THE ABDUCTION
And many an old man’s sigh, and many a widow’s,
And many an orphan’s water-standing eye—
Men for their sons’, wives for their husbands’ fate,
And orphans for their parents’ timeless death—
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wert born. —Shakespeare.
Infamous wretch!
So much beneath my scorn. —Dryden.
Kate came down to breakfast in her riding habit, and when the meal was
concluded, mounted almost gayly; while Mrs. Warren, nearly weeping,
awaited the departure of her and Aylesford.
She watched the equestrians till they reached the bend of the pond, when
Aylesford, with a low bow and a wave of the hand, parted from Kate; and
immediately after both were lost to sight in the forest, he keeping on
over the bridge, and she turning to the left.
Kate rode on, with a light heart, talking to Arab, in the exuberance of
her feelings, as if he had been a human friend, patting him caressingly,
with her right hand, as she spoke. The intelligent beast pricked up his
ears, and looked around as if he actually understood her words.
“Let us have a gallop,” she said. “Here is the road where you beat
Selim. You remember it—don’t you, old fellow?”
She gave her horse his head, at these words, striking him smartly, and
away they went at full gallop.
Her fate hung, at that crisis, on a single thread. If Arab had
maintained, for a quarter of an hour, the pace at which he was going,
Kate would have passed the ambush prepared for her, at a speed which
would have prevented her detection. Could but a warning voice have
whispered to her the peril, could but one of those strange presentiments
have come which often occur, she would have escaped the danger. But,
suspecting no peril, she drew in her horse, as she approached the
spring, where the road became rougher, and reduced his pace to a walk.
“Well done,” she said, leaning over him and patting him again,
“good Arab.”
Suddenly she felt her bridle seized, and instantaneously the road was
filled with strange faces, to the number of at least half a dozen. They
were all alike coarse and ruffian-looking. The person who had seized her
bridle was the only one who struck Kate as not unfamiliar; but his
countenance was artificially blackened; and she could not, therefore,
discover when or where she had seen him.
At first she had uttered a slight scream. But this had been occasioned
rather by the startling suddenness of the attack, than by the assault
itself. In an instant she had recovered her self-possession, when her
first act was to strike her spur violently into Arab, and simultaneously
to give him his rein, in hopes to shake off the grasp of the stranger.
But the ruffian’s hold was too firm to be loosened. Arab sprung
forward like an arrow, with a snort of rage and terror, lifting the
villain almost from his feet and dragging him several paces forward. But
it was in vain. The gripe now fixed on the bridle was one evidently
accustomed to such work, and though the horse plunged, reared, sprang
aside, and resorted to other means to get rid of his mistress’
assailant, the effort was to no purpose.
“So ho, so ho,” said the man, in a deep, gruff voice of authority.
“Won’t you be still, sir?” Gradually the restive animal subsided
into quiet, and stood trembling all over, the sweat oozing out from
every pore, till his satin-like coat glistened like glass.
Meantime his mistress, who had continued spurring him till she saw it
was useless, sat in her seat as if she had been part of the animal, till
even the coarse ruffians about her audibly cried out at her skill.
“It’s no use, miss,” said the voice of the disguised leader.
“I’ve held worse colts than this, and when once I get my grip on a
horse, he’s bound to stand till I let him go.”
The man’s voice, she thought, was one she had often heard. His evident
familiarity with horses was another proof of his identity. She looked
again at the burly figure, and at once remembered who he was. “James
Arrison!” she said, in surprise.
The ruffian made no distinct reply, but muttered an oath between his
teeth.
“What do you mean by this rudeness?” she said, with a dignity
amounting to sternness. “Let go my bridle, sir.”
The villain had now, however, recovered from his momentary discomposure
at the detection of his disguise. He looked boldly up, and said
ironically—
“Not if you please, miss. We haven’t come so far or waited so long,
to give up our booty in this fashion.”
