Roger Davis, Loyalist

by Frank Baird

After a journey that seemed doubly long owing to my hunger and weariness, we came to the village, and I was immediately handed over to an official. Though it was very dark, he put a heavy bandage over my eyes; then, with the men who had brought me following, I was led by a very rough path through a field, and across a brook. But I said nothing. It was not a time for words.

Finally we came to a stand. I could hear the sound as of heavy timbers being removed and thrown down. Then there was the noise of the sliding back of a door. In a few moments I was led into what seemed to be the mouth of a cave. The air was damp, and I detected at once a close, unpleasant odour.

It was not long before my eyes were unbandaged and I was permitted to look about. The place seemed to have been dug out of solid rock; water dripped from one side of the roof; there was no floor but the natural rock. In one corner, supported on four stones, lay an old door. I looked a moment at this, and then turned to the faces of three men who stood about me. They were each eyeing me keenly. One of the faces I felt sure I had seen—but where? The single lantern carried by the jailer threw only a faint and imperfect light on the faces and on everything about me; still I suddenly became certain that one of the two men who stood before me was the man who had sprung into the room of our house in pursuit of Duncan Hale. He looked at me very critically. Then on a signal from him the jailer lifted the lantern and held it close, so that a better light fell upon my face. The next moment all the men suddenly withdrew. I heard the heavy timbers being thrown against the closed door; a few words that sounded like oaths fell on my ears, and then there was the tramp, tramp, of the men's feet as they receded from the place. This sound gradually shaded into silence, and I was left alone, the first prisoner of the great war.

For a time,—for a great, long time,—I stood immovable, where the men had left me, in the centre of my dungeon, for a dungeon it really seemed. What was to become of me? Had they put me here to starve? I was hungry up to the point of faintness, for since early morning I had been riding or walking almost continuously, and had eaten food but once. The feeling of exhaustion growing upon me, I moved toward the place where I remembered having seen the door resting on the four stones. I found this and sat down.

All was dark about me. There was no sound but the occasional drip, drip of the water from the rock above. The damp, cold air of the place chilled me to the bone. It was certainly a strange place into which I had been forced. Had it been a prison, I would have been content. But the name 'prison' was much too dignified for my place of confinement. I had visited a prison once with my father; I was familiar with the quarters in which animals were housed; but I had never seen anything like this. From my surroundings my mind finally wandered to other things. I thought of Duncan Hale. Had he really escaped? If so, my case might not yet be utterly hopeless, for I knew that Duncan, having free access to Lord Percy, would at once make known my capture. But had Duncan reached the British lines? Might he not have been recaptured?

Then there were my mother and my helpless sisters. Would they know of my being carried off? It was difficult to think they would, unless Duncan had galloped directly home to tell them; and this I was quite sure he would not risk doing. My mother was probably anxiously waiting for my coming every moment. As matters looked at present, she must wait long.

From this my mind passed to thinking upon consequences that might follow from my having been recognised by the man who had brought me to this place. If he knew me; if it were revealed that Duncan and my father had both been doing much, for many months past, towards securing information regarding the smuggling expeditions of many of the so-called 'patriot' merchants; if it were learned that my brother was in the King's service;—indeed, I felt that if any or all of these facts became known, the chances of my being set at liberty would be small.

During my experience on the road I had heard, in connection with the case of Duncan Hale, much said of 'the committee.' I wondered what this was. Were there not courts of justice in the land? By what authority had any committee the right to pronounce sentence of death on any man? Was the country not still the King's, and was it not still under the King's laws? But in spite of the hotness of my indignation, the dripping of the water by my side, and the frightful dampness and cold of the place, with no covering over me, and with no pillow but my arm, I finally slept upon the hard door.

When I awoke, I was surprised to find that, owing to a rain having set in, the entire floor of the place was flooded almost to the edge of my board bed, and that almost every part of the roof of my strange prison dripped cold, muddy water. Light enough crept in about the door to reveal to me the fact that I was in neither a dungeon nor cave, but in an old mine. In spite of the cold and dampness of the place, I felt refreshed by my sleep. I sat up, and almost at the same time I heard a sound as of the removal of the heavy timbers about the door. This was soon opened, and through it was pushed a large, dirty-looking wooden bowl, and the door closed the next moment. I heard the timbers being replaced, and then, as on the preceding night, the sound of the footsteps died away in the distance.

Hunger mastered my feelings of resentment, and I drew the bowl toward me. Floating in a kind of slate-coloured liquid, which may have been intended for soup, I found two large balls or dumplings of offensive beef rolled in dark and mouldy flour; but with the appetite of a bear, I ate and drank almost the entire contents of the bowl.