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RICHARD JUDKINS' WOOING
A Tale of Virginia in the Revolution
by
T. JENKINS HAINS
(Author of "Captain Gore," etc.)
[Illustration: Logo]
F. Tennyson Neely
New York and London
1898
Copyright, 1898.
By
T. Jenkins Hains.
Richard Judkins' Wooing
CHAPTER I
I was sitting in an arm chair with my feet upon the hand rail of the
verandah--very much at my ease--when Major Bullbeggor rode around the
bend of the turnpike and came into view.
I watched him lazily and noted the action of his mare's hind feet as she
threw little jets of dust off to either side. The jets mingled together
and formed a yellow cloud in the rear, through which could be seen the
grinning teeth of Snake in the Grass, the Major's nigger, who always
acted as his body-servant. Snake was mounted ungracefully upon an old
spavined clay bank, and he came loping along some three or four fathoms
behind his master.
The sky was cloudless and the warm sunshine appeared to annoy the Major.
I was so comfortable, sitting there with the buzzards soaring in silent
circles overhead and listening to the small birds singing in the
shrubbery on the lawn, that I had just made up my mind to hail the
horseman and ask him to accept the hospitalities of Judkins' Hall--and
all who have been anywhere in the state know the reputation of my
house--when the single-footing mare turned sharply from the main road
and came loping up the carriage drive toward me.
I might as well tell you now, that the Judkinses were never of a nervous
or excitable temperament. Even the first Richard Judkins, Earl of
Belldon, and viscount Ansley, was noted for his cool and calculating
disposition. But if you think I am overstepping the bounds of courtesy
by dwelling too much upon the characteristics of my family, I will say
that I only do so for fear someone may hear this who is a stranger in
the colonies, and who might, therefore, get a wrong impression of the
manners bred in and taught to a Virginia gentleman.
As I said before, I am not nervous; so I sat calmly watching the Major
and his servant until they halted within ten feet of the soles of my
shoes.
"Good morning, Major!" I cried, "How are you to-day? Jump down and come
in!" And with that I took down my feet and rose to greet him.
The Major's face seldom relaxed its grave expression, although he had a
sympathetic eye, but this day he looked more stern and military than
ever. His dress added to this effect, for he now appeared for the first
time in the uniform of Woodford's irregulars, with a long, straight
sword dangling from his broad belt.
He stroked his pointed, tuft-like beard which hung from the end of his
chin, and twirled his long, grey moustaches, while his eyes looked from
one object to another as if searching for something. Then he saluted,
saying, "Is there a Prince George county nigger about here, Mr.
Judkins?"
Snake in the Grass bent forward in his saddle, and I noticed a thin,
rod-like contrivance rise from the back of his coat collar and lift off
his hat, replacing it again the instant he sat up straight.
"Yes, sir, there is. Here, Sam!" I cried, and my boy stepped out from
behind a corner of the house and stood attention.
"If there is," continued the Major, "he can hold my horse a few moments
while Snake, there, takes up my left stirrup a hole or two. It is an
outrage the way some saddles are built, and I'm certain this one will
be the death of me yet. It has already given me trouble in my left knee
joint."
I gave a look at Sam who sprang to the Major's bridle--and I might say
here, that for an all-around good nigger, my boy Sam was hard to beat.
He stood six feet one inch on a pair of ham like feet and weighed two
hundred weight. He was a black, big-limbed, bullet-headed, broad-faced,
hog-nosed nigger of the pure Guinea breed, and he came from the best
stock in Prince George's--but that goes without saying, for the Major
would rather have seen his favorite mare struck with a whip than in care
of any other but a Prince George nigger.
"Well, sir, how do you feel, and what is the news to-day?" I asked, as
I stepped down from the verandah and shook his hand when he had
dismounted.
It was always the custom to ask Major Bullbeggor how he felt, for
although he was only fifty, or but little over twice my age, he always
appeared to be suffering very much.
