The Spy by James Fenimore Cooper (top ebook reader TXT) 📖

of her aunt. There is an instinctive delicacy in woman, that seems to conquer all other emotions; and the insensible bride was immediately conveyed from sight, leaving the room to the sole possession of the other sex.

The confusion enabled the peddler to retreat with a rapidity that would have baffled pursuit, had any been attempted, and Wellmere stood with every eye fixed on him, in ominous silence.

“’Tis false—’tis false as hell!” he cried, striking his forehead. “I have ever denied her claim; nor will the laws of my country compel me to acknowledge it.”

“But what will conscience and the laws of God do?” asked Lawton.

“’Tis well, sir,” said Wellmere, haughtily, and retreating towards the door, “my situation protects you now; but a time may come—”

He had reached the entry, when a slight tap on his shoulder caused him to turn his head; it was Captain Lawton, who, with a smile of peculiar meaning, beckoned him to follow. The state of Wellmere’s mind was such, that he would gladly have gone anywhere to avoid the gaze of horror and detestation that glared from every eye he met. They reached the stables before the trooper spoke, when he cried aloud,—

“Bring out Roanoke!”

His man appeared with the steed caparisoned for its master. Lawton, coolly throwing the bridle on the neck of the animal, took his pistols from the holsters, and continued, “Here are weapons that have seen good service before to-day—aye, and in honorable hands, sir. These were the pistols of my father, Colonel Wellmere; he used them with credit in the wars with France, and gave them to me to fight the battles of my country with. In what better way can I serve her than in exterminating a wretch who would have blasted one of her fairest daughters?”

“This injurious treatment shall meet with its reward,” cried the other, seizing the offered weapon. “The blood lie on the head of him who sought it!”

“Amen! but hold a moment, sir. You are now free, and the passports of Washington are in your pocket; I give you the fire; if I fall, there is a steed that will outstrip pursuit; and I would advise you to retreat without much delay, for even Archibald Sitgreaves would fight in such a cause—nor will the guard above be very apt to give quarter.”

“Are you ready?” asked Wellmere, gnashing his teeth with rage.

“Stand forward, Tom, with the lights; fire!”

Wellmere fired, and the bullion flew from the epaulet of the trooper.

“Now the turn is mine,” said Lawton, deliberately leveling his pistol.

“And mine!” shouted a voice, as the weapon was struck from his hand. “By all the devils in hell, ’tis the mad Virginian!—fall on, my boys, and take him; this is a prize not hoped for!”

Unarmed, and surprised as he was, Lawton’s presence of mind did not desert him; he felt that he was in the hands of those from whom he was to expect no mercy; and, as four of the Skinners fell upon him at once, he used his gigantic strength to the utmost. Three of the band grasped him by the neck and arms, with an intent to clog his efforts, and pinion him with ropes. The first of these he threw from him, with a violence that sent him against the building, where he lay stunned with the blow. But the fourth seized his legs; and, unable to contend with such odds, the trooper came to the earth, bringing with him all of his assailants. The struggle on the ground was short but terrific; curses and the most dreadful imprecations were uttered by the Skinners, who in vain called on more of their band, who were gazing on the combat in nerveless horror, to assist. A difficulty of breathing, from one of the combatants, was heard, accompanied by the stifled moanings of a strangled man; and directly one of the group arose on his feet, shaking himself free from the wild grasp of the others. Both Wellmere and the servant of Lawton had fled: the former to the stables, and the latter to give the alarm, leaving all in darkness. The figure that stood erect sprang into the saddle of the unheeded charger; sparks of fire, issuing from the armed feet of the horse, gave a momentary light by which the captain was seen dashing like the wind towards the highway.

“By hell, he’s off!” cried the leader, hoarse with rage and exhaustion.
“Fire!—bring him down—fire, or you’ll be too late.”

The order was obeyed, and one moment of suspense followed, in the vain hope of hearing the huge frame of Lawton tumbling from his steed.

“He would not fall if you had killed him,” muttered one. “I’ve known these Virginians sit their horses with two or three balls through them; aye, even after they were dead.”

A freshening of the wind wafted the tread of a horse down the valley, which, by its speed, gave assurance of a rider governing its motion.

“These trained horses always stop when the rider falls,” observed one of the gang.

“Then,” cried the leader, striking his musket on the ground in a rage, “the fellow is safe!—to your business at once. A short half hour will bring down that canting sergeant and the guard upon us. ’Twill be lucky if the guns don’t turn them out. Quick, to your posts, and fire the house in the chambers; smoking ruins are good to cover evil deeds.”

“What is to be done with this lump of earth?” cried another, pushing the body that yet lay insensible, where it had been hurled by the arm of Lawton; “a little rubbing would bring him to.”

“Let him lie,” said the leader, fiercely. “Had he been half a man, that dragooning rascal would have been in my power; enter the house, I say, and fire the chambers. We can’t go amiss here; there is plate and money enough to make you all gentlemen—and revenge too.”

