Audrey

by Mary Johnston

  CHAPTER IX

  MACLEAN TO THE RESCUE

  Saunderson, the overseer, having laboriously written and signed a pass,laid down the quill, wiped his inky forefinger upon his sleeve, and gavethe paper to the storekeeper, who sat idly by.

  "Ye'll remember that the store chiefly lacks in broadcloth of Witney,frieze and camlet, and in women's shoes, both silk and callimanco. Anddinna forget to trade with Alick Ker for three small swords, a chafingdish, and a dozen mourning and hand-and-heart rings. See that you have theskins' worth. Alick's an awfu' man to get the upper hand of."

  "I'm thinking a MacLean should have small difficulty with a Ker," said thestorekeeper dryly. "What I'm wanting to know is why I am saddled with thecompany of Monsieur Jean Hugon." He jerked his thumb toward the figure ofthe trader standing within the doorway. "I do not like the gentleman, andI'd rather trudge it to Williamsburgh alone."

  "Ye ken not the value of the skins, nor how to show them off," answeredthe other. "Wherefore, for the consideration of a measure of rum, he'sengaged to help you in the trading. As for his being half Indian, Gudeguide us! It's been told me that no so many centuries ago the Highlandmenpainted their bodies and went into battle without taking advantage even offeathers and silk grass. One half of him is of the French nobeelity; hetold me as much himself. And the best of ye--sic as the Campbells--are nobetter than that."

  He looked at MacLean with a caustic smile. The latter shrugged hisshoulders. "So long as you tie him neck and heels with a Campbell I amcontent," he answered. "Are you going? I'll just bar the windows and lockthe door, and then I'll be off with yonder copper cadet of a French house.Good-day to you. I'll be back to-night."

  "Ye'd better," said the overseer, with another widening of his thin lips."For myself, I bear ye no ill-will; for my grandmither--rest hersoul!--came frae the north, and I aye thought a Stewart better became thethrone than a foreign-speaking body frae Hanover. But if the store is notopen the morn I'll raise hue and cry, and that without wasting time. I'vebeen told ye're great huntsmen in the Highlands; if ye choose to turn reddeer yourself, I'll give ye a chase, _and trade ye down, man, and track yedown_."

  MacLean half turned from the window. "I have hunted the red deer," hesaid, "in the land where I was born, and which I shall see no more, and Ihave been myself hunted in the land where I shall die. I have run until Ihave fallen, and I have felt the teeth of the dogs. Were God to send amiracle--which he will not do--and I were to go back to the glen and thecrag and the deep birch woods, I suppose that I would hunt again, woulddrive the stag to bay, holloing to my hounds, and thinking the sound ofthe horns sweet music in my ears. It is the way of the earth. Hunter andhunted, we make the world and the pity of it."

  Setting to work again, he pushed to the heavy shutters. "You'll find themopen in the morning," he said, "and find me selling,--selling clothingthat I may not wear, wine that I may not drink, powder and shot that I maynot spend, swords that I may not use; and giving,--giving pride, manhood,honor, heart's blood"--

  He broke off, shot to the bar across the shutters, and betook himself insilence to the other window, where presently he burst into a fit oflaughter. The sound was harsh even to savagery. "Go your ways,Saunderson," he said. "I've tried the bars of the cage; they're toostrong. Stop on your morning round, and I'll give account of my trading."

  The overseer gone, the windows barred, and the heavy door shut and lockedbehind him, MacLean paused upon the doorstep to look down upon hisappointed companion. The trader, half sitting, half reclining upon a log,was striking at something with the point of his hunting-knife, lightly,delicately, and often. The something was a lizard, about which, as it layin the sunshine upon the log, he had wrought a pen of leafy twigs. Thecreature, darting for liberty this way and that, was met at every turn bythe steel, and at every turn suffered a new wound. MacLean looked; thenbent over and with a heavy stick struck the thing out of its pain.

