THE VETO OF A MAID
Ah, I am afraid the clean white sheets, the soft springy bed, and the
balmy September air proved traitor to me, after the hardships of a
soldier's life in the field, the rough bivouac, and the hard ride from
the North, for when I awoke with a start, I found the sun high in the
heavens and the music of birds coming through the open window from the
trees outside. Hurriedly dressing, I opened my door and went down the
broad stairway into the old hall. Everything was quiet, not a soul was
around. I wandered across the hall and parlour, and there I stood for
a few minutes, looking out into the street, when a merry burst of
laughter across the hall attracted my attention. The door of the room
opposite was slightly ajar, and I saw that it was the library of the
house; so crossing the hall, I gently rapped on the panel. A cheery
"Come in!" was my answer. I obeyed the summons, threw the door open,
and entered.
"Why, it is our feather-bed soldier," came a merry voice from the
broad window-sill, where sat two young ladies. A peal of ringing
laughter followed; for, indeed, I was somewhat non-plussed to thus
come upon two such laughing, merry girls.
One was dark, the other fair;
Both were sweet and debonair.
Indeed they were very pretty, sitting there amid the quaint old
surroundings, the heavy old book-presses, with solid oak doors, the
wainscoting extending to the ceiling, the broad window-seats, the
green trees, and quiet garden beyond. I knew at once that they must be
daughters of my host, Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy Johnson, at
that time the reigning belles of the western shore.
"Now I know what awaited me I shall never forgive that feather-bed," I
replied, recovering from my confusion and making my best bow. "I would
never have proved such a traitor to my cloth."
"That is better," said Mistress Polly, the black-haired, dark-eyed
one. "Come and report to us, sir. Do you not know that no officer
returns from the army who does not immediately report to us?"
"I understand their alacrity in doing so. I shall be among the first
to obey the order hereafter."
"Then, sir, come tell us of the battle, and what brought you hither so
fast that the mud is still upon your boots?"
Now, telling the account of the battle to two charming young ladies,
whose bright eyes and eager faces told of the interest they took in my
narrative, was a far different thing from telling the same tale before
the powerful Council of Safety, and I am free to confess that I
enjoyed the last far more than the first.
Their exclamations and excited questions spurred me on, and I drew the
picture of the battle with a stronger hand and painted myself a hero,
which I am afraid I was far from being.
But Mistress Betsy suddenly sat up straight, exclaiming:
"Bless me, Polly, Mr. Frisby has not had his breakfast, and here it is
near ten o'clock"--an outrageous late hour in those days.
At this both Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy sprang to their feet,
and I was duly conducted to the dining-room, where a delightful
breakfast awaited me, which I endeavoured to eat amid their sallies
and their questioning.
We were having a very gay time of it, when there came a heavy step
through the hall into the room, and a cheery voice asked: "How is the
soldier to-day? In good hands, I see." It was Thomas Johnson.
"That he is, sir," I replied, rising, "and he thoroughly enjoys it
too."
"Spoken like a soldier," replied our future Governor, "and like a
soldier you must leave at once, for the Council desire you to carry
these despatches posthaste to General Washington."
"No; he shall not," cried Mistress Polly, with a stamp of her foot.
"He has promised to drive our four-in-hand to the races this
afternoon, and I am not going to let that Council of old fogies rob us
of the only soldier in town who has seen service for at least one
day."
"So that is the way the wind blows," said her father, pinching her
cheek and laughing. "I will tell the great Council of Public Safety
that they have been overruled by a maid."
"It will not be the first time," she retorted. "Their wives overrule
them every day."
"I will ride all night to make it up," I suggested.
"Never mind, my boy," he replied, "you deserve a little holiday; you
need not leave Annapolis until nightfall, and Kent the following
night, which will give you a chance to see your mother again. There, I
hope this little minx will give me some peace now."
The treaty was quickly sealed by a kiss, and Mistress Polly ran off to
give the order for the coach-and-four, for the races began at one
o'clock and the course was a short distance out of the city.
There soon came a clatter of hoofs, a rattle, a slam and a bang, a
whoaing, a yelling, and a confusion of noises.
"They have put the colts in," cried Mistress Betsy with glee, and
Mistress Polly was at the door crying, "Come on."
"Great Jove!" said I to myself, as I seized my hat and followed after,
for though I had driven many a wild team I had never done so through a
town before. And four devils they were for a certainty, a little under
size, but making up for that by the fire and vim of their proceedings.
The heels of the wheelers were playing like castanets on the
dashboard, while the leaders were in the air half the time as they
swayed above the crowd of darkies, who, hanging on everywhere, were
trying to hold them down, while the great coach swayed and rocked
behind.
