provided by the internet archive the popular story of blue beard embellished with neat engravings by anonymous [illustration: 0001] [illustration: 0004] [illustration: 0005] [illustration: 0006] the popular story of blue-beard |a long time ago, and at a considerable distance from any town, there lived a gentleman, who was not only in possession of great riches, but of the largest estates in that part of the country. although he had some very elegant neat mansions on his estates, he generally resided in a magnificent castle, beautifully situated on a rising ground, surrounded with groves of the finest evergreens, and other choice trees and shrubs. the inside of this fine castle was even more beautiful than the outside; for the rooms were all hung with the richest damask, curiously ornamented; the chairs and sofas were covered with the finest velvet, fringed with gold; and his table-dishes and plates were either of silver or gold, finished in the most elegant style. his carriages and horses might have served a king, and perhaps were finer than any monarch's of the present day. the gentleman's appearance, however, did not altogether correspond to his wealth; for, to a fierce disagreeable countenance, was added an ugly blue beard, which made him an object of fear and disgust in the neighbourhood, where he usually went by the name of blue beard. there resided, at some considerable distance from blue beard's castle, an old lady and her two daughters, who were people of some rank, but by no means wealthy. the two young ladies were very pretty, and the fame of their beauty having reached blue beard, he determined to ask one of them in marriage. having ordered a carriage, he called at their house, where he saw the two young ladies, and was very politely received by their mother, with whom he begged a few moments conversation. [illustration: 0009] |after the two young ladies left the room, he began by describing his immense riches, and then told her the purpose of his visit, begging she would use her interest in his favour. they were both so lovely, he said, that he would be happy to get either of them for his wife, and would therefore leave it to their own choice to determine upon the subject, and immediately took his leave. when the proposals of blue beard were mentioned to the young ladies by their mother, both miss anne and her sister fatima protested, that they would never marry an ugly man, and particularly one with such a frightful blue beard; because, although he possessed immense riches, it was reported in the country, that he had married several beautiful ladies, and nobody could tell what had become of them. their mother said, that the gentleman was agreeable in his conversation and manners; that the ugliness of his facs, and the blue beard, were defects which they would soon be reconciled to from habit: that his immense riches would procure them every luxury their heart could desire; and he was so civil, that she was certain the scandalous reports about his wives must be entirely without foundation. the two young ladies were as civil as they possibly could be, in order to conceal the disgust they felt at blue beard, and, to soften their refusal, replied to this effect,--that, at present, they had no desire to change their situation; but if they had, the one sister could never think of depriving the other of so good a match, and that they did not wish to be separated. |blue beard having called next day, the old lady told him what her daughters had said; on which he sighed deeply, and pretended to be very much disappointed; but as he had the mother on his side, he still continued his visits to the family. blue beard, knowing the attractions that fine houses, fine furniture, and fine entertainments, have on the minds of ladies in general, invited the mother, her two daughters, and two or three other ladies who were then on a visit to them, to spend a day or two with him at his castle. [illustration: 0011] blue beard's invitation was accepted, and having spent a considerable time in arranging their wardrobe, and in adorning their persons, they all set out for the splendid mansion of blue beard. on coming near the castle, although they had heard a great deal of the taste and expense that had been employed in decorating it, they were struck with the beauty of the trees that overshadowed the walks through which they passed, and with the fragrancy of the flowers which perfumed the air. when they reached the castle, blue beard, attended by a number of his servants in splendid dresses, received them with the most polite courtesy, and conducted them to a magnificent drawing-room. an elegant repast was ready in the dining-room, to which they adjourned. here they were again astonished by the grandeur of the apartment and the elegance of the entertainment, and the rooms that were open, and were truly astonished at the magnificence that everywhere met their view. the time rolled pleasantly away a-midst a succession of the most agreeable felt so happy, that the evening passed away before they were aware. [illustration: 0013] |next day, after they had finished breakfast, the ladies proceeded to examine the pictures and furniture of the amusements, consisting of hunting, music, dancing, and banquets, where the richest wines, and most tempting delicacies, in most luxurious profusion, presented themselves in every direction. the party felt so agreeable amidst these scenes of festivity, that they continued at the castle several days, during which the cunning blue beard, by every obsequious service, tried to gain the favour of his fair guests. personal attentions, even although paid us by an ugly creature, seldom fail to make a favourable impression; it was therefore no wonder that fatima, the youngest of the two sisters, began to think blue beard a very polite, pleasant, and civil gentleman; and that the beard, which she and her sister had been so much afraid of, was not so very blue. a short time after her return home, fatima, who was delighted with the attention which had been paid her at the castle, told her mother that she did not now feel any objections to accept of blue beard as a husband. the old lady immediately communicated to him the change in her daughter's sentiments. [illustration: 0015] |blue beard, who lost no time in paying the family a visit, was in a few days privately married to the young lady, and soon after the ceremony, fatima, accompanied by her sister, returned to the castle the wife of blue beard. on arriving there, they were received at the entrance by all his retinue, attired in splendid dresses, and blue beard after saluting his bride, led the way to an elegant entertainment, where, every thing that could add to to their comfort being prepared, they spent the evening in the most agreeable manner. |the next day, and every succeeding day, blue beard always varied the amusements, and a month had passed away imperceptibly, when he told his wife that he was obliged to leave her for a few weeks, as he had some affairs to transact in a distant part of the country, which required his personal attendance. "but," said he, "my dear fatima, you may enjoy yourself in my absence in any way that will add to your happiness, and you can invite your friends to make the time pass more agreeably, for you are sole mistress in this castle, here are the keys of the two large wardrobes; this is the key of the great box that contains the best plate, which we use for company; this of my strong box, where i keep my money; and this belongs to the casket, in which are all my jewels. here also is a master-key to all the rooms in the house; but this small key belongs to the blue closet at the end of the