CHAPTER III.
AT THE SIGN OF THE GEORGE.
As they proceeded, Dick laughingly alluded to the time when, at the ageof four, he had started out on this same road, thinking it would takehim to Paris in a few hours.
"And wha kens," said MacAlister, in all seriousness, "but this same roadmay yet lead ye there, or to Chiney, for that matter? Him that sets outon a journey knowing where 'twill land him is a wiser man nor you andme, my son!"
Presently MacAlister fell behind, and was soon lost to sight as Dickrode on. By and by Dick dismounted, tied the horse to a tree by thepath, and went on afoot. When he had walked about an hour, he wasovertaken and passed by MacAlister, on the horse, which Tom, on comingup to it, had untied and mounted. Walking on alone, Dick in due timefound the horse tied at the path's side, and mounted to overtake andpass Tom in turn. He caught up to his comrade at the place where, it hadbeen decided, they should cross the Juniata, which they did onhorseback together, partly by fording and partly by swimming the horse.Proceeding as before, and not losing the time to cross to the island fora visit to Dick's grandfather when they reached the Susquehanna, theycame at nightfall to the house of a farmer on the west bank of thatriver, and lodged there. At early dawn they were on their way again, andjust as the sun rose Dick reached the crest of the farthest mountainssoutheast of his home. Who could describe his feelings as he looked forthe first time over the fair wooded country that rolled afar towards thepurple and golden east? Did his mother, at this moment, looking towardsthe farthest azure line, know he was there at last, and that he saw whatthe birds had seen that he had so often envied when they flew eastward?"Get up!" he cried, and urged his horse down the eastern mountainsidetowards his future.
Riding and tying, the two comrades came to Harris's ferry-house, whencethey crossed the Susquehanna in a scow, to the small collection of lowbuildings--stone residence, old storehouse for skins, blockhouse fordefence, and others--which then constituted Harrisburg. While they werecrossing, the ferryman at the pole entertained them with anecdotes ofthe parents of the John Harris of that day,--how they were sturdyYorkshire people; how the wife Esther once in time of necessity rode allthe way to Philadelphia in one day on the same horse; how she was onceup the river on a trading trip to Big Island, and heard of her husband'sillness and came down in a bark canoe in a day and a night; how she wasa good trader, and could write, and had boxed the ears of many an Indianchief when he was drunk; how she could swim as well as a man and handlefirearms as well as any hunter; how she worked at the building of herbrick house five miles up the Susquehanna; how she once ran up-stairsand took from a cask of powder a lighted candle that her maid hadmistakenly stuck in the bung-hole; how the then present John Harris wasthe first white child born thereabouts and was taken to Philadelphia tobe baptized in Christ's Church. Dick would have liked to see the insideof the church at Paxton, three miles from Harrisburg, because one of hisacquaintances, having got a girl into trouble, had made publicconfession before the congregation there, praying in the usual formula:
"For my own game, Have done this shame, Pray restore me to my lands again."
He would have liked, also, to seek out some member of the gang of"Paxton Boys" that had killed the Conestogo Indians in Lancaster County,in 1764, and get the other side of that story, which was generallyaccepted as one of unwarranted massacre of friendly natives. But theimpulse to press forward overcame the other, and the travellers, havingfollowed the left bank of the Susquehanna, by the road which had been inexistence from Harris's since 1736, lodged on the second night of theirjourney at a wooden tavern in the village of Middletown. The nextmorning they turned directly eastward, their backs towards theSusquehanna, and proceeded on the road to Lancaster. They now enteredthe band of country settled by German Protestants, whose fertile farmsgave the slightly undulating land a soft and smiling appearance.
