TELLS HOW ILL NEWS CAME TO GENERAL GAGE
For a moment, after hearing the thunderous voice of Major Buckstone,
Ezra Prentiss was startled. But an instant’s reflection showed him that
the major’s presence could make no difference to him or his plans.
“He knows nothing of me that is not already known,” the lad told
himself.
The grave-faced man servant who had admitted them now spoke, in a
low-voiced aside, to Ezra.
“I am glad to see you back, sir. We’ve had all sorts of fears for you.
The master thought you might have been killed, even.”
Ezra smiled.
“But you see that I am not,” said he, understanding at once that he was
again mistaken for George.
“Yes, sir.” The man looked at him in a fidgety sort of way. He seemed to
dread something. “The master, sir,” he recommenced, “is—is—you’ll pardon
me, sir—in a bad temper to-night. Shall I announce you?”
But here Pennington intruded himself.
“If I may be so pushing,” said he to Ezra, “I will take that upon
myself. There are some trifles that had perhaps better be gone over
before he sees you.”
Ezra caught Scarlett’s warning look, but paid no attention. He knew full
well that it was the spy’s intention to be forehanded with him; he
realized that the man desired to place the case before the gathering in
his grandfather’s house in as evil a light as possible.
But he was careless in the matter; he felt that it made no difference
what Pennington said. He was in Boston; he was in a fair way, perhaps,
of discovering much that would be of help to the cause of liberty. How
he was to escape, finally, was a matter for the future. The present was
to be spent in garnering facts; the future must take care of itself.
“Very well,” said Ezra, readily enough. “Do you speak to him and prepare
him.”
Pennington followed the serving man up the wide hall; some hangings were
drawn back and both disappeared.
“More and more strange do you grow to me,” said Scarlett, as he seated
himself in a cushioned chair. “I thought you wise enough to know that a
first voice in a cause is usually the winning one.”
“When one has little interest in a thing,” returned Ezra, “it matters
little who wins. My purpose here is not to see who makes the best
impression on my grandfather and his friends.”
Scarlett said nothing to this, but merely shook his head and began to
look about him.
The hall was a lofty one with a polished floor and a broad balustraded
staircase. Paintings hung upon the walls and rich Eastern hangings
screened the doorways. There was a massiveness about everything that
indicated opulence in the owner.
“Your grandfather,” said the soldier, “is evidently a person of some
consequence.”
“He is engaged in the West Indian trade,” answered Ezra, “and is
accounted a very rich man.”
“I see.” The soldier of fortune twisted one end of his moustache. “This
war, however, will put a check to his money-making for a time, I think.”
“It has all but ruined the trade of them all. And I wonder how much,”
speculated the boy, “that has to do with the British leaning of most of
the merchants.”
“A great deal, you may depend,” chuckled Gilbert Scarlett. “Touch a
trader’s purse and you touch him upon a most delicate part. Not,”
hastily, “that I mean to cast any discredit upon your relative. I speak
of merchants in the bulk.”
“It is not for me to defend my grandfather,” said Ezra with a smile,
“even if you did select him from them all.” For there came a confused
hubbub of voices, above which was one high, harsh and threatening. “As
you shall see in a moment, he is in every way competent to take care of
himself.”
Even as he spoke the hangings over the far doorway were flung aside and
a tall, grim-faced old man, with thin white hair and of gaunt, powerful
frame, stepped into the hall. With head erect and frowning brows he came
down the hall; his eyes were hard with anger.
“So,” said he, and Scarlett at once learned that he was the owner of the
harsh voice, “you have seen fit to show yourself at last, I see.”
Ezra bowed respectfully.
“As things are, sir,” said he, quietly, “it would have puzzled me to
make my way into Boston any sooner.”
A burning hatred flashed in Seth Prentiss’ eyes. One hand gestured his
fury, the other was pointed at his grandson.
“Are you mocking me?” he asked in a voice made low by the storm of
feeling that seemed to possess him. “Are you deriding us all because we
are pent up here, like rats, and never a blow struck by the King’s
troops to set the matter right!”
“As you should know, sir,” said Ezra, in the same respectful tone, “I
would not——”
But the stern old man silenced him with a gesture.