long gallery on the ground floor. i give you leave," he continued, "to open, or do what you like with all the rest of the castle except this closet: now, my dear, remember you must not enter it, nor even put the key into the lock. if you do not obey me in this, expect the most dreadful of punishments." [illustration: 0017] she promised him implicit obedience to his orders, and then accompanied him to the gate, where blue beard, after sa luting her in a tender manner, stepped into the coach, and drove away. |when blue beard was gone, fatima sent a kind invitation to her friends to come immediately to the castle, and ordered a grand entertainment to be prepared for their reception. she also sent a messenger to her two brothers, both officers in the army, who were quartered about forty miles distant, requesting they would obtain leave of absence, and spend a few days with her. so eager were her friends to see the apartments and the riches of blue beard's castle, of which they had heard so much, that in less than two hours after receiving notice, the whole company were assembled, with the exception of her brothers, who were not expected till the following day. as her guests had arrived long before the time appointed them for the entertainment. fatima took them thro' every apartment in the castle, and displayed all the wealth she had acquired by her marriage with blue beard. they went from room to room, and from wardrobe to wardrobe, expressing fresh wonder and delight at every new object they came to; but their surprise was increased when they entered the drawing-rooms, and saw the grandeur of the furniture. during the day, fatima was so much engaged, that she never once thought of the blue closet, which blue beard had ordered her not to open; but when all the visitors were gone, she felt a great curiosity to know its contents. she took out the key, which was made of the finest gold, and went to consult with her sister on the subject. anne used every argument she could think of to dissuade fatima from her purpose, and reminded her of the threats of blue beard; but all in vain, for fatima was now bent on gratifying her curiosity. she therefore, in spite of all her sister could do, seized one of the candles, and hurried down stairs to the fatal closet. on reaching the door she stopped, and began to reason with herself on the propriety of her conduct; but her curiosity at length overcame every other consideration, and, with a trembling hand, she applied the key to the lock, and opened the door. she had only advanced a few steps, when the most frightful scene met her view, and, struck with horror and dismay, she dropped the key of the closet. [illustration: 0020] |she was in the midst of blood, and the heads, bodies, and mutilated limbs of murdered ladies lay scattered on the floor. these ladies had all been married to blue beard, and had suffered for their imprudent curiosity, the key, which was the gift of a fairy, always betraying their fatal disobedience. the terror of fatima was not diminished on observing these dreadful words on the wall--"_the reward of disobedience and imprudent curiosity!_" she trembled violently; but, on recovering a little, she snatched up the key, and having again locked the door, left this abode of horror. as soon as she reached her sister's chamber, she related the whole of her horrid adventure. they then examined the key, but it was all covered with blood, and they both turned pale with fear. they spent a good part of the night in trying to clean off the blood from the key, but it was without effect, for though they washed and scoured it with brick dust and sand, no sooner was the blood removed from one side, than it appeared on the other. fatigued with their exertions, they at last retired to bed, where they passed a sleepless and anxious night. |fatima rose at a late hour next day, and consulted with her sister how she ought to proceed. she thought first of escaping from the castle, but as her brothers were expected in an hour or two, she resolved to wait their arrival. a loud knock at the gate made her almost leap for joy, and she cried, "they are come! they are come!" but what was her consternation when blue beard hastily opened the door, and entered. it was impossible for fatima to conceal her agitation, although she pretended to be very happy at his sudden and unexpected return. blue beard, who guessed what she had been about, requested the keys, in order, as he said, that he might change his dress. she went to her chamber, and soon returned with the keys, all except the one belonging to the blue closet he took the keys from her with seeming indifference, and after glancing at them minutely, said, rather sternly, "how is this, fatima! i do not see the key of the blue closet here! go and bring it to me instantly." [illustration: 0023] the poor girl, feeling the crisis of her fate approaching, said, "i will go and search for it," and left the apartment in tears. she went straight to her sister's chamber, where they again tried, but in vain, to remove the blood from the key. the voice of blue beard again calling for her, she was forced to return, and reluctantly to give him the fatal key. on examining the key, blue beard burst into a terrible rage. "pray madam," said he, "how came this blood to be here?" "i am sure i do not know," replied she, trembling, and turning pale. "what! do you not know!" cried blue beard, in a voice like thunder, which made poor fatima start with fear; "but i know well! you have been in the forbidden blue closet! and since you are so fond of prying into secrets, you shall take up your abode with the ladies you saw there." [illustration: 0024] almost expiring with fear and terror, the trembling fatima sunk upon her knees, and implored him in the most piteous manner to forgive her. but the cruel blue beard, deaf to her intreaties, drew his dreadful scymetar, and bid her prepare for immediate death. blue beard had raised his arm to give the fatal blow, when a dreadful shriek from her sister, who at that moment entered the apartment, arrested his attention. she entreated him to spare the life of fatima, but he was deaf to her intercession, and would only grant her one quarter of an hour, that she might make her peace with heaven, before he put her to death. blue beard then dragged her up to a large hall in the top of the tower of the castle, to prevent her groans being heard, to which they were followed by her sister. he then told her to make the best use of the time, as she might expect his return the moment it elapsed, and immediately left the place. |when alone with her sister, fatima felt her dreadful situation, and again burst into tears. only fifteen minutes between her and the most cruel death, without the least chance of escape; for blue beard had secured the door when he retired, and the staircase they saw only led to the battlements. fatima's thoughts were now turned to her brothers, whom she expected that day; and she requested her sister to ascend to the top of the tower, to see if there was any appearance of them. fatima's sister immediately ascended to the top of the battlements, while the poor trembling girl below, every minute, cried out, "sister anne, my dear sister anne, do you see any one coming yet?" her sister always replied, "there is not a human being in view, and i see nothing but the sun and the grass." she was upon her knees bewailing her fate, when blue beard, in a tremendous voice, cried out, "are you ready?" the time is expired and she heard the sound of his footsteps approaching. she again supplicated him to allow her five minutes longer to finish her prayers, which he, knowing she was completely within his