[to be continued.]
A LOYAL TRAITOR.[1]
A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND.
BY JAMES BARNES.
CHAPTER VIII.
FREEFOOTED.
When I arrived at the flat rock I hurried into the suit of sailor toggery, damp from the wet of the dew; and making a pile, and a very small one, of my treasures, I ripped out the back of my embroidered waistcoat and tied them up in it.
Striking out for the highway, I soon gained it and started on a dog-trot, headed south. My lungs and legs must have been in good condition, for I kept it up steadily for an hour or so. (It may seem imagination, but I believe people can run faster and longer at night; maybe the distance seems shorter because we observe less clearly.)
Soon I began to recognize the well-known signs of approaching dawn. I had heard a fox bark up in the hills some time since, and now, as if in challenge, the crowing of cocks sounded and drowsy songsters fluttered twittering in the branches of the trees along the road. Before the sun had risen, round and red, the robins were piping and the thrushes tinkling their throat-bells on every hand.
I was in a new country, a much richer one than that of a few miles farther north; the farms were nearer together, and prosperity was plain on the face of the earth. The damp morning mists that hung over the brown new-ploughed ground smelled of growing things, and the buds on the trees, as they opened to the warmth of morning, scattered their scents lavishly.
I had signalled out at the bottom of a hill a house at which I intended stopping and getting a meal if I could; but as I went by a pasture I saw a man driving some cows through an opening in the fence. He saw me also, and hurrying about his work, he came walking toward me. I now perceived that my costume was a pass-word to people's hearts.
"Good-mornin', lad," hailed the farmer, who was a man past middle age. "Goin' off to sea again, be ye?"
"Yes," I replied, stepping to the fence. "Am I on the right road for Stonington?"
"Air ye in the navy?" he asked, without replying to my question.
"No; but I'm to ship aboard the Young Eagle below."
"Oh, privateersman, eh? More money in it, I reckon. But there's no lack of glory in the sarvice. I have a son aboard the Constitution. He was in her when she fit the Guerrière. When I think of it, I allus feel like cheerin'."
And then and there the farmer took off his hat and gave three lusty cheers—in which, despite myself, and not knowing anything about the subject, I joined.
"My name is Prouty," the old farmer went on. "And my son's name is Melvin Prouty. Ye'll hear tell on him afore long. He's got promoted already. He's a quartermaster."
"Good!" I exclaimed, for notwithstanding my sailor's rig, I was supposing a quartermaster must be next to a commodore at least.
"Well, I won't keep ye. Good-luck and good-by," he said, extending his rough hand across the fence.
I shook it warmly, and picking up my small bundle, trotted down the hill. I covered some two miles more before I stopped at a farm-house for breakfast. Here I was received with as much honor as if my short stopping was to cast a blessing. I found that I had to adopt some subterfuge; and when asked what vessel I had served in, I replied, and with truth, "the Minetta, from Baltimore," and that I was bound to join the Young Eagle. Her fame evidently had spread broadcast, and I cannot forget the envious looks that were cast at me by a couple of youngsters, who requested to know if I had any pictures on my arms. As I had none, and had seen them on my voyage, and often before that, pricked into the skins of the sailors on the wharves, I determined to remedy this defect as soon as possible.
The goodwife of the house where I got my first meal insisted upon my carrying away enough to stock me for a voyage of two or three days; but it was mostly pie, for which I care little.
The main road was so well travelled that there was no mistaking it now. My legs, as well as my heart, seemed gifted with a desire to get ahead, and every one I met had for me a kindly wave of the hand, and would have questioned me breathless had I not made haste and hurried on.
By four o'clock that afternoon I had mounted to the top of the hill, and there I caught a glimpse of the ocean, and stretching to the westward, the blue sound. Oh, how the picture comes to me! The wide sparkling sea; here and there a white sail dotted on it, and the breeze, that was from the south, bringing the smell of it to my nostrils and setting my heart beating and thumping in my throat. Overhead a great hawk spun about in widening circles. I knew how he felt, for was not I free, and the world before me at my feet?
Out of pure joy and the loftiness of my spirits, I threw the Portugee cap into the air and caught it as it fell. And nothing would do but I must start at a headlong pace down the hill, jumping the water-bars and kicking my heels behind me as if I were a colt escaped from a pasture. By the time that I had entered the houses that clustered about the outskirts of the town it grew dusky, and I began to feel a trifle tired, for I had covered the distance of some thirty miles that day.
As the dwellings became thicker and I could see the clustering lights of the business portion of the town (it was past twilight), I felt a little trepidation. People had not paid so much attention to me as they had farther up the country, and I had run across one or two sailor-men, dressed much as I was (save the cap), who had hailed me good-naturedly. But I longed for a bed and a warm cup of coffee, and seeing a citizen leaning over a fence, smoking meditatively, I inquired my way to the best inn.
"I should 'a' reckoned that you'd 'a' known them all by this time, lad," he said; "but the best hotel is the United States, down near the wharves. Keep straight ahead."
