you had better do as I do--you were eager for food at the hut above
Fishkill, but traveling seems to have worn down your appetite."
"I thought myself safe, then, but the information of my sister fills me
with uneasiness, and I cannot eat."
"You have less reason to be troubled now than at any time since the
night before you were taken, when you refused my advice, and an offer to
see you in safety," returned the peddler. "Major Dunwoodie is not a man
to laugh and be gay when his friend is in difficulty. Come, then, and
eat, for no horse will be in our way, if we can hold our legs for four
hours longer, and the sun keeps behind the hills as long as common."
There was a composure in the peddler's manner that encouraged his
companion; and having once determined to submit to Harvey's government,
he suffered himself to be persuaded into a tolerable supper, if quantity
be considered without any reference to the quality. After completing
their repast, the peddler resumed his journey.
Henry followed in blind submission to his will. For two hours more they
struggled with the difficult and dangerous passes of the Highlands,
without road, or any other guide than the moon, which was traveling the
heavens, now wading through flying clouds, and now shining brightly. At
length they arrived at a point where the mountains sank into rough and
unequal hillocks, and passed at once from the barren sterility of the
precipices, to the imperfect culture of the neutral ground.
The peddler now became more guarded in the manner in which they
proceeded, and took divers precautions to prevent meeting any moving
parts of the Americans. With the stationary posts he was too familiar to
render it probable he might fall upon any of them unawares. He wound
among the hills and vales, now keeping the highways and now avoiding
them, with a precision that seemed instinctive. There was nothing
elastic in his tread, but he glided over the ground with enormous
strides, and a body bent forward, without appearing to use exertion, or
know weariness.
The moon had set, and a faint streak of light was beginning to show
itself in the east. Captain Wharton ventured to express a sense of
fatigue, and to inquire if they were not yet arrived at a part of the
country where it might be safe to apply at some of the farmhouses for
admission.
"See here," said the peddler, pointing to a hill, at a short distance in
the rear, "do you not see a man walking on the point of that rock? Turn,
so as to bring the daylight in the range--now, see, he moves, and seems
to be looking earnestly at something to the eastward. That is a royal
sentinel; two hundred of the rig'lar troops lay on that hill, no doubt
sleeping on their arms."
"Then," cried Henry, "let us join them, and our danger is ended."
"Softly, softly, Captain Wharton," said the peddler, dryly, "you've once
been in the midst of three hundred of them, but there was a man who
could take you out; see you not yon dark body, on the side of the
opposite hill, just above the cornstalks? There are the--the rebels
(since that is the word for us loyal subjects), waiting only for day, to
see who will be master of the ground."
"Nay, then," exclaimed the fiery youth, "I will join the troops of my
prince, and share their fortune, be it good or be it bad."
"You forget that you fight with a halter round your neck; no, no--I have
promised one whom I must not disappoint, to carry you safe in; and
unless you forget what I have already done, and what I have risked for
you, Captain Wharton, you will turn and follow me to Harlem."
To this appeal the youth felt unwillingly obliged to submit; and they
continued their course towards the city. It was not long before they
gained the banks of the Hudson. After searching for a short time under
the shore, the peddler discovered a skiff, that appeared to be an old
acquaintance; and entering it with his companion he landed him on the
south side of the Croton. Here Birch declared they were in safety; for
the royal troops held the continentals at bay, and the former were out
in too great strength for the light parties of the latter to trust
themselves below that river, on the immediate banks of the Hudson.
Throughout the whole of this arduous flight, the peddler had manifested
a coolness and presence of mind that nothing appeared to disturb. All
his faculties seemed to be of more than usual perfection, and the
infirmities of nature to have no dominion over him. Henry had followed
him like a child in leading strings, and he now reaped his reward, as he
felt a bound of pleasure at his heart, on hearing that he was relieved
from apprehension, and permitted to banish every doubt of security.