power, granted her, and again left her. fatima again renewed her inquiries to her sister "do you see any one coming yet?" her sister replied, "there is not a human being within sight." when the five minutes were elapsed, "i see," said her sister, "a cloud of dust rising a little to the left." in breathless agitation, she cried, "do you think it is my brothers?" the voice of blue beard was heard bawling out, "are you ready yet?" she again beseeched him to allow her only two minutes more, and then addressed her sister, "dear anne, do you see any one coming yet?" [illustration: 0027] "alas! no, my dearest fatima," returned her sister, "it is only a flock of sheep." again the voice of blue beard was heard, and she begged for one minute longer. she then called out for the last time, "sister anne, do you see no one coming yet?" |her sister quickly answered, "i see two men on horseback, but they are still a great way off." "thank heaven," exclaimed fatima, "i shall yet be saved, for it must be my two brothers! my dearest sister, make every signal in your power to hasten them forward, or they will be too late." blue beard's patience being now exhausted, he burst open the door in a rage, and made a blow at the wretched fatima, with the intention of striking off her head; but she sprang close to him and evaded it. furious at being foiled in his aim, he threw her from him, and then seizing her by the hair of the head, was in the act of striking her a blow with his scymetar, when the noise of persons approaching, with hasty steps, arrested the progress of his sanguinary arm. blue beard had not time to conjecture who the intruders might be, when the door opened, and two officers, with their swords drawn, rushed into the apartment. struck with terror, the guilty wretch released his wife from his grasp, and without attempting to resist, he tried to effect his escape from the resentment of her brothers; but they pursued and seized him before he had got above twenty paces from the place. [illustration: 0029] after reproaching blue beard with his cruelty, they dragged him back to the spot where he intended to have murdered their sister; and there, stabbing him to the heart with their swords, he expired, uttering the most horrid oaths and execrations. |fatima, who had fallen to the ground at the time blue beard quitted his hold of her, still lay in the same situation insensible; for the appearance of her brothers, at the moment she expected certain death, had thrown her into a faint, which continued during the whole of the time they were engaged in despatching her husband. the two young officers now turned their attention to their sister, whom they raised from the ground; but she could hardly be persuaded of her safety, till they pointed to where blue beard lay extended and lifeless. fatima, on recovering a little, tenderly embraced her deliverers; and the appearance of their sister anne, who had come down from the top of the battlements, added to their happiness. [illustration: 0031] as all those horrid murders which had been committed by blue beard, were unknown to his domestics, on whose credulity he imposed by falsehoods, which they had no means of detecting, fatima and her brothers thought the most prudent way to act, was to assemble them together, and then disclose the wickedness of their late master. by the direction of fatima, her two brothers conducted all the servants to the dreadful scene of her husband's cruelties, and then showing them his dead body, related the whole occurrences which had taken place. they all said that his punishment was not adequate to what he deserved, and begged that they might be continued in the service of their mistress. as blue beard had no relations, fatima was sole heir to the whole of his immense property, and mistress of the castle, in the possession of which she was confirmed by the laws of the country. she then sent notice to all the families in the neighbourhood of the death of her husband, and the horrid proofs of his cruelty were laid open for two days to all who chose to inspect them. he was then buried privately, along with all the bodies of the ladies he had murdered, and the fatal closet underwent a complete repair, which removed every trace of his barbarity. soon after this, fatima gave a magnificent entertainment to all her friends, where happiness was seen in every face; and on this occasion the poor, who were assembled for many miles round, partook most liberally of her bounty. though possessed of riches almost inexhaustible, fatima disposed of them with so much discretion, that she gained the esteem of every one who knew her. she bestowed handsome fortunes on her two brothers; and to her sister, who was married about two months after, she gave a very large dowry. the beauty, riches, and amiable conduct of fatima, attracted a number of admirers, and among others, a young nobleman of very high rank, who, to a handsome person, added every quality calculated to make a good husband; and after a reasonable time spent in courtship, their marriage was celebrated with great rejoicings. finis note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 35966-h.htm or 35966-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35966/35966-h/35966-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35966/35966-h.zip) [illustration: loveliness] loveliness a story by elizabeth stuart phelps "be my benediction said, with my hand upon thy head, gentle fellow-creature!" e. b. browning. boston and new york houghton, mifflin and company the riverside press, cambridge 1900 the illustrations are by sarah s. stilwell copyright, 1899, by elizabeth stuart phelps ward and houghton, mifflin and co. all rights reserved _for the smoke of their torment ascendeth._ list of illustrations page loveliness _frontispiece_ the maid stood looking idly about 14 "till loveliness comes home" 20 through the bending shrubbery 40 loveliness. loveliness sat on an eider-down cushion embroidered with cherry-colored puppies on a pearl satin cover. the puppies had gold eyes. they were drinking a saucer of green milk. loveliness wore a new necktie, of cherry, a shade or two brighter than the puppies, and a pearl-gray, or one might call it a silver-gray jacket. he was sitting in the broad window sill, with his head tipped a little, thoughtfully, towards the left side, as the heads of nervous people are said to incline. he was dreamily watching the street, looking for any one of a few friends of his who might pass by, and for the letter-carrier, who was somewhat late. loveliness had dark, brilliant eyes, remarkably alert, but reflective when in repose. part of their charm lay in the fact that one must watch for their best expression; for loveliness wore bangs. he had a small and delicate nose, not guiltless of an aristocratic tip, with a suspicion of a sniff at the inferior orders of society. in truth, loveliness was an aristocrat to the end of his tongue, which curled daintily against his opalescent teeth. at this moment it lay between his teeth, and hung forward as if he held a roseleaf in his lips; and this was the final evidence of his birth and breeding. for loveliness was a little dog; a silver yorkshire, blue of blood and delicately reared,--a tiny creature, the essence of tenderness; set, soul and body, to one only tune. to love and to be beloved,--that was his life. he knew no other, nor up to this time could he conceive of any other; for he was as devotedly beloved as he was passionately loving. his brain was in his heart. in saying this one does not question the quality of the brain, any more than one does in saying a similar thing of a woman. indeed, considered as an intellect, his was of