CHAPTER XLIII.
OCCURRENCES AT MUSGROVE'S MILL.
She passed by stealth the narrow door, The postern way also, And thought each bush her robe that tore, The grasp of a warding foe.--JOANNA BAILLIE.
The month of September was more than half gone. The night had just setin, and the waxing moon shone forth from a clear heaven, flinging herrays upon the rippling surface of the Ennoree and upon the glossy leavesthat flickered in the wind by the banks of the stream, when MaryMusgrove, with wary and stealthy pace, glided along the path, intricatewith shrubbery, that led upwards immediately upon the margin of theriver. For a full half hour had she toiled along this narrow way sinceshe had stolen past the sentinel near her father's gate. The distancewas not a mile; but the anxious maiden, pursued by her own fears, hadmore than once, in the fancy that she was followed, stopped in hercareer and concealed herself in the thick copse-wood, and listened withpainful intensity for the footsteps of those whom her imagination hadset upon her track. There was, however, no pursuit: it was the prowlingfox or the raccoon whose leap had disturbed the dry and rotten branchesthat lay upon the ground; and Mary smiled with faint-heartedness at theillusions of her own mind. She arrived at last beneath the brow of acrag that jutted over the stream, and in the shade of one of the anglesof the rock, she discerned the figure of a man seated upon the grass.She paused with a distrustful caution, as she challenged the silent andhalf-concealed person.
"Hist, John! is it you? For mercy, speak! Why would you frightenme?--Me, Mary. Don't you know me?" said the maiden, as she took heart ofgrace and advanced near enough to put her hand upon John Ramsay'sshoulder. "Powers above! the man's asleep," she added with a laugh."Who would have thought I should have caught you napping, John, at sucha time as this!"
"Why, in truth, Mary," said John Ramsay, waking up under the touch ofhis mistress, and rising to his feet, "I deserve to be shot for sleepingon my watch; but I have been so driven from post to pillar for this lastfortnight, that it is as much as I can do to keep my eyes open whennight comes on. So Mary, you will forgive me, and more particularly whenI tell you I was dreaming of you; and thought this war was at an end,and that you and I were happy in a house of our own. I have been waitingfor you for upwards of an hour."
"Ah, John, I don't think I could sleep if it had been my turn to watchfor you."
"There's the difference," replied John, "betwixt you women and us men;you are so full of frights and fidgetings and fancyings, that I doverily believe all the sleeping doses in the world could never make youshut your eyes when anything is going on that requires watching, whetherit be for a sick friend or for a piece of scheming. Now, with us, wetake a nap on a hard-trotting horse, and fall to snoring up to the veryminute that the trumpet wakes us to make a charge. What news fromButler?"
"It is all fixed," answered Mary, "to our hearts' content. LieutenantMacdonald, ever since Cornwallis's letter, allows Major Butler greaterprivileges; and the sentinels are not half so strict as they used to be;so that I think we may give them the slip. By the gable window thatlooks out from the garret room, the Major will be able to get upon theroof, and that, he thinks, is near enough to the tree for him to risk aleap into its branches; though I am almost afraid he is mistaken, for itlooks awfully wide for a spring. He says if you will be ready with thehorses an hour before daylight to-morrow, he will try the leap, and joinyou at the willows above the mill. Christopher will saddle one of thewagon-horses and lead him to the place."
"And the sentinel who keeps guard on that side?"
"Ah, John, that puzzles us," said Mary; "I'm so much afraid that youwill be rash. It is in your nature to forget yourself."
"Tut, girl; don't talk of that. I'll find a way to manage the sentinel.I will steal up to him and take him unawares; and then seizing him bythe throat, give him his choice of a knife in between his ribs, or ahandful of guineas in his pocket."
"Hadn't we better tell him what a good man the Major is?" said Mary,alarmed at the idea of a struggle in which her lover's life might beendangered, "and try to coax him to take our side?"
"Ha, ha!" ejaculated the trooper involuntarily, "that's a very goodwoman's thought, but it won't hold out in a campaign. The fellow mighthappen to have some honesty, and then away goes our whole scheme. No,no; blows are the coin that these rascals buy their bread with, and,faith, we'll trade with them in the same article."