A steep and laborious ascent brought them from the level of the
tidewaters to the high lands that form, in this part of the river, the
eastern banks of the Hudson. Retiring a little from the highway, under
the shelter of a thicket of cedars, the peddler threw his form on a flat
rock, and announced to his companion that the hour for rest and
refreshment was at length arrived. The day was now opened, and objects
could be seen in the distance, with distinctness. Beneath them lay the
Hudson, stretching to the south in a straight line, as far as the eye
could reach. To the north, the broken fragments of the Highlands threw
upwards their lofty heads, above masses of fog that hung over the water,
and by which the course of the river could be traced into the bosom of
hills whose conical summits were grouping togather, one behind another,
in that disorder which might be supposed to have succeeded their
gigantic, but fruitless, efforts to stop the progress of the flood.
Emerging from these confused piles, the river, as if rejoicing at its
release from the struggle, expanded into a wide bay, which was
ornamented by a few fertile and low points that jutted humbly into its
broad basin. On the opposite, or western shore, the rocks of Jersey were
gathered into an array that has obtained for them the name of the
"Palisades," elevating themselves for many hundred feet, as if to
protect the rich country in their rear from the inroads of the
conqueror; but, disdaining such an enemy, the river swept proudly by
their feet, and held its undeviating way to the ocean. A ray of the
rising sun darted upon the slight cloud that hung over the placid river,
and at once the whole scene was in motion, changing and assuming new
forms, and exhibiting fresh objects in each successive moment. At the
daily rising of this great curtain of nature, at the present time,
scores of white sails and sluggish vessels are seen thickening on the
water, with that air of life which denotes the neighborhood to the
metropolis of a great and flourishing empire; but to Henry and the
peddler it displayed only the square yards and lofty masts of a vessel
of war, riding a few miles below them. Before the fog had begun to move,
the tall spars were seen above it, and from one of them a long pennant
was feebly borne abroad in the current of night air, that still quivered
along the river; but as the smoke arose, the black hull, the crowded and
complicated mass of rigging, and the heavy yards and booms, spreading
their arms afar, were successively brought into view.
"There, Captain Wharton," said the peddler, "there is a safe resting
place for you; America has no arm that can reach you, if you gain the
deck of that ship. She is sent up to cover the foragers, and support the
troops; the rig'lar officers are fond of the sound of cannon from their
shipping."
Without condescending to reply to the sarcasm conveyed in this speech,
or perhaps not noticing it, Henry joyfully acquiesced in the proposal,
and it was accordingly arranged between them, that, as soon as they were
refreshed, he should endeavor to get on board the vessel.
While busily occupied in the very indispensable operation of breaking
their fast, our adventurers were startled with the sound of distant
firearms. At first a few scattering shots were fired, which were
succeeded by a long and animated roll of musketry, and then quick and
heavy volleys followed each other.
"Your prophecy is made good," cried the English officer, springing upon
his feet. "Our troops and the rebels are at it! I would give six months'
pay to see the charge."
"Umph!" returned his companion, without ceasing his meal, "they do very
well to look at from a distance; I can't say but the company of this
bacon, cold as it is, is more to my taste, just now, than a hot fire
from the continentals."
"The discharges are heavy for so small a force; but the fire seems
irregular."
"The scattering guns are from the Connecticut militia," said Harvey,
raising his head to listen; "they rattle it off finely, and are no fools
at a mark. The volleys are the rig'lars, who, you know, fire by word--as
long as they can."
"I like not the warmth of what you call a scattering fire," exclaimed
the captain, moving about with uneasiness; "it is more like the roll of
a drum than skirmishers' shooting."
"No, no; I said not skrimmagers," returned the other, raising himself
upon a knee, and ceasing to eat; "so long as they stand, they are too
good for the best troops in the royal army. Each man does his work as if
fighting by the job; and then, they think while they fight, and don't
send bullets to the clouds, that were meant to kill men on earth."
"You talk and look, sir, as if you wished them success," said Henry,
sternly.
"I wish success to the good cause only, Captain Wharton. I thought you
knew me too well, to be uncertain which party I favored."
"Oh! you are reputed loyal, Mr. Birch. But the volleys have ceased!"
Both now listened intently for a little while, during which the
irregular reports became less brisk, and suddenly heavy and repeated
volleys followed.
"They've been at the bayonet," said the peddler; "the rig'lars have
tried the bayonet, and the rebels are driven."