the highest order known to his race. loveliness would have been interesting as a psychological study, had he not been absorbing as an affectional occupation. his family and friends often said, "how clever!" but not until after they had said, "how dear he is!" the order of precedence in this summary of character is the most enviable that can be experienced by human beings. but the dog took it as a matter of course. this little creature loved a number of people on a sliding scale of intimacy, carefully guarded, as the intimacies of the high-born usually are; but one he loved first, most, best of all, and profoundly. i have called him loveliness because it was the pet name, the "little name," given to him by this person. in point of fact, he answered to a variety of appellations, more or less recognized by society; of these the most lawful and the least agreeable to himself was mop. it was a disputed point whether this were an ancestral name, or whether he had received it from the dog store, whence he had emerged at the beginning of history,--the shaggiest, scrubbiest, raggedest, wildest little terrier that ever boasted of a high descent. people of a low type, those whose imagination was bounded by menial similes, or persons of that too ready inclination to the humorous which fails to consider the possible injustice or unkindness that it may involve, had in mop's infancy found a base pleasure in attaching to him such epithets as window-washer, scrubbing-brush, feather-duster, and footmuff. but these had not adhered. loveliness had. it bade fair, at the time of our story, to outlive every other name. the little dog had both friends and acquaintances on the street where the professor lived; and he watched for them from his cushion in the window, hours at a time. there was the cabman, the academic-looking cabman, who was the favorite of the faculty, and who hurrahed and snapped his whip at the yorkshire as he passed by; there was the newsboy who brought the sunday papers, and who whistled at loveliness, and made faces, and called him mop. to-day there was a dark-faced man, a stranger, standing across the street, and regarding the professor's house with the unpleasant look of the foreign and ill-natured. this man had eyebrows that met in a straight, black line upon his forehead, and he wore a yellow jersey. the dog threw back his supercilious little head and barked at the yellow jersey severely. but at that moment he saw the carrier, who ran up the steps laughing, and brought a gumdrop in a sealed envelope addressed to loveliness. there was a large mail that afternoon, including a pile of pamphlets and circulars of the varied description that haunts professors' houses. kathleen, the parlor maid,--another particular friend of the terrier's--took the mail up to the study, but dropped one of the pamphlets on the stairs. the dog rebuked her carelessness (after he had given his attention to the carrier's gumdrop) by picking the pamphlet up and bringing it back to the window seat, where he opened and dog-eared it with a literary manner for a while, until suddenly he forgot it altogether, and dropped it on the floor, and sprang, bounding. for the dearest person in the world had called him in a whisper,--"love-li-ness!" and the dearest face in the world appeared above him and melted into laughing tenderness. "loveliness! where's my _love_-li-ness?" a little girl had come into the room, a girl of between five and six years, but so small that one would scarcely have guessed her to be four,--a beautiful child, but transparent of coloring, and bearing in her delicate face the pathetic patience which only sick children, of all human creatures, ever show. she was exquisitely formed, but one little foot halted and stepped weakly on the thick carpet. her organs of speech were perfect in mechanism, but often she did not speak quite aloud. sometimes, on her weaker days, she carried a small crutch. they called her adah. she came in without her crutch that afternoon; she was feeling quite strong and happy. the little dog sprang to her heart, and she crooned over him, sitting beside him on the window seat and whispering in her plaintive voice: "love-li-ness! i can't live wivout you anover _min_ute, loveliness! i can't _live_ wivout you!" she put her head down on the pearl-gray satin pillow with the cherry puppies, and the dog put his face beside hers. he was kept as sweet and clean as his little mistress, and he had no playfellow except herself, and never went away from home unless at the end of a gray satin ribbon leash. at all events, the two _would_ occupy the same pillow, and all idle effort to struggle with this fact had ceased in the household. loveliness sighed one of the long sighs of perfect content recognized by all owners and lovers of dogs as one of the happiest sounds in this sad world, and laid his cheek to hers quietly. he asked nothing more of life. he had forgotten the world and all that was therein. he looked no longer for the cabman, the newsboy, or the carrier, and the man with the eyebrows had gone away. the universe did not exist; he and she were together. heaven had happened. the dog glanced through half-closed, blissful eyes at the yellow hair--"eighteen carats fine"--that fell against his silver bangs. his short ecstatic breath mingled with the gentle breathing of the child. she talked to him in broken rhapsodies. she called him quaint, pet names of her own,--"dearness" and "daintiness," "mopsiness" and "preciousness," and "dearest-in-the-world," and who knew what besides? only the angels who are admitted to the souls of children and the hearts of little dogs could have understood that interview. no member of the professor's household ever interfered with the attachment between the child and the dog, which was set apart as one of the higher facts in the family life. indeed, it had its own page of sacred history, which read on this wise:-when adah was a walking baby, two and a half years before the time of which we tell, the terrier was in the first proud flush of enthusiasm which an intelligent dog feels in the mastery of little feats and tricks. of these he had a varied and interesting repertoire. his vocabulary, too, was large. at the date of our story it had reached one hundred and thirty words. it was juvenile and more limited at the time when the sacred page was written, but still beyond the average canine proficiency. loveliness had always shown a genius for the english language. he could not speak it, but he tried harder than any other dog i ever knew to do so; and he grew to understand with ease an incredibly large part of the usual conversation of the family. it could never be proved that he followed--or did not follow--the professor of psychology in a discussion on the critique of pure reason; but his mental grasp of ordinary topics was alert and logical. he sneezed when he was cold and wanted a window shut, and barked twice when his delicate china water-cup was empty. when the fire department rang by, or a stove in the house was left on draught too long, and he wished to call attention to the circumstance, he barked four times. besides the commonplace accomplishments of turning somersaults, being a dead dog, sitting up to beg for things, and shaking hands, loveliness had some attainments peculiar to himself. one of these was in itself scientifically interesting. this luxurious, daintily fed little creature, who had never known an hour's want nor any deprivation that he could remember, led by the blind instinct of starving, savage ancestors skulking in forests where the claw and tooth of every living thing were against every other, conscientiously sought to bury, against future