“I know nothing as to what you would or would not do,” he said. “You
have always been half-hearted in the cause of King George. From the
beginning I’ve noticed a bent in you toward those rascals over there,”
and his furious arm-sweep took in the whole region from Dorchester to
Charlestown. “You were always talking of what they had to bear with;
seldom indeed have I heard you speak of what we suffered.”
“The patriots——” began Ezra once more, but again he was interrupted.
“Patriots! Fiddlesticks, sir! Rebels is the name for them! Rebels to a
good King, and skulkers who destroy the prosperity of their countrymen.
My ships rot in their docks; my trade is going from me bit by bit, after
my years of struggle to build it up.”
“It is the fortune of war, sir,” said Gilbert Scarlett, soothingly.
“War!” The gray brows drew themselves lower and the grim old face turned
upon the speaker. “Do you call this war? It is not! It is an infamy that
will recoil upon them, sir!”
“Say what you please,” retorted the adventurer coolly, “war it is, and a
very pretty one, indeed, all things considered. For mechanics and
husbandmen, these rebels of yours set to it right cleverly.”
What the answer of Seth Prentiss would have been to this is not known.
For another step sounded in the hall and a stout man in the uniform of a
British general officer made his appearance. He had a round face and a
bluff manner; his voice held the note of satire as he spoke.
“Hah!” said he, “and so we have here a student of warfare.” He swept
Scarlett with a look. “And so you admire the works of the Americans?” he
asked.
The young adventurer had arisen upon the appearance of Ezra’s
grandfather; so he now struck his favorite attitude, his legs very far
apart, his thumbs in his sword belt.
“In so far as they go,” replied he, “I have the honor to say, ‘Yes.’ Not
that I consider their formations complete, mind you,” with an air of
great assurance, “for I have seen much that could be corrected. But,
when all is said and done, they have you fairly beleaguered; without
reinforcements you cannot stir.”
As this very clearly stated the case, General Gage, for the officer was
the British governor, looked at the speaker sharply.
[Illustration: GENERAL GAGE LOOKED AT THE SPEAKER]
“Mr. Pennington gave us your name,” said he, “but I have forgotten it.
Perhaps you would favor us, sir?”
Scarlett bowed elaborately.
“I am Gilbert Scarlett,” said he, “and have but lately served His
Majesty of Spain. Also I have seen blows struck while in the armies of
the Turk, the Elector of Hanover, and His Grace of Wurtemburg. I could
add to these,” with modesty, “the names of the Swiss and some Northern
nations, but,” as he shrugged his shoulders, “what purpose would it
serve? From what I have already said you must have gathered that I know
whereof I speak.”
The British general smiled satirically.
“You are overyoung to have served so many princes and states,” said he.
“And I fear that your time with each one must have been a brief one.”
At this the dark brows of the young soldier of fortune came together;
his hand hitched his sword around in a manner that Ezra well remembered,
and was about to speak. But the lad placed a warning hand upon his arm,
and gave him a look.
However, Gage paid no attention to the other’s reception of his remarks.
Indeed, no sooner had he uttered them than he turned to the master of
the house, and said:
“If you will be so obliging, Mr. Prentiss, we will continue our
conference. This stranger gentleman and your grandson can, no doubt,
await our convenience.”
“Sir,” replied the merchant, “I beg your pardon for leaving the room so
abruptly. But I could not wait. I could not remain and think of him
being here,” indicating Ezra, “under the weight of this accusation.”
“That is very natural,” returned Gage, good-naturedly enough. “But let
us come at the matter in an orderly, soldierly way. When we have fully
understood what Pennington has to say, then we shall call the lad in—and
his very experienced friend also,” with rather a mocking look at
Scarlett. “That will be much the best way.”
The aged merchant bowed to the suggestion of the British governor. But
his stern eyes lost none of their anger; his jaws were set as grimly as
ever. And as he preceded Gage up the hall, his manner was proud and
unrelenting.
“It would seem,” said Scarlett, who had ignored Gage’s last fling with
considerable effort, “that your grandfather is a gentleman who would
judge and condemn one very quickly if he were so inclined.”
“He is a proud man and an intolerant one,” replied the boy. “He loves to
rule, and, as you may have noticed, his rule is not likely to be of the
lightest.”
Both Seth Prentiss and General Gage had disappeared into the room from
which they had lately emerged; and the grave-faced serving man brought
the two visitors chairs, that they might rest while awaiting the British
commander’s pleasure.
