by Unknown
“The express came in just a little while before you did. The British have burned Warrensbush and crossed the river to Johnstown. They had six hundred men. Willett chased them. He licked them outside of Johnstown. But they got away. They headed west, north of Stone Arabia. Willett was at Stone Arabia when he sent the express up. He’s waiting to find out which way they’re headed and he wants us ready to cut them off.”
“Willett licked them?”
“Yes, with four hundred.”
Gil’s thin face looked set and red against the leaping firelight.
Before the fire Bellinger was checking in the militia as they entered the fort. The sentries on the rifle platform stood up over him, half lighted against the snowing night, watching the parade inside as much as the surrounding darkness.
Every now and then a man came forward to the fire with an armful of logs and threw them on the flames. Ten minutes later, after another freshening of the fire, Bellinger closed his book.
The men fell silent. He stood, with his rounded shoulders, staring back at them. He did not seem to speak loudly, but everyone heard him plainly.
“I guess you know what’s happened. Butler’s in the valley. Butler and Ross with six hundred men. They ain’t just Indians. They’re Tories and regulars, trained soldiers. But Willett’s licked them with four hundred militia.”
The silence continued. But Bellinger did not look as if he expected a cheer or anything like that. He was thinking about things, the way all of them were thinking.
“We’ve had our farms wiped out. It’s been four years. We’ve had the Butlers down here and we had John Johnson last year, and we’ve never had a real crack at them since Oriskany. We had Nicholas Herkimer then, and we’ve got Willett now. And we licked them then.”
He was looking at the ground, watching the snow melt back from the fire.
“Willett wants the whole bunch of you ready when he gives the word. I don’t know when that’s going to be. But last June I promised him we’d have ninety men when he asked for them. I want you all to make sure you got powder and ball. If you ain’t filled up, get it to the magazines. I guess we all feel just about the same. Go back to bed when you get done. If I want you tonight I’ll let off the gun.” He raised his face towards the swivel on the southeast corner. “Bring a blanket with you and the warmest shirt you’ve got. Herkimer men better stay here in the fort.”
He turned his back on them and trudged into his room.
So they weren’t to go yet. John drew a deep breath. He had powder enough and ball; he had filled his flask that morning. He heard Gil ask Joe Boleo if he wouldn’t come back to the Martin cabin, so he himself asked Adam Helmer to the Weavers’. Adam thanked him, but declined.
Adam had figured that he could perfectly well get over to Herkimer and tell Betsey Small what was going to happen. If the gun went off he could run back long before any body of men could leave the fort.
As he slipped out of the gate he saw Doc Petry stumping back to his office in which he now lived, ate, dispensed, and slept.
Adam trotted down to the river crossing and hopped into a boat and rowed himself over. In thirty minutes he was inside the Herkimer stockade. Five minutes later he had got Betsey out and told her.
They stood in the lee of the church wall.
“Listen, Betsey,” he said, “Butler’s coming up the valley.”
“Yes, Adam,” she said quietly. “But what are you doing over here?”
“Oh hell,” he said, “can’t I do anything to suit you?”
Her voice was slow with the same quiet amusement she always showed towards him.
“A lot of things you do suit me fine. But what do you expect me to do? Cry? Laugh? Kiss you, I expect.”
“Kissing’s better than nothing.”
You could have cut his head off with a feather when she said quietly:
“All right. Where are you?”
She put her arms around his neck, and Adam locked her in his arms. He gave it to her, but he couldn’t even make her gasp. And he had been saving up two years just to give it to her. Beside her, Polly Bowers was like putty. It made him mad, and he started casting his eyes round for a place they could get away to, under cover. You couldn’t take a girl out in the snow, somehow; but while he was thinking about it, she had slipped out of his arms.
“There. That ought to suit you.”
Adam felt suddenly hurt.
“Betsey!”
“What is it?” She sounded so kind, God damn her, she was probably laughing at him.
“I thought we was just beginning,” he muttered. “I was just thinking where we could go.”
“I’m not one of your girls, Adam.” She laughed softly. “Can’t you tell the difference?”
“I can,” he said glumly. “What do you want me to do, marry you?”
“You’ve never asked me.”
Adam knew he was a fool to say it.
“All right. Will you marry me?”
“You sound as if you was swearing, Adam. But I will. When you leave me to go horning round the country, I want the law.”
As she laughed again, he caught hold of her.
“Come on, where can we go?”
“I’ll tell you after we’re wedded.”
“But we can’t get married now.”
“Well, then, we can’t go anywhere. I’m not taking chances, Adam.”
He swore at her, cajoled, pleaded with her; but nothing could shake her amused silence.
“By God. I’ll wake the domine.”
That jolted her. “You can’t do that. You’ll make a scandal.”
“For God’s sake, what do you want me to do?”
He stood like a muddled bear, confronting the snow and darkness. She laid her long hand on his arm. “Poor Adam,” she said. Her voice grew sober. “You’ve promised me, ain’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll marry me when you come back? You’ll swear it?”