exigencies, any kind of food for which he had no appetite. the remnants of his dog biscuit, his saucer of weak tea, an unpalatable dinner, alike received the treatment given to the bare bone of his forefathers when it was driven into the ground. anything served the purpose of the earth,--the rough, wild earth of whose real nature the house pet knew so little. a newspaper, a glove, a handkerchief, a sheet of the professor's manuscript, a hearth brush, or a rug would answer. drag these laboriously, and push them perseveringly to their places! cover the saucer or the plate from sight with a solemn persistence that the starving, howling ancestor would have respected! thus loveliness recognized the laws of heredity. but the corners of rugs were, and remained, the favorite burying sod. on that black day when the baby girl had used her white apron by way of blowers before the reluctant nursery fire, the little dog was alone in the room with her. it had so happened. suddenly, through the busy house resounded four shrill, staccato barks. in the vocabulary of loveliness this meant, "fire! fire! fire! fire!" borne with them came the terrible cries of the child. when the mother and the nursemaid got to the spot, the baby was ablaze from her white apron to her yellow hair. she was writhing on the floor. the terrier, his own silver locks scorching, and his paws in the flame, was trying to cover his young mistress with the big persian rug, in itself a load for a collie. he had so far succeeded that the progress of the flames had been checked. for years the professor speculated on the problems raised by this tremendous incident. whether the yorkshire regarded the fire as a superfluity, like a dinner one does not want,--but that was far-fetched. whether he knew that wool puts out fire,--but that was incredible. whether this, that, or the other, no man could say, or ever has. perhaps the intellect of the dog, roused to its utmost by the demand upon his heart, blindly leaped to its most difficult exertion. it was always hard to cover things with rugs. in this extremity one must do the hardest. or did sheer love teach him to choose, in a moment that might have made a fool or a lunatic of a man, the only one or two of several processes which could by any means reach the emergency? at all events, the dog saved the child. and she became henceforth the saint and idol of the family, and he its totem and its hero. the two stood together in one niche above the household altar. it was impossible to separate them. but after that terrible hour little adah was as she was: frail, uncertain of step, scarred on the pearl of her neck and the rose of her cheek; not with full command of her voice; more nervously deficient than organically defective,--but a perfect being marred. her father said, "she goeth lame and lovely." on the afternoon when our story began, the child and the yorkshire sat cuddled together in the broad window seat for a long time. blessedness sat with them. adah talked in low love tones, using a language as incomprehensible to other people as the tongue in which the dog replied to her. they carried on long conversations, broken only by caresses, and by barks of bliss or jets of laughter. the child tired herself with laughing and loving, and the dog watched her; he did not sleep; he silently lapped the fingers of her little hand that lay like a cameo upon the silken cushion. some one came in and said in a low voice: "she is tired out. she must have her supper and be put to bed." afterwards it was remembered that she clung to loveliness and cried a little, foolishly; fretting that she did not want her supper, and demanding that the dog should go up to bed with her and be put at once into his basket by her side. this was gently refused. "you shall see him in the morning," they told her. kathleen put the little dog down forcibly from the arms of the child, who wailed at the separation. she called back over the balusters: "_love_-li-ness! good-by, loveliness! when we're grown up, we'll _al_ways be togever, loveliness!" the dog barked rebelliously for a few minutes; then sighed, and accepted the situation. he ran back and picked up the pamphlet which kathleen had dropped, and carried it upstairs to the professor's study, where he laid it on the lowest shelf of the revolving bookcase. the professor glanced at the dog-eared pages and smiled. the pamphlet was one of the innumerable throng issued by some philanthropic society devoted to improving the condition of animals. when kathleen came downstairs she found the dog standing at the front door, patiently asking that it might be opened for him. she went down the steps; for it was the rule of the house never to allow the most helpless member of the family at liberty unguarded. the evening was soft, and the maid stood looking idly about. a man in a yellow jersey, and with straight, black eyebrows, was on the other side of the street; but he did not look over. the suburban town was still and pleasant; advancing spring was in the air; no one was passing; only a negro boy lolled on the old-fashioned fence, and shouted: "hi! yi! yi! look a' dem crows carryin' off a b'iled pertater 'n' a piecer squushed pie!" [illustration: the maid stood looking idly about] kathleen, for very vacuity of mind, turned to look. neither potatoes nor squash pie were to be seen careering through the skies; nor, in fact, were there any crows. "i'll have yez arrested for sarse and slander!" cried kathleen vigorously. but the negro boy had disappeared. so had the man in the yellow jersey. "where's me dog?" muttered kathleen. it was dipping dusk; it was deepening to dark. she called. loveliness was an obedient little fellow always; but he did not reply. the maid called again; she examined the front yard and the premises,--slowly, for she was afraid to go in and tell. with the imbecility of the timid and the erring, she took too much time in a fruitless and unintelligent search before she went, trembling, into the house. kathleen felt that this was the greatest emergency that had occurred since the baby was burned. she went straight to the master's door. "god have mercy on me, but i've lost the little dog, sir!" the professor wheeled around in his study chair. "there was a nigger and a squashed crow--but indeed i never left the little dog, as you bid me, sir--i never left him for the space of me breath between me lips--and when i draws it in the little dog warn't nowhere.... oh, whatever'll _she_ say? whatever'll _she_ do? mother of god, forgive me soul! who'll tell _her_?" who indeed? the professor of psychology turned as pale as the paper on which he was about to write his next famous and inexplicable lecture. he pushed by kathleen and sprang for his hat. but the child's mother had already run out, bareheaded, into the street, calling the dog as she ran. nora, the cook, left the dinner to burn, and followed. kathleen softly shut the nursery door, "so _she_ won't hear," and, sobbing, crept downstairs. the family gathered as if under the black wing of an unspeakable tragedy. they scoured the premises and the street, while the professor rang in the police call. but loveliness was not to be found. the carrier came by, on his way home after his day's work was over. "great scott!" he cried. "i'd rather have lost a month's pay. does _she_ know?" the newsboy trotted up, and stopped whistling. "hully gee!" he said. "what'll the little _gell_ dew?" the popular cabman came by; he was driving the president, who let down the window and asked what had happened. the driver uttered a mild and academic oath. "me 'n' my horse, we're at your disposal as soon as me and the president have got to faculty