the announcement that he was to be captured and brought to Stockbridge
for punishment would not have come upon her with a greater effect of
consternation. After hearing that news it would have been impossible for
her to have retained her composure sufficiently to have avoided remark
had she remained in the parlor. But there were other reasons why she had
fled to the seclusion of her chamber. It was necessary that she should
think of some plan to evade the humiliation of being confronted by him,
of being reminded by his presence, by his looks, and maybe his words
even, of the weak folly of which she was so cruelly ashamed, and which
she was trying to forget about. Desperately, she resolved to make some
excuse to fly to Pittsfield, to be away from home when Perez was brought
in. But no, she could think of no excuse, not even the wildest pretense
for thus precipitately leaving a house full of guests, and taking a
journey by dangerous roads to make an uninvited visit. Perez must be
warned, he must escape, he must not be captured. Thus only could she
see any way to evade meeting him. But how could word be got to him?
They marched at dawn. There were but a few hours. There was his family.
Surely, if they were warned, they would find a way of communicating with
him. She had heard that he had a brother. Whatever she did she must do
quickly, before she was missed from the parlor and her mother came to
her door to ask if she were sick. There was no time to change her dress,
or even her shoes. Throwing a big shawl over her head, which quite
concealed her figure, she noiselessly made her way downstairs, and out
into the snowy street, passing, as she went, close under the lighted
windows of the parlor, whence came the sound of the voices and laughter
of guests who, no doubt, were already wondering at her absence.
Thanks to the amount of travel of late weeks, the snow in the street had
been trodden to a passable condition. But blinded by the darkness every
now and then, with a gasp and a flounder, she would step out of the
path into the deep snow on either side, and once hearing a sleigh coming
along, she had to plunge into a drift nearly as high as her waist, and
stand there till the vehicle had passed, with the snow freezing her
ankles, and also ruining, as she well knew, her lovely morocco shoes.
Suddenly a tall figure loomed up close before her, there was a rattle of
accoutrements, and a rough voice said sharply:
“Halt!”
She stopped, all in a tremble. She had quite forgotten that the streets
were now-a-days guarded by regular lines of sentries.
“Advance and give the countersign,” said the soldier.
At first she gave herself quite up for lost. Then she remembered that by
the merest chance in the world she knew the countersign for that night.
The officer of the day had playfully asked her to name it, and in honor
of the patriotic citizens of the capital who had lent to the empty
treasury the money needed to equip and supply the force of militia
the governor had ordered out, she had given “The Merchants of Boston.”
Scarcely believing that so simple a formula could remove this formidable
obstacle from her path, she repeated it in a tremulous voice. “Pass
on,” said the sentry, and the way was clear. Now turning out of the
main street, she made her way slowly and pantingly, rather wading than
walking up the less trodden lane leading to the Hamlins' house, through
whose windows shines the flickering light of the fire on the hearth
within, the only species of evening illumination afforded in those days
save in the households of the rich.
She pulls the latchstring and enters. The miserable fittings of the
great kitchen denote extreme poverty, but the great fire of logs in the
chimney is such as the richest, in these days of wasted forests, cannot
afford, and the ruddy light illumines the room as all the candles in
Stockbridge scarcely could do. Before it sit Elnathan and his wife and
Reuben. The shawl which Desire wears is thickly flecked with the snow,
through which she has stumbled, and instinctively her first motion on
entering the room is to open and shake it, thereby revealing to the eyes
of the astonished family the toilet of a fashionable beauty. Her hair
is built up over a toupee with a charming effect of stateliness, the
dusting of powder upon the dark strands bringing out the rich bloom of
her brunette complexion. The shoulders gleam through the meshes of the
square of ancient yellow lace that covers them, while the curves of the
full young figure and the white roundness of the arms, left bare by the
elbow sleeves, are set off in charming contrast by the stiff folds of
the figured crimson brocade.
“Miss Edwards!” murmurs Mrs. Hamlin, as Elnathan and Reuben gape in
speechless bewilderment.
“Yes, it is I,” replied Desire, coming forward a few steps, but still
keeping in the back of the room. “I came to tell you that the army is
going to march at dawn to-morrow to Lee, to take your son, and all who
are with him prisoners, and bring them back here to be punished.” There
was a moment's silence, then Mrs. Hamlin said:
“How do you know it?”
“I was told so ten minutes since by the officers at my father's house,”
replied Desire.
“And why do you tell us?” asked Mrs. Hamlin again, regarding her keenly
from beneath her bushy grey eyebrows, and speaking with a certain slight
hardness of tone, as if half suspicious of a warning from such a source.