At noon, dining at a rude log hostelry, more farmhouse than tavern, theywere invited to drink by two thin, middle-aged, merry fellows, in browncloth coats and cocked hats, who said they were Philadelphia merchantsreturning from a view of some interior land which they intended topurchase for the purpose of developing trade. They invited Tom and Dickto drink with them, laughed so boisterously at Tom's sage jokes, andexpressed so much admiration of Dick's intelligence and book-learning,that when all four left the tavern to proceed eastward, Dick and Tom,seeing that the two jolly merchants were afoot, took counsel togetherand agreed to share with them the use of the horse. This generous ideawas engendered by a hint that one of the merchants made in jest. Thehorse was a huge animal and could easily bear any two of four such thinmen as were those concerned. Lots were cast to determine which twoshould be the pair to mount first. One of the two merchants held thestraws, and as a result of the drawing he and his companion got on thehorse together and started. A turn in the road hid them from view inhalf a minute. Dick and MacAlister were about to follow afoot, when theywere reminded by the tavern-keeper that the drinks taken at themerchants' invitation were yet to be paid for.
"Bedad," said Tom, "our friends were so busy laughing at my tale of theensign's wife at the battle of Minden, they forgot to settle the score."Dick, who had been provided with sufficient silver to see him toPhiladelphia, besides his two gold pieces, speedily paid the bill, andthe two comrades resumed their journey. After several minutes ofsilence, Tom expressed some belated surprise at the fact that twosubstantial merchants should be travelling afoot. Dick replied thatthere must be some interesting reason for so unusual a circumstance."Ay," said Tom, "we'll speer them when we catch up to them." The twotrudged on. By and by Dick began to look, each time the road made aturn, for the horse standing at the side of the way, accordingly toagreement. An hour had passed since the tavern had been left behind.Another hour followed. At last Dick broke the silence:
"Is it likely our friends may have lost their way?"
Tom MacAlister drew a deep breath and replied:
"Devil a bit is it them that's lost their way! It's us that's lost ourhorse."
"Why, what do you mean? Two such worthy Philadelphia merchants!"
"Philadelphia nothing! I'll warrant they do be a pair of rascals fromthe Connecticut settlement in the Wyoming Valley, turned out of thecommunity for such-like tricks as they've played on us new-born babes.That's the effect on me of twelve years' residence in the wilderness. Myson, it's time we throwed off our state of innocence and bracedourselves to meet the mickle deviltry of the world. Richard, lad, I tellit to ye now, though ye'll no mind it till ye've had it pounded into yeby sore experience, your fellow man is kittle cattle, and your fellowwoman more so!"
They might have had to walk all the way to Lancaster but that they wereovertaken by a train of pack-horses from Carlisle, and paid thepack-driver to shift the horses' loads and give them the use of one ofthe animals. At evening they arrived at Lancaster, which then had somethousands of inhabitants and was to Dick quite a busy and town-likeplace. He saw the prison where the Indian chief Murhancellin had beenconfined on being apprehended by Captain Jack's hunters for the murderof three Juniata men the previous year. Dick went to see the barracks,the Episcopal and German churches, and a house where some of the famousLancaster stockings were made. He gazed with wonder and hiddendisapproval at the long beards of the Omish men, and enjoyed the bustleof horses and wagons before the excellent tavern where he and Tom passedthe night. The next morning the two got seats in one of the huge coveredwagons engaged in the trade between Philadelphia and the interior. Theydined at the Duke of Cumberland Tavern, and put up at evening at thesign of the Ship, thirty-five miles from Philadelphia. This distance wascovered the next day, and a little before sunset, the wagon havingcrossed the picturesque Schuylkill by the Middle Ferry and passed underbeautiful trees down the High Street road, through the Governor's Woodsand by brick kilns and verdant commons, and across little water-coursesspanned by wooden bridges, Dick set his eyes on Philadelphia, whosespires and dormer windows reflected the level sun rays, and whose trimbr
ick and wooden houses rose among leafy gardens. The town then hadabout thirty thousand people, and lay close along the Delaware, itsbuilt-up portion extending at the widest part about seven or eightstreets from the river, not counting the alleys and by-streets. As thewagon lumbered down High Street, which was then popularly (as it is nowofficially) known as Market Street, Dick kept his emotions to himself,satisfying his curiosity without betraying it, and in no outward waydisclosing how novel to him was the actual sight, which neither excellednor fell short of the scene he had so often imagined, much as itdiffered from it in general appearance. At Fourth Street, as the wagoncontinued east, the houses began to be quite close together. At Third,the markets began, and ran thence down the middle of the street towardsthe Delaware. The wagon, with its eight horses, stopped for some reasonat the Indian King Tavern, near Third Street, whereupon Tom and Dick,having settled with the wagoner, and not intending to lodge at that inn,proceeded afoot down Market Street, a part of which was paved withstones and had a narrow sidewalk for foot-passengers. This last-namedconvenience was one that even some of the first cities of Europe thenlacked.