“I’ll swear it. Cross my heart. Honest to God, Betsey.”
“I want banns read. I want the whole business. So everybody will know I’ve got you.” She gave a low, delicious laugh.
He didn’t answer her with words. He knew now that she was acting like a skittish mare, all along. But he knew that she would hold him to his word. He didn’t care. As he reached out for her she put aside his hands. “Come with me.”
She led him to the door of the northwest blockhouse. Captain Moody’s men were quartered in the other. There was no one here but Moody himself, and he slept on the bottom floor.
She put her hand on Adam’s lips. Her fingers felt cold as rifle iron, so cold that he had a sense of heat beneath the icy skin.
“He’s deaf,” she whispered. “But be quiet.”
They stole past the captain’s bunk and up the stairs to the loft. The paneless window frames were faintly marked by snow upon the sills. The place was empty and bare and smelled of cold; but when Adam followed her up through the loft she met him quietly. There was a sureness in the way she came to him in the dark. He might have known. And then when he had her she went all soft, shaking as if her soul had gone away from her.
4. The Last Muster
The dawn of October 28 was windless and cold. When Gil got out of bed to start the fire up, the valley was white with snow and all the trees metallic from the frozen mist. The sky was so clear, just before sunrise, that it looked colorless.
There had been no sound from the fort. Lana dressed and moved furtively about the cabin as the first sticks caught.
“Do you think you’ll have to go to-day, dear?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “We’re waiting to hear from Willett.”
After that they were silent. The children, Joe Boleo, Mrs. McKlennar, and the negress lay like logs of wood under their blankets, heads covered for warmth. The paleness of the light dimly entering the paper panes increased the sense of cold and made them look as if they would sleep forever. Crouching down before th
e tiny fire, side by side, Lana and Gil had this waking moment to themselves, and though they could not talk, they were conscious of each other’s nearness. In their unspoken thoughts affection served as well as speech. When, without looking from the fire, Gil put out his hand, Lana’s was ready to meet it. They stayed so, watching the fire grow, watching the vapor of their breaths diminish, for several minutes, until the first thin warmth made itself felt beyond the confines of the hearth.
Gil stepped outside for more wood, and then took the bucket and his axe down to the nearest spring. When he had gone, Lana’s tears welled up. For an instant she let them come in the sheer luxury of her love; then she wiped them away to smile and take the icy bucket from Gil’s red cold fist, and fill the kettle for their morning mush. Again they stayed together till the first faint tinkles of the heating water roused the negress, as any sound of warmth invariably did. Probably she had been awake all along, but fire sounds meant nothing to Daisy unless they were hot enough to cook with. Gil and Lana relinquished each other for the day.
The men left the cabin after breakfast. They found the Herkimer militia already cooking at the fort and Bellinger sorting provisions in the magazine. No word had come in from the east. None came all morning.
But in the afternoon a man who stood watch beyond the Canada Creek ford let off his musket. The men mounted the rifle platforms to look out. During the day the frost had melted from the trees and the limbs were black and wet against the sky and the soft gray indistinctness of the hills. The wind, which had returned more gently towards noon, was carrying a high scud of cloud, shadowing the valley. The universe looked cold and smelled of coming snow.
Underneath, along the straight road, they saw the line of men in double files marching towards them. They walked like tired men. They hunched themselves against the wind which picked at their nondescript clothes, and kept the locks of their muskets under their arms, the barrels pointing forward and down. But their pace kept them moving with a dogged steadiness that had the teams on the three provision wagons reeking to keep up in the half-frozen muddy ruts.
Bellinger let off no cannon salute. There was no powder to spare for salutes, and he knew that Willett wasn’t the kind of man that wanted one. The arrival of the weary downriver militia and the entrance to the fort were accomplished in a silence as grim as the gray passing of the day.
Willett went straight to Bellinger’s room and called him in. He had discarded his long campaign coat for a woolen hunting shirt and high fur cap; except for his square shoulders he looked like any farmer of militia. But under his fatigue was the inevitable twinkle of the small blue eyes. He wiped the drop from his nose and shook hands.
“I hear you licked them,” Bellinger said.
Willett grinned.
“We didn’t actually whip them. They ran away. It was too dark for me to chase them.” He glanced away from Bellinger. “We ran away once. But Rowley took their flank, and, by God, we came back again.”
He let himself down on his chair.
“I followed them to Stone Arabia, but they’d struck north of there. I sent a scout after them to see if they were heading for Oneida Lake or straight for Buck’s Island through the woods. The scout’s to send an express as soon as they find out. So I marched up here. It was hard going. Have you got your ninety men?”
“They’re waiting.”
“Fine. Got any boys who really know the woods north of here?”
“Yes. Boleo and Helmer do.”
“Good. I’ve got about fifty Oneida Indians under a fat old fool called Blue Back. They turned up after the fighting was over. But I don’t want to trust them for scouts.”