“I thought if I told you in time, you might get some word to him so he
could get away. The countersign is 'The Merchants of Boston.'”
Mrs. Hamlin's face suddenly changed its expression, and she answered
slowly, in a tone of intense, suppressed feeling:
“And so you left them gay gentlemen, and waded through the snow all
alone half a mile way out here, all in your pretty clothes, so that no
harm might come to my boy. God bless you, my child! God bless you with
his choicest blessings, my sweet young lady! My son does well to worship
the ground you walk on.”
It was an odd sensation, but as the gray-haired woman was speaking, her
face aglow with tenderness, and her eyes wet with a mother's gratitude,
Desire could not help half wishing she had deserved the words, even
though that wish implied her being really in love with this woman's son.
It was not without emotion, and eyes to which a responsive wetness had
sprung that she exclaimed, with a gesture of deprecation:
“No, no, do not thank me. If you knew all, you would not thank me. I am
not so good as you think,” and, throwing the door open she sprang out
into the snow.
When she reentered the parlor at home, the silver-dialed clock, high
upon the wall, accused her of only an hour's absence, and since nobody
but herself knew that her feet were quite wet through, there were no
explanations to make. But for the first time she wearied a little of her
courtiers. She found their compliments insipid and her repartees
were slow. Her thoughts were wandering to that poor home where all
undeservedly she had been received as an angel of light; and her
anxieties were with the messenger stumbling along the half broken road
to Lee to carry the warning. When, at last, Squire Edwards proposed
that all should fill their punch-glasses and drain to the success of
the morrow's expedition, she set down hers untasted, passing off her
omission with some excuse. That night toward morning, though it was yet
pitch dark, she was awakened by the noise of opening doors and men's
boots, and loud talk; and afterwards hearing a heavy, jarring sound,
she looked out the window and descried in the road, a long black column
moving rapidly along, noiseless save for now and then a hoarse word of
command. It was the expedition setting out for Lee. The impressiveness
of this silent, formidable departure gave her a new sense of the
responsibility she had taken on herself in frustrating the design of
so many grave and weighty men, and interfering with issues of life and
death. And then for the first time a dreadful thought occurred to her.
What if after all there should be a battle? She had only thought of
giving Perez warning, so he might fly with his men, but what if he
should take advantage of it to prepare an ambush and fight? She had not
thought of that. Jonathan was with the expedition. What if she should
prove to be the murderer of her brother? What had she done? Sick at
heart, she lay awake trembling till dawn. Then she got up and dressed,
and waited about miserably, till toward eight o'clock the news of the
result came. Then she laughed till she cried and ended by saying that
she would go to bed, for she thought she was going to be sick. And she
was right. Her mother wondered how she could have taken such a terrible
cold.
But leaving Dr. Partridge to cure her cold with calomel and laudanum,
after the manner of the day, let us inquire in a historical spirit what
it was in the news of the result at Lee which should cause a young woman
to laugh so immoderately.
It had been nearly midnight of the preceding evening, when Reuben
wearily and slowly making his way along the dark and difficult road,
reached Lee, and was directed at the rebel outposts to the house of Mrs.
Perry as the place which Perez occupied as a headquarters. Although
it was so late, the rebel commander, too full of anxious and brooding
thoughts to sleep, was still sitting before the smouldering fire in the
kitchen chimney when Reuben staggered in.
“Reub,” he cried, starting up as he recognized his brother, “what's the
matter? Has anything happened at home?”
“Nothing bad. I've brought you news. Have you got some rum? I'm pretty
tired.”
Perez found a demijohn, poured out a mug, and watched his brother with
anxious eyes as he gulped it down. Presently, a little color came back
to his white face, and he said:
“Now I feel better. It was a hard road. I felt like giving out once or
twice. But I'm all right now.”
“What made you come, Reub? You're not strong yet. It might have killed
you.”
“I had to, Perez. It was life or death for you. The army at Stockbridge
are going to surprise you at sunrise. I came to warn you. Desire Edwards
brought us word.”
“What!” exclaimed Perez, his face aglow. “She brought you word? Do you
mean that?”
“Jess hole on, and I'll tell you how it was,” said Reub, with a manner
almost as full of enthusiasm as his brother's. “It was nigh bedtime, and
we were setting afore the fire a talking 'bout you, and a hopin you'd
get over the line into York; when the door opened, an in come Desire
Edwards, all dressed up in a shiny gaown, an her hair fixed, an
everything like as to a weddin. I tell yew, Perez, my eyes stood out
some. An afore we could say nothing, we wuz so flustered, she up an
says as haow she hearn them ossifers tew her haouse tellin haow they wuz
gonter s'prise ye in the mornin, an so she come ter tell us, thinkin we
mout git word ter ye.”