There was a flash of skirts, a gleam of the smallest feet in the
world, and Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy were in their places, and
I had sprung to my seat and gathered the reins in my hands.
"All ready, Captain?"
"Ready. Let go." They scattered like chaff. There was a flash of hoofs
and they were off like a shot, their bodies stretched low to the
ground, the great coach rolling and rocking behind.
Luckily the street ended in a country road, for the street and the
houses were gone in an instant, and we were rushing along between
green fields. A column of dust rose up and whirled behind us, and the
road stretched like a ribbon before, while the young ladies at my side
laughed and clapped their hands in glee. After several miles the pace
began to tell, I slowly brought them under control, and by the time I
had come to the race-course I had them well in hand. We had gone
several miles out of our way, but by taking a short cut we arrived at
the races on time. I brought the four colts into the field with a dash
and a flourish as they were preparing for the first race.
The course was a great level field of greensward, oval in shape, with
the track in beautiful condition. Far down the track on either hand,
almost encircling the field, stretched the lines of the coaches,
chariots, gigs, and wagons. Gentlemen on horseback and on foot, an
eager, bustling crowd, gay with colours and bright faces, already
tingling with the excitement of the coming race, made a stirring
scene; for the Trinity of the Marylanders in the early days of my
youth were the horse, the hounds, and a fight.
But though the faces were fair, merry, and pleasant to look upon,
though the chariots and four-in-hands were gorgeous and bedecked,
there was a woful lack of cavaliers to make those damask cheeks
mantle with a blush, for they were away fighting in the North. Thus it
was, as I drove down the line in my uniform of scarlet and buff, to
find a stand, that Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy had their
triumph, and many a fair face turned our way as we drove by, until I
brought the coach to a halt in a good place next to the parson, where
he sat his cob, watching the preliminaries.
"Find the parson," said Mistress Polly judiciously, "and you will have
found the best place in the field."
"Oh, Mistress Polly, you are a minx," said that reverend gentleman.
"How in the world could I make the youngsters come to church if they
did not know I was a good judge of horseflesh as well as a minister?"
"They are off," cried Mistress Betsy. The race had begun; but why
describe the race? Those who have never seen a race are mere
worthless creatures deserving no consideration, and those who have
seen a race do not need a description. At the mere name they see the
grand thoroughbreds at the line, their coats shining like satin in the
sun, eager and ready to be off. Then the flag falls, and, amid the
rustling of skirts and craning of necks, they are off. Ah, and then
comes the glorious excitement of it all as you watch with eager eyes
that ribbon of a track, and see now this one, now that one, slowly
draw away from the bunch at the start, and the closing of the space
again, until they become mere moving spots on the far side of the
field. And then, that home stretch, with its thunder of hoofs, its
roar of voices, and cheers and yells, as the grand beasts, with
straining nerves and neck to neck, make the last great effort; and
afterward the triumph, the waving of handkerchiefs, the great cheer
that greets the victor, and the smiles of merry lips and laughing
eyes. Those were the prizes we raced for, when racing was the pastime
of gentlemen, and not an excuse for blackguardism and gambling, as
to-day it is fast becoming. So my kind hosts and I made our little
bets, and enjoyed ourselves right thoroughly, until the last race,
which was won by a grandson of the great Selim, was over and done.
Then I swung my four colts into the road again, and at a rattling pace
returned to town.
It was late now, and the sun was preparing to take its last dip behind
the western hills; so I was forced to bid my charming hostesses adieu,
and amid many good wishes and a waving of handkerchiefs, departed to
seek my waterman, to begin my trip across the bay.
The town became a blur, a dark mass behind us, broken by the twinkling
of the lights through the gloom, as we swiftly glided down the Severn
before the wind. Out upon the bay it was still light, and we steered
for the north point of the Isle of Kent. The wind was fresh. With all
sail set we skimmed the water before it, and ere many hours had passed
we saw the light through the gloom of Rock Hall straight ahead. But
the old waterman suddenly brought his helm around hard, and pointed
her nose for the wide mouth of the Chester close at hand.
"What is wrong?" I asked, and for an answer he pointed with his arm to
where against the sky were outlined the tapering masts of a large
vessel lying between us and Rock Hall.
"That is a man-of-war," he said, "we will have to run up the river to
Chestertown."
"Agreed," said I, right readily, for I thought I might see Mistress
Jean once more before I went back to the front.
The mouth of the Chester was soon gained, and for hours, through the
stillness of the night, we glided over its smooth waters, between low,
heavily wooded banks, or the broad sweeping fields of some plantation,
whose boundaries were lapped by the waters of the river. In the early
morning, in the dusky gray hours, we ran along beside the wharf of the
old county seat of Kent.