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

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

  CHAPTER IX

  _Bentley's Prayer_

  As he spoke, a fresh youthful voice was heard in the hall. "Father,Kate, where are you? Come see our string of-- Why, what's all this?"said a young man, standing astonished in the door of the room. It wasPhilip Wilton, holding a long string of fish, the result of their day'ssport; behind him stood the tall stalwart figure of the old sailor."Talbot--you? Where are father and Kate? What are these men doing inthe dining-room? Oh, what is that?" he said, shrinking back in horrorfrom the corpse of the soldier.

  "Dunmore's raiders have been here."

  "And Katharine?"

  "A prisoner, with your father, Philip, but I trust both are uninjured."

  "Mr. Seymour, sir, where is he?" said the deep voice of the boatswain,as he advanced farther into the room. The light fell full upon him.He was a splendid specimen of athletic manhood; tall, powerful,long-armed, slightly bent in the shoulders; decision and courage wereseen in his bearing, and were written on his face, burned a dullmahogany color by years of exposure to the weather. He was clothed inthe open shirt and loose trousers of a seafaring man, and he stood withhis feet slightly apart, as if balancing himself to the uneasy roll ofa ship. Honesty and fidelity and intelligence spoke out from his eyes,and affection and anxiety were heard in his voice.

  "Lieutenant Seymour," he repeated, "where is he, sir?"

  "There," said Talbot, stepping aside and pointing to the floor.

  "Not dead, sir, is he?"

  "Not yet, Bentley," Seymour, with regaining strength, replied; "I amnot done for this time."

  "Oh, Mr. John, Mr. John," said the old man, tenderly, bending over him,"I thank God to see you alive again. But, as I live, they shall paydear for this--whoever has done it,--the bloody, marauding, ruffians!"

  "Yes, Bentley, I join you in that vow," said Talbot.

  "And I too," added Philip, bravely.

  "And I," whispered the wounded man.

  "It's one more score that has got to be paid off by King George's men,one more outrage on this country, one more debt we owe the English,"Bentley continued fiercely.

  "No; these were Americans, Virginians,--more's the shame,--led by thatblackguard Johnson. He has long hated the colonel," replied Talbot.

  "Curses on the renegades!" said the old man. "Who is it that lovesfreedom and sees not that the blow must be struck to-day? How can anyman born in this land hesitate to--" He stopped suddenly, as his eyesfell upon Talbot, whose previous irresolution and refusal had been nosecret to him.

  "Don't stop for me, Bentley," said that young man, gently; "I am withyou now. I came over this evening to tell our friends here that Istart north tomorrow as a volunteer to offer my services to GeneralWashington."

  "Oh, Hilary," exclaimed Philip, joyfully, "I am so glad. Would thatKatharine and father could hear you now!"

  Seymour lifted his unwounded arm, and beckoned to Talbot. "God blessyou, Talbot," he said; "to hear you say that is worth a dozen crackslike this, and I feel stronger every minute. If it were not for theold wound, I would n't mind this thing a bit. But there is somethingyou must do. There is an armed cutter stationed up the river atAlexandria; send some one to notify the commander of the Virginia navalmilitia there. They will pursue and perhaps recapture the party. Butthe word must be carried quickly; I fear it will be too late as it is."

  "I will go, Hilary, if you think best."

  "Very well, Philip; take your best horse and do not delay a moment.Katharine's liberty, your father's life perhaps, depend upon yourpromptness. Better see Mr. West as you go through the town,--yourfather's agent, you know,--and ask him to call upon me to-morrow. Stopat the Hall as you come back."

  "All right, Hilary, I will be in Alexandria in four hours," saidPhilip, running out.

  "Bentley, I am going to take Lieutenant Seymour over to my plantation.Will you stay here and look after the house until I can notify ColonelWilton's agent at Alexandria to come and take charge, or until we hearfrom the colonel what is to be done? You can come over in the morning,you know, and hear about our protege. I am afraid the slaves wouldnever stay here alone; they are so disorganized and terrorized now overthese unfortunate occurrences as to be almost useless."

  "Ay, ay, sir; if Lieutenant Seymour can spare me, I will stay."

  "Yes, Bentley, do; I shall be in good hands at Fairview Hall."

  "This is arranged, then," said Talbot. "It is nine o'clock. I thinkwe would better start at once. I will go out and see that thearrangements about the carriage are made properly, myself," he said,stepping through the door.

  Seymour's hand had closed tightly over something which had happened tofall near where it lay. "Bentley," he called, "what is this in myhand?"

  "It is a handkerchief, Mr. John,--a woman's handkerchief too, sir, andcovered with blood."

  "Has it any marks on it?" said Seymour, eagerly.

  "Yes, sir; here are the letters K. W. embroidered in this corner."

  "I thought so," he smiled triumphantly. "Will you put it inside mywaistcoat, there, over my heart? Yes," he added, as if in answer tothe old man's anxious look, "it is true; I love her, and she hasconfessed that she loves me. Oh, who will protect her now?"

  "God, sir," said Bentley, solemnly, but with a strange pang of almostwomanly jealousy in his faithful old heart.

  "Ay, old friend, He will watch over her. He knows best. Now help meup."

  "No, sir. Beg pardon for disobeying orders, but you are to lie still.We will carry you to the carriage. Nay, sir, you must. You are tooweak from loss of blood with two wounds on you to stand it. A few dayswill bring you about all right, though, I hope, sir."

  "All ready, Bentley?" said Talbot, coming into the room. "The negroboys have rigged up a stretcher out of a shutter, and with a mattressand blankets in the carriage, I think we can manage, driving carefully,to take him over without any great discomfort. I have sent Dick onahead to ride over to Dr. Craik's and bid him come to the Hall at once;so Mr. Seymour will be well looked after. By the way, Blodgett isdead. I had almost forgotten him. He evidently met and fought thosefellows at the landing. We found him at the foot of the steps by theboat-landing with two bodies. That reminds me, one of them was alivewhen we came by. I told the men to bring all three of the bodies up.Here they are now. Are any of them alive yet, Caesar?"

  "No, suh, dey 'se all ob 'em daid."

  "Take the two redcoats into the dining-room with the other one. LayBlodgett here in the hall. He must have been killed instantly. Well;good-by, I shall be over in the morning," he exclaimed, extending hishand.

  "Good-by, sir," said the seaman, taking it in his own huge palm. "Takecare of Lieutenant Seymour."

  "Oh, never fear; we will."

  "And may God give the men who did this into our hands!" added Bentley,raising his arms solemnly.

  "Amen," said Talbot, with equal gravity.

  Seymour was tenderly lifted into the carriage, and attended by Talbot,who sat by his side. Followed by two servants who had orders to getthe horses, which they found tied where they had been left, thecarriage drove off to the Hall. With what different thoughts was themind of the young man busy! Scarcely an hour had elapsed since hegalloped over the road, a light-hearted boy, flushed with hope, filledwith confidence, delighted in his decision, anticipating a reception,meditating words of love. In that one hour the boy had changed fromyouth to man. The love which he had hardly dreamed was in his hearthad risen like a wave and overwhelmed him; the capture and abduction ofhis sweetheart, the whole brutal and outrageous proceeding, had filledhim with burning wrath. He could not wait to strike a blow for libertyagainst such tyranny now, and his soul was full of resentment to themother he had loved and honored, because she had held him back; all ofthe devoted past was forgotten in one impetuous desire of the present.To-morrow should see him on the way to the army, he swore. He wrunghis hands in impotent passion.

  "Katharine, Katharine, where are you?" he murmured. Seymour
stirred."Are you in pain, my friend?"

  "No," said the sailor quietly, his heart beating against theblood-stained handkerchief, as he echoed in his soul the words he hadheard: "Katharine, Katharine, where are you? where are you?"