  "There's a time to work and a time to play, Hugon," he said coolly."Playtime's over now. The sun is high, and Isaac and the oxen must havethe skins well-nigh to Williamsburgh. Up with you!"

  Hugon rose to his feet, slid his knife into its sheath, and announced ingood enough English that he was ready. He had youth, the slender, hardy,perfectly moulded figure of the Indian, a coloring and a countenance thatwere not of the white and not of the brown. When he went a-trading up theriver, past the thickly settled country, past the falls, past the Frenchtown which his Huguenot father had helped to build, into the deep woodsand to the Indian village whence had strayed his mother, he wore theclothing that became the woods,--beaded moccasins, fringed leggings,hunting-shirt of deerskin, cap of fur,--looked his part and played itwell. When he came back to an English country, to wharves and stores, tohalls and porches of great houses and parlors of lesser ones, to thestreets and ordinaries of Williamsburgh, he pulled on jack boots, shruggedhimself into a coat with silver buttons, stuck lace of a so-so quality atneck and wrists, wore a cocked hat and a Blenheim wig, and became a figurealike grotesque and terrible. Two thirds of the time his business causedhim to be in the forests that were far away; but when he returned tocivilization, to stare it in the face and brag within himself, "I am lotand part of what I see!" he dwelt at the crossroads ordinary, drank andgamed with Paris the schoolmaster and Darden the minister, and dreamed (attimes) of Darden's Audrey.

  The miles to Williamsburgh were long and sunny, with the dust thickbeneath the feet. Warm and heavy, the scented spring possessed the land.It was a day for drowsing in the shade: for them who must needs walk inthe sunshine, languor of thought overtook them, and sparsity of speech.They walked rapidly, step with step, their two lean and sinewy bodiescasting the same length of shadow; but they kept their eyes upon the longglare of white dust, and told not their dreams. At a point in the roadwhere the storekeeper saw only confused marks and a powdering of dustupon the roadside bushes, the half-breed announced that there had beenthat morning a scuffle in a gang of negroes; that a small man had beenthrown heavily to the earth, and a large man had made off across a lowditch into the woods; that the overseer had parted the combatants, andthat some one's back had bled. No sooner was this piece of clairvoyanceaired than he was vexed that he had shown a hall-mark of the savage, andhastily explained that life in the woods, such as a trader must live,would teach any man--an Englishman, now, as well as a Frenchman--how toread what was written on the earth. Farther on, when they came to aminiature glen between the semblance of two hills, down which, in mockeryof a torrent, brabbled a slim brown stream, MacLean stood still, gazed fora minute, then, whistling, caught up with his companion, and spoke atlength upon the subject of the skins awaiting them at Williamsburgh.

  The road had other travelers than themselves. At intervals a cloud of dustwould meet or overtake them, and out of the windows of coach or chariot orlighter chaise faces would glance at them. In the thick dust wheels andhorses' hoofs made no noise, the black coachmen sat still upon the boxes,the faces were languid with the springtime. A moment and all were gone.Oftener there passed a horseman. If he were riding the planter's pace, hewent by like a whirlwind, troubling only to curse them out of his path; ifhe had more leisure, he threw them a good-morning, or perhaps drew rein toask this or that of Hugon. The trader was well known, and was an authorityupon all matters pertaining to hunting or trapping. The foot passengerswere few, for in Virginia no man walked that could ride, and on a morn ofearly May they that walked were like to be busy in the fields. An ancientseaman, lame and vagabond, lurched beside them for a while, then laggedbehind; a witch, old and bowed and bleared of eye, crossed their path; anda Sapony hunter, with three wolves' heads slung across his shoulder,slipped by them on his way to claim the reward decreed by the Assembly. Ata turn of the road they came upon a small ordinary, with horses fastenedbefore it, and with laughter, oaths, and the rattling of dice issuing fromthe open windows. The trader had money; the storekeeper had none. Thelatter, though he was thirsty, would have passed on; but Hugon twitchedhim by the sleeve, and
producing from the depths of his great flappedpocket a handful of crusadoes, ecues, and pieces of eight, indicated witha flourish that he was prepared to share with his less fortunatecompanion.

