BENZEOR'S VISITOR
"HOLD on there! Hold on, I say! Stop, or we'll shoot!"
The words were shouted by some one in the whaleboat, and Benzeor
evidently was about to heed the sharp command. He quickly changed the
course of the boat, and as the shortened sail flapped in the wind as the
little craft came about, the whaleboat came alongside and some one
reached forth with a boat-hook, and the progress was instantly stayed.
Tom's heart was beating rapidly in his excitement. A wild impulse to
leap into the river seized him, but before he could leave his position
in the bow, two of the other crew clambered on board, and he knew that
an attempt to escape would now be useless. Doubtless the men were armed,
and the darkness was not deep enough to conceal him from their sight.
His only hope now depended upon the actions of the men and the course
which Benzeor should decide to follow.
The sail was instantly lowered in obedience to the sharp command of the
men who had boarded the boat, and, in great fear, the lad waited for the
purpose of their captors to be declared. He drew back in his position in
the bow, hoping to escape the notice of all on board, as he saw that
Benzeor had arisen from his seat and stood facing the men.
"Who are you? What ye out in a night like this for? Whose boat is this?"
exclaimed the one who appeared to be the leader.
"Is that you, Fenton?" replied Benzeor in a low voice.
"Ho, it's Benzeor Osburn!" exclaimed the man, peering intently into the
face before him as he spoke. "I thought it was strange we didn't find
you in your house. We waited an hour as we agreed to, but when you
didn't put in an appearance, we thought we'd start back. Where ye been,
Benzeor? What's up now?"
"I'd been back home in time if it hadn't been for the storm and an alarm
we had back in the bay. I think ye'd better go back with me now, Fenton.
I've got some facts that may interest you, and we can't talk them over
here."
"Who are these men with you?" inquired Fenton suspiciously.
"Oh, they're all right. I'll vouch for them, every one," replied
Benzeor. "You haven't anything to fear from any of my friends. Come up
to my house and I'll tell ye all about it."
Fenton hesitated a moment before he replied, and Tom peered intently at
the man of whom he had already heard so many tales. He could see his
great form, although he could not distinguish the features of his face
in the darkness. His deep voice and gruff manner had not tended to allay
the lad's fears, and now Benzeor's words and actions filled his heart
with a new alarm. Was Benzeor about to cast in his lot with Fenton? His
words betrayed the fact of their previous acquaintance, and all the
recent suspicious actions of his foster father came back to him. No one
in the party had yet spoken, except Benzeor and Fenton, but the recent
conversation on board the boat, much of which Tom had overheard,
convinced the troubled lad that no very strong protest would be made
against any proposal that Benzeor might feel disposed to make.
"I'm rather of the opinion," said Fenton roughly, "that it's about time
you went home with me. I don't know who these fellows on board here are,
and I don't care. You're the one I'm after, Benzeor, and it seems to me
the time's come for you to join us or quit. You've been shilly-shallying
long enough."
"Hush! Don't speak so loud!" replied Benzeor anxiously.
Fenton laughed outright at Benzeor's evident alarm, and, turning to his
companions in the whaleboat, said, "I think we'd better take the boat
along with us. We can land this crew anywhere along the shore, or we can
sink 'em in the river, just which you please. It's too much of a storm
for us to be hanging around here on the Navesink."
"Fenton," said Benzeor, rising and stepping up to the side of the
outlaw, "you'd better do as I say. I've got something to tell ye, and
it's worth hearing, too."
A low conversation followed between the two men which Tom, with all his
efforts, was not able to hear. The result of it, however, quickly became
apparent when Fenton turned to his companions and said, "It's all right,
boys. You go on without me, and I'll join you to-morrow. I'm going up
to Benzeor's now."
The boat-hook was quickly withdrawn at his command, and the sound of the
oars of the departing boat soon ceased to be heard.