The night was drawing on; indeed it was past midnight, and the quietness
of the house in Sun Court was unbroken as they sat in silence, each
moment expecting to be summoned. Ezra had no notion of how the matter
would terminate. But he had expectations of learning something that
would help the cause of the colonies; and so he sat patiently, alertly,
never for a moment allowing his mind to drift from its purpose.
Without in the court a guard paced slowly and steadily up and down. The
footsteps were heavy and measured; the soldier evidently had plates of
steel set in his shoes; for when his heels struck the stones they gave
out a metallic ring. Every now and then from the direction of Middle
Street came the rush of hoofs.
“They seem to be pushing troops steadily toward the lower end of the
town,” said Scarlett, lowly, at length. “And to my mind that means
nothing less than the delivery of an attack, or the expectation of
receiving one.”
“The lower end of the town! The delivery of an attack!”
These words startled Ezra. Like a flash the thought of a few hours
before came to the boy. Finding that his dispatch bearer had failed him,
Major Buckstone had delivered his information by word of mouth. And now,
under cover of the darkness, Gage was hurrying his most formidable
troops toward the Neck, meaning to hurl them forward and crush the
slender line of guard.
As the moments slipped by, the lad’s feelings can well be imagined. He
was forced to wait. Even had he slipped out of his grandfather’s house,
he could give his commanders no warning. The river lay between them, the
passage of which, under the circumstances, was all but impossible.
However, there was one thought that gave him courage and kept him cool.
“Dr. Warren received the dispatch in good time,” he told himself. “He
must have consulted with General Ward. The guard at the Neck has surely
been made strong enough to resist any sally.”
An hour went by and the greater part of another. Scarlett was beginning
to grumble impatiently when Pennington pushed aside the hangings of the
far doorway and beckoned them forward.
“It is surely time,” said Scarlett, as he arose and shook himself
together like a great dog. “Even the softest cushion grows hard, Master
Pennington, when a man waits overlong.”
But Pennington made no answer; there was a mocking light in his eyes, as
he held back the hangings that they might enter; and an unpleasant smile
was upon his lip.
In the centre of the room, which was a lofty one, was a huge table. At
the head of this sat General Gage. Upon either side sat Ezra’s
grandfather and Major Buckstone.
As the latter caught sight of Ezra he arose to his feet and his heavy
voice arose with him.
“Ah, my young gentlemen,” he saluted. “Well met. I am more pleased to
see you than I can express.”
“You are very good, Major Buckstone,” said Ezra calmly. He bowed to the
angry old officer. There was a smile upon his face as though the meeting
gave him real pleasure. This rendered the major furious.
“You are impudent, sir,” he roared, banging the table with his fist.
“You are insolent! But,” in triumph, “there are several matters which we
have before us which will make you change your manner in a moment.”
He would have continued in this strain, had not Gage said, coldly:
“Kindly remember, Major Buckstone, that I am to conduct this affair.”
The major grew purple; however, he saluted silently and resumed his
seat.
The British governor-general regarded Ezra speculatively for a moment.
He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Finally, he cleared his throat
and said:
“We have been informed by Mr. Pennington with regard to what passed a
few nights ago. Also he has told us of his meeting with you,” then
nodding at the young soldier, who stood stiffly, “and with this
gentleman, to-night.”
There was a short pause; then the commander of the British continued:
“This dispatch—a paper of the utmost importance in furthering the King’s
cause—I understand was turned over by you to a certain mysterious person
whom you have not named.”
Ezra inclined his head.
“It is necessary,” and Gage leaned his stout body forward, “that the
name and quality of this person be supplied us.”
“As to his quality,” returned Ezra Prentiss, “I can vouch for that. He
is a most excellent gentleman and has the country’s peace at heart.”
Gage frowned.
“That tells us very little,” he said. “The country’s peace is claimed by
those rascals across the river to be the thing nearest their thoughts.
And yet you see them in arms against the King and his Parliament. You
must go further than that, Master Prentiss.”
But Ezra shook his head.
“I am sorry,” said he. “But that I cannot do.”
The displeasure upon the face of Gage increased. He was about to
continue; but suddenly his expression changed; he held up one hand and
appeared to be listening intently. Then suddenly a smile overspread his
countenance.
“It is more than likely that the misuse which you have made of this
dispatch will do little harm,” he said. “But, for all,” with a keen
look, “I would like much to have this unknown gentleman’s name.”
