ANSTICE BOYD SAVES THE LIFE OF A CAPTIVE
While Coacoochee was engaged in his fierce pursuit of the traitor
Seminole across the black causeway, Irwin Douglass was led to the
village, where he was securely bound to one of the great trees by which
it was shaded. Here his captors left him, and seizing their rifles
hastened back to the edge of the swamp.
The moment Anstice realized that the young soldier, though a captive,
was not doomed to instant death, she flew back to the hut occupied by
her brother, whom she found still quietly sleeping in his grass-woven
hammock. Roused into a startled wakefulness by her abrupt entrance, the
convalescent was for some moments at a loss to comprehend what she was
saying or what had caused her excitement.
"Who do you say is captured? and what has happened, dear, to frighten
you?" he asked, in a bewildered tone.
"Irwin Douglass, and they are going to kill him, and the village
is about to be attacked, and we shall all be murdered!" cried the
terrified girl.
"Douglass captured and about to be killed? Impossible!" exclaimed
Boyd, rising and starting toward the doorway. "But I will go and see.
Surely Coacoochee would never murder a prisoner in cold blood. As for
ourselves, you know we are safe so long as we are his guests. Wait
here, sister, and I will bring Douglass back with me, if, as you say,
he is in the village."
But the frightened girl clung to him and would not be left. So they
set forth together, and had hardly gained the outer air before a sound
of firing from the causeway warned them that fighting of some sort was
begun. The same sounds created vast excitement among the inmates of the
village, and the crowd of negroes, who, at the first note of alarm,
had come swarming up from the fields. These so occupied the entire
foreground that the brother and sister could get no sight of him whom
they sought. Neither was their friend the young war-chief to be seen.
They attempted to make way through the throng, but were impatiently
pushed back, the crowd scowling and muttering at them angrily.
One huge, coal-black negro even advanced upon them with a drawn knife
and so ugly an expression, that Ralph Boyd instinctively thrust his
sister behind him, and nerved himself to receive an attack. Unarmed and
weakened by illness as he was, the outcome of such a struggle could
readily be foreseen, and the white man cast a despairing glance about
him in search of some weapon. There was none, and the gleaming knife
was already uplifted for a deadly stroke, when, with a shrill cry, a
black woman sprang betwixt the two, snatched the knife from the negro's
hand, and flourishing it in his face, poured out such a furious torrent
of angry, scornful, and threatening words, that the brute slunk away
from her, completely cowed.
Now, turning and almost pushing Boyd and his sister before her,
Letty--for the black Amazon was no other than Anstice's own
maid--succeeded in getting them back inside the hut before their
assailant had time to rally from his discomfiture. Then, still
clutching the knife she had so adroitly captured, the black girl stood
guard before the entrance, deaf alike to those of her own color, who
taunted her with being a traitor to her race, and to the entreaties of
her young mistress, that she should attempt a rescue of the prisoner
about whom the crowd of Indian women and negroes still swarmed.
"Cayn't do it, Miss Anstice," replied the black girl, firmly, but
without turning her head. "I'se powerful sorry for Marse Douglass, but
when it's him or you, I know which one I'se bound to look after."
"But, Letty, they will murder him!"
"No, Miss Anstice, not till Coacoochee says so. They das'n't kill him,
not till the chief gives the word."
"But supposing Coacoochee does not come? He may be killed or captured
himself, you know."
"There ain't no use speculating on that, Miss Anstice, because he's
come already. I can see him out there now, talking to the crowd. Looks
like he's in a powerful hurry, too, and I spec's the end of time has
come for poor Marse Douglass. Oh Lord, Miss Anstice! Stop up your ears,
quick!"
At these ominous words, the brave English girl, instead of complying,
darted from the hut so swiftly, that ere Letty could interfere to
prevent her, she had gained the centre of the village. There she came
upon a scene well calculated to freeze the blood in her veins. Irwin
Douglass, bound to a tree, with his pale, resolute face turned toward
the setting sun, gazed with unflinching calmness into the black muzzles
of four levelled rifles, that in another moment would pour their deadly
contents into his body. The pitiless warriors who held them, and only
awaited a signal from their young chief to press the fatal triggers,
scanned the face of their victim in vain for the faintest trace of
fear. There was none; and they were filled with regrets that so brave
a man could not be reserved for a more lingering and trying form of
death. But there was no time to spare. The soldiers were even now upon
them, and whatever was to be done must be done quickly. Already murmurs
of impatience could be heard among the spectators.
As Coacoochee was about to give the dread command, there came a quick
rush, and the girlish figure of Anstice Boyd stood full in front of the
cruel rifles, between them and their human mark. Her wonderful hair,
half loosed from its coil, glinted like spun gold in the red sunlight.
Her eyes were big with terror, and her face was bloodless, but her
voice rang out clear and strong, as she cried:
"Coacoochee, you must not do this thing! You dare not!"
"He is an enemy," answered the young chief, calmly; and without
betraying his annoyance at this interruption. "If we should not kill
him, he would kill us."
"He might in battle or in fair fight, but he would never shoot down a
helpless prisoner," replied the girl, in scornful tones. "Set him free,
place a weapon in his hands, and fight him man to man, if you dare."
"Gladly would I," answered the young Seminole, "if there was time, but
there is not. Thy people have hunted us like wolves to our den, and
even now are upon us. In another minute must we fly for our lives. Our
friends we can leave to their friends. Our captive we cannot take, and
dare not release. He is a spy. The white man puts a spy to death; why
should not the Indian? Coacoochee has spoken. The spy must die. Let my
white sister stand aside."
Very stern was the young war-chief, and very determined. A murmur of
approbation rose from the dusky throng about him as his words fell upon
their ears.