Kate’s heart, stout as it was, sunk within her. Though she had heard
nothing of Arrison’s proceedings since his return to the vicinity of
Sweetwater, and did not therefore identify him with the burning of widow
Bates’ house, yet she knew enough of his former deeds to satisfy
herself that she had fallen into the hands of refugees. The utter
disregard of law, both human and divine, exhibited by these outlaws, was
well known to her. She was aware that they valued even human life
lightly, when it stood in the way of their plans. It was but a few
months ago, if report spoke correctly, that a gang of them had attacked
a lone farm-house at midnight, in a neighboring county, murdered the
owner and his wife, and sought even the blood of the innocent daughter,
who, however, luckily escaped to a neighboring wood. It was within a
period, scarcely less remote, that a band, fifty or sixty strong, had
assailed the dwelling of Major Huddy, at what is now Colt’s Neck, and
carried off the proprietor as their prisoner, after a protracted
defence, which was only terminated by the outlaws setting fire to the
house. It was less than a twelvemonth since an armed launch, managed by
twenty similar ruffians, had cruized off the mouth of a neighboring
river, and even ravaged its shores. Innumerable were the tales
authenticated of the ruffianly character of these desperadoes. Old age
had been assassinated by them in cold blood; and women, it was said, had
been not unfrequently violated. Their brutal ferocity had passed into a
proverb. At the name of refugee the very children turned pale, and crept
closer to their mother’s side. Yet into the hands of a gang of these
ruffians Kate saw that she had fallen, and fallen moreover in
consequence of a premeditated ambush.
Most persons of her sex would have lost all presence of mind, at
realizing her situation. But Kate’s courageous heart rose with the
occasion. Others of her sex also, even if they had retained their
presence of mind, would have resorted to tears and supplications. She,
however, saw that these would be wasted on the hardened ruffians into
whose hands she had fallen. She resolved, accordingly, to appeal to
their self-interest, supposing that ransom was their real purpose.
She turned to the refugees, saying—
“Name your price, and, if it is within our means, it shall be paid
when and where you please. You all know who I am, I presume. The word of
an Aylesford is as good as a bond.”
The men looked at each other, and then at their leader but none of them
answered, evidently leaving it to him to be their spokesman.
“And how much do you think you could raise at Sweetwater?” asked
Arrison, sneeringly. “If we had known it was such a bank of England,
that it could pay down golden guineas for your ransom, maybe we’d have
sacked it first, and then carried you off afterwards. Now how much will
your ladyship give?”
The tone in which he spoke, coupled with his enigmatical words, gave
Kate her first suspicion that the ruffians’ motive was not wholly
mercenary in waylaying her. Her cheek, in spite of herself, was a shade
paler, and her voice trembled as she replied—
“In heaven’s name, Arrison, state your terms, and let me go. We have
but little gold on hand, as you ought to know, in these times; but we
can get it; and I pledge you my honor, the honor of my father’s
daughter, that your price shall be paid.”
“Without treachery?”
“Without treachery.”
“If I name a day and place, will you send a trusty servant with the
gold, and let no one know of it?”
“I will.”
“Will you swear it?”
“I will swear it.”
The particularity with which he proceeded gave Kate hope, which was
increased by his next words.
“Will a hundred guineas be too much?”
“I will promise you a hundred guineas,” she said promptly. “It is
a large sum, a very large sum, for these times, and you must give me
leisure to procure it.” She would have added, “The more as my
cousin, Mr. Aylesford, is absent.” But, remembering that this betrayal
of her defenceless condition might stimulate the cupidity of the
refugees, she corrected herself, and said— “It will require at least
a fortnight.”
Anxiously, as she spoke, she studied the faces of her hearers,
especially that of their leader, to notice the effect of her words. The
affected interest with which Arrison had conducted the conversation, now
suddenly gave place to a look of sardonic triumph, which betrayed to
Kate that he had been amusing himself at her expense, as the tiger is
said to play with his victim before he laps his blood.
“It won’t do, my pretty miss,” said the villain. “I’m too old
a bird to be caught with such chaff. Your promises wouldn’t be worth a
farthing, when once you were out of my sight. No, no, my cunning
she-fox, you’re not so smart as you think you are. I have a plan of my
own which you shall know in good time, by which I expect to make a
better thing than a hundred guineas out of you. But, for the present, we
will listen to no talk of ransom. You go with us, and if you can make up
your mind to go quietly, it will be to your interest. But if not,
we’ll find a way to make you.”
Kate trembled secretly at the dark hints of the ruffian. Oh! how she
longed, at that moment, for the sight of even her cousin. The thought of
Major Gordon also, and his stout arm, and of Uncle Lawrence and his
brave spirit, rushed across her; and she glanced eagerly up and down the
road, in the wild hope of beholding one or both.