"But then, John, you will be in danger."
"What of that, girl? When have I been out of danger? And don't you see,Mary, what good luck I have with it? Never fear me; I will stifle thefellow in the genteelest fashion known in the wars."
"And if it must be so, John, I will say my prayers for you with moreearnestness than I ever said them in my life. As my father says, the Godof Israel will stand by our cause: and when He is for us, what care wewho is against us?"
"You are a good girl, Mary," replied John Ramsay, smiling. "Get back tothe house; let Major Butler know that you have seen me, and that I willbe ready."
"He is to be at the window," said Mary, "and I am to signify to him thatyou are prepared, by setting up a plank against the garden fence in aplace where he can see it. He is to keep a look-out from the window allnight, and when the time comes you are to flash a little powder on theedge of the woods upon the hill: if he is ready then he will show hiscandle near the window-sill; that, he says, must be a sign for you tocome on; and when he sees you he will take the leap."
"I understand it," said Ramsay. "Tell Christopher to be sure of thehorse."
"I have a great deal of courage, John, when danger is far off--but whenit comes near, I tremble like a poor coward," said Mary. "Does not myhand feel cold?"
"Your lips are warm, Mary," replied John, kissing her, "and your heartis warm. Now, never flag when it comes to the trial. Everything dependsupon you. We shall be very happy, by-and-by, to talk this thing allover. How many soldiers are on Macdonald's guard? Have none left yousince I saw you yesterday?"
"None," said Mary: "one man left the mill two days since. I think Iheard them say he was going to Ninety-six, on business for thelieutenant."
"Well, well, it makes but little odds how many are there, so they butsleep soundly. Our business is more to run than to fight. Mary, my girl,step across to my father's to-morrow, and he will tell you what hasbecome of me. We must get the Major out of this country of wolf-traps asfast as we can."
"I forgot to ask you," said the maiden, "if you had some coarse clothesready for the Major. He must not seem to be what he is."
"Trust me for that," replied the trooper. "Christopher has given me abundle with as fine a dusty suit in it as any miller's boy ever wore;and besides that, I have a meal bag to throw across the Major's saddle:and as for myself, Mary, there's ploughman in my very looks. We shallcheat all the Tories betwixt this and Catawba."
"Now, John, before I leave you, I have one favor to ask."
"And what is that?" inquired the generous-hearted soldier, "you know, ifI can, I will grant it before it is named."
"I would ask as a favor to me," said Mary, with earnestness, "that youwill not be too venturesome: the Major is a wiser man than you, so begoverned by him. Remember, John, if any ill were to happen to you, itwould break my heart."
"I am not so foolhardy, my girl," replied Ramsay, "but, that whenthere's occasion for it, I can show as clean a pair of heels as any man:and so, for your sake, you kitten," he said, as he put his hands uponher cheeks, and again snatched a kiss, "I will run to-morrow like awhole troop of devils. And now, Mary, good night, and God bless yougirl! it is time you were at home. Yet upon second thoughts, I will walkpart of the way with you. So, take my arm and let us begin the retreat."
"John, I do so fear you may be hurt," said the maiden, as they pursuedtheir way along the path, her whole thoughts being absorbed with thedanger of the enterprise. "Be careful when you come near the sentinel towait until his back is turned. This moon shines bright, and you mayeasily be seen."
"But look,
girl, the moon has scarcely two hours yet to travel, and,from that circle round it, I shouldn't wonder if we had rain beforedaylight; so by the hour we have fixed for the Major's escape, it willbe dark enough: therefore you may be easy on that score."
The humble and ardent lovers pursued their way towards the miller'sdwelling with slow steps, intently engaged in conversing over thechances of their perilous project, until they arrived at a point beyondwhich it was not safe for John Ramsay to venture. Here, after manyaffectionate caresses and fond adieus, they separated--the maiden tosteal to her place of rest, the soldier to hasten back to his horse,that awaited him near the scene of the late meeting.
