For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

  CHAPTER VIII

  _An Untold Story_

  There were two roads which led from Fairview Hall to the home of theWiltons,--one by the river, and the other over the hills fartherinland. Talbot had chosen the river-road, and was riding along with alight heart, forgetful of his mother and those tears which indeed shewould not have shown him, and full of pleasant anticipations as to theeffect of his decision upon Katharine.

  As he rode along in the moonlight, his mind, full of that calm reposewhich comes to men when they have finally arrived at a decision uponsome point which has troubled them, felt free to range where it would,and naturally his thoughts turned toward the girl he loved. He wasgetting along in life, twenty-four his last birthday, while Katharinewas several years his junior. It was time to settle himself; and if hemust ride away to the wars, it were well, pleasant at least, to thinkthat he was leaving at home a wife over whom he had thrown theprotecting aegis of his name.

  Katharine would be much happier,--his thoughts dwelt tenderly uponher,--and the definite arrangement would be better than this tacitunderstanding, which of course was sufficiently binding; though, now hethought of it, Katharine had seemed a little difficult of late,probably because of the indefinite character of the tie. He laughedboyishly in pleasure at his own thought. It was another proof that sheloved him, that she resented any assumption on his part based on hopesindulged in and plans formed by her father and his mother. He mustdeclare himself at once. Poor mother! it was hard for her; but shewould soon get over all that, and when he came back distinguished andhonored by the people, she would feel very differently. As for thecapricious Katharine, he would speak out that very night, neverdoubting the issue, and get it done with. Of course, that was all thatwas necessary.

  When she knew that he was engaged heart and soul in the cause of theRevolution, she would be ready to yield him anything. Not that he hadany doubt of the result of his proposal in any case; as soon doubt thatthe nature and orderly sequence of events should be suddenly andviolently interrupted, as imagine that these cherished plans, in whichthey had both acquiesced so long ago, should fall through. And so mylord was prepared to drop the handkerchief at the feet of my lady forher to pick up! It was a time, however, he might have remembered, inwhich the old established order of events in other fields, which menhad long since conceived of as fixed as natural laws, was being rudelybroken and destroyed. Many things which had heretofore been habituallytaken for granted, now were required to be proved, and Talbot wasdestined to meet the fate of every over-confident lover. Devotion,self-abnegation, persistency,--these during ten days had held thefield; and the result of the campaign had been that inevitable onewhich may always be looked for when the opposing forces, even afteryears of possession, muster under the banner of habit, assurance,confidence, and neglect.

  So musing, the light-hearted gentleman galloped along. The interveningdistance was soon passed over, and Talbot found himself entering thefamiliar stretch of woodland which marked the beginning of thecolonel's estate. Under the trees and beneath the high bank of theriver the shadows deepened; scarcely any light from the moon fell onthe road. It was well, therefore, that our cavalier drew rein, andsomewhat checked the pace of his horse, advancing with some cautionover the familiar yet unseen road; for just as he came opposite theland end of the pier which led out to the boat-house, the animalstopped with such suddenness that a less practised rider would havesuffered a severe fall. The horse snorted and trembled in terror, andbegan rearing and backing away from the spot. Looking down in thedarkness, Talbot could barely discern a dark, bulky object lying in theroad.

  "Here, Dick!" he called to the groom, who had stopped and reined in hisown horse, apparently as terrified as the other, a few paces back ofhis master; and tossing his bridle rein toward him, "take my horse,while I see what stopped him."

  Lightly leaping to the ground, and stepping up to the object beforehim, he bent down and laid his hand upon it, and then started back insurprise and horror. "It's a man," he exclaimed; "dead, yet warmstill. Who can it be?" The moonlight fell upon the pebbly beach ofthe river a little farther out; overcoming his reluctance, he halflifted, half carried the body out where the light would fall upon itsface. This face, which was unknown to him, was that of adesperate-looking ruffian, who was dressed in a soiled and tattereduniform, the coat of which was red; the man's hand tightly clasped adischarged pistol; he had been shot in the breast, for where his coathad fallen open might be seen a dark red stain about a ragged hole inhis soiled gray shirt; the bullet had been fired at short range, too,for there were powder marks all about his breast. Talbot noticed thesethings rapidly, his mind working quickly.

  "Oh, Mars' Hil'ry--wha-wha's de mattah? I kyarnt hol' dese hosses;dey'se sumfin wrong, sho'ly," broke in the groom, his teeth chatteringwith terror.

  "Quiet, man! don't make so much noise. This is the dead body of a man,a soldier; he has been shot too. Take the horses back beyond the oldtree on the little bend there; tie them securely, and come back herequickly. Make no noise. Bring the pistols from your holsters."

  As the man turned to obey him, Talbot glanced about in perplexity, andhis eyes fell upon a small sloop rapidly disappearing down the river,under full sail in the fresh breeze which had sprung up. She was toofar away now to make out any details in the moonlight, but the sightwas somewhat unusual and alarming, he scarcely knew why.

  "I got dem tied safe, Mars' Hil'ry," called out the voice of the boyfrom the road.

  "All right, Dick! We will leave this one here, and try to find outwhat's wrong; you follow me, and keep the pistols ready."

  "Yes, Mars', I got dem." The man was brave enough in the presence ofopen danger; it was only the spiritual he feared.

  They had scarcely gone ten paces farther toward the path, when, at thefoot of it, they stumbled over another body.

  "Here is another one. What does it mean? See who it is, Dick."

  The groom, mastering his instinctive aversion, bent down obediently,and lifting the face peered into it. It was lighter here, and herecognized it at once.