“Did she say that, Reub? Did she say those words? Did she say that about
me? Are you sure?” interrupted Perez, in a hushed tone of incredulous
ecstasy, as he nervously gripped his brother's shoulder.
“Them wuz her words, nigh es I kin reckullec,” replied Reub, “an that
'bout yew she said for sartin. She said we wuz ter sen' word ter ye,
so's ye mout git away, an then she guv me the countersign for ter say
tew the sentries, so's I could git by ter fetch ye word.”
“To think of her doing all that for me, Reub. I can't believe it. It's
too much. Because you see, Reub, if she'd take all that trouble for me,
it shows--it shows--I think it must be she”--he hesitated, and finally
gulped out--“cares for me, Reub,” and his eyes filled with tears.
“Ye may say so, for sartin, Perez,” replied his brother with sympathetic
enthusiasm. “A gal wouldn' dew what she did for no feller, unless she
sat store by him, naow. It's a sign fer sure.”
“Reub,” said Perez, in a voice uneven with suppressed emotion, “now I
know she cares for me that much, I don't mind a snap of the finger what
happens to me. If they came to hang me this minute, I should laugh in
their faces,” and he sprang up and paced to and fro, with fixed eyes
and a set smile, and then, still wearing the same look came back and sat
down by his brother, and said: “I sort of hoped she cared for me before,
but it seemed most too much to believe. You don't know how I feel, Reub.
You can't think, nohow.”
“Yes I can,” said Reuben, quietly; “I guess ye feel suthin ez I uster
baout Jemimy, sorter light inside an so pleased like ye don't keer a
copper ef ye live or die. Yes, I know mor'n ye think I dew baout the
feelin's a feller hez long o' women, on'y ye see it didn't come ter
nothin with Jemimy, fer wen my fust crop failed, an I was tuk for debt,
Peleg got her arter all.”
“I didn't think 'bout Jemimy, Reub,” said Perez, softly. In the
affluence of his own happiness, he was overwhelmed with compassion for
his brother. He was stricken by the patient look upon his pale face.
“Never mind, Reub,” he said. “Don't be downhearted. You and me 'll stand
by each other, an mebbe it'll be made up to ye some time,” and he laid
his arm tenderly on the other's shoulder.
“I on'y spoke on't 'cause o' what ye said 'bout my not under-standin,”
said Reuben, excusing himself for having made a demand on the other's
compassion. “She never guv me no sech reasin ter think she set store by
me ez ye've hed ter night 'long o' Desire Edwards. I wuzn't a comparin
on us, nohow.”
There was a space of silence finally disturbed by a noise of boots in
an adjoining room and presently Abner Rathbun stumped out. Abner had
escaped at the West Stockbridge rout and having made his way to Perez,
at Lee, had been forgiven his desertion by the latter and made his chief
lieutenant and adviser.
“Hello, Reub,” he exclaimed. “Whar'd ye drop from? Heard so much talkin,
callated suthin must a happened, an turned out ter see what it wuz.
Fetched any news, hev ye Reub? Spit it aout. Guess it muss be pooty
good, or the cap'n would'n be lookin so darned pleased.”
“The news I fetched is that the army in Stockbridge is going to attack
you to-morrow at dawn.”
Abner's jaw fell. He looked from Reuben to Perez, whose face as he
gazed absently at the coals on the hearth still wore the smile which
had attracted his attention. This seemed to decide him, for as he turned
again to Reub, he said, shrewdly:
“Yew can't fool me with no gum-game o' that sort. I guess Perez wouldn't
be grinnin that ar way ef he callated we wuz gonter be all chawed up
afore mornin.”
“Reuben tells the truth. They are going to attack us in the morning,”
said Perez, looking up. Abner stared at him a moment, and then demanded
half-sullen, half-puzzled:
“Wal, Cap'n, wat dew ye see tew larf at in that? Derned ef I see nothin
funny.”
“Your glum mug would be enough to laugh at if there was nothing else
Abner,” said Perez, getting up and gayly slapping the giant on the
shoulder.
“I s'pose ye must hev got some plan in yer head fer gittin the best on
em,” suggested Abner, at last, evidently racking his brains to suggest a
hypothesis to explain his commander's untimely levity.
“No, Abner,” replied Perez, “I have not thought of any plan yet. What do
you think about the business?”
