From Kingdom to Colony

by Mary Devereux

  CHAPTER XIII

  The night was clear, bright, and starlit, with not a wreath of vapordrifting. The rising wind moaned through the woods about the Devereuxhomestead, that loomed, a dark mass, and silent as a deserted house.

  From the shore below came the hoarse roar of the tumbling water, tomingle with the wailing murmur of the wind; and now and then could beheard, clear-cut and eerie, the cry of a screech-owl from the woods.

  As evening closed in, Joseph Devereux had ordered that no lights beshown about the house, lest they might attract the attention of anystraggling soldiers; and he felt assured that this warning would besufficient to intimidate the women into the greatest caution.

  As for the men, they were all, even old Leet, out with the partywatching at the "Black Hole,"--a bit of the sea shut in by a wood thatbordered a wide sweep of meadow known as the "Raccoon Lot." It washere that the expected powder and arms were to be concealed by buryingthem in the earth, after being wrapped in oilskin coverings.

  Johnnie Strings had gone alone to the Sachem's Cave, ready to give thesignal.

  The cave was somewhat farther down the shore, and a light shown aboveit could be plainly seen from the open sea.

  The rising wind piped softly about the closed window where MaryBroughton was sitting in the starlight, absorbed in her own anxiousthoughts, until aroused by something unusual in Dorothy's appearanceand manner of moving about. The girl was at the farther side of theunlit room, and Mary asked her what she was doing.

  A low laugh was the only answer; and upon the question being repeated,Dorothy came to the window, and Mary saw that she was clad in acomplete suit of boy's clothes.

  The unexpected transition was so startling that for a moment she couldnot speak, but sat looking at Dorothy in amazement.

  "Oh, Dot," she then exclaimed, "you should take shame to yourself fordoing such a thing!"

  She could see, even in the gloom, the wilful toss of Dorothy's head,whose curls were let down and tied back with a ribbon, thus completingthe masculine disguise.

  "Whatever are you thinking about, to play such pranks at a time likethis?" Mary demanded reproachfully.

  "That is just it, Mary," Dorothy replied. She seemed in no wiseabashed, but spoke with perfect seriousness. "I do it because of thetime, and of what is going to happen to-night. Father said 't was notsafe for us to go abroad, because we wore petticoats. Now here is thisold suit Jack outgrew years ago, and I've always kept it to masqueradein; but to-night it will serve me in a more serious matter. I cannotstop in the house; I am too anxious about Jack. I want to see him andthe others get ashore in safety; and I've no fear but, dressed in thisway, it will be easy for me to do so."

  "But you must not," Mary protested. "How can you dare to think of sucha thing? Suppose some of the men should recognize you,--and they willbe keeping a sharp lookout for strangers--what would your father say?"And she began to have thoughts of seeing him, and so frustrating thiswild scheme.

  "I tell you I must go, and will go, Mary; so do not try to prevent me.I know every inch of ground hereabouts, and can easily keep out of theway, even should any one try to hinder me. Why will you not go withme?"

  Dorothy spoke quietly, but very earnestly; and as she finished, sheplaced both her hands on Mary's shoulders, as though to compel herconsent.

  Mary hesitated. There was in her own heart a like desire to that ofthe younger girl; she, too, wished to get out of doors, and see allthat should take place. But she held herself to be more prudent thanthe impulsive Dorothy, and so for a time she demurred with herinclination.

  But it was only for a time. Dorothy's impetuous arguments fairly swepther off her balance, as usually happened with any one who was fond ofthe girl; and Mary agreed to be her companion.

  It was some minutes after this when the two stole noiselessly down theback stairway and let themselves out of the door opening toward thesheds at the rear of the house. As Dorothy locked it on the outsideand put the key in her pocket, she whispered: "We might have bribedTyntie to let us out, but 't is as well not to risk getting her intotrouble. I shall tell father all about it to-morrow, and I know of acertainty he'll not be angry. To be sure, he may scold me a little;but"--with a low laugh--"I can soon kiss him into good humor again."

  "Don't you think, Dot, it is rather of a shame,--the way you do things,and then tell your father afterwards?" Mary asked as they walked along.

  "Assuredly not," was the ready answer, "else I might not get so manychances to 'do things,' as you call it. I never do aught that isreally wrong; I love my father far too dearly for that. But I amyoung, and he is old; and that, I suppose, is why we do not think alikeabout all matters. He has often said I ought to have been a boy, and Iagree with him; though I dare say I shall be a proper enough old maidsome day. Only," with a laugh, "I cannot quite imagine such a thing."

