Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency
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CHAPTER XXVI.
THE SERGEANT AND HIS COMRADE PROJECT AN EXPEDITION WHICH FURNISHES THEENSIGN AN OPPORTUNITY OF ENJOYING THE PICTURESQUE.
As soon as David Ramsay had departed with the maiden for Musgrove'smill, Robinson ordered his own and Christopher Shaw's horse to besaddled, and another to be made ready for St. Jermyn. His next care wasto determine upon a secure place of retreat--reflecting that the news ofthe capture of the ensign must soon reach the British posts, and thatthe country would be industriously explored with a view to his rescue. Aspot known to the woodsmen of this region by the name of the Devil'sLadder, which was situated in the defile of a mountain brook thatemptied into the Ennoree, occurred to Christopher Shaw as the mostsecret fastness within their reach. This spot lay some twenty mileswestward of Ramsay's, accessible by roads but little known, andsurrounded by a district which grew more wild and rugged the nearer itapproached the defile.
Here it was supposed the party might arrive by daylight the nextmorning, and remain for a few days at small risk of discovery; andthither, accordingly, it was resolved they should repair.
This being settled, Horse Shoe now procured a supply of provisions fromMistress Ramsay, and then proceeded to arm himself with the sword andpistols of the ensign, whilst Christopher suspended across his body thesword of Goliath, as the sergeant called the brand he had snatched up atBlackstock's, and also took possession of one of the captured muskets.
"If it don't go against your conscience, Mistress Ramsay," said HorseShoe, when the preparations for the journey were completed, "I wouldtake it as a favor, in case any interlopers mought happen to pop in uponyou, if you would just drop a hint that you have hearn that Sumpter'speople had been seen about these parts. It would have an amazing goodbearing on the Tories. Besides making them wary how they strayed aboutthe woods it would be sure to put the bloodhounds on a wrong scent, ifthey should chance to be sarching for the young ensign. I know you womenare a little ticklish about a fib, but then it's an honest trick of thewar sometimes. And, to make you easy about it, it will be no more thanthe truth to say you did hear it--for, you obsarve, I tell you so now."
"But," replied the scrupulous matron, "if they should ask me who toldme, what should I answer?"
"Why," said the sergeant, hesitating, "just out with it--tell 'em youheard it from one Horse Shoe Robinson; that'll not make the news theworse in point of credit. And be sure, good woman, above all things, toremind David, when he gets back to night, that the rank and file, in ourprison yonder, are not to be turned loose before three o'clock in themorning."
This last caution was repeated to Andy, who still performed the duty ofa sentinel at the door of the out-house. All things being now arrangedfor their departure, Ensign St. Jermyn was brought from the chamberwhere he had been confined, and was invited to join the sergeant andChristopher at supper before they set out. This meal was ably andrapidly discussed by the stout yeomen, and scarcely less honored by theprisoner, whom the toils and privations of the day had brought toenjoyment of a good appetite.
With many cheering and kind expressions of encouragement from thesergeant, the young officer prepared to comply with the demands of hiscaptors, and was soon in readiness to attend them. Robinson lifted himinto his saddle with a grasp as light as if he was dealing with a boy,and then bound him by a surcingle to the horse's back, whilst he offereda good-humored apology for the rigor of this treatment.
"It is not the most comfortable way of riding, Mr. Ensign," he said,with a chuckle; "but fast bind, fast find, is a'most an excellent goodrule for a traveller in the dark. I hope you don't think I take anypleasure in oncommoding you, but it is my intention to lead your horseby the rein to-night, and this friend of mine will keep in the rear. So,by way of a caution, I would just signify to you that if you shouldthink of playing a prank you will certainly bring some trouble upon yourhead--as one or another of us would in that case be obliged to fire. Itis nothing more than military punctilium to give you a friendly warningof this."
"You might dispense with this severity, I should think," replied theprisoner, "upon my pledge of honor that I will make no effort toescape."
"I can take no pledge in the dark," returned Horse Shoe; "daylightmought make a difference. If we should happen to fall in with any ofyour gangs I'm thinking a pledge wouldn't come to much more than acobweb when I should ax you to gallop out of the way of your own people.Flesh is weak, as the preacher says, and, to my mind, it's a little theweaker when the arm is strong or the foot swift. Temptation is at thebottom of all backsliding. No, no, Mr. Ensign, you may get away, if youcan; we'll take care of you whilst we're able--that's a simpleunderstanding."
Without further speech the party proceeded on their journey. Theytravelled as rapidly as was consistent with the ease of the prisoner andthe nature of the ground over which they had to move. For the firsteight or ten miles, their route lay across a country with but fewimpediments, except such as arose from the unseasonable hour of theride. After this they found the toil and hazard of travel continuallyincreasing. They had been retreating from the settled country towards arough wilderness, which was penetrated only by an obscure road, solittle beaten as to be scarcely discernible in the faint starlight, andwhich it required all Christopher's skill in woodcraft to follow. Ourtravellers, consequently, often lost their way, and were obliged to getdown from their horses and grope about to ascertain the path. The starshad shone all night through a cloudless firmament, but the deep shade ofthe forest thickened around the wanderers, and it was frequently withdifficulty, even, that they could discern each other's figures.