“I'm afeard thar ain't no dependin on the men fer a scrimmage. I callate
they'll scatter ez soon's the news gits raound that the white feathers
be comin, 'thout even waitin fer em tew git in sight,” was Abner's
gloomy response.
“I shouldn't be at all surprised if they did. I don't believe there's a
dozen in the lot we could depend on,” said Perez cheerfully.
“Wat's the matter with ye, Cap'n,” burst out Abner, in desperation. “I
can't make aout wat's come over ye. Ye talk 's though ye didn' keer a
Bungtaown copper wether we fit or run, or stayed an got hung, but jess
set thar a grinnin tew yerself ez if ye'd loss yer wits.”
Perez laughed again, but checking himself, replied: “I s'pose I do seem
a little queer, Abner, but you mustn't mind that. I hope I haven't lost
my wits quite. Let's see, now,” he went on in a businesslike tone, with
the air of one abruptly enforcing a new direction upon his thoughts.
“We could get up the men and retreat to the mountains by morning, but
two-thirds would desert before we'd marched two miles, and slink away
home, and the worst of it is the poor chaps would be arrested and abused
when they got home.”
“That's sartin so, Cap'n,” said Abner, his anxiety for Perez' sanity
evidently diminishing.
“It's a shame to retreat, too, with such a position to defend. Why,
Abner, just look at it. The snow is three to four feet deep in the
fields and woods, and the enemy can only come in on the road. That road
is just like a causeway through a swamp or a bridge. They can't go off
it without snowshoes. With half a company that I could depend on, I'd
defend it against a regiment. If I wanted breastworks all I've got to
do is to dig paths in the snow. I could hold Lee till the snow melts
or till they took it by zig-zags and parallels through the drifts. But
there's no use talking about any such thing, for there's no fight left
in the men, not a bit. If they had ever so little grit left, we might
hold out long enough at least to get some sort of fair terms, but, Lord
they haven't. They'll just run like sheep.”
“Ef we on'y hed a cannon naow, ef 'twan't but a three-pounder!” said
Abner, pathetically. “We could jess sot it in the middle of the road,
and all creation couldn't get intew Lee. Yew an I could stop em alone
then. Gosh naow wat wouldn't I give fer a cannon the size o' Mis Perry's
yarn-beam thar. Ef the white feathers seen a gun the size o' that
p'inted at em an a feller behind it with a hot coal, I callate they'd be
durn glad tew 'gree tew a fa'r settlement. But Lordomassy, gosh knows we
hain't got no cannon, and we can't make one.”
“I don't know about that, Abner,” replied Perez, deliberately. His
glance had followed Abner's to the loom standing in the back of the
kitchen, and as he answered his lieutenant he was fixedly regarding the
very yarn-beam to which the other had alluded, a round, smooth, dark
colored wooden roller, five or six feet long and eight or ten inches
through.
But perhaps it will be better to let Dr. Partridge tell the rest of the
story as he related it nearly three weeks later for the amusement of
Desire during her convalescence from the cold and fever through which he
had brought her.
“It was pitch dark when we left Stockbridge,” said the doctor, “and
allowing a good hour for the march owing to the state of the road, the
General calculated we should reach Lee about dawn and catch the rascals
taking their beauty sleep. It was excessively cold and our fingers began
to grow numb very soon, and if anybody touched the iron part of his gun
without the mittens he would leave a piece of skin behind. But you see
we had just heard of General Lincoln's thirty-mile night march from
Hadley to Petersham in even worse weather, and for the credit of
Berkshire, we had to keep on if we froze to death. We met nobody until
we were within half a mile of Lee. Then we overhauled one of the rebel
sentries, and captured him, though not till he had let off his gun. Then
we heard the drum beating in the town. There was nothing to do but to
hurry on as fast as we could. And so we did for about ten minutes more
when somebody said, 'There they are.' Sure enough, about twenty rods
off, where the road enters the village was a black mass of men occupying
its entire breadth with a man on horseback in front whom I took for
Hamlin. We kept on a little longer and then the General ordered us to
halt, and Squire Woodbridge rode forward within easy speaking distance
of the rebels and began to read the riot act. But he had no sooner
begun than Hamlin made a gesture, and a drum struck up lustily among the
rebels, drowning the Squire's voice. Nevertheless he made an end of
the reading so that we might proceed legally and thereupon the General
ordered the men to fix bayonets and gave the order to march. Then it
seemed that the rebels were about to retire, for their line fell back a
little and already our men had given a cheer when a sharp-eyed fellow in
the front rank sang out:
“'They've got a cannon!' And when we looked, sure enough the slight
falling back of the rebels we had noted, had only been to uncover a
piece of artillery which was planted squarely in the middle of the road,
pointing directly at us. A man with a smoking brazier of coals stood by