Now the groups of sailor-men had increased; to all appearances they had gained possession of the freedom of the town of Stonington. They seemed to have captured the prettiest girls, or bargained to drink the place dry, for from a grog-shop a number of them reeled out, arm in arm, singing a song to a tune that I learned to know and sing well afterwards myself—"Hull's Victory"—and the sound of fiddles and dancing were to all sides.
It was only a few steps now to the United States Hotel, and I turned from the street and entered. A number of loungers were on the broad veranda. A group of men—one in a cocked hat and blue coat with brass buttons—were sitting about a table on which there was much to drink, and they were not slighting it.
But here no one gave me more than a glance, and I entered the coffee-room, where I found a corner and placed my little bundle at my feet. A hubbub of conversation and much strong tobacco filled the place, and the waiters were so busy that I did not know enough to insist upon gaining their attention, and no one sought me out. I had sat there but a few minutes when I became engrossed, listening open-mouthed to a group of seamen talking within a short distance of me. One of them was telling of the action between the Hornet and the Peacock, and he interspersed his talk by constantly calling to those about him to drink the health of "Lawrence, the bravest officer that ever trod a deck."
I here learned that a man may be a hero by mere reflected glory, for each one who drank with him nodded to the speaker as if Lawrence were his name. Suddenly I perceived that a man in a long apron was standing at my elbow.
"What is the order, messmate?" he asked familiarly.
I replied by asking for some coffee, and stating that I would like to get a room for the night. This evidently caused him some surprise.
"Rooms come high," he replied, looking at me, "but I can get you the coffee, right enough."
I had seen one of the sailors, in paying his reckoning, wave back the change due him into the waiter's palm, so when the man returned, I offered him one of the gold pieces in my pocket. He looked at it curiously, bit it, and took it over to a table and showed it to some of the sailors. The man to whom he handed it rang it on the bottom of the upturned plate.
"Good gold," he said, "and French. I've seen 'em often."
Whether he told the value of it or not I do not know, but soon the waiter returned with a half-handful of silver coin. I waved it back at him, and the man's eyes grew large. He returned to the sailors and spoke to them.
"Just back from a cruise, I dare say," said one, looking over his shoulder at me, but not addressing me.
"He doesn't look it," replied another. "But one can't tell nowadays. There was a girlish-looking lad—" Here the man began a yarn in a low voice, and I buried my face in my coffee-cup, and almost scalded my throat, for it was steaming hot.
At this moment the waiter returned.
"I've got a room for you, messmate," he said, "and the best one in the house. If you've got your box ashore, I'll take it up myself."
"No, thanks," I replied. "I have nothing with me," hiding at the same time my little bundle with my feet.
I noticed that the man was looking very carefully at my hands. Although they were not soft exactly, as they had been hardened by the chopping of wood and the handling of hoe and spade, the life of the sailor-man stamps the hands so distinctly to the eye of a close observer that there is no chance for wrong in judging.
"Will you follow me? I'll show you up to the room," said the waiter-man.
I picked up my bundle and squeezed it under my arm, and followed him out of the room, creating no little comment, I dare say, for not a few craned their necks to get a look at me. In the hallway my guide stopped and spoke to a large florid person in a stained satin waistcoat.
"Here is the lad who wishes a room, Mr. Purdy," he said.
The big man looked at me from head to foot.
"It will cost two dollars, and we will give you your breakfast. Is it a lark of yours, lad? Eh? I know of a sailor with money giving a dollar bill to a cow to chew on for a cud. But it's your game to play the gentleman, eh?"
"I trust I am as much a gentleman as any one under your roof," I returned, hotly.
"Heighty-tighty! what have we here?" the landlord said. "I forget. The price is three dollars, and it's the last room in the house. I had partly engaged it to a gentleman in a cocked hat, but he has failed to appear. Pay in advance, please, or you don't ship for the night."
I gave him one of the gold pieces. He slipped it into his pocket without comment, and told the servant to show me up stairs. The room was quite large and comfortable, the soft bed with the white sheets looked inviting, and I was so stiff and tired from my walking that I tumbled out of my clothes and drew the covers over me.
I thought that I should go to sleep at once, but as is often the case, thoughts prevent the proper closing of the eyelids, as if they were the doors of the mind. What was I to do on the morrow? It was full eight days ahead of the time that I had promised to meet Plummer, and I had but four gold pieces. A thrill of fright took hold of me when I thought that perhaps my uncle might follow me and fetch me back with him. The noise of shouting and loud talking below in the tap-room, and the singing and chattering on the streets, continued for a long time; and I tossed uneasily.
To the best of my recollection I had not lost myself in sleep at all when I heard some stumbling and laughing out in the hall; then the door to my room was pushed open, and a hand shielding a candle, the light of which dazzled my eyes so that at first I could not see clearly, extended through the doorway. A man entered, talking loudly to some one who was following him.
"Come in, come in, Bullard; and don't drop that bottle for the life of you."
A thick growling voice answered. "I've had all the bottle I want, Captain Temple," were the words I caught, and the second man came in. He also carried a candle.
"What is it you wish to discuss with me, sir, that we couldn't say before McCulough?" he went on.