The animation of the streets quite put to shame Dick's recollections ofthe little bustle at Lancaster. The rifles and baggage of the two didnot attract much attention among the citizens and tradespeople, in thosedays of much hunting, and especially at a time when there was alreadytalk of new military companies forming, when the provincial militia wasdrilling and recruiting, and when men were coming to town to offer thecolonies their services in the event of general revolt. Delegates werealready arriving from other colonies to attend the Second ContinentalCongress, which was to meet on the tenth.
As the two comrades approached the London Coffee House, at Front andMarket Streets, they saw three well-dressed citizens issue from the doorand greet with the utmost respect a stocky old gentleman who had justturned in from Front Street, and whose face was both venerable andworldly, kind and shrewd, while his plain brown coat took nothing fromhis look of distinction, and his walking-stick seemed quite unnecessaryto one whose vigor was still that of youth. He cordially responded tothe three gentlemen, the first of whom detained him for the purpose ofintroducing the third. The name by which the old gentleman was addressedstartled Dick for the moment out of his self-possession, and he stoppedand stared with unfeigned curiosity and pleasure. It was his first sightof a world-famous man, and the writer of Poor Richard's Almanac, whoseproverbs every Pennsylvanian knew by heart, the celebrated philosopher,the wise agent of the provinces, who had just returned from London, lostnothing in Dick's admiration from the youth's visual inspection of hisface and person.
While Doctor Franklin stood talking with the three, Dick and Tom went onpast Front and Water Streets, turned down along the wharves, andpresently arrived at their recommended destination, the Crooked BilletInn, which stood at the end of an alley on a wharf above ChestnutStreet. The two engaged lodging for the night, bestowed theirbelongings, and went for supper to Pegg Mullen's Beefsteak House, at thesoutheast corner of Water Street and Mullen's Alley. Having devoured oneof the steaks for which that house was famous, and as it was not yetdark, Dick proposed a walk about the city. But Tom demurred as tohimself, and said in a low tone, turning his eye towards a party ofyoung gentlemen who sat at a near-by table:
"Go and see the sights, lad, and ye'll meet me at the Crooked Billetsome time before the hour of setting out, the morning. I've other fishto fry, for a private purpose of my own. And should ye see me in companywith yon roisterers, mind to call me captain or not at all, for I'm benton introducing myself to their acquaintance, and that'll require mebelonging to the quality."
Dick looked at the group indicated, which consisted of a handsome,insolent-looking young man of about twenty-five and three gay dogs ofthe same age, whose loud conversation had dealt exclusively with cardsand other implements of fortune. With no hope or wish of fathomingMacAlister's designs, Dick paid the bill (for his friend was almostwithout money), and left the eating-house. He first inspected parts ofWater and Front Streets, where many rich merchants lived over theirshops; then viewed the handsomer residences in South Second Street; sawthe City Tavern and some of the well-dressed people resorting there;looked at Carpenter's Hall, where the Congress had met the precedingyear; walked out to the State House, crossed Chestnut Street therefrom,to drink at the sign of the Coach and Horses, the old rough-dashedtavern nestling amidst great walnut-trees; loitered on the bridge tolook down at Dock Creek each time he crossed that stream. When, at dusk,the street lamps were lighted (for, thanks to Franklin, Philadelphia hadlong possessed the best street lamps in the world), the town assumedwhat to Dick was a fairylike appearance. Of the people he saw in thestreets, perhaps a third wore the broadbrims of the Quakers. A few ofthe faces were of the German type, but most were of the unmistakableEnglish character, and from such of these as were not Quaker a trainedobserver might easily have picked out a Church of England person or aDissenter at sight. On first entering the city Dick had been struck withthe prettiness of the young women, but now that night had fallen and hehad returned to the vicinity of the river, the few of the fair that hesaw abroad were of rather bedraggled appearance.