"I feel a little better than I did last week," he answered, "but I have
some pains shooting all through me, sir. Yes, sir, a pain, now and then,
a shooting all through me. I've been taking Miranda Jones' spring
medicine, but it don't seem to do me much good. I'm quite certain
there's a settling in my joints, coupled with a numbing of the nerves
and twitching of the scalp. Dr. McGuire bled me twice last week and
drenched me three times--but no matter, a soldier has no time to devote
to talking about his physical sufferings, even if they are unwarranted.
News I have, unless you have seen Roger Booker to speak to while he was
riding an express to the assembly at Richmond."
"No!" I answered, "I've not seen Booker since last May, when he went
with you to help organize some of the colonial companies. But what has
happened? No more of that rioting and massacre like the affair of
Concord and Lexington, I hope?"
The Major walked slowly up the steps and seated himself comfortably in
the arm-chair I had just occupied, and then waited patiently until I
drew up a chair and was seated. I saw he had some important news, but,
of course, was not discourteous in my haste to find it out. The Major
had served through the entire French war with Colonel George Washington,
and was a man of the most pronounced military method in all things. It
would have been showing a gross disregard for his training had I even
suggested that he should hurry and tell me what was uppermost in his
mind, before he had thought carefully upon the proper manner and time
for doing so. For himself, he was most punctilious, at all times, in his
manner and address to gentlemen of his own rank and station. He was
sometimes truculent of speech, but he even went so far into the matter
of politeness and good breeding that when his trusty body servant,
Snake in the Grass--he always had a humorous way of naming his
people--forgot to bow properly and remove his hat on one or two
occasions, he had the rod-like contrivance rigged upon the slave's back
which lifted and replaced his hat as I have described. The idea that
Snake was a lazy, shiftless nigger, never entered the Major's head.
Snake may have been a good servant, but for my part, I've always stuck
to the old method of training one's people and have seen more than one
Prince George county nigger all the better for a little dressing with a
small hickory switch; especially when extenuating his circumstances.
My cousin, Will Byrd, who was a few years my senior, came out of the
house on hearing us talking, and, after greeting the Major, had a small
table brought within easy reach. Upon this was placed a bottle of
brandy, some sugar, ice and sprigs of young mint.
The Major sat there silently stroking his beard while Will mixed the
beverage, nor did he even offer my cousin a suggestion, knowing well the
mixture that had been famous in Judkins' Hall ever since the days my
grandfather and Lord George Fairfax honored its roof.
But because we held our English ancestry dear, and observed their
customs, don't think that we were rank tories.
Will and I had both been friends of Lord Dunmore, before he started his
aggressive policy, but since then we had had little to do with him. We
also held aloof from the too radical followers of Mr. Patrick Henry.
That is, from all except Major Bullbeggor. The Major had been my
father's friend, and since his death had always been a welcome visitor
at the Hall, even though he had helped to raise a company sent to
Boston, and had joined Colonel Woodford's militia.
Berkley Harrison and Captain Barron were in the breakfast room talking
to my mother and sister. They had just finished lunch. Harrison was an
outspoken tory who lived upon the adjoining plantation, and who, though
only thirty years of age, was one of the richest planters on the James
river. My mother had a high regard for his many accomplishments, for he
had lived much in England, and had the bearing of a man who had seen
something of the life at His Majesty's court.
Therefore Will and I were anxious to hear what important news the Major
had to tell before anyone else joined us, for we were afraid lest his
radical views should reach the ears of Mr. Harrison.
When the Major put down his glass he looked at us, and it was strange to
note the effects of the liquor in the old soldier's face. Every line,
from the heavy creases about his square jaw to the fan-like wrinkles
that stretched away from the corners of his eyes, seemed to stand out
more clearly. His eyes brightened and he spoke with great feeling--
"Gage's men stormed the hill defenses at Boston last week, and carried
them by assault," he said.
"The devil," said Will.
"And then what happened?" I asked, jumping from my chair.
"What could happen with a lot of yokels against regular troops, hey?