  They drank standing, kissed the girl who served them, and took to the roadagain. There were no more thick woods, the road running in a blaze ofsunshine past clumps of cedars and wayside tangles of blackberry, sumac,and elder. Presently, beyond a group of elms, came into sight the goodlycollege of William and Mary, and, dazzling white against the blue, thespire of Bruton church.

  Within a wide pasture pertaining to the college, close to the roadside andunder the boughs of a vast poplar, half a score of students were at play.Their lithe young bodies were dark of hue and were not overburdened withclothing; their countenances remained unmoved, without laughter orgrimacing; and no excitement breathed in the voices with which theycalled one to another. In deep gravity they tossed a ball, or pitched aquoit, or engaged in wrestling. A white man, with a singularly pure andgentle face, sat upon the grass at the foot of the tree, and watched thestudious efforts of his pupils with an approving smile.

  "Wildcats to purr upon the hearth, and Indians to go to school!" quothMacLean. "Were you taught here, Hugon, and did you play so sadly?"

  The trader, his head held very high, drew out a large and bedizenedsnuffbox, and took snuff with ostentation. "My father was of a greattribe--I would say a great house--in the country called France," heexplained, with dignity. "Oh, he was of a very great name indeed! Hisblood was--what do you call it?--_blue_. I am the son of my father: I am aFrenchman. _Bien_! My father dies, having always kept me with him atMonacan-Town; and when they have laid him full length in the ground,Monsieur le Marquis calls me to him. 'Jean,' says he, and his voice islike the ice in the stream, 'Jean, you have ten years, and yourfather--may _le bon Dieu_ pardon his sins!--has left his wishes regardingyou and money for your maintenance. To-morrow Messieurs de Sailly and deBreuil go down the river to talk of affairs with the English Governor. Youwill go with them, and they will leave you at the Indian school which theEnglish have built near to the great college in their town ofWilliamsburgh. There you will stay, learning all that Englishmen can teachyou, until you have eighteen years. Come back to me then, and with themoney left by your father you shall be fitted out as a trader. Go!' ...Yes, I went to school here; but I learned fast, and did not forget thethings I learned, and I played with the English boys--there being noscholars from France--on the other side of the pasture."

  He waved his hand toward an irruption of laughing, shouting figures fromthe north wing of the college. The white man under the tree had beenquietly observant of the two wayfarers, and he now rose to his feet, andcame over to the rail fence against which they leaned.

  "Ha, Jean Hugon!" he said pleasantly, touching with his thin white handthe brown one of the trader. "I thought it had been my old scholar! Canstsay the belief and the Commandments yet, Jean? Yonder great fellow withthe ball is Meshawa,--Meshawa that was a little, little fellow when youwent away. All your other playmates are gone,--though you did not playmuch, Jean, but gloomed and gloomed because you must stay this side of themeadow with your own color. Will you not cross the fence and sit awhilewith your old master?"

  As he spoke he regarded with a humorous smile the dusty glories of hissometime pupil, and when he had come to an end he turned and made as if tobeckon to the Indian with the ball. But Hugon drew his hand away,straightened himself, and set his face like a flint toward the town. "I amsorry, I have no time to-day," he said stiffly. "My friend and I havebusiness in town with men of my own color. My color is white. I do notwant to see Meshawa or the others. I have forgotten them."

  He turned away, but a thought striking him his face brightened, andplunging his hand into his pocket he again brought forth his glitteringstore. "Nowadays I have money," he said grandly. "It used to be thatIndian braves brought Meshawa and the others presents, because they werethe sons of their great men. I was the son of a great man, too; but he wasnot Indian and he was lying in his grave, and no one brought me gifts. NowI wish to give presents. Here are ten coins, master. Give one to eachIndian boy, the largest to Meshawa."