"It's just this," replied the one addressed as Captain Temple (I recognized him as the officer who had sat on the piazza): "McCulough thinks to tie us down in some way, because he happens to own a few planks of the ship. Now I—"
The speaker had placed the light on the mantel-piece, and the other man did the same with his candle, snuffing it a little with his fingers as he did so; but what had broken off Captain Temple's speech was the sight he had caught of me sitting bolt-upright in the bed and blinking, I dare say, like a startled owl.
"In the name of Davy Jones, what is this?" he said. "What are you doing in my room?"
"It's a drunken sailor-man," said the larger one, holding one of the candles over his head. "Kick him out where he belongs. They're getting too high and mighty, anyhow."
The Captain, seeing my bundle lying on the floor, sent it flying through the open doorway down the hall, and the other man, with a stroke of his foot, swept up the rest of my belongings.
"Get out of this, you swab!" said the Captain, "or I'll keelhaul you well. No chin music, now! Come, get out!"
I was mighty angry by this time.
"I'm no swab or no drunken sailor, I'll have you understand," I replied; "and this is my room, and I paid for it."
The Captain muttered a curse and the other man commenced to grin.
"I'll spit you like a goose!" the former roared. "How dare you talk to me like that!"
He drew his sword and made one or two passes at me. Of course I do not suppose it was his real intention to inflict an injury, but the point came dangerously close to my throat. I had drawn the covers to my chin.
"Don't kill him, Captain; don't kill him," snickered the big one.
At this, moved by some impulse, I jumped to the floor. There was a narrow poker leaning against the empty fireplace. Shaking with fear, I picked it up and fell into the position of defence. The big man's laughter changed to an impatient tone.
"Rout him out, the impudent rascal," he said, "and I'll boot him down the stairway!"
The Captain could not reach me across the bed, so he came about the foot-board. He made a quick pass at me as if he would give me a good slap with the back of his sword. I parried it, and aiming a quick stroke at his head, I sent his cocked hat flying across the room. His return to this showed that he intended me some harm, for he lunged straight at my breast. Again I parried, and a second time the Captain lunged. He had gotten the point of his sword a little too far down this time, and I got over it a bit with the poker. I remembered the disarming-stroke that my uncle had shown me so often. With a quick turn of the wrist I caught his blade aright and absolutely hurled it from his hand. It clattered across the floor, and lunging forward, I caught him just below the shoulder with the point of the poker. Had it been a cutlass or a small sword, it would have surely run him through! As it was it staggered him, and he sat down backwards in the empty fireplace.
The big man was roaring down the hallway for help, and I could hear a charge being made up the stairs. The Captain looked up at me, however, curiously.
"Where on the big green earth did you learn that?" he said.
I was so full of emotion and fear of the consequence of my action that I could not speak, and stood there panting. A dozen faces had appeared at the doorway. The Captain extended his hand.
"Give us a lift, lad," he said. "I'm badly grounded."
I pulled him out of the fireplace, and a strange picture we must have presented, I in my shirt, and he slapping me good-naturedly between the shoulders so hard that it set me coughing.
"No harm done, friends," he said, addressing the crowd, that had now half filled the room. "Some pleasantry between me and this young gentleman. Bullard, you old squillgee, gather the lad's trousseau from the hall, and fetch it in here."
Affirming that it was just a joke, he and the Captain cleared the room and gathered up my things. The short man was looking at me curiously.
"Gadzooks!" he said, "but that was a master-stroke! Who are you and where do you come from?"
I was drawing on part of my clothing, and a fit of embarrassment had hold of me. Now why I spoke as I did I cannot account for.
"My name is Debrin," I replied, taking the name that my uncle was known by at Miller's Falls. "I've come to ship on board the Young Eagle. Cy Plummer spoke to me about her."
The Captain threw back his head and laughed.
"You'll ship all right, lad. I'm Temple, of the Young Eagle. What's your first name?"
"John," I answered.
"Go below, Bullard, and make out articles for this lad to sign—John Debrin, instructor in small arms. Never knew of one in a privateer before, but I'll create one."
Then and there he made me show him what I knew about handling a weapon. In fact he treated me as if I were altogether his equal, and I soon lost any feeling of discomforture. As this is the only time that I ever saw Captain Temple in such a mood, I have dwelt on it. But to shorten this part of my chronicle: I signed the articles that Bullard brought up with him, and insisted upon giving up my room, which the Captain apparently took with reluctance, and I slept on the floor in a corner of the hallway.
From my clothes Temple must have judged me a seaman, for he asked no questions on that head, and apparently was satisfied with the explanation that I came from Chesapeake Bay, had sailed in the brig Minetta, and had been taught swordsmanship by an old Frenchman.
I awakened in the morning with the puzzled consternation of one unused to find himself in new surroundings, and with the feeling that last night's goings-on had been a dream. A glance at the paper in my pocket, however, proved that it was not.
A strange day was before me. I seemed destined in life to be a mystery to the people whom I met, and circumstances kept up this position for some time to come, as will be proven. The landlord and the serving-men at the hotel treated me with such deference that had I been more of a sailor-man and less of an innocent, my head might have been turned, and I dare say I should have swaggered dreadfully—to be honest, I may have done so as it was.