They reached at length the small stream upon whose banks, some milesabove, was situated the place to which their steps were directed; andthey were thus rendered more sure of their road, as they had only tofollow the ascending course of the brook. The delays and impediments ofthe journey had nearly outrun the night, and whilst our travellers wereyet some two or three miles from their destination, the first traces ofmorning began to appear in the east. The increasing light disclosed tothem the nature of the scenery around. A limpid rivulet tumbled over arocky channel, girt with a profusion of brush and briar, amongst whichwere scattered a thousand wild-flowers, that, renovated by the dew,threw forth a delicious perfume. A succession of abrupt hills, coveredwith the varied foliage of a rich forest growth, bounded the brook oneither side. Occasional rocks jutted above the heads of the travellersas they wound along the paths, worn by the wild cattle in the bottom ofthe dell.
Both Robinson and Shaw had dismounted when they entered this defile, andwhilst the former led the horse of the prisoner his companion precededhim to explore the doubtful traces of the road, which frequently becameso obscure as to render it necessary to seek a passage in the bed of thestream. During all this progress Horse Shoe's good nature andlight-heartedness were unabated. He conversed with the prisoner in thesame terms of friendly familiarity that he did with Shaw, and neglectedno attention that might in any degree relieve the irksomeness of St.Jermyn's necessary thraldom.
That peculiar conformation of country which had given rise to the nameof the place to which they were conducting the prisoner, was now to bediscerned at some little distance ahead. It presented a series of boldcrags of granite intermixed with slate, in which rock piled upon rockpresented a succession of shelves, each beetling over its base, and thusfurnishing a shelter against the weather. Some of these were situatednear the bank of the stream, projecting over the water, whilst otherstowered at different heights, in such a manner as to bear a resemblanceto a flight of huge steps cut in the slope of the mountain, and by thislikeness, doubtless, suggesting the imaginative name by which the spotwas known to the few hunters to whom it was familiar. The cavern-likestructure of these ledges abundantly supplied the means of concealmentto both men and horses, from the casual notice of such persons asaccident might have brought into this sequestered defile.
When the party arrived at the foot of the Devil's Ladder, it was withgreat satisfaction to all that they
now made a halt. A short time wasspent in selecting a spot, amongst the impending cliffs, of such acharacter as might afford the advantage of shelter, as well as the meansof ready look-out and escape in case of discovery or pursuit. The placechosen was about half way up the hill, where the ridge of a promontoryenabled the occupants to see some distance up and down the valley;whilst the crag itself contained within its recesses a chambersufficiently large for the purpose to which it was to be applied. Anatural platform, near this point, allowed sufficient space for thehorses, which might be conducted there by a sideling path up the slope;at the same time, the means of retreat were furnished by the nature ofthe ground towards the top of the hill.
To this place of security the ensign was ordered by his guard, and,being released from his bonds, he dismounted and threw himself at lengthupon the mossy surface of the rock, where he lay wearied in body anddejected in mind. The horses were taken in charge by Shaw; provisionswere produced, and all arrangements of caution and comfort were made forpassing the next two or three days in this wild sojourn.
Here, for the present, we must leave our adventurers, to tell of othermatters that are proper to be made known to the reader of this history.
In due time David Ramsay returned from Musgrove's. Precisely at threeo'clock in the morning, the soldiers were released according to theterms of the parole; and my reader will, no doubt, be pleased to hearthat Andy, being discharged from duty, went to bed as drowsy as e'er aman of mould after a feat of glory, and slept with a sleep altogetherworthy of his heroic achievement.
The next day passed by, at Ramsay's dwelling, with a varied and fearfulinterest to his family. They had received intelligence, before night, ofthe event of Butler's trial, and had reason to rejoice that MaryMusgrove had so played her part in the delivery of the letter. They wereapprised also of the reward that had been offered for the discovery ofthe bearer of this letter, and were informed that detachments of horsewere out to scour the country in quest of the ensign. These tidingsfilled them with apprehension. It occurred to Ramsay that if, perchance,the released prisoners should fall in with any of the parties of theloyalists, they would of course relate their story, and thus bring downthe full rancor of the Tory wrath upon his household: this would alsolead with more certainty to the pursuit of Horse Shoe. There was stillgood reason to hope that the liberated men might not so soon be able togive the alarm; inasmuch as they were more likely to shape their coursetowards Fort Ninety-Six than to repair to Innis's camp, where they mightbe forced to do duty, as much against their inclinations as againsttheir parole. They might even, from a natural aversion to labor, preferloitering about the country rather than put themselves voluntarily inthe way of military operations.
"Come what will of it," said Ramsay, summing up the chances for andagainst him; "I will be ready for the worst. Many better men have givenall they had to the cause of independence, and I will not flinch fromgiving my share. They may burn and break down; but, thank God, I have acountry--aye, and a heart and an arm to stand by it!"