What could happen? But," he added, and his eyes fairly flashed, "our
boys made a fine stand, sir. Yes, sir, stood there on Bunker Hill 'till
the last dram of powder was burned, and the scoundrels were running in
and jabbing them with the bayonet. Yes, sir, by Gad, sir, they have the
making of the finest men in them that ever stood up to be killed."
"I wish I had been there," said Will.
"Wish thunder!" roared Bullbeggor, half rising from his chair. "What's
the use of wishing! Why don't you do something besides lying around here
and wishing. Holy thunder! If I was your age I would have been there in
the thick of it with our company of Prince George boys. Wish to
thunder!" And the old soldier reached for the bottle.
"That is as may be," remarked Will, quietly, referring to the Major's
imaginary military movements.
"Wish smoke and blazes!" growled the old fighter, putting down his empty
glass. "If it wasn't for this settling in the bones and numbing of the
joints, and having pains shooting all through me, to say nothing of a
vertigris in the head when I stoop over, I'd have gone up there with the
boys. As it is, I'll do what I can against that rascal Dunmore,--and
stay here with Woodford _toe_ do it."
"But give us the details of the Boston fight," I urged.
"That's all I know," he answered. "I met Booker riding an express to
Richmond, and he told me just what I've told you. I think you and Will
here would be welcome at Woodford's--if you don't want to go so far from
home--and he will give you enough fighting before the year is out. But
isn't that Berk Harrison's voice I hear? He's hand and glove with
Phripps and Dunmore, and, perhaps, he would not care to hear my
sentiments on the affairs of the day."
"Old Captain Barron is in there with him," said Will, motioning with his
hand toward the room. "It's nearly two, so they ought to be through
breakfast and be out in a few minutes."
"There isn't a better soldier than old Barron alive, although he places
too much value in the small sword and pistol--two worthless weapons for
real fighting--Ah!"
At this instance the figure of Berk Harrison appeared, issuing from the
window of the breakfast room, which being cut level with the floor
within enabled anyone to walk out on the verandah. He was closely
followed by Captain Barron and my sister, Mary. Harrison was dressed
with his usual care, wearing a buff waistcoat and snowy ruffles.
Although he had slept in the Hall over night, he had not appeared in the
breakfast room until after I had finished my midday meal. He wore his
hair carefully queued, and his lean, smooth face, with its arched
eyebrows, aquiline nose, and thin, straight lips, bespoke the cynical
man of the world--and also of fierce passion.
There was a hard glint in his eyes the instant they were directed toward
the Major, but the glance softened a little when he noticed me.
"Good morning, Major Bullbeggor," he said, advancing toward the old
soldier, who rose to greet him. "How are you, sir, this morning?"
"Pretty well, thank you, sir; yes, sir, pretty well, considering a
little settling of the bones I probably got by riding too long
yesterday--Ah! Good morning, Miss Judkins." And then he shook hands with
my sister and Barron. The Captain and he had served together and were
old friends.
"Always well and hearty, Barron, eh?" he cried.
"You see, Miss Judkins, the difference time makes with men. Here's
Barron sitting around all the time with the ladies as young as he was
twenty years ago, and just look at me--a perfect wreck, yes, Miss, a
perfect wreck. I shouldn't wonder if he began to think of getting
married next--if he only had a pension, eh."
"My face ought to be worth a thousand a year to any woman," laughed
Barron, drawing up a chair, while Mary stepped down from the verandah to
pet the Major's mare and have a word with his strangely attired nigger,
Snake in the Grass.
"Your face, indeed, ought to be worth that, Barry," continued the Major,
smiling at him thoughtfully, "but it is a question that might admit of
some diversity of opinion among women, in comparing it to the relative
value of affections."
"It is strange that women should put such a value on such things as
affections," said Harrison, smiling at me, "but self esteem is to be
commended in the sex."