Mary soon arrived at the mill; then sauntering carelessly towards thedwelling-house, began, the better to conceal her purpose, to sing asimple air, during which she had wandered up to the garden fence, whereshe delayed long enough to set up the plank. The small window in theangle of the roof of the cottage looked down upon the spot where shestood; and as she cast her eyes towards this part of the building, shereceived a recognition from the prisoner, in a slight waving of thehand, which was sufficiently observable by the light of the taperwithin.
Matters having gone so far to the maiden's satisfaction, she nowretreated into the house.
The reader will perceive from this narrative that Butler's fortunes hadgreatly improved since we last took leave of him. The messengerdespatched to Cornwallis by Williams had brought back to the FairForest, where it will be remembered the vanquishers of Innis hadretreated, a more favorable answer than even the republican leader hadhoped. The British commander was not ignorant of the capture of Butler,but the circumstances of the trial had not before been communicated tohim. Upon the representation of Williams, he had no hesitation to ordera respite to be given to the prisoner for such reasonable time as mightbe necessary for further investigation. This obvious act of justice wasmore than, in the circumstances of the times, might have been expectedfrom Cornwallis. The cruel and bloody policy which he adopted towardsthe inhabitants of the Carolinas, immediately after the battle ofCamden, showed a tone of personal exacerbation that was scarcelyconsistent with the lenity displayed towards Butler. It is not unlikely,therefore, that the fear of retaliation upon the young St. Jermyn, ofwhose fate he might have been informed from officers of his own camp,might have induced him to temporize in the present case, and to grant asuspension of proceedings against the rebel prisoner. The reply toWilliams's letter accordingly intimated that, for the present, MajorButler should be held in close custody as a prisoner of war, leaving thedetermination of the manner in which he was finally to be disposed of, asubject for future consideration.
John Ramsay, after the departure of Horse Shoe Robinson for Virginia,instead of rejoining his regiment, returned to the Fair Forest camp,where he remained with Williams, until the answer from Cornwallis wasreceived. The tidings of this answer he undertook to convey to Butler,and he again set out for his father's house. John felt himself nowregularly enlisted in the service of the prisoner, and having foundmeans to communicate his present employment to General Sumpter, heobtained permission to remain in it as long as his assistance was ofvalue. The service itself was a grateful one to the young trooper: itaccorded with the generosity of his character, and gratified hispersonal pride by the trust-worthiness which it implied: but more thanthis, it brought him into opportunities of frequent meeting with MaryMusgrove, who, passionately beloved by the soldier, was not less ardentthan he in her efforts to promote the interest of Butler.
The state of the country did not allow John to be seen in day-time, andhe and Mary had consequently appointed a place of meeting, where in theshades of night they might commune together on the important subjects oftheir secret conspiracy. Night after night they accordingly met at thisspot, and here all their schemes were contrived. Mary sometimes came toDavid Ramsay's dwelling, and the old man's counsel was added to that ofthe lovers. Christopher Shaw and Allen Musgrove were not ignorant ofwhat was in contemplation, but it was a piece of necessary policy thatthey should appear to be as little connected with the prisoner aspossible. Christopher, therefore, pursued his duties asassistant-quarter-master or purveyor to the little garrison underMacdonald's command, with unabated assiduity.
The plan of Butler's escape was John Ramsay's. He had been anxiouslyawaiting an opportunity to attempt this enterprise for the lastfortnight, but the difficulty of concerting operations with the prisonerhad retarded his movement. This difficulty was at last overcome, and,for a few days past, the plan had been arranged. All that was left to bedone was to appoint the hour. Christopher Shaw and Mary, alone of themiller's family, were made acquainted with the details. Christopher wasto provide a horse and a suitable disguise for Butler, and these were tobe ready at a tuft of willows that grew upon the edge of the river somequarter of a mile above the mill, whenever Mary should announce thatJohn was ready to act. Ramsay's horse was to be brought to the samespot. The preparatory signals, already mentioned, were all agreed uponand understood by the parties. Butler was to escape to the roof, andthence by the boughs of a large oak that grew hard by the miller'sdwelling. A sentinel was usually posted some fifty paces from this tree,and it was a matter of great perplexity to determine how his vigilancewas to be defeated. This difficulty, John resolved, should be overcomeby a stern measure: the man was to be silenced, if necessary, by a blow.John Ramsay was to steal upon him in the dark, and if signs of alarmwere given, he was to master the sentinel in such a manner as theoccasion might require, being furnished by Butler with a purse of gold,if such a form of influence might be necessary.