meeting." but the president of the university of st. george put his long legs out of the carriage, and bowed the professor into it. "the cab is at your service now," he said anxiously, "and so am i. they can get along without us for a while, to-night. anything that i can do to help you, professor premice, in this--real calamity--how does the child bear it?" "poor little kid!" muttered the cabman. "and to think how i used to snap my whip at 'em in the window!" "an' how i used to bring him candy, contrary to the postal laws!" sighed the carrier. the cab driver and the postman spoke as if the dog and the child were both already dead. the group broke slowly and sadly at last. the mother and the maids crept tearfully into the house. the professor, the carrier, the newsboy, and the president threw themselves into the matter as if they had been hunting for a lost child. the president deferred his engagement at the faculty meeting for two hours,--which gave about time for a faculty meeting to get under way. the professor and the cab driver and the police ransacked the town till nearly dawn. it began to rain, and the night grew chilly. the carrier went home, looking like a man in the shade of a public calamity. the newsboy ran around in the storm, shadowing all the negro boys he met, and whistling for loveliness in dark places where low-bred curs answered him, and yellow mongrels snarled at his soaked heels. but the professor had the worst of it; for when he came in, drenched and tired, in the early morning, a little figure in a lace-trimmed nightgown stood at the head of the stairs, waiting for him. the professor gave one glance at the child's face, and instinctively covered his own. he could not bear to look at her. "papa," said adah, limping down the stairs, "where is loveliness? i can't find him! oh, i _can_not find him! and nobody will tell me where he's gone to. papa? i arxpect _you_ to tell me 'e trufe. where is my loveliness?" * * * * * her mother could not comfort or control her. she clung to her father's heart the remainder of the night; moaning at intervals, then unnaturally and piteously still. the rain dashed on the windows, for the storm increased; the child shrank and shivered. "he's _never_ been out in 'e rain, papa! he will be wet--and frightened. papa, who will give him his little baxet, and cover him up warm? papa! papa! who will be _kind_ to loveliness?" in the broad daylight adah fell into a short sleep. she woke with a start and a cry, and asked for the dog. "he'll come home to breakfust," she said, with quivering lip. "tell nora to have some sugar on his mush when he comes home." but loveliness did not come home to breakfast. the child refused to eat her own. she hurried down and crept to the broad window seat, to watch the street. when she saw the empty gray satin cushion, she flung herself face down with a heart-rending cry. "papa! papa! papa! i never had a 'fliction before. oh, papa, my heart will break itself apart. papa, can't you know enough to comfort you little girl? i can't _live_ wivout my loveliness. oh, papa! papa!" * * * * * this was in the decline of march. the winds went down, and the rains came on. the snow slid from the streets of the university town, and withdrew into dingy patches about the roots of trees and fences, and in the shady sides of cold back yards. the mud yawned ankle-deep, and dried, and was not, and was dust beneath the foot. crocuses blazed in the gardens of the faculty,--royal purple, gold, and wax-white lamps set in the young and vivid grass. the sun let down his mask and looked abroad, and it was april. the newsboy, the carrier and the cab-driver laughed for very joy of living. but when they passed the professor's house they did not laugh. it came on to be the heart and glory of the spring, and the warm days melted into may. but the little dog had not been found. the professor had exhausted hope and ingenuity in the dreary quest. the state, one might say without exaggeration, had been dragged for that tiny dumb thing,--seven pounds' weight of life and tenderness. money had been poured like love upon the vain endeavor. rewards of reckless proportion appealed from public places and from public columns to the blank eyes that could not or did not read. the great detective force, whose name is familiar from sea to sea, had supplemented the useless search of the local police and of the city press. and all had equally failed. the "dog banditti" had done their work too well. loveliness had sunk out of sight like forgotten suffering in a scene of joy. in the window seat, propped with white pillows, "lame and lovely," adah sat. the empty embroidered gray cushion lay beside her. sometimes she patted the red puppies softly with one thin little hand; she allowed no one else to touch the cushion. "till loveliness comes home," she said. in the window, silent, pale, and seeing everything, she watched. but loveliness did not come home. [illustration: "till loveliness comes home"] the pitiful thing was that the child herself was so changed. she had wasted to a little wraith. for some time she had not walked without her crutch. now she scarcely walked at all. at the first she had sobbed a good deal, in downright childish fashion; then she wept silently; but now she did not cry any more,--she did but watch. her sight had grown unnaturally keen, like that of pilots; she gazed out of great eyes, bright, and dry, and solemn. already she had taken on the look of children whose span of time is to be short. she weakened visibly. at first, her father took her out with him in the cab, so she should feel that she was conducting the search herself. but she had grown too feeble for this exertion. sometimes, on such drives, she saw cruel sights,--animals suffering at the black tempers of men or the diabolic jests of boys; and she was hurried home, shivering and sobbing. when night came she would ask for the yorkshire's bed to be put beside her own, and with trembling fingers would draw up the crimson blankets over the crimson mattress, as if the dog had been between them. then she would ask the question that haunted her most:-"mamma, who will put loveliness into a little baxet to sleep, and cover him up? papa, papa, will they be _kind_ to loveliness?" stormy nights and days were always the hardest. "will loveliness be out and get wet? will he shiver like 'e black dog i saw to-day? will he have warm milk for his supper? is there anybody to rub him dry and cuddle my loveliness?" to divert the child from her grief proved impossible. they took her somewhere, in the old, idle effort to change the place and help the pain; but she mourned so, "because he might come home, and nobody see him but me," that they brought her back. the president of the university, who was a dogless and childless man, presented the bereaved household with a mongrel white puppy, purchased under the amiable impression that it was of a rare, parisian breed. the distinguished man cherished the ignorant hope of bestowing consolation. but the invalid child, with the sensitiveness of invalid children, refused to look at the puppy, who was returned to his donor, and constituted himself henceforth the tyrant and terror of that scholastic household. as the weather grew warmer, little adah failed and sank. it came on to be the bloom of the year, and she no longer left the house. the carrier and the cab driver lifted their hats in silence now, when they passed the window where the little girl sat, and the newsboy looked up with a sober face, like that of a man. the faculty and the neighbors did not ask, "how is the child?" but always, "have you heard from the dog?" the doctor began to call daily. he did not shake