As he walked along the wharves, listening to the lap of the tide againstthe piles and vessels, he heard a sharp scream of mingled pain andanger, in a feminine voice. Looking quickly towards the wharf whence itcame, he saw, in the light from the corner of a small warehouse, a youngwoman recoiling from the blow of a sailor who was about to strike heragain. She dodged the second blow, and the sailor made ready to delivera third, but before he could do so Dick's fist landed on the side of hishead and he dropped to the wharf, dazed and limp. Dick then took off hishat to the woman, who was a slender creature of about twenty, dressedwith a cheap attempt at gaiety. With quite attractive large eyes, shequickly viewed Dick from head to foot.
"Rely on my protection, madam," said he, tingling with exultation athaving had so early an opportunity to figure as a rescuer of assailedwomankind.
"I am afraid he will follow me," said the girl, in a low tone, glancingat the sailor, after her examination of Dick's appearance.
"He will do so at his peril, if you'll accept my arm to the placewhere you are going," said Dick, with great gallantry and inwardself-applause.
The girl took the proffered arm, cast a final look at the sailor, whowas foggily trying to get on his legs, and led Dick off at a rapid gait.They had turned into an alley towards Water Street before the sailor hadfully regained his senses. Up Water Street the girl went, giving Dickthe opportunity to see, by a window light or a street lamp here andthere, that her features, though pale, were well formed. For beauty theylacked only something in expression. After passing several streets, thegirl turned into another alley that led towards the river, stopped at amean two-story wooden house half way down, and asked her preserver tocome in and accept some refreshment. He did so with alacrity, and foundhimself in a small room beneath the rafters, the floor bare, the singlewindow broken in most of its small panes, a tumble-down bed taking uphalf the apartment, a broken wooden chair beside a dressing-table, thewhole lighted by a single tallow candle that the girl obtaineddown-stairs. Without consulting her guest, she called to some invisibleperson below for brandy and water, with two tumblers. Dick sat on thechair, his hostess on the bed, both in silence, till the liquor wasbrought by a fat, red-faced woman with unkempt hair, who grinned amiablyat Dick, and departed only after several suggestive looks at the brandy.Her fishing for an invitation to partake was all in vain, beingunobserved by the inexperienced Dick.
When he was alone with the heroine of his first adventure, and thebrandy had been tasted, Dick undertook to overcome her reticence, beingsure that she had some story of unmerited misfortune to tell. She soongratified him with a tale as harrowing as might have been found anywherein fiction. She was the daughter of people of quality who had lost theirall through the schemes of designing persons, and her only weaponagainst starvation was her needle. She had that evening delive
red somesewing to the wife of a sea-captain on his vessel, which was to sailthat night, and it was on her return therefrom that she had beenaccosted by the sailor, whose blows were elicited by the repulse she hadgiven him. Her face became more animated as she talked, and Dick beganto think her fascinating. Brandy was called for and served repeatedly,and at last the red-faced woman who brought it said she was going to bedand could serve no more that night, and her bill was ten shillings. Dickpromptly paid, forgetting that he was the invited guest, and notneglecting the occasion to show in a careless way how much money hecarried. The girl then told him that, as he would certainly find histavern closed should he return to it at so late an hour, she would, inspite of appearances and on account of his character and his services toher, share her own poor accommodations with him for the rest of thenight. As Dick was now in a state in which he would have solicited thisfavor had it not been offered, he readily accepted.
When he awoke, at dawn, he found himself alone. Taking up his waistcoatto put it on, he noticed that a certain inner pocket did not bulge asusually. A swift investigation disclosed that all his money haddisappeared, silver as well as gold. There was not a sign of his hostessleft in the bare, squalid room. He hastened down the steep, narrowstairs, and met, in the entry below, the red-faced servitor, of whom heinquired the whereabouts of the girl. The fat woman professed entireignorance of all occurrences since she had left the young people thenight before. From that moment to this, she said, she had slept like atop, and from her reply Dick learned that she was the proprietress ofthe house, and that the unfortunate daughter of people of quality was anew lodger, of whom she knew nothing. A theory formed itself in Dick'smind, and he hastened from the house to the Crooked Billet, where he wasastonished to find Tom MacAlister just arrived from a night, likeDick's, passed elsewhere than at that inn. Dick rapidly recounted hisadventure to Tom, over a morning glass at the bar, and ended hisnarration with the words:
"Do you know what her disappearance means?"