  "No," said Mary, looking into Dorothy's eyes, bright as the stars thatwere now being shut away by the branches of the trees in the woods theywere entering; "no--nor I. But we'd best stop our chattering and useour eyes and ears. Heavens! what's that?" And she clutched Dot's armin sudden fright as a wild cry rang out directly over their heads.

  "Pooh!" said Dorothy, with a laugh, "'t is but an old hoot-owl. Ifyou'd been in the woods as much as I, you'd not be frightened soeasily."

  They came to a halt at the edge of the timber growth overlooking therock peak above the Sachem's Cave, and crouched among the bushes towatch for the light, keeping a lookout as well upon the sea, for thefirst signal from the ship.

  And there they remained, listening to the incessant crying of theinsects in the grass and the rustling of the wind in the treesoverhead, these being mingled with the never-ceasing sound of the sea,as the breakers of the incoming tide flung themselves against theboulders with a quavering roar that seemed to pulse the air like greatheart-throbs.

  Presently Mary whispered, "Why not let us go and stop beside JohnnieStrings?" Then quickly, "Oh, I forgot--the way you are dressed wouldmake it imprudent."

  "I should not care very much for Johnnie Strings," Dorothy began; butMary said hastily,--

  "Oh, no, Dot, 'twould never do."

  A long silence ensued, broken at length by Mary saying in a tone ofalarm, "Oh, Dot, whatever would we do, if your father went to speak toyou for somewhat, and should not find us in the house at this latehour?"

  "No fear of such a thing," was the confident reply. "He has made surelong since that I am abed and asleep."

  It was half-past ten of the clock when the two girls left the house;and so they reckoned it must be now several minutes after the next hour.

  "Suppose it should be far into the night before the ship comes insight," Mary suggested, for she was beginning to feel cramped anduncomfortable. "Let's not wait for so long a time as that."

  "No, we will not," Dorothy assented with a yawn. But the next momentshe was all alive, with her small fingers holding Mary's arm in a tightclutch as she whispered excitedly: "Look, Mary--there it is! There wasone light, and 't is gone. Now there are the two; and there comes thethird, as Jack said."

  The girls arose and stood erect in eager interest, looking out over thewater, where, several hundred yards from shore, the lights gleamed andthen disappeared. And now their eyes, accustomed to the gloom,discerned a slim blackness, as of a man's form, appear on the highestpoint of rocks above the cave; and then a soft glow of tremulous lightillumined the darkness.

  While they watched this, they were startled to see a taller figurespring from the shadows, and a second later the two seemed to melt intoone enlarged blur, as if they were struggling.

  Quick as thought the boyish form beside Mary broke from the bushes andsped with flying steps toward the peak.

  "Dot--Dot--come back!" cried Mary, regardless now of who might hearher. "Whatever are you thinking to do?"

  A low but clear reply came to her from over Dorothy's shoulder.

  "The lanterns--they must be put out, else Jack may be hurt!"r />
  On, on, she flew, with no fear of the peril into which she might berushing,--with no heed of her unmaidenly garb. Her mind held but theone thought,--that the lanterns must be extinguished, for dangerthreatened her brother and his companions if they should seek to landunwarned.

  So absorbed were the men in their fierce wrestling that neither of themsaw nor heard the slight figure that came straight up to them, andthen, dashing at the lanterns, sent them flying into the water beneath.

  Then the larger of the two, catching sight of the intruder, relaxed hishold on the other; and Johnnie Strings, with a derisive whoop, twistedhis wiry little body from the slackened grip and sped down the rocksand away into the night.

  "You young rascal, what does all this mean?" demanded Southorn, for heit was; and seizing the boyish shoulder firmly, he shook the slenderform.

  Dorothy, although greatly overcome by agitation now that her brave deedwas accomplished, thought she recognized the voice that addressed herso roughly, and was silent from embarrassment.

  "Are you dumb?" the Englishman asked angrily, shaking her again."Speak up, you young rebel, or I may try what a salt-water bath will dofor the unlocking of your stubborn tongue."

  "Stop shaking me, you great--brute," Dorothy gasped indignantly. "Haveyou no--manners?"

  At sound of the soft-toned voice, Southorn seemed to feel that he wasdealing with no yokel, as he had supposed; and now, peering closely, hesaw that the head of his prisoner was finely shaped, and the featuresrefined and delicate.

  "If you object to rough treatment, my young friend," he said a littlemore gently, "you should not put your nose into such doings as these."But he still kept a firm hold of the arm and shoulder, as though tostifle any idea of escape.

  "I should say 't was you who deserved rough usage,--coming onto myfather's land at this hour, and putting your nose into business thatcan in no wise concern you." Dorothy had by this time fully recoveredher composure, and being certain as to the completeness of herdisguise, spoke with saucy assurance.