Barron laughed heartily, as he always did when jokes were made at his
expense. He always laughed at, and took a light view of, everything, and
it was this that made him so popular with the young people, for he was,
physically, the ugliest man on the river. He refused to wear any hair
except his own, which consisted of two little red tufts just over his
ears. These latter stuck out from the sides of his head like a pair of
fans. His face was full, bronzed and rugged featured, and absolutely
hairless, and his mouth curled up at the corners in a perpetual smile.
His great, red nose was almost purple, and its color, he claimed, had
cost him much time and money to develop. He was short and stout, but
always wore the baggiest of brown homespun breeches.
"Women are not the only persons who like comfort," said he, and the
Major, very thoughtfully, passed him the bottle.
"No, no," he cried, motioning away the liquor, "I never drink at this
time of day, and very little now at all. Only a bracer or two when I
rise, then another before eating, along with two or three in the late
afternoon--and a couple before dinner--and--well, I'll take just one, if
you insist."
"Its easy to see that Barron's heart lies in his stomach," said the
Major. "There's an old woman's saying that 'to win a man's esteem, you
must feed the brute.'"
"And, likewise, to win a woman's, 'dress the animal,'" laughed Barron.
"But what was the news, Major, from Boston? I thought I overheard you
say something about a fight," asked Harrison.
"He did," said Will. "Gage's men carried Bunker Hill by assault, last
week. But he says the Virginia boys fought well and gave the reddies all
they wanted."
"They did that, and Woodford's men will give Dunmore about the same, if
he doesn't bear a hand and leave," interrupted the Major sententiously.
"You don't say!" laughed Barron, raising his glass. "Well, here's to the
army of Virginia, and may it reap much benefit from the Major and his
combination of Christian men."
"And have reason to give thanks that they'll be in no worse condition
than that which they find themselves," muttered Harrison, putting down
his untouched glass. "They'll be damned lucky if they're not."
"Oh, well, it is hardly necessary to be profane about it," said the
Major, quietly.
Barron smacked his huge lips and smiled blandly, then murmured softly--
"And when they pawned and damned their souls
They were but prisoners on paroles."
"An apt quotation," snapped Harrison ill-humoredly.
"You don't look as if you were much given to poetry, especially
Butler's."
"An angel is sometimes disguised as a devil," laughed Barron.
"But never as a soldier," said Harrison, dryly.
"Nor as a fop," growled Bullbeggor, "which the same might be said of
some people who dress to appear like gentlemen, but about whom there
might be some diversity of opinion among men." And he looked straight
before him.
"Your wit is coarse, and if you mean that for me, I'll say you are
damned insolent," said Harrison with some energy.
"Oh, hold on!" said Will.
"The Major did not mean that for you," I said quietly, advancing toward
Harrison, who stood leaning against a pillar of the verandah. "He never
makes rude remarks to anyone," I continued, trying to pacify his rising
anger, "and he simply meant the _vice versa_ of Barron's jest."
"I don't overstep the rules of politeness very often," said the Major,
slowly, "but I don't believe in fitting all cases to a set of rules. It
is better sometimes to make a rule to fit a case, such as this, for
instance. If Mr. Harrison thinks I made the remark for the purpose of
comparing him to an angel, he is most unaccountably satisfied with his
personal appearance and certainly flatters himself, but if so, he is
welcome, and be damned to him. I'll give him whatever redress he wishes
at any time. Only I'd rather take it out of his friend, Dunmore, if--"
"Hold on, Major! You forget yourself," cried Will, placing a hand on his
shoulder.
"I'll see that you make good your words to-morrow morning, old as you
are," said Harrison, now white to the lips with passion. And he walked
away and down the steps, meeting my sister Mary, who had just heard the
raised voices and had turned to see what had happened.
"Why do you waste time talking to those old men," I heard her say as
they walked together down the path which led to the grove of live oaks
that separated the estates. But he appeared not to answer, so I knew
there was trouble ahead.
"Harrison has horrible taste to get angry at such an old fellow as you,"
laughed Barron. "Also a pretty clever opinion of his presence."