“Come,” said her captor, brutally, “make up your mind quick. You
needn’t count on help, for we’re strong enough for twice as many as
would be likely to pass by; and now that we’ve got you we mean to keep
you, even if we have to slit the throats of a dozen rebel officers or
canting old scoundrels.” And as Kate’s countenance betrayed that he
had divined her thoughts correctly, he continued— “You see I know
what you’re hoping for; but they’ll not come, if you wait till
to-morrow; since they’ve both gone down the river to fight King
George, like two fools, leaving the coast clear for us.” And he
laughed again mockingly.
With this announcement, that the only persons to whom she could have
looked for aid were absent, her last hope departed. She now recognized
fully to what a deliberate and carefully-executed plan she had fallen a
victim. As Arrison had intended, she believed herself to be a prey to a
lawless gang, who, as they seemed to be above the temptation of lucre,
must have designs upon her at which she shuddered even to glance.
But she saw that not only expostulations but even promises were useless,
and from this moment, therefore, she was haughtily silent. She resolved
that, at present, she would make no further efforts at resistance, since
they would only be fruitless; but that, yielding to necessity, she would
accompany her captors; determining to reserve all her strength for a
crisis, which she now deemed not improbable, when death might probably
be her only resource from dishonor.
“If you don’t try to escape,” said Arrison, seeing she did not
speak, “we’ll not disturb you, except to lead your horse; and in
that case you may ride. But if you give us trouble, we’ll make you
dismount and walk; and if you refuse to do this, I’ll blow your brains
out.”
The ruffian; as he spoke, drew a pistol from his breast, while he laid
his hand emphatically upon her arm. Kate knew that he would keep his
promise, both from his past reputation and his present determined look.
“Don’t touch me, sir,” she said, sternly, shrinking back by an
impulse she was unable to control, “I will go quietly, since go I
must.”
The man answered by a brutal laugh, but removed his hand and put up his
pistol. Turning to two of his gang, whom he called by name, he directed
them to take Arab by the bridle, close to the bit, one on either side,
and so lead the animal.
“And now, miss,” he said, “we’ll be off; for we must put many
good miles of land and water between us and Sweetwater before night;
because, in matters of this kind,” and he sneered in his cold-blooded
way again, “it’s just as well, you know, to clinch the nail.
There’s nothing like making even a sure thing surer.”
Without further word the party set forth, in something like military
order. Two of the gang went a hundred yards in advance; then came the
two who were leading Arab; and, a hundred yards behind, the remaining
two brought up the rear. Arrison, at first, walked beside Kate, but as
they progressed, he shifted his position frequently, now going ahead
even of those in advance, and now dropping to the extreme rear, always
on the watch against surprise. Occasionally he addressed our heroine,
but as she adhered firmly to her purpose of not answering, and scarcely
made an effort to conceal her scorn, he finally relapsed into silence.
Their way led through old and half-overgrown wood-roads, through most of
which a vehicle would have found it impossible to pass. Familiar as Kate
considered herself with the by-ways of this description in the
neighborhood of Sweetwater, most of these they now followed were quite
strange to her. She soon lost all knowledge of their whereabouts, in
consequence.
Her suspicion that they were following the river towards its mouth
became a certainty, as the day wore on, when they emerged suddenly on
the banks of a deep, and comparatively wide stream, the shores of which
she recognized immediately. A boat lay concealed, under the shadow of
overhanging trees and bushes, as if awaiting them.
“You’ll dismount here,” said Arrison, breaking silence for the
first time for several hours. “Remember my threat, which, if you
scream or resist,” he added, with an oath, and a meaning tap of his
breast, “I’ll keep.”
Kate haughtily waved him away, as he approached to assist her, and
leaping from the saddle, gathered up the skirts of her riding-dress and
walked to the boat, whither his look had directed her.
But even in that perilous moment, when she knew not but that the crisis,
which she had feared all day, was close at hand, she could not part from
Arab without a pang. As she took her seat in the boat, her eyes still
followed her horse; and she was comforted to see that a lad, who
appeared all at once, was hoisted into her saddle, as if to ride the
animal to a place of safety.
Directly that Arab had disappeared, after turning his head sadly, and as
if reproachfully, towards her, the refugees entered the boat, the men
assumed the oars, and Arrison taking the rudder, in a moment more they
pushed off.