  "Your father's land!" exclaimed the young man, in evident surprise."Pray, who is your father?"

  "A gentleman who has no great taste for stranger folk prowling abouthis estate." She gave her arm and shoulder a slight twitch, as thoughto loosen them from his hold. But this he would not have, although hisvoice had a still milder sound as he asked, "Is your name Devereux?"

  "And whether it is or not," she answered, "pray tell me what matters itto you?"

  "It matters this to me," he said quickly: "that if it is, then I'll letyou off, and will go on my way, although I don't quite like the looksof the doings I've seen on this rock, and out there on the water."

  "By the Holy Poker!" Dorothy exclaimed, bent upon keeping up the partshe had assumed. "But you talk as if you were the Lord High Cockalorumhimself! Who are you, to say what you do and do not like here, on myfather's premises?"

  "Never mind who I am. Perhaps I can make more trouble for your fatherand his household than you are able to understand. But answer what Ihave asked, and you'll not be sorry."

  Dorothy could not fail to note the earnestness with which he spoke, northe intent look she felt rather than saw in the dim light. But she metall this with a mocking air and tone as she said, "Since you make it soworth my while to be kind to my neighbors, how know you but I might seefit to tell you an untruth, and say my name was Devereux, when it maybe Robinson, or anything else?"

  "If this is your father's estate, then your name must be Devereux,"Southorn asserted; "for the place is owned by one Joseph Devereux, as Ihave been told. So there's an end to your telling me anythingmisleading. And now answer me this,--know you the one who is calledMistress Dorothy Devereux?"

  Dot waited a moment before answering. A new scheme had sprung into herquick-witted brain,--one that promised an effective means of gettingrid of his embarrassing presence, this being likely to interfereseriously with the landing of the arms and powder, were that still incontemplation.

  She was wondering, too, what had become of Mary Broughton, and what shewas doing all this time.

  "Answer me," the young Britisher repeated sharply, "do you know her?"And he gave a shake to the arm he still held.

  "You seem over-fond of shaking folk, sir," she remonstrated. "I wishyou'd let go my arm." And she pulled it impatiently.

  "I will let it go at once, if you'll only tell me what I wish to know."

  "And what may that be?" she asked, with an innocent _sang-froid_ thatplainly angered him.

  "You are a saucy boy," he said impatiently. "You remember well enoughwhat I asked you. Do you know Mistress Dorothy Devereux?"

  "Aye," was the quick reply; "I know her as well as you know your ownface that you see in the glass every day." She stood rubbing the armhe had now released, and upon which his grip had been unpleasantly firm.

  "Ah--then she is your sister." He had moved so as to stand directly infront of the slight figure, whose head reached but half-way up his ownbroad chest.

  She looked at him for a second and then burst into laughter.

  "I know you now," she said. "You must be the Britisher she told ofthis morning,--the one who came here, and whom Mary Broughtonfrightened so badly that he fell over and cut his head." And again themocking laugh came from her ready lips.

  "I don't believe your sister told you any such untruth," said theirritated young man. "I missed my footing, and fell; that was all. Imeant no rudeness, although the lady you name--Mary Broughton, did youcall her?--seemed not to believe me."

  "Mary has but little taste for a redcoat," was the dry retort.

  "And judging from your own tone, you share her taste," he said, nowquite good-naturedly, for he found himself taking a strong liking tothis bright, free-speaking lad.

  "I? Oh, I don't know," was the careless answer. "Do you not think Iam somewhat too young to have much of an opinion upon such matters?"

  He smiled, but without replying. Then Dot came closer to him and saidin a low voice, "At any rate, I am good-natured enough to say I canshow you something that you, being His Majesty's officer, had best knowabout."

  "What is it?" the young man asked. He was now looking around for hishat, which, together with the bandage about his head, had fallen offduring his struggle with the pedler.

  Dorothy's sharp eyes were the first to catch sight of these; and shepicked them up and handed them to him, noting with an odd feeling thathe placed the bandage inside his coat and over his heart.

  "It is something you may or may not care to see," she replied. "OnlyI'll warrant you'll be sorry if another reports it first; for I shallshow it to the next Britisher who comes this way."

  "Very well," he said; "let me see it."

  Without further parley, and suspecting a nest of concealed firearms, orsomething of the like, he followed her down the rocks, going with slowcaution, while she went more rapidly and soon stood below, waiting forhim. And then, side by side, they set off inland.

  Dorothy, skirting as closely as was prudent the woods where shereckoned Mary was still hiding, took care to remark to her companion,in a voice loud enough to reach her friend's ears, that it would nottake over ten minutes to reach their destination, and that then he hadbest go his own way.