the breech, and another, whom by his size I took to be Abner Rathbun,
with a pair of tongs held a bright coal which he had taken from it. It
being yet rather dark, though close on sunrise, we could plainly see the
redness of the coal the fellow held in the tongs above the touchhole
of the gun, and ticklish near, it seemed, I can say. I know not to this
day, and others say the same, whether any one gave the order to halt or
not, but it is certain we stopped square, nor were those behind at all
disposed to push forward such as were in front, for there is this about
cannon balls that is different from musket balls. The front rank serves
the rear rank as a shield from the bullets, but the cannon ball plows
the whole length of the file and kills those behind as readily as those
before. And, moreover, we had as soon expected to see the devil in horns
and tail leading the rebels, as this cannon, for no one supposed there
was a piece of artillery in all Berkshire. You must know the place we
were in, was, moreover, as bad as could be; for we could only march
by the road, by reason of the deep snow on either hand, which was like
walls shutting us in, and leaving room for no more than eight men to
go abreast. If the cannon were loaded with a ball, it must needs cut
a swathe like a scythe from the first man to the last, and if it were
loaded with small balls, all of us who were near the front must needs go
down at once. The General asked counsel of us who were riding with him
at the front what had best be done, whereupon Squire Sedgwick advised
that half a dozen of us with horses should put spurs to them and dash
suddenly upon the cannon and take it. 'Ten to one,' he said, 'the rascal
with the tongs will not dare touch off the gun, and if he does, why,
'tis but one shot.' But this seemed to us all a foolhardy thing; for,
though there were but one shot, who could tell whom it might hit? It
might be one of us as well as another. Your uncle Jahleel, as it seemed,
lest any should deem Squire Sedgwick braver than he, declared that he
was ready, but the others of us, by no means fell in with the notion and
General Patterson said flatly that he was responsible for all our lives
and would permit no such madness. And then, as no one had any other plan
to propose, we were in a quandary, and I noted that each one had his
eyes, as it were, fastened immovably upon the cannon and the glowing
coal which the fellow held in the tongs. For, in order to keep it clear
of ash, he kept waving it to and fro, and once or twice when he brought
it perilously close to the touchhole, I give you my word I began
to think in a moment of all the things I had done in my life. And I
remember, too, that if one of us was speaking when the fellow made as if
he would touch off the gun, there was an interruption of a moment in his
speech, ere he went on again. It must be that not only civilians like
myself, but men of war also do find a certain discomposing effect in
the stare of a cannon. Meanwhile the wind drew through the narrow path
wherein we stood, with vehemence, and, whereas we had barely kept our
blood in motion by our laboring through the snow, now that we stood
still, we seemed freezing. Our horses shivered and set their ears back
with the cold, but it was notable how quietly the men stood packed in
the road behind us, though they must have been well nigh frost-bitten.
No doubt they were absorbed in watching the fellow swinging the coal as
we were. But if we did not advance, we must retreat, that was plain.
We could not stay where we were. It was, I fancy, because no one could
bring himself to propose such an ignoble issue to our enterprise, that
we were for a little space all dumb.
“Then it was when the General could no longer have put off giving the
order to right about march, that Hamlin tied a white rag to his sword
and rode toward us holding it aloft. When he had come about half way, he
cried out:
“'Will your commander and Dr. Partridge, if he be among you, ride out to
meet me? I would have a parley.'
“Why he pitched on me I know not, save that, wanting a witness, he chose
me as being a little more friendly to him than most of the Stockbridge
gentlemen. When we had ridden forward, he saluted us with great
cordiality and good humor, as if forsooth, instead of being within an
ace of murdering us all, he had but been trying us with a jest.
“'I see,' said he to the general, 'that your fellows like not the look
of my artillery, and I blame them not, for it will be a nasty business
in that narrow lane if we have to let drive, as assuredly we shall do
if you come another foot further. But it may be we can settle our
difference without bloodshed. My men have fled together to me to be
protected from arrest and prosecution, for what they have heretofore
done, not because they intend further to attack the government. I will
agree that they shall disperse and go quietly to their homes, provided
you give me your word that they shall not be arrested or injured by your
men, and will promise to use your utmost influence to secure them from
any arrest hereafter, and that at any rate they shall have trial before
a jury of their neighbors.'