The idea of silver in any way was not to be resisted; and, leaving their companion, who began to show faint signs of life, they rushed tumultuously towards the dwelling. Wellmere availed himself of the opportunity, and, stealing from the stable with his own charger, he was able to gain the highway unnoticed. For an instant he hesitated, whether to ride towards the point where he knew the guard was stationed, and endeavor to rescue the family, or, profiting by his liberty and the exchange that had been effected by the divine, to seek the royal army. Shame, and a consciousness of guilt, determined him to take the latter course, and he rode towards New York, stung with the reflection of his own baseness, and harassed with the apprehension of meeting with an enraged woman, that he had married during his late visit to England, but whose claims, as soon as his passion was sated, he had resolved never willingly to admit. In the tumult and agitation of the moment, the retreat of Lawton and Wellmere was but little noticed; the condition of Mr. Wharton demanding the care and consolation of both the surgeon and the divine. The report of the firearms at first roused the family to the sense of a new danger, and but a moment elapsed before the leader, and one more of the gang, entered the room.

“Surrender! you servants of King George,” shouted the leader, presenting his musket to the breast of Sitgreaves, “or I will let a little tory blood from your veins.”

“Gently—gently, my friend,” said the surgeon. “You are doubtless more expert in inflicting wounds than in healing them; the weapon that you hold so indiscreetly is extremely dangerous to animal life.”

“Yield, or take its contents.”

“Why and wherefore should I yield?—I am a noncombatant. The articles of capitulation must be arranged with Captain John Lawton; though yielding, I believe, is not a subject on which you will find him particularly complying.”

The fellow had by this time taken such a survey of the group, as convinced him that little danger was to be apprehended from resistance, and, eager to seize his share of the plunder, he dropped his musket, and was soon busy with the assistance of his men, in arranging divers articles of plate in bags. The cottage now presented a singular spectacle. The ladies were gathered around Sarah, who yet continued insensible, in one of the rooms that had escaped the notice of the marauders. Mr. Wharton sat in a state of perfect imbecility, listening to, but not profiting by, the meaning words of comfort that fell from the lips of the clergyman. Singleton was lying on a sofa, shaking with debility, and inattentive to surrounding objects; while the surgeon was administering restoratives, and looking at the dressings, with a coolness that mocked the tumult. Caesar and the attendant of Captain Singleton, had retreated to the wood in the rear of the cottage, and Katy Haynes was flying about the building, busily employed in forming a bundle of valuables, from which, with the most scrupulous honesty, she rejected every article that was not really and truly her own.

But to return to the party at the Four Corners. When the veteran had got his men mounted and under arms, a restless desire to participate in the glory and dangers of the expedition came over the washerwoman. Whether she was impelled to the undertaking by a dread of remaining alone, or a wish to hasten in person to the relief of her favorite, we will not venture to assert but, as Hollister was giving the orders to wheel and march, the voice of Betty was heard, exclaiming,—

“Stop a bit, sargeant dear, till two of the boys get out the cart, and I’ll jist ride wid ye; ’tis like there’ll be wounded, and it will be mighty convanient to bring them home in.”

Although inwardly much pleased with any cause of delay to a service that he so little relished, Hollister affected some displeasure at the detention.

“Nothing but a cannon ball can take one of my lads from his charger,” he said; “and it’s not very likely that we shall have as fair fighting as cannon and musketry, in a business of the evil one’s inventing; so, Elizabeth, you may go if you will, but the cart will not be wanting.”

“Now, sargeant dear, you lie, anyway,” said Betty, who was somewhat unduly governed by her potations. “And wasn’t Captain Singleton shot off his horse but tin days gone by? Aye, and Captain Jack himself too; and didn’t he lie on the ground, face uppermost and back downwards, looking grim? And didn’t the boys t’ink him dead, and turn and l’ave the rig’lars the day?”

“You lie back again,” cried the sergeant, fiercely; “and so does anyone who says that we didn’t gain the day.”

“For a bit or so—only I mane for a bit or so,” said the washerwoman; “but Major Dunwoodie turned you, and so you licked the rig’lars. But the captain it was that fell, and I’m thinking that there’s no better rider going; so, sargeant, it’s the cart will be convanient. Here, two of you, jist hitch the mare to the tills, and it’s no whisky that ye’ll be wanting the morrow; and put the piece of Jenny’s hide under the pad; the baste is never the better for the rough ways of the county Westchester.” The consent of the sergeant being obtained, the equipage of Mrs. Flanagan was soon in readiness to receive its burden.

“As it is quite uncertain whether we shall be attacked in front, or in rear,” said Hollister, “five of you shall march in advance, and the remainder shall cover our retreat towards the barrack, should we be pressed. ’Tis an awful moment to a man of little learning, Elizabeth, to command in such a service; for my part, I wish devoutly that one of the officers were here; but my trust is in the Lord.”

“Pooh! man, away wid ye,” said the washerwoman, who had got herself comfortably seated. “The divil a bit of an inimy is there near. March on, hurry-skurry, and let the mare trot, or it’s but little that Captain Jack will thank ye for the help.”

“Although unlearned in matters of communicating with spirits, or laying the dead, Mrs. Flanagan,” said the veteran, “I have not served through the old war, and five years in this, not to know how to guard the baggage. Doesn’t Washington always cover the baggage? I am not to be told my duty by a camp follower. Fall in as you are ordered, and dress, men.”

“Well, march, anyway,” cried the impatient washerwoman. “The black is there already, and it’s tardy the captain will think ye.”

“Are you sure that it was really a black man that brought the order?” said the sergeant, dropping in between the platoons, where he could converse with Betty, and be at hand, to lead on an emergency, either on an advance or on a retreat.

“Nay—and I’m