A wave of despair surged over Anstice Boyd. Her face flushed, then
became deadly pale. Her voice was well-nigh choked as she answered:
"Then, oh, Coacoochee, if you will not yield to the dictates of
humanity, still listen to me. In the name of Allala, thy spirit sister,
in the name of her who still lives, and is most dear to thee, in the
name of Ralph Boyd, who, by his deeds, has proved himself thy friend, I
plead for this man's life. If this is not enough, I demand it for yet
another reason." Here, with face crimsoned like the rising sun, the
girl stepped close to the young chief, and spoke a few words in a tone
so low that none but he could catch their import.
His stern face softened, and for a moment he looked curiously at her.
Then drawing his own silver-mounted knife from its sheath, he handed it
to her, saying:
"The words of the white maiden have sunk deep into the heart of
Coacoochee. Let her lead him whom she has saved to the lodge of her
brother. Keep him there, close hidden from my people, so long as a
voice is heard in this place. Then, and not till then, will it be safe
for the Iste-hatke to venture forth. Farewell, my sister! Thank not
the wild cat that his claws are sheathed. Thank rather Allala, Nita,
and Ralph Boyd. _Hi-e-pas! Hi-e-pas!_"
[Illustration: THE GIRL STEPPED CLOSE TO THE YOUNG CHIEF AND SPOKE A
FEW WORDS.]
The last two words were uttered in ringing tones of command to his own
people, and, supplemented as they were by a crashing volley of musketry
from the edge of the swamp, they produced an instant effect.
Although many glances of hate were flashed at the white girl and
the prisoner, whom she freed from his bonds with two strokes of
Coacoochee's keen knife, they were allowed to pass unharmed to the hut
occupied by Ralph Boyd. He walked with them; for, without his sister's
knowledge, he had stood close by her side while she pleaded for the
life of Irwin Douglass, ready to strike a blow in her defence, or to
share her fate.
The three entered the hut together, and as its curtain of deerskin was
drawn so as to exclude all prying eyes, the overwrought girl fell into
her brother's arms, weeping hysterically. The young soldier, who but
a moment before stood within the shadow of death, gazed curiously and
awkwardly for a second on this scene, and then turning away, sat down
with his face buried in his hands.
Ralph Boyd sought to calm his brave sister with loving words. So filled
was each of the three with crowding emotions that they took no note
of time nor of outside sounds, until at length the girl ceased her
sobbing and gazed with a smile into her brother's face. Then, with a
weight lifted from his heart, he began to talk to her in a cheerful
strain.
"It was nobly done, sister mine," he said, "and as a special pleader I
will name you before any barrister in the land. What argument, though,
was it you used at the last? I failed to catch the words, but they must
have been of powerful force."
Again a tide of crimson mantled the girl's fair cheeks, as she replied:
"Coacoochee knows, and I know; but let it suffice you, brother, that
they were effective; for more than that I can never tell."
At this juncture, the young soldier, looking as guilty as though he
had been caught at eavesdropping, rose, drew aside the curtain at the
entrance, and stepped outside. As he did so, he uttered an exclamation
that quickly brought the others to his side.
The village, recently so populous and filled with busy life, was
deserted. Not a soul was to be seen. Even the pigs and chickens had
disappeared. An unbroken silence, as of an impending doom, brooded over
the place, and, as the three who were now its sole occupants walked
among the vacant habitations, they felt impelled to lower their voices,
as though in presence of the dead. They had gone but a short distance
when their attention was attracted by the sound of many voices and the
tramp of armed men. Turning in that direction, they beheld a body of
troops pouring from the pathway leading to the swamp, and toward these
they at once directed their steps.
As the three whose recent experiences had been so thrilling walked
slowly down the grassy slope, Douglass strove to find words with
which to thank Anstice Boyd for the gift of his life; but the girl
interrupted him at the outset, and begged him never to mention the
subject again.
"Very well," he replied, "since that is your desire, I will strive
to obey. I do so the more readily that mere words fail to express my
feelings; but I shall live in hope of the time when by some service I
may be able to indicate my gratitude."
Whatever else the grateful young soldier might have said was
interrupted by cheers from the troops, who at that moment recognized
the comrade whom they had mourned as lost to them forever. As quiet was
restored, his brother officers crowded about him with a hearty welcome
and an avalanche of questions.
"That will do for the present, gentlemen," interposed Captain Chase.
"Excuse a soldier's abruptness, madam," he added, bowing to Anstice,
"but in this stern business of war, duty must precede even the ordinary
courtesies of life. Now, Mr. Douglass, since you are so happily
restored to us, please tell me what to expect in yonder den of swamp
devils? Are we to be attacked? Shall we charge. What force opposes us?
What is the meaning of this ominous silence?"
"I hardly know how to answer you, sir," replied the lieutenant, "for I
am as ignorant concerning the enemy's movements as yourself. So far as
I know, there is not a soul in yonder village, though but a few minutes
ago it was swarming with life."
"What has become of them, then?" demanded the officer, impatiently.
"I do not know, sir."
"You can at least tell in which direction they went."
"No, sir, I cannot even do that; for I did not see them go, nor do I
know when they departed."
"Upon my soul, this is a most extraordinary state of affairs!"
exclaimed the officer, flushing angrily. "I must confess that I had not
heretofore credited you with blindness. Perhaps, sir, you can give us
the desired information?" he added, turning to Ralph Boyd.
Upon the young Englishman claiming an equal ignorance with the
lieutenant, the irate captain said in a tone of suppressed anger: "This
matter shall be investigated at a more convenient time, but at present
it seems that we must make discoveries for ourselves. To your places,
gentlemen. Forward! Double quick! March!"
With this the line of blue-coated troops advanced swiftly up the slope
and charged the empty huts of the deserted village.