On the same evening, towards sundown, a horseman drew up his rein atRamsay's door. He was young--in the prime of early manhood, his dresswas that of a rustic, his equipment showed him to be a traveller--aweary one, from the plight of his horse, and, like most travellers ofthe time, well armed. He did not stand to summon any one to the door,but put his hand upon the latch with eager haste, and entered with thefamiliarity of one acquainted with the place. Mistress Ramsay was seatedat her spinning-wheel, anxiously brooding over the tales of the day. Herhusband reclined in his chair, silently and thoughtfully smoking hispipe. They both sprang up at once, as the visitor crossed the threshold,and with fervent joy greeted their son John Ramsay. The household wasclamorous with the affectionate salutations of the parents, of thebrothers and sisters, and of the domestics. John was the eldest ofRamsay's children, and had just reached his paternal roof after anabsence of some months, during which he had been in service withSumpter. The gathering in of the members of a family around the domesticboard, in times of peril and distress, is one of the luxuries of theheart that in peace we cannot know. The arrival of John Ramsay at thepresent moment was a source of the liveliest happiness to his parents.They needed a cheerful as well as a resolute comforter. John had, onlytwenty-four hours previous, left Sumpter near Rocky Mount--immediatelyafter the battle with the British convoy was won. He was sent withdespatches to Colonel Williams, a Whig partisan of note, who was nowsupposed to be in the neighborhood of the Saluda. These had somereference to the military movements of the parties; and John Ramsay waspermitted by Sumpter to make a short halt at his father's house.
In the first hour after his arrival, he had given to the family thehistory of his homeward ride. He had discovered that hostile forces--ofwhich, until his journey was nearly finished, he heard nothing--wereencamped in the neighborhood; that a court-martial had been sitting forthe trial of an American officer, as a spy, and had condemned him to beshot. He had been apprised, moreover, that small parties were out,riding into every corner of the country. He himself had nearly beensurprised by one of these, as he endeavored to make his way to the houseof Allen Musgrove, where he had proposed to himself a visit, even beforehe came to his father's, but, fearing something wrong, he had fled fromthem, and baffled their pursuit, although they had chased him more thana mile; he had, in consequence, been deprived of the opportunity ofvisiting the miller.
"Although it is four months since we have seen you, John," said thedame, with a tone of affectionate chiding, "yet, you would turn aside toget under Allen Musgrove's roof, before you thought of the arms of yourmother."
John's sun-burnt cheek blushed crimson red as he replied, "It was but astep out of the way, mother, and I should not have stayed long. Mr.Musgrove and his folks are safe and well, I hope, and Christopher?"
"Tut, boy! speak it out, and don't blush about it," interrupted thefather briskly: "she is a good girl, and you needn't be ashamed to nameher, as you ought to have done, first and before all the rest. Mary iswell, John, and has just proved herself to be the best girl in thecountry."
This little passage of mirth between the parents and their son, led to afull narrative by David Ramsay of the events which had occurred in thelast two or three days, concluding with the capture of the ensign, andthe retreat of Horse Shoe and Christopher Shaw to the Devil's Ladder.The communication wrought a grave and thoughtful mood on the youngsoldier. It presented a crisis to him for immediate action. He waswearied with a long ride, but it seemed to him to be no time for rest.
"Father," he said, after turning over in his thoughts the intelligencehe had just received, "it was a brave and beautiful thing for so young alad as Andy to do; and the taking of the ensign has served a usefulpurpose, but it brings this house and family into danger. And I fear forpoor Mary. Christopher Shaw must get back to the mill, and quickly too.His absence will bring his uncle's family into trouble. I will takeChristopher's place, and go to Horse Shoe's assistance this night. Wemay take the prisoner with us to Williams."
"To-night!" said the mother anxiously, "you would not leave us to-night,John?"
"Aye, to-night, wife," answered David Ramsay, "the boy is right, thereis no time to spare."
"Have mercy upon us," exclaimed the dame; "to ride so far to-night,after so heavy a journey, John!--you have not strength."
"Dear mother," said John, "think that you are all in danger and thatMary, who has behaved so well, might be suspected, and brought to harm.I must hurry forward to Colonel Williams, and this road by the Devil'sLadder is far out of my way. No, I am not so much fatigued, mother, asyou suppose. I will rest for a few hours, and then try the woods.Daybreak, I warrant, shall not find me far from Horse Shoe."
John Ramsay was not above six-and-twenty. He was endued with a stout andmanly frame, well adapted to hard service; and this was associated witha bold and intelligent countenance, which, notwithstanding the dint ofwind and weather, was handsome. He had for a year or two past beenactively engaged in the war, and his
manners had, in consequence,acquired that maturity and decision which are generally found in thosewhose habits of life render them familiar with perils. On the presentoccasion he regarded the necessity of co-operation with Robinson as sourgent, that no other thought crossed his mind but that which belongedto the care of putting himself in condition to make his serviceseffectual.
With this view he now directed his horse to be carefully tended; then,having taken a hearty meal, he retired to rest, desiring that he mightbe waked up at midnight, when he proposed to follow the path of HorseShoe and his comrade.