"What?" grunted Tom.
"It means that my robbers have carried her away in order to silence allevidence of their crime! Or, maybe, the sailor tracked us and procured agang to abduct her, and robbed me in doing so, either in revenge or topay his accomplices!"
"Huh! Ye're ower fu' of them there things ye read in the novel-books,Dickie, lad."
"By George, this proves that real life is sometimes very like thenovels! I hope this affair will end like them. We must find the girl,Tom; we must rescue her!"
"Be jabers, we maun be spry about it, then, for the New York stage-coachstarts from the sign of the George in an hour."
"Come, then! But I won't leave Philadelphia till I've found her, thoughwe have to wait for another day's stage-coach. Come, Tom, for God's sakedon't be so slow!"
Tom indeed walked so deliberately from the Crooked Billet that Dick hadto accelerate his progress by tugging at his arm. Dick hurried him upalong the wharves, without the slightest plan of action formed. "Bide awee," said Tom, presently; "sure, there's no arriving anywhere tillye've laid out your line of march. Come wi' me into yon tavern, andwe'll plan a campaign in decency and order." Dick saw the good sense ofthis, and turned with Tom up an alley towards a wretched-looking place,of which the use was indicated alike by its dirty sign and by the soundsof drunken merriment issuing from its windows. As Dick and Tom entered,they saw by whom those sounds were produced,--a sailor and a young womandrinking together in great good-fellowship at a table. Dick recognizedboth,--the sailor whom he had knocked down the night before, the girl inwhose defence he had knocked him down. Both looked up as he entered, andthe girl burst out laughing in a jeering, drunken fashion. "That's him,"she said to her companion, who thereupon began to bellow mirthfully tohimself, regarding Dick with mingled curiosity and amusement.
"Wha might your friends be?" queried MacAlister of Dick.
"Come away," said Dick, a little huskily; and when the two were out inthe alley, whither the derisive shouts of the pair inside followed them,he added, "If the stage goes in an hour, we'd better be taking ourthings to the sign of the George."
"But your money? 'Twas a canny quantity of coin ye had in the bit pocketthere."
"Damn the money! I couldn't prove anything, and I want to get away fromhere. But--by the lord, how can we go on without money?"
"Whist, lad! If some folk choose to spend the nicht a-losing of theircoin, there's others knows how to tell a different tale the morning. Doye mind the braw soldier-looking lad I proposed to thrust my companyon, in the beefsteak house? If I didn't introduce myself as CaptainMacAlister, retired on half pay from his Majesty's army, and if I didn'tpile up a bonny pile of yellow boys through handling the cards wi' himand his pals in his room at the George all nicht, then I'm seven kindsof a liar, and may all my days be Fridays! Oh, Dickie, lad, a knowledgeof the cards, ye'll find, comes in handy at mony a place in the journeythrough this wicked, greedy, grasping world!" And old Tom made one ofhis pockets jingle as he finished.
The two travellers returned to the Crooked Billet, paid for the lodgingthey had not used, got their weapons and baggage, and went to SecondStreet and thereon north to Arch, at the southwest corner of which thesign of St. George battling with the dragon hung before the fine andfamous inn where the stage-coaches departed and arrived. The "FlyingMachine" was already drawn up before the entrance, the horses snortingand pawing in impatience to start. Dick and Tom saw their belongingssafely stowed in the coach, which was a flat-roofed vehicle simple andplain in shape, and loitered before the inn, watching the hostlers andenjoying the fine spring sunshine, while MacAlister gave Dick a furtherdescription of the card-playing young man from whom much of the moneyhad been won.