  "Hit's Mars' Blodgett, de kunnel's old sojuh man. Him got abullet-hole in de fohaid, suh; him a dead man sholy, an' heah is hisgun by his han'," he said in an awestruck whisper.

  "Blodgett! Good God, it can't be."

  "Yes, suh, it's him, and dere's anoder one ober dah. See, suh!" Helaid his hand upon another body, in the same uniform as the first one.This man groaned slightly.

  "Dis one's not daid yit," said Dick, excitedly; "he been hit ober dehaid, his face all bloody. Oh, Mars' Hil'ry, dem raidahs you done tellme 'bout been heah. Mars' Blodgett done shot dat one by de riber on dewaf, an' den hit dis one wid his musket, an' den dey done shoot Mars'Blodgett. Oh, Mars' Hil'ry, le' 's get out ob heah."

  Talbot saw it all now,--the slow and stealthy approach of the boat fromthe little sloop out in the river (it had disappeared round the bend,he noticed), Blodgett's quiet watch at the foot of the path, theapproach of the men, Blodgett's challenge, the first one shot dead ashe came up, the pistol-shot which missed him, the rush of the men atthe indomitable old soldier, the nearest one struck down from the blowof the clubbed musket of the sturdy old man, the second pistol-shot,which hit him in the forehead, his fall across the path. Faithful untodeath at the post of duty. The little drama was perfectly plain tohim. But who were these raiders? Who could they be? And Katharine?

  "Oh, my God," he exclaimed, stung into quick action at the thought of apossible peril to his love. "Come, Dick, to the house; she may be indanger."

  "But dis libe one, Mars' Hil'ry?"

  "Quick, quick! leave him; we will see about him later."

  With no further attempt at caution, they sprang recklessly up the steeppath, and, gaining the brow of the hill, ran at full speed toward thehouse. He noticed that there were no lights in the negro quarters, nosounds of the merry-making usually going on there in the early evening.Through the open windows on the side of the house, he
had a hastyglimpse of the disordered dining-room. The great doors of the hallwere open. They were on the porch now,--now at the door of the hall.It was empty. He paused a second. "Katharine, Katharine!" he calledaloud, a note of fear in his voice, "where are you? Colonel Wilton!"In the silence which his voice had broken he heard a weak and feeblemoan, which struck terror into his heart.

  He ran hastily down the hall, and stopped at the dining-room dooraghast. The smoking candles in the sconces were throwing a somewhatuncertain light over a scene of devastation and ruin; the furniture ofthe table and the accessories of the meal lay in a broken heap at thefoot of it, the chairs were overturned, the curtains torn, the greatsideboard had been swept bare of its usual load of glittering silver.

  At his feet lay the body of a man, in the now familiar red uniform,blood from a ghastly sword-thrust clotted about his throat, the floorabout his head being covered with ominous stains. A little fartheraway on the floor, near the table, there was the body of another man,in another uniform, a naked sword lying by his side; he had afrightful-looking wound on his forehead, and the blood was slowlyoozing out of his coat-sleeve, staining the lace at his left wrist.Even as he looked, the man turned a little on the floor, and the samelow moan broke from his lips. Talbot stepped over the first body tothe side of the other.

  "My God, it's Seymour," he said. He knelt beside him, as Katharine haddone. "Seymour," he called, "Seymour!" The man opened his eyesslowly, and looked vacantly at him.

  "Katharine," he murmured.

  "What of her? is she safe?" asked Talbot, in an agony of fear.

  "Raiders--prisoner," continued Seymour, brokenly, in a whisper, andthen feebly murmured, "Water, water!"

  "Here, Dick, get some water quickly! First hand me that decanter ofwine," pointing to one which had fortunately escaped the eyes of themarauders. He lifted Seymour's head gently, and with a napkin which hehad picked up from the floor, wiped the bloody face, washing it withthe water the groom quickly brought from the well outside.

  Then he poured a little of the wine down the wounded man's throat, nextslit the sleeve of his coat, and saw that the scarcely healed wound inthe arm had broken out again. He bandaged it up with no small skillwith some of the other neglected table linen, and the effect uponSeymour of the stimulant and of these ministrations was at onceapparent. With a stronger voice he said slowly,--

  "Dunmore's men--Captain Johnson--colonel a prisoner--Katharinealso--God grant--no harm intended."

  "Hush, hush! I understand. But where are the slaves?"

  "Terrified, I suppose--in hiding."

  "Dick, see if you can find any of them. Hurry up! We must take Mr.Seymour back to Fairview tonight, and report this outrage to themilitary commander at Alexandria. Oh that I had a boat and a few men!"he murmured. Katharine was gone. He would not tell his storyto-night; she was in the hands of a gang of ruffians. He knew thereputation of Johnson, and the motives which might actuate him. Therehad been a struggle, it was evident; perhaps she had been wounded,killed. Agony! He knew now how he loved her, and it was too late.

  Presently the groom returned, followed by a mob of frightened,terror-stricken negroes who had fled at the first advent of the party.Talbot issued his orders rapidly. "Some of you get the carriage ready;we must take Lieutenant Seymour to Fairview Hall. Some of you go downto the landing and bring up the bodies of the three men there. You gowith that party, Dick. Phoebus, you get this room cleared up. Hurry,stir yourselves! You are all right now; the raiders have gone and arenot likely to return."

  "Why, where is Master Philip, I wonder? Was he also taken?" he saidsuddenly. "Have any of you seen him?" he asked of the servants.

  "He done gone away fishin' wid Mars' Bentley," replied the old butler,pausing; "and dey ain't got back yit, tank de Lawd; but I spec 'em ev'yminute, suh."