his head,--no doctor does outside of an old-fashioned story,--and he smiled cheerfully enough inside the house; but when he came out of it, to his carriage, he did not smile. so the spring mellowed, and it was the first of june. one night, the poor professor sat trying to put into shape an impossible thesis on an incomprehensible subject (it was called the identity of identity and non-identity), for commencement delivery in his department. pulling aside some books of reference that he needed, he dragged to view a pamphlet from the lowest shelf of the revolving bookcase. then he saw the marks of the yorkshire's teeth and claws on the pamphlet corners, and, sadly smiling, he opened and read. the commencement thesis on the identity of identity and non-identity was not corrected that night. the professor of psychology sat moulded into his study chair, rigid, with iron lips and clenched hands, and read the pamphlet through, every word, from beginning to end. for the first time in his life, this eminent man, wise in the wisdom of the world of mind, and half educated in the practical affairs of the world of matter, studied for himself the authenticated records of the torments imposed upon dumb animals in the name of science. as an instructed man, of course this subject was not wholly unfamiliar to him, but it was wholly foreign. hitherto he had given it polite and indifferent attention, and had gone his ways. now he read like a man himself bound, without anã¦sthesia, beneath the knife. now he read for the child's sake, with the child's mind, with the child's nerves, and with those of the little helpless thing for whom her life was wasting. he tore from his shelves every volume, every pamphlet that he owned upon the direful subject which that june night opened to his consciousness; and he read until the birds sang. with brain on fire, he crept, in the brightness of coming day, to his wife's side. "tired out, dear?" she asked gently. then he saw that she too had not slept. "adah has such dreams," she explained; "cruel things,--all the same kind." "about the dog?" "always about the dog. i have been sitting up with her. she is--not as strong as--not quite"-the professor set his teeth when he heard the mother's moan. when she had sunk into broken rest he stole back to his study, and locked out of sight the pamphlet which loveliness had chewed. so, with the profound and scientific treatises on the subject, arguing and illustrating this way and that (some of these had cuts and photogravures which would haunt the imagination for years), he crowded the whole out of reach. his own brain was reeling with horrors which it would have driven the woman or the child mad to read. scenes too ghastly for a strong mind to dwell upon, incidents too fearful for a weak one to conceive, flitted before the sleepless father. now the professor began to do strange and secretive things. unknown to his wife, unsuspected by his fading child, he began to cause the laboratories of the city and its environs to be searched. in the process, curious trades developed themselves to his astonished ignorance: the tricks of boys who supply the material of anguish; the trade of the janitor who sells it to the demonstrator; the trade of the brute who allures his superior, the dog, to the lairs of medical students. dark arts started to the foreground, like imps around mephistopheles concealed. from such repellent education the professor came home and took his little girl into his arms, and did not speak, but laid his cheek to hers, and heard the piteous, familiar question, "papa, did you promise me they'd be kind to loveliness?" it was always a whispered question now; for adah had entirely lost command of her voice, partly from weakness, partly from the old injury to the vocal organs; and this seemed, somehow, to make it the harder to answer her. so there fell a day when the child in the window, propped by more than the usual pillows, sat watching longer than usual, or more sadly, or more eagerly,--who can say what it was? or did she look so much more translucent, more pathetic, than on another day? she leaned her cheek on one little wasted hand. her great eyes commanded the street. she had her pilot's look. now and then, if a little dog passed, and if he were gray, she started and leaned forward, then sank back faintly. the sight of her would have touched a savage; and one beheld it. a man in a yellow jersey passed by upon the other side of the street, and glanced over. his straight, black brows contracted, and he looked at the child steadily. as he walked on, it might have been noticed that his brutal head hung to his breast. but he passed, and that cultivated street was clean of him. the carrier met him around the corner, and glanced at him with coldness. "what's de matter of de kid yonder, in de winder?" asked the foreigner. "dyin'," said the carrier shortly. "looks she had--what you call him?--gallopin' consum'tion," observed the man with the eyebrows. "gallopin' heartbreak," replied the carrier, pushing by. "there's a devil layin' round loose outside of hell that stole her dog,--and she a little sickly thing to start with, ---him! there's fifty men in this town would lynch him inside of ten minutes, if they got a clue to him, ---him to ----!" that afternoon, when the professor left the house, the newsboy ran up eagerly. "there's a little nigger wants yez, perfesser, downstreet. he's in wid the dog robbers, that nigger is. jes' you arsk him when he see mop las' time. take him by the scruff the neck, an' wallop like hell till he tells. be spry, now, perfesser!" the professor hurried down the street, fully prepared to obey these directions, and found the negro boy, as he had been told. "come along furder," said the boy, looking around uneasily. he spoke a few words in a hoarse whisper. the blood leaped to the professor's wan cheeks, and back again. "i'll show ye for a v," suggested the boy cunningly. "but i won't take no noter hand. make it cash, an' i'll show yer. ye ain't no time to be foolin'," added the gamin. "it's sot for termorrer 'leven o'clock. he's down for the biggest show of the term, _he_ is. the students is all gwineter go, an' the doctors along of 'em." * * * * * his own university! his own university! the professor repeated the three words, as he dashed into the city with the academic cabman's fastest horse. for weeks his detectives had watched every laboratory within fifty miles. but--his own college! with the density which sometimes submerges a superior intellect, it had never occurred to him that he might find his own dog in the medical school of his own institution. stupidly he sat gazing at the back of the gamin who slunk beside the aversion of the driver on the box. the professor seemed to himself to be driving through the terms of a false syllogism. the cabman drew up in a filthy and savage neighborhood, in whose grim purlieus the st. george professors did not take their walks abroad. the negro boy tumbled off the box. the professor sat, trembling like a woman. the boy went into the tenement, whistling. when he came out he did not whistle. his evil little face had fallen. his arms were empty. "the critter's dum gone," he said. "_gone?