The sail of Benzeor's boat was then hoisted again, and once more the
little party, increased now by the addition of Fenton, began to make
their way up the Navesink. Though the rain was steadily falling, the
wind was favoring, and the boat, handled by the skillful Benzeor, held
steadily to its way. The low shores could be seen in the distance on
either side, and an occasional light betrayed the location of some
lonely farmhouse, whose occupants in the confidence begotten of the
storm had ventured to sit up till a later hour than was customary in
those days.
Not a word was spoken on board the boat, and Fenton had taken a position
near Tom from which he did not move. All were drenched, but a summer
rain was something which none of them minded in such a time as that.
When an hour had passed, Benzeor ran his boat closer inshore and in a
few moments landed. Then turning to his companions he said, "Come over
to my house to-morrow, Jacob, and I'll give you and Barzilla your
shares of the money."
"We'll go with you now," replied Jacob, evidently not desiring to put
off the day of reckoning too long, a desire in which Barzilla also
shared.
"No, I can't fix it up to-night. You can take the bag, though, if you
want to, and bring me my share to-morrow."
Benzeor's confidence in his fellows served the desired purpose, and
Jacob and Barzilla speedily departed, taking with them the little bag of
gold which had been received as the price of the produce they had taken
to New York.
"Tom, you look out for the boat," called Benzeor, as he and Fenton
started towards the little house whose outlines could be discerned in
the distance.
Tom obeyed, and as he worked over the little boat, looking well to all
the details, his thoughts were far more busy than his hands. The changes
which he had noted in Benzeor of late seemed almost to have reached
their climax. Was the man intending now to go with Fenton? All his
recent absences from home came up before the lad's mind, and the strange
visitors he had received there of late were not forgotten. What was it
Benzeor was planning to do? He was not much like the man he had been a
few years before this time, and as Tom thought over all the changes, he
was troubled more and more.
He knew that Sarah had not been unaware of what was going on, for many a
time had they talked it all over together. Sarah had remained a
steadfast champion of her father, but Tom had not failed to see that she
was none the less troubled by his strange actions. His grasping
disposition had become more and more apparent of late, and while he had
never in the presence of his family referred to anything he had in his
mind to do against the patriots, his very silence in such times was more
threatening than any words he could utter. But Sarah had steadily
refused to believe that her father would desert the cause for which at
the outbreak of the war he had professed the most ardent attachment;
still, it was impossible for her not to discover, what Tom for a long
time had seen, that he was strangely silent of late.
The change in Benzeor Osburn had been so gradual as to deceive many of
his friends and neighbors. All had known his "closeness," as the country
people termed his love of money, but few of them had thought it would
ever lead him into the position in which the man at that time really
stood.
Benzeor in '76 had been among the loudest in his expressions of loyalty
to the cause of the colonies, and had been foremost in blaming his own
brother for his "toryism." His brother's property had been confiscated,
but Benzeor's had been left unmolested, so confident had all the whigs
been in the sincerity of his expressions. And at the time Benzeor had
meant what he said, and said what he meant. But never for a moment had
he dreamed that the struggle would be such a long-continued one as it
had proved to be, nor had he thought that patriotism would affect his
own possessions. All that would be done would be to make a strong
protest against the unjust taxation, for Benzeor had hated taxes as he
did few things in this world, and then a compromise would be effected,
which would permit the colonists to go on with their occupations, and
the mother country would soon see that it was not to her own advantage
to drive her rebellious children too far.
The first shock had come to him when the Continental Congress had
declared the country to be a free and independent nation. That was
going too far, Benzeor thought, and so he freely expressed himself; but
still hoping that a compromise of some kind would be made, and that his
own possessions would not be disturbed, he had uttered no further
protests, though his voice ceased to be heard in favor of the rebellion.