"I took the more joy in winning," added Tom, "for because the young buckshowed himsel' sic a masterfu', overbearing de'il and ill-natured loser,not at all like his friend wi' the French name, who dropped his roundshiners like a gentleman. And mind here, now, take heed to call mecaptain should they fa' in wi' us on the way to New York, for, frae thetalk of them, I conjecture that them and the Frenchman's sister startthe morning hame-bound for Quebec, on their ain horses."
"Do they come from Quebec?"
"Ay, on business for the Frenchman and his sister, wha, it seems, cam'in for the proceeds of some estate in this town, them being of Englishbluid on the mother's side. That I gathered frae the Frenchman's talkwi' a man of the law wha called while his hot-headed friend andme and the others were at the cards. Ah, now I mind the friend'sname,--Blagdon, Lieutenant Blagdon; for, bechune you and me, he's aKing's officer on leave of absence frae Quebec, only he keeps it quietjust now, lest the mob might throw a stane or two his way."
"Then what's he doing here?"
"Bearing company to the Frenchman and his sister. It's like there'ssummat bechune him and the girl, though devil a bit could I find thatout, wi' all my speering. But come, lad, while we ha' our choice ofseats."
They entered the coach, where they were soon joined by other passengers.While Dick was watching the driver on the front seat take up lines andwhip, three horses were brought from the yard, and at the same time twoyoung gentlemen and a young lady came out of the inn and stood ready tomount. Dick did not observe them until his attention was called from thedriver by some low-spoken words of MacAlister's:
"That's a sour-faced return for a friendly salutation! 'Tis the Englishlieutenant that gave me a scowl for my bow. Sure, the French Canadianhas more civility."
By this time the three were mounted. Dick at once recognized therobust but surly-looking young man on the right as the arrogant talkerof the beefsteak house, and the rather slight but good-looking andwell-mannered youth on the left as one of the other's companions there.The lady between the two was partly concealed from Dick's view by theEnglish officer, until with a crack of the driver's whip the stage-coachpulled out, when, by looking back, he had a full sight of her. The sightcaused his lips to part and himself to throw all his consciousness intohis eyes alone.
Catherine de St.
Valier, daughter of a younger branch of the nobleFrench Canadian family of that name, was then in her seventeenth year,tall and well developed for her age, in carriage erect withoutstiffness, her face oval in shape with chin full but not too sharp ortoo strong, nose straight and delicate, dainty ears, forehead aboutwhose sides hair of dark brown fell in curves but left the middleuncovered, brows finely arched and high above the eyes, which were of apiercing black and never too wide open, full red lips, complexion palebut clear, with a very faint touch of red in each cheek, her countenancedignified and made doubly interesting by a slight frown ever presentsave when she smiled, which was rarely and then naturally and with nogush of overpowering sweetness. The slightly thrown-back attitude of herhead was no affectation, but was a family characteristic, possessed alsoby her brother.
"What is it, lad?" whispered MacAlister, catching Dick's arm. "Sure,ye'll be leaving that head of yours behind ye in the road if ye bean'tcarefu'!"
"Sure," Dick murmured, as he drew his head in, "I think I've left thisheart of mine back yonder under the sign of the George."
Tom gave a low whistle. "Weel, weel," he then said, "it 'ull soon catchup, for this Flying Machine, as they call it, is no match for themVirginia pacers the Canadian folk is mounted on."
This prediction was soon fulfilled. Ere the stage-coach had passed theoutskirts of the city, a little above Vine Street, the three riders hadcantered by at a gait that promised soon to take them far ahead.
"Nay, don't be cast down," quoth Tom. "We're like to run across them onthe journey, and they'll have to wait in New York for their baggage,which goes by wagon. I mind now, frae the gentlemen's talk, they'll goup the Hudson by sloop till Albany, then by horse again to Montreal, andthen by the St. Lawrence to Quebec. What a pity they don't be bound forBoston,--eh, lad! But whist, Dickie! The sea do be full of good fish,and it's mony a sonsie face ye'll be drawing deep breaths about, nowye're over the hills and far away,--and ganging furder every turn of thecoach-wheels."
The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure Page 6