“Blue Back knows every leaf on the West Canada that’s fallen in the last forty years. It’s his private hunting ground.”
“I’m glad to know it. I’ll use him with your two men.”
“Do you want me to keep the men belonging to this fort inside? The Herkimer men are staying here.”
“Let your men go home. We won’t start now before tomorrow. Can you help me out with five days’ rations for four hundred men? I’ve brought along about three hundred, including the Indians.”
“I think so.”
“One thing more. You’re to stay here.”
“That’s not fair,” said Bellinger.
Willett grinned wearily in his face.
“I’m not going to argue. They’re orders. Look here, Bellinger. You’ve got to. If anything goes wrong we’ve got to leave one man here who knows how to hold onto this land. You’ve had more practice than me.”
Bellinger glowered. “It’s a dirty trick, Willett.”
“If you think you’re going to lose credit, you needn’t worry. Nobody’s going to get credit going with me. I’m supposed to be turning up at Ballston to protect Albany from Ross and Butler.”
“I don’t give a damn about the credit, Willett. I just want to get at them once and see some of them knowing they’re licked.”
“I know,” said Willett quietly. “I wish I had a drink.”
“Verdammt! You’ll have it then, for not stealing my medical supply.”
Both men turned round to confront Dr. Petry, who held a small keg in both arms as a man might hold a baby on his chest. He peered at them for a moment through his bushy eyebrows, then advanced to set the keg on the table in front of Willett.
” ‘For wounds and surgical needs,’ ” he read the label. “Well, I’m prescribing now. A little glass apiece and one for the doctor, Peter. I’d get a hemorrhage watching you drink if I didn’t have some too.”
John had gone home again the second time after he had said good-bye and he felt foolish about it. He was beginning to think that maybe after all the army would not march. But the way Mary’s face lit up when he came through the door dispelled all his uneasiness.
He told them at supper the extraordinary news that Willett had brought with him, that General Washington had taken his army south to confront Cornwallis in Virginia. They had no idea, any of them, what it could mean; but Gil Martin had heard Willett telling Bellinger in a very excited way, as if it were a tremendous thing for Washington to have done.
Cobus’s eyes glistened.
“Next year I’m going to ‘list with the army,” he said.
John laughed.
“Enlist for what? A drummer boy?”
Cobus’s face was still a round one, and now the -sullenness of it on top of his skinny body made even Emma smile.
She said to him, “Don’t you mind John. I’ll let you go, next year, if you want to. But come along with me now.”
“Where?”
“I want to visit with Mrs. Volmer.”
“I don’t want to go. What do I have to for, anyway?”
Mrs. Weaver took him firmly by the hand. “You come along.” She said from the door, “We’ll be down there for a couple of hours.”
As she closed the door, John smiled at Mary. Both of them realized that Emma had never been a special friend of Widow Volmer.
“Ma’s making up,” John said. “She’ll go on making up to you now all her life. You’ll see.”
Mary said loyally, “She’s been good to me ever since we got married, John.”
It made him deeply happy.
The wind was not strong enough to make the cabin cold when the fire drew so well. They were like an old married couple sitting side by side upon the hearth, John thought, and he said, “You ought to have some fleece to spin.”
Mary smiled. She had been thinking the same thing. She would not need much wool.
“You with a pipe and reading out of a book to me.”
“I never read very good,” John said.
“You would if you practised at it. My Pa used to read real fine. I think he read better than Mr. Rozencrantz. …”
Her face stilled with her voice. But even memory of Christian Reall’s death at Oriskany could not deprive them of their contentment at having the cabin to themselves. All that was long ago; and John
had a queer sense of the three of them sitting there.
“Suppose it’s a girl, how can we name it after Pa?”
Mary said, “I knew a woman named Georgina once.”
“Why, yes,” said John.
The fire popped and sparked and they watched the exploded coal gradually glimmer out on the damp dirt floor.
“Do you suppose that battle down in Johnstown means this war is getting over, John?”
“I don’t know. It’s only a little battle the way they think of things, I guess. Not like Burgoyne’s army. Nor not like General Washington’s in Virginia. I guess down there they don’t think it’s much.”
“I mean, would it end the war up here, John?”
“I don’t know. I guess not.”
She said, “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? We could live in our own cabin. Have you figured where it would be, John?”
“Why, I guess we’d go back to Deerfield on Pa’s place.”
“I’d like that. It used to be nice there.”
“Yes,” he said.
She lifted her face and looked across at him. She smiled with her eyes. She felt so still, watching his intent face studying the fire. It didn’t matter in a moment like this what you said, so long as you talked softly… .
The express from Stone Arabia arrived in the darkness before dawn; the horse dead lame and the man’s hands so cold he could hardly let loose the bridle reins.
He brought the scout’s dispatch. Butler and Ross had taken a circle straight north. The scout thought they must have got lost. Now they were heading west so far above the valley he thought they surely must be striking towards Buck’s Island.
Willett and Bellinger, shivering in their drawers, read it in the light of the coals.