"Aye, Mr. Birch, the bayonet is the thing for the British soldier, after
all. They delight in the bayonet!"
"Well, to my notion," said the peddler, "there's but little delight to
be taken in any such fearful weapon. I dare say the militia are of my
mind, for half of them don't carry the ugly things. Lord! Lord! captain,
I wish you'd go with me once into the rebel camp, and hear what lies the
men will tell about Bunker Hill and Burg'yne; you'd think they loved the
bayonet as much as they do their dinners."
There was a chuckle, and an air of affected innocency about his
companion, that rather annoyed Henry, and he did not deign to reply.
The firing now became desultory, occasionally intermingled with heavy
volleys. Both of the fugitives were standing, listening with much
anxiety, when a man, armed with a musket, was seen stealing towards
them, under the shelter of the cedar bushes, that partially covered the
hill. Henry first observed this suspicious-looking stranger, and
instantly pointed him out to his companion. Birch started, and certainly
made an indication of sudden flight; but recollecting himself, he stood,
in sullen silence, until the stranger was within a few yards of them.
"'Tis friends," said the fellow, clubbing his gun, but apparently afraid
to venture nearer.
"You had better retire," said Birch; "here are rig'lars at hand. We are
not near Dunwoodie's horse now, and you will not find me an easy
prize to-day."
"Damn Major Dunwoodie and his horse!" cried the leader of the Skinners
(for it was he); "God bless King George! and a speedy end to the
rebellion, say I. If you would show me the safe way in to the refugees,
Mr. Birch, I'll pay you well, and ever after stand your friend, in
the bargain."
"The road is as open to you as to me," said Birch, turning from him in
ill-concealed disgust. "If you want to find the refugees, you know well
where they lay."
"Aye, but I'm a little doubtful of going in upon them by myself; now,
you are well known to them all, and it will be no detriment to you just
to let me go in with you."
Henry here interfered, and after holding a short dialogue with the
fellow, he entered into a compact with him, that, on condition of
surrendering his arms, he might join the party. The man complied
instantly, and Birch received his gun with eagerness; nor did he lay it
upon his shoulder to renew their march, before he had carefully examined
the priming, and ascertained, to his satisfaction, that it contained a
good, dry, ball cartridge.
As soon as this engagement was completed, they commenced their journey
anew. By following the bank of the river, Birch led the way free from
observation, until they reached the point opposite to the frigate, when,
by making a signal, a boat was induced to approach. Some time was spent,
and much precaution used, before the seamen would trust themselves
ashore; but Henry having finally succeeded in making the officer who
commanded the party credit his assertions, he was able to rejoin his
companions in arms in safety. Before taking leave of Birch, the captain
handed him his purse, which was tolerably well supplied for the times;
the peddler received it, and, watching an opportunity, he conveyed it,
unnoticed by the Skinner, to a part of his dress that was ingeniously
contrived to hold such treasures.
The boat pulled from the shore, and Birch turned on his heel, drawing
his breath, like one relieved, and shot up the hills with the strides
for which he was famous. The Skinner followed, and each party pursued
the common course, casting frequent and suspicious glances at the other,
and both maintaining a most impenetrable silence.
Wagons were moving along the river road, and occasional parties of horse
were seen escorting the fruits of the inroad towards the city. As the
peddler had views of his own, he rather avoided falling in with any of
these patrols, than sought their protection. But, after traveling a few
miles on the immediate banks of the river, during which, notwithstanding
the repeated efforts of the Skinner to establish something like
sociability, he maintained a most determined silence, keeping a firm
hold of the gun, and always maintaining a jealous watchfulness of his
associate, the peddler suddenly struck into the highway, with an
intention of crossing the hills towards Harlem. At the moment he gained
the path, a body of horse came over a little eminence, and was upon him
before he perceived them. It was too late to retreat, and after taking a
view of the materials that composed this party, Birch rejoiced in the
rencounter, as a probable means of relieving him from his unwelcome
companion. There were some eighteen or twenty men, mounted and equipped
as dragoons, though neither their appearance nor manners denoted much
discipline. At their head rode a heavy, middle-aged man, whose features
expressed as much of animal courage, and as little of reason, as could
be desired for such an occupation. He wore the dress of an officer, but
there was none of that neatness in his attire, nor grace in his
movements, that was usually found about the gentlemen who bore the royal
commission. His limbs were firm, and not pliable, and he sat his horse
with strength and confidence, but his bridle hand would have been
ridiculed by the meanest rider amongst the Virginians. As he expected,
this leader instantly hailed the peddler, in a voice by no means more
conciliating than his appearance.