  The Indian teacher, Charles Griffin by name, looked with a whimsical faceat the silver pieces laid arow upon the top rail. "Very well, Jean," hesaid. "It is good to give of thy substance. Meshawa and the others willhave a feast. Yes, I will remember to tell them to whom they owe it.Good-day to you both."

  The meadow, the solemnly playing Indians, and their gentle teacher wereleft behind, and the two men, passing the long college all astare withwindows, the Indian school, and an expanse of grass starred withbuttercups, came into Duke of Gloucester Street. Broad, unpaved, deep indust, shaded upon its ragged edges by mulberries and poplars, it ranwithout shadow of turning from the gates of William and Mary to the widesweep before the Capitol. Houses bordered it, flush with the street or setback in fragrant gardens; other and narrower ways opened from it; half waydown its length wide greens, where the buttercups were thick in the grass,stretched north and south. Beyond these greens were more houses, moremulberries and poplars, and finally, closing the vista, the brick facadeof the Capitol.

  The two from Fair View plantation kept their forest gait; for the traderwas in a hurry to fulfill his part of the bargain, which was merely toexhibit and value the skins. There was an ordinary in Nicholson Streetthat was to his liking. Sailors gamed there, and other traders, and halfa dozen younger sons of broken gentlemen. It was as cleanly dining in itschief room as in the woods, and the aqua vitae, if bad, was cheap. In goodhumor with himself, and by nature lavish with his earnings, he offered tomake the storekeeper his guest for the day. The latter curtly declined theinvitation. He had bread and meat in his wallet, and wanted no drink butwater. He would dine beneath the trees on the market green, would finishhis business in town, and be half way back to the plantation while thetrader--being his own man, with no fear of hue and cry if he weremissed--was still at hazard.

  This question settled, the two kept each other company for several hourslonger, at the end of which time they issued from the store at which thegreater part of their business had been transacted, and went their severalways,--Hugon to the ordinary in Nicholson Street, and MacLean to hisdinner beneath the sycamores on the green. When the frugal meal had beeneaten, the latter recrossed the sward to the street, and took up again theround of his commissions.

  It was after three by the great clock in the cupola of the Capitol when hestood before the door of Alexander Ker, the silversmith, and foundentrance made difficult by the serried shoulders of half a dozen young menstanding within the store, laughing, and making bantering speeches to someone hidden from the Highlander's vision. Presently an appealing voice,followed by a low cry, proclaimed that the some one was a woman.

  MacLean had a lean and wiry strength which had stood him in good steadupon more than one occasion in his checkered career. He now drove an armlike a bar of iron between two broadcloth coats, sent the wearers thereofto right and left, and found himself one of an inner ring and facingMistress Truelove Taberer, who stood at bay against the silversmith's longtable. One arm was around the boy who had rowed her to the Fair View storea week agone; with the other she was defending her face from the attack ofa beribboned gallant desirous of a kiss. The boy, a slender, delicate ladof fourteen, struggled to free himself from his sister's restraining arm,his face white with passion and his breath coming in gasps. "Let me go,Truelove!" he commanded. "If I am a Friend, I am a man as well! Thoufellow with the shoulder knots, thee shall pay dearly for thy insolence!"

  Truelove tightened her hold. "Ephraim, Ephraim! If a man compel thee to gowith him a mile, thee is to go with him twain; if he take thy cloak, theeis to give him thy coat also; if he--Ah!" She buried her profaned cheek inher arm and began to cry, but very softly.

  Her tormentors, flushed with wine and sworn to obtain each one a kiss,laughed more loudly, and one young rake, with wig and ruffles awry,lurched forward to take the place of the coxcom
b who had scored. Ephraimwrenched himself free, and making for this gentleman might have given orreceived bodily injury, had not a heavy hand falling upon his shoulderstopped him in mid-career.