"I am old, Barry, sure enough, but I can't abide a man who lives in a
country as a gentleman and then fights against it. I've got these pains
shooting all through me and considerable twitching of the skull, but
I'll meet him, sir; yes, sir, I'll meet him to-morrow morning if I'm
alive. I offer you my humblest apology, Mr. Judkins, for being party to
a scene on your verandah, but you heard what he said in regard to
soldiers, sir; yes sir, you heard what he said." And the Major reached
for the bottle, while I entered the house to leave again by a side door
and follow Harrison to do what I could to pacify him.
Will Byrd was living with us, so I felt sure he would keep Barron and
the Major in good humor until I came back.
Mary met me on the pathway leading to Harrison's. She had just left him
and was much upset at his temper.
"I don't see why you have these old duffers come up here and make
trouble," she said. "Captain Barron is bad enough by himself, but when
that horrid old Major Bullbeggor and he get together, they just sit
around to drink and make trouble. It's only an hour's ride to his place
and I don't see why Sam can't help Snake take him home."
"My dear sister," I said, "you know the traditions of Judkins' Hall. The
Major shall, therefore, always be a welcome visitor. He is a good
soldier, and the time will come--if it is not here already--when
Virginia will need just such men. We cannot put up with Dunmore's
violence any longer, and if Berk Harrison can't understand this the
sooner we see less of him, the better it will be for us all."
"Good soldier! Huh!" she cried, with a pretty toss of her head. "If
Virginia depends on such men for soldiers, my lord Dunmore will soon
settle the disturbance. Good soldier, indeed! Why it was only last week
he and Captain Barron were sitting up drinking and telling their
abominable adventures, and they were anything but a soldier-like kind.
Poor Mrs. Bullbeggor overheard them and has threatened to get a divorce.
Snake said she had hysterics, and kept screaming that her husband was
fit for nothing but paying bills. Good soldier, indeed!" And Mary went
into the house with an air of indignation that would have done credit to
a queen--or a Judkins.
I went over to Harrison's, but on the way I couldn't help wondering if
this power to pay bills, which Mary held in such high disdain in the
Major, was not just a little attractive in young Harrison. Women have
strange methods of reasoning out the proper way to look at things.
Harrison declined to see me, at first, but after I had sat out two
cigars on his verandah, he appeared.
He refused to listen to any peaceful overtures that I advanced, and I
wasted all the afternoon and evening trying to settle matters without a
meeting. His friend Phripps dined with him and afterwards left with a
formal challenge to the Major, requesting a meeting at sunrise the next
morning. I left Harrison at about nine in the evening, after an
uncomfortable meal, with the feeling that trouble was in store for the
Major.
On reaching the Hall, I found dinner over and the Major and Barron in
bed. The Major had requested Barron to act for him and had accepted the
challenge. They had settled upon a spot down on the river shore, and all
who know the James will remember how flat and smooth the shore is at
this bend.
The fact that there was to be a meeting had been kept secret from my
mother and sister, for even Mary did not think the last words she had
overheard meant anything dangerous, but, in spite of this, it was easy
to see that the house servants suspected something was wrong.
My mother gave me a lecture about the advisibility of taking her advice,
and also how to treat the Major. She really liked the old soldier, in
spite of his eccentricities, but wished, also, to avoid offending
Harrison. I forget now just what the advice was, but, as a matter of
course, had I taken it, all must have ended well, for time and again
afterwards have I heard her affirm this--so also has she in regard to
other matters.
I walked out on the cool lawn under the bright stars, and then around
the house, hoping to find Will who had stepped over to the stables. I
met him as he was coming back and together we walked around behind the
slave quarters, discussing the affair of the Major's and also the gloomy
outlook of war in the colonies. The news of Bunker Hill had affected
both of us greatly. As we passed an angle of the house we heard voices.
"Is yo' sho' nuff a Prince Gawge nigger?" said one.
"Dat I is, honey, sho'; an' I's de nigger uf er Prince Gawge man,"
answered the other.
"Kin he stan' agin Marse Berk?"
"Doan make no moan, honey, dere'll be bluddy murder an' suddin demise in
der mawnin'."