"Hey! my gentlemen, which way so fast?" he cried, "Has Washington sent
you down as spies?"
"I am an innocent peddler," returned Harvey meekly, "and am going
below, to lay in a fresh stock of goods."
"And how do you expect to get below, my innocent peddler? Do you think
we hold the forts at King's Bridge to cover such peddling rascals as
you, in your goings in and comings out?"
"I believe I hold a pass that will carry me through," said the peddler,
handing him a paper, with an air of indifference.
The officer, for such he was, read it, and cast a look of surprise and
curiosity at Harvey, when he had done.
Then turning to one or two of his men, who had officiously stopped the
way, he cried,--
"Why do you detain the man? Give way, and let him pass in peace. But
whom have we here? Your name is not mentioned in the pass!"
"No, sir," said the Skinner, lifting his hat with humility. "I have been
a poor, deluded man, who has been serving in the rebel army; but, thank
God, I've lived to see the error of my ways, and am now come to make
reparation, by enlisting under the Lord's anointed."
"Umph! a deserter--a Skinner, I'll swear, wanting to turn Cowboy! In the
last brush I had with the scoundrels, I could hardly tell my own men
from the enemy. We are not over well supplied with coats, and as for
countenances, the rascals change sides so often, that you may as well
count their faces for nothing; but trudge on, we will contrive to make
use of you, sooner or later."
Ungracious as was this reception, if you could judge of the Skinner's
feelings from his manner, it nevertheless delighted him. He moved with
alacrity towards the city, and really was so happy to escape the brutal
looks and frightful manner of his interrogator, as to lose sight of all
other considerations. But the man who performed the functions of orderly
in the irregular troop, rode up to the side of his commander, and
commenced a close and apparently a confidential discourse with his
principal. They spoke in whispers, and cast frequent and searching
glances at the Skinner, until the fellow began to think himself an
object of more than common attention. His satisfaction at this
distinction was somewhat heightened, at observing a smile on the face of
the captain, which, although it might be thought grim, certainly denoted
satisfaction. This pantomime occupied the time they were passing a
hollow, and concluded as they rose another hill. Here the captain and
his sergeant both dismounted, and ordered the party to halt. The two
partisans each took a pistol from his holster, a movement that excited
no suspicion or alarm, as it was a precaution always observed, and
beckoned to the peddler and the Skinner to follow. A short walk brought
them to a spot where the hill overhung the river, the ground falling
nearly perpendicularly to the shore. On the brow of the eminence stood a
deserted and dilapidated barn. Many boards of its covering were torn
from their places, and its wide doors were lying, the one in front of
the building, and the other halfway down the precipice, whither the wind
had cast it. Entering this desolate spot, the refugee officer very
coolly took from his pocket a short pipe, which, from long use, had
acquired not only the hue but the gloss of ebony, a tobacco box, and a
small roll of leather, that contained steel, flint, and tinder. With
this apparatus, he soon furnished his mouth with a companion that habit
had long rendered necessary to reflection. So soon as a large column of
smoke arose from this arrangement, the captain significantly held forth
a hand towards his assistant. A small cord was produced from the pocket
of the sergeant, and handed to the other. The refugee threw out vast
puffs of smoke, until nearly all of his head was obscured, and looked
around the building with an inquisitive eye. At length he removed the
pipe, and inhaling a draft of pure air, returned it to its domicile, and
proceeded at once to business. A heavy piece of timber lay across the
girths of the barn, but a little way from the southern door, which
opened directly upon a full view of the river, as it stretched far away
towards the bay of New York. Over this beam the refugee threw one end of
the rope, and, regaining it, joined the two parts in his hand. A small
and weak barrel, that wanted a head, the staves of which were loose, and
at one end standing apart, was left on the floor, probably as useless.