_" "he's dum goneter de college. dey'se tuk him, sah. dum dog to go so yairly." the countenance of the professor blazed with the mingling fires of horror and of hope. the excited driver lashed the st. george horse to foam; in six minutes the cab drew up at the medical school. the passenger ran up the walk like a boy, and dashed into the building. he had never entered it before. he was obliged to inquire his way, like a rustic on a first trip to town. after some delay and difficulty he found the janitor, and, with the assurance of position, stated his case. but the janitor smiled. "i will go now--at once--and remove the dog," announced the professor. "in which direction is it? my little girl--there is no time to lose. which door did you say?" but now the janitor did not smile. "excuse me, sir," he said frigidly, "i have no orders to admit strangers." he backed up against a closed door, and stood there stolidly. the professor, burning with human rage, leaned over and shook the door. it was locked. "man of darkness!" cried the professor. "you who perpetrate"--then he collected himself. "pardon me," he said, with his natural dignity; "i forget that you obey the orders of your chiefs, and that you do not recognize me. i am not accustomed to be refused admittance to the departments of my own university. i am professor premice, of the chair of mental philosophy,--professor theophrastus premice." he felt for his cards, but he had used the last one in his wallet. "you might be, and you mightn't," replied the janitor grimly. "i never heard tell of you that i know of. my orders are not to admit, and i do not admit." "you are unlawfully detaining and torturing my dog!" gasped the professor. "i demand my property at once!" "we have such a lot of these cases," answered the janitor wearily. "we hain't got your dog. we don't take gentlemen's dogs, nor ladies' pets. and we always etherize. we operate very tenderly. you hain't produced any evidence or authority, and i can't let you in without." "be so good," urged the professor, restraining himself by a violent effort, "as to bear my name to some of the faculty. say that i am without, and wish to see one of my colleagues on an urgent matter." "none of 'em's in just now but the assistant demonstrator," retorted the janitor, without budging. "_he_'s experimenting on a--well, he's engaged in a very pretty operation just now, and cannot be disturbed. no, sir. you had better not touch the door. i tell you, i do not admit nor permit. stand back, sir!" the professor stood back. he might have entered the lecture room by other doors, but he did not know it; and they were not visible from the spot where he stood. he had happened on the laboratory door, and that refused him. he staggered out to his cab, and sank down weakly. "drive me to my lawyer!" he cried. "do not lose a moment--if you love her!" * * * * * it was eleven o'clock of the following morning; a dreamy june day, afloat with color, scent, and warmth, as gentle as the depths of tenderness in the human heart, and as vigorous as its noblest aspirations. the students of the famous medical school of the university of st. george were crowding up the flagged walk and the old granite steps of the college; the lecture room was filling; the students chatted and joked profusely, as medical students do, on occasions least productive of amusement to the non-professional observer. there chanced to be some sprays of lily of the valley in a tumbler set upon the window sill of the adjoining physiological laboratory, and the flower seemed to stare at something which it saw within the room. now and then, through the door connecting with the lecture room, a faint sound penetrated the laughter and conversation of the students,--a sound to hear and never to forget while remembrance rang through the brain, but not to tell of. the room filled; the demonstrator appeared suddenly, in his fresh, white blouse; the students began to grow quiet. some one had already locked the door leading from the laboratory to the hallway. the lily in the window looked, and seemed, in the low june wind, to turn its face away. "gentlemen," began the operator, "we have before us to-day a demonstration of unusual beauty and interest. it is our intention to study"--here he minutely described the nature of the operation. "there will be also some collateral demonstrations of more than ordinary value. the material has been carefully selected. it is young and healthy," observed the surgeon. "we have not put the subject under the usual anã¦sthesia,"--he motioned to his assistant, who at this point went into the laboratory,--"because of the importance of some preliminary experiments which were instituted yesterday, and to the perfection of which consciousness is conditional. gentlemen, you see before you"-the assistant entered through the laboratory door at this moment, bearing something which he held straight out before him. the students, on tiered and curving benches, looked down from their amphitheatre, lightly, as they had been trained to look. "it is needless to say," proceeded the lecturer, "that the subject will be mercifully disposed of as soon as the demonstration is completed. and we shall operate with the greatest tenderness, as we always do. gentlemen, i am reminded of a story"-the demonstrator indulged in a little persiflage at this point, raising a laugh among the class; he smiled himself; he gestured with the scalpel, which he had selected while he was talking; he made three or four sinister cuts with it in the air, preparatory cuts,--an awful rehearsal. he held the instrument suspended, thoughtfully. "the first incision"--he began. "follow me closely, now. you see--gentlemen? gentlemen! really, i cannot proceed in such a disturbance--what _is_ that noise?" with the suspended scalpel in his hand, the demonstrator turned impatiently. "it's a row in the corridor," said one of the students. "we hope you won't delay for that, doctor. it's nothing of any consequence. please go ahead." but the locked door of the laboratory shook violently, and rattled in unseen hands. voices clashed from the outside. the disturbance increased. "open! open the door!" heavy blows fell upon the panels. "in the name of humanity, in the name of mercy, open this door!" "it must be some of those fanatics," said the operator, laying down his instrument. "where is the janitor? call him to put a stop to this." he took up the instrument with an impetuous motion; then laid it irritably down again. the attention of his audience was now concentrated upon the laboratory door, for the confusion had redoubled. at the same time feet were heard approaching the students' entrance to the lecture room. one of the young men took it upon himself to lock that door also, which was not the custom of the place; but he found no key, and two or three of his classmates joined him in standing against the door, which they barricaded. their blood was up,--they knew not why; the fighting animal in them leaped at the mysterious intrusion. there was every prospect of a scene unprecedented in the history of the lecture room. the expected did not happen. it appeared that some unsuccessful effort was made to force this door, but it was not prolonged; then the footsteps retreated down the stairs, and the demand at the laboratory entrance set in again,--this time in a new voice:-"it is an officer of the court! there is a search-warrant for stolen property! open in the name of the law! _open this door in the name of the commonwealth!_" now the door sank open, was burst open, or was unlocked,--in the excitement, no one knew which or how,--and the professor and the lawyer, the officer and the search-warrant, fell in. the professor pushed ahead, and strode to the operating table. there lay the tiny creature, so daintily reared, so passionately beloved; he who had been sheltered in the heart of luxury, like the little daughter of the house herself; he who used never to know a pang that love or luxury could prevent or cure; he who had been the soul of tenderness, and had known only the soul of tenderness. there, stretched, bound, gagged, gasping, doomed to a doom which the readers of