As further events betrayed the weakness of the patriot cause, and he had
found that patriotism was likely to prove a somewhat expensive virtue,
his feelings had undergone a still more decided change. At first he had
entered into one or two secret projects by which he had succeeded in
enriching his own pockets, and the success had so affected him that as
his patriotism decreased his hopes of gains correspondingly increased;
and soon from deeds for which he tried to justify himself, he had been
gradually drawn into others which even his own seared conscience
proclaimed to be wrong. In some of the latter he had come into contact
with the outlaws of Fenton's class, and his association with them had
soon banished the feeling of disgust he had formerly cherished for them,
until it had even come to pass that Fenton himself was a not unwelcome
guest in his own home.
At first the visits had been made secretly, and the promises of rich
harvests to be reaped, as the result of their evil deeds, had appealed
to Benzeor more strongly than even he himself was aware. The lawless
times, the constant turmoils, the bitterness between those who had
recently been the warmest of friends, the ease with which raids were
made, and the apparent impossibility of detection, had all combined to
arouse the avaricious Benzeor more and more; and now not very much was
needed to draw him still farther within the toils of Fenton and his
band.
Not all of these things were apparent to Tom when at last he left the
boat and started towards the house, but he had seen sufficient to make
him suspicious of Benzeor, and he was as perplexed as he was troubled.
All his own feelings had gone out more and more to the patriot cause,
and more than once had he been sadly tempted to depart from his home
without waiting for the formality of buying up his time, and he had even
gone so far as to suggest to Sarah several times what he had it in his
mind to do. Sarah's grief, however, and the confidence which she still
professed to feel in her father, as well as the dislike in his own heart
to do anything which bore any resemblance to stealing,--for so the
troubled lad regarded the taking of time which did not really belong to
him as the bound boy of Benzeor Osburn,--had hitherto held him back. How
long such feelings would continue to sway him Tom could not decide when
at last he lifted the latch and entered the kitchen.
Benzeor and his guest were seated before the fire which had been started
in the wide and open fireplace, and were drying their wet clothing as
they conversed eagerly together.
As Tom came in, Benzeor glanced up hastily and said, "You can go to bed,
Tom. You must be wet and tired, and there is a lot of work to be done
to-morrow." Benzeor's voice was not unkind, but Tom did not fail to see
that his presence was not desired. He quickly lighted a candle with a
splinter which he thrust into the fire and held until it was in a flame,
and then went up the low stairway to his room directly over the kitchen
in which the men were seated.
As he entered the room he noted the gleam which came through the open
space near the rude chimney, and, placing the candle on the low table,
he advanced and peered down at the men. He could see both plainly, and,
after observing them for a moment, he was about to turn away and take
off his dripping clothing, when he suddenly stopped. He had overheard a
word which caused his heart to beat much more rapidly, and in a moment
he was upon his knees striving to hear what more would be said.
He remained in the same position for an hour, and at last arose only
when Fenton opened the door and went out into the darkness. Then Benzeor
closed and barred the door, and started directly up the stairway.
Instantly Tom blew out his candle and leaped into bed, all wet and muddy
as he was, and drew the bedclothes close up around his face.
Benzeor came slowly on and then stopped before the door of Tom's room.
The lad was trembling in his excitement, for he well knew that if the
man should enter and discover that he had not removed his clothing
before going to bed, his suspicions would at once be aroused. And above
all things Benzeor's suspicion at that time was what Tom most desired to
lull.
There were wild thoughts in Tom's mind of leaping from the bed and,
rushing past the man, making a break for the outside. Perhaps the man
might not enter, however, and, trembling with fear and excitement, Tom
waited.
It seemed to him that a long time had elapsed, and still no sound
outside the door could be heard. Had Benzeor gone on? The light of his
candle which still shone through the cracks disproved that. What could
he then be doing?
Tom tried to conjecture what must be going on on the stairway, but the
silence was still unbroken. The minutes were like hours to the
frightened lad. It seemed to him as if the beatings of his heart must be
heard throughout the house.
His suspense was soon ended--when Benzeor lifted the latch and Tom felt
the light of the candle streaming in full upon his face.