A deep rumbling sound came from off in the distance. This was what
Gage’s quick ear had heard. Through one of the windows Ezra noted a red
reflection glance across the sky.
“They have begun the sally,” he thought. But he kept his expression of
his concern from appearing in his face; the gaze of Gage was fixed upon
him, and it would not do to show any interest except in the matter at
hand.
Major Buckstone also caught the sound. He looked at his commanding
officer inquiringly.
“You have been prompt,” said he.
“It was necessary,” replied the governor, dryly. “A great deal of time
had been wasted, you know.”
The bluff major seemed stung by this and was about to reply; but Gage’s
upraised hand silenced him. The general gave Ezra his attention once
more.
“You have not answered,” said he.
“I cannot,” returned the boy.
“I would hesitate in ascribing any motive to your actions that would be
to your discredit,” said General Gage; “but in the face of this answer,
what else can I do? Some time since, before that unfortunate occurrence
at Lexington, I recall that you tried to be of some service to me,
Master George. And your grandfather tells me, though reluctantly,” with
a twinkle in his eyes, “that there have been numerous other things you
have done to serve the King. But he tells me that you have had queer
notions—mixed feelings—odd ways of showing your loyalty.”
“He has always had too much regard for the colonies,” said Seth
Prentiss, and from the expression of his face this was nothing short of
a crime. “He has done, it is true, many things that helped our cause,”
continued the old merchant. “But he has done them because he thought it
the best way to serve the colonies. The King was never in his heart.”
There was a pause. The rumble of the guns rolled across the city; the
red flashes became incessant in the sky. And as they grew in volume and
frequency, so did the good humor of General Gage increase.
“So long as he has served the King’s cause,” said the commander, “it
matters but very little what his reasons were. But this affair of the
dispatch is different.”
Here Gilbert Scarlett cleared his throat.
“If I may speak a word,” said he, and he bowed elaborately, “I will say
that I see no great difference in what has already happened and what is
happening now.”
Gage looked at him inquiringly.
“If the youth has had odd and curious ways of performing his services in
the past,” said the soldier of fortune, “is it any matter for wonderment
that he should have them in the present?”
“Why,” said Gage, apparently much struck by this reasoning, “what you
say has the ring of philosophy.”
He tapped the edge of the table with his finger-tips for a moment. He
was a good-natured man when things were working smoothly; and he showed
it now.
“Who knows,” laughed he, “but what this is some sort of a pleasant
surprise he has in store for us? As he deals in mysteries, much as
Abdallah does, there is no telling.”
He turned to Ezra.
“So,” he continued, “we will allow the matter to rest for a time.
Further action can be taken when any developments come to our notice.”
“And in the meantime,” inquired Major Buckstone, “what disposition is to
be made with regard to the prisoners?”
“Oh, I would scarcely regard them in that light,” replied Gage
carelessly. “We will allow them what run of the city the townspeople
have. Never fear but that they will be at hand when wanted. The ways out
of Boston are closely watched, my dear major, as Master Pennington can
well tell you. They cannot get out, should they desire to do so ever so
much.”
The major glowered at Ezra, displeased. The old merchant sat silently
grim and unbelieving. Pennington, with satire in his eyes, rubbed the
palms of his hands together softly.
Then there came a clatter of hoofs that broke the silence of Sun Court.
They paused under the window, and the rider was heard dismounting. An
instant later the heavy knocker at the door of Seth Prentiss’ house gave
its thunderous rat-tat-tat.
“Something very urgent, it would seem,” said Pennington.
The man servant hurriedly brought into the governor’s presence a much
bespattered and all but breathless young officer of dragoons.
“Well, sir?” inquired Gage, sharply.
“News from Boston Neck, sir,” and the young officer saluted hurriedly.
“The attack was made, but the Americans were in large force and we were
repulsed. Then they attacked in turn and drove us back. The George
tavern has been burned by them and we have suffered some loss.”
“Very well!” The general’s voice was now sharp and angry. “If there is
any further action, let a report be sent me at once.”
The dragoon saluted and disappeared. Gage turned to Ezra.
“It may be that this upsetting of my plans has been caused by you,” he
said. “And then again, perhaps Abdallah’s information may have been
erroneous. However, I shall soon come at the real facts; and you shall
remain in Boston until I do.”