The sergeant, in obedience to a look from his officer, placed it beneath
the beam. All of these arrangements were made with composure, and they
now seemed completed to the officer's perfect satisfaction.
"Come," he said coolly to the Skinner, who, admiring the preparations,
had stood a silent spectator of their progress. He obeyed; and it was
not until he found his neckcloth removed, and hat thrown aside, that he
took the alarm. But he had so often resorted to a similar expedient to
extort information, or plunder, that he by no means felt the terror an
unpracticed man would have suffered, at these ominous movements. The
rope was adjusted to his neck with the same coolness that formed the
characteristic of the whole movement, and a fragment of board being laid
upon the barrel, he was ordered to mount.
"But it may fall," said the Skinner, for the first time beginning to
tremble. "I will tell you anything--even how to surprise our party at
the Pond, without all this trouble, and it is commanded by my
own brother."
"I want no information," returned his executioner (for such he now
seemed really to be), throwing the rope repeatedly over the beam, first
drawing it tight so as to annoy the Skinner a little, and then casting
the end from him, beyond the reach of anyone.
"This is joking too far," cried the Skinner, in a tone of remonstrance,
and raising himself on his toes, with the vain hope of releasing himself
from the cord, by slipping his head through the noose. But the caution
and experience of the refugee officer had guarded against this escape.
"What have you done with the horse you stole from me, rascal?" muttered
the officer of the Cowboys, throwing out columns of smoke while he
waited for a reply.
"He broke down in the chase," replied the Skinner quickly; "but I can
tell you where one is to be found that is worth him and his sire."
"Liar! I will help myself when I am in need; you had better call upon
God for aid, as your hour is short." On concluding this consoling
advice, he struck the barrel a violent blow with his heavy foot, and the
slender staves flew in every direction, leaving the Skinner whirling in
the air. As his hands were unconfined, he threw them upwards, and held
himself suspended by main strength.
"Come, captain," he said, coaxingly, a little huskiness creeping into
his voice, and his knees beginning to shake with tremor, "end the joke;
'tis enough to make a laugh, and my arms begin to tire--I can't hold on
much longer."
"Harkee, Mr. Peddler," said the refugee, in a voice that would not be
denied, "I want not your company. Through that door lies your
road--march! offer to touch that dog, and you'll swing in his place,
though twenty Sir Henrys wanted your services." So saying, he retired to
the road with the sergeant, as the peddler precipitately retreated
down the bank.
Birch went no farther than a bush that opportunely offered itself as a
screen to his person, while he yielded to an unconquerable desire to
witness the termination of this extraordinary scene.
Left alone, the Skinner began to throw fearful glances around, to espy
the hiding places of his tormentors. For the first time the horrid idea
seemed to shoot through his brain that something serious was intended by
the Cowboy. He called entreatingly to be released, and made rapid and
incoherent promises of important information, mingled with affected
pleasantry at their conceit, which he would hardly admit to himself
could mean anything so dreadful as it seemed. But as he heard the tread
of the horses moving on their course, and in vain looked around for
human aid, violent trembling seized his limbs, and his eyes began to
start from his head with terror. He made a desperate effort to reach the
beam; but, too much exhausted with his previous exertions, he caught the
rope in his teeth, in a vain effort to sever the cord, and fell to the
whole length of his arms. Here his cries were turned into shrieks.
"Help! cut the rope! captain!--Birch! good peddler! Down with the
Congress!--sergeant! for God's sake, help! Hurrah for the king!--O God!
O God!--mercy, mercy--mercy!"
As his voice became suppressed, one of his hands endeavored to make its
way between the rope and his neck, and partially succeeded; but the
other fell quivering by his side. A convulsive shuddering passed over
his whole frame, and he hung a hideous corpse.
Birch continued gazing on this scene with a kind of infatuation. At its
close he placed his hands to his ears, and rushed towards the highway.
Still the cries for mercy rang through his brain, and it was many weeks
before his memory ceased to dwell on the horrid event. The Cowboys rode
steadily on their route, as if nothing had occurred; and the body was
left swinging in the wind, until chance directed the wandering footsteps
of some lonely straggler to the place.