Such is the outline of the plan by which Butler's disenthralment was tobe attempted.
Mary Musgrove, before she retired to her chamber, sought ChristopherShaw and made him acquainted with the appointment of the hour, and thenleft him to manage his own share of the enterprise. It was now near tenat night, and Christopher, who had charge of Allen Musgrove's stable, inorder to avoid the suspicion of being seen stirring at a later hour,immediately set off to saddle the horse. One of the wagon team, wellknown in the family by the name of Wall Eye, was selected for thisservice, and being speedily accoutred, was conducted to the willows,where he was tied fast to a tree, to remain until the hour of need. Theyoung miller soon returned, and it was not long afterwards that thehousehold and its military companions were wrapt in the silence ofunsuspecting repose.
Butler, at the hour of the customary visit of the watch, had gone tobed; and, feigning sickness, had been allowed to burn a light in hisroom during the night. His chamber door, also, by special favor, wasclosed; and the night advanced without suspicion or distrust from anyquarter. At two o'clock the last sentinels were relieved, and the formhad been gone through of inspecting the prisoner's chamber. To alloutward show, Butler was asleep: the door was again shut, and all wasstill. The time for action now arrived. Butler rose silently from hisbed, dressed himself, and, putting his shoes into his pockets, stole inhis stockinged feet to the little gable window at the further end of hisapartment. Here he remained, gazing out upon the night with fixedattention. The moon had set, and the sky was overcast with clouds,adding a fortunate obscurity to the natural darkness of the hour. Bystill greater good luck, after a few moments the wind began to rise andrain to descend. Everything seemed to favor the enterprise. The shadowyform of the sentinel, who was stationed on this side of the house, wasdimly discerned by Butler through the gloom; and it was with joyfulsatisfaction that he could perceive the soldier, as the rain fell inlarger drops, retreat some distance from his post and take shelterbeneath the shrubbery that grew in the garden. At the same moment aflash upon the hill, which might have been mistaken for summerlightning, announced to him that his faithful comrade was at hand.Desirous to take advantage of the present neglect of the sentinel, andto avoid the possibility of bringing him into conflict with Ramsay,Butler hastily showed his candle at the window, then extinguished it,and throwing himself out upon the roof, scrambled towards the nearestpoint of the impending branches o
f the oak. Here, without a moment'spause, he made a fearless leap that flung him amongst the boughs. Thedarkness prevented him from choosing the most favorable lodgment in thetree, and he fell across a heavy limb with such force as to take awayhis breath--receiving at the same time, a severe contusion in the head.For a brief space he hung almost senseless, and there was reason toapprehend that he would fall in a swoon to the ground; but the occasionbraced his sinking strength, and before many minutes he revivedsufficiently to make his way to the trunk, by which he descended safelyto the earth. He now threw himself on his hands and feet, and crept tothe garden fence. The rain still increased, and fell in a heavy shower.In another instant he surmounted the barrier, and betook himself withhis utmost speed towards the mill, behind which he sought concealmentand temporary rest.
"Stand," said John Ramsay, who had just reached this point on his way tothe house, and now, taken by surprise, presented a pistol to Butler'sbreast. "One word above your breath and you die. Be silent, and here isgold for you."
"Ramsay," said Butler, in a low tone, "is it you?"
"Your name?" demanded the trooper, still presenting the pistol.
"Butler," was the reply.
"Thanks--thanks, good Major, for that word! You have been before me. Ithought you would not miss this rain. Is all well?"
"Better, much better, than we could have hoped," answered Butler."Seeing the sentinel was off his guard, I took time by the forelock, andhave saved you trouble."
"For God's sake, Major, let us not delay here. Our horses are waitingfor us above."
"I am ready," said Butler, having now put on his shoes. "My bravefellow, I owe you more than I can find words to utter: lead the way."
The liberated captive and his gallant comrade instantly hastened towardsthe horses, and mounting with a joyful alacrity, soon set forward at agallop in the direction leading to David Ramsay's cottage. Here theyarrived just as the day began to dawn.
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