  "Stand aside, boy," said MacLean, "This quarrel's mine by virtue of mymaking it so. Mistress Truelove, you shall have no further annoyance. Now,you Lowland cowards that cannot see a flower bloom but you wish to trampleit in the mire, come taste the ground yourself, and be taught that theflower is out of reach!"

  As he spoke he stepped before the Quakeress, weaponless, but with his eyeslike steel. The half dozen spendthrifts and ne'er-do-weels whom he facedpaused but long enough to see that this newly arrived champion had onlyhis bare hands, and was, by token of his dress, undoubtedly theirinferior, before setting upon him with drunken laughter and the loudlyavowed purpose of administering a drubbing. The one that came first hesent rolling to the floor. "Another for Hector!" he said coolly.

  The silversmith, ensconced in safety behind the table, wrung his hands."Sirs, sirs! Take your quarrel into the street! I'll no have fighting inmy store. What did ye rin in here for, ye Quaker baggage? Losh! did yeever see the like of that! Here, boy, ye can get through the window. Rinfor the constable! Rin, I tell ye, or there'll be murder done!"

  A gentleman who had entered the store unobserved drew his rapier, and withit struck up a heavy cane which was in the act of descending for thesecond time upon the head of the unlucky Scot. "What is all this?" heasked quietly. "Five men against one,--that is hardly fair play. Ah, I seethere were six; I had overlooked the gentleman on the floor, who, I hope,is only stunned. Five to one,--the odds are heavy. Perhaps I can make themless so." With a smile upon his lips, he stepped backward a foot or twountil he stood with the weaker side.

  Now, had it been the constable who so suddenly appeared upon the scene,the probabilities are that the fight, both sides having warmed to it,would, despite the terrors of the law, have been carried to a finish. Butit was not the constable; it was a gentleman recently returned fromEngland, and become in the eyes of the youth of Williamsburgh the glass offashion and the mould of form. The youngster with the shoulder knots hadcopied color and width of ribbon from a suit which this gentleman had wornat the Palace; the rake with the wig awry, who passed for a wit, had donehim the honor to learn by heart portions of his play, and to repeat(without quotation marks) a number of his epigrams; while the prettyfellow whose cane he had struck up practiced night and morning before amirror his bow and manner of presenting his snuffbox. A fourth rufflerdesired office, and cared not to offend a prospective Councilor. There wasrumor, too, of a grand entertainment to be given at Fair View; it was goodto stand well with the law, but it was imperative to do so with Mr.Marmaduke Haward. Their hands fell; they drew back a pace, and the witmade himself spokesman. Roses were rare so early in the year; for him andhis companions, they had but wished to compliment those that bloomed inthe cheeks of the pretty Quakeress. This servant fellow, breathing firelike a dragon, had taken it upon himself to defend the roses,--whichlikely enough were grown for him,--and so had been about to bring uponhimself merited chastisement. However, since it was Mr. Marmaduke Hawardwho pleaded for him--A full stop, a low bow, and a flourish. "Will Mr.Haward honor me? 'Tis right Macouba, and the box--if the author of 'ThePuppet Show' would deign to accept it"--

  "Rather to change with you, sir," said the other urbanely, and drew outhis own chased and medallioned box.

  The gentleman upon the floor had now gotten unsteadily to his feet. Mr.Haward took snuff with each of the six; asked after the father of one, thebrother of another; delicately intimated his pleasure in finding the nobleorder of Mohocks, that had lately died in London, resurrected in Virginia;and fairly bowed the flattered youths out of the store. He stood for amoment upon the threshold watching them go triumphantly, if unsteadily, upthe street; then turned to the interior of the store to find MacLeanseated upon a stool, with his head against the table, submitting with asmile of pure content to the ministrations of the dove-like mover of thelate turmoil, who with trembling fingers was striving to bind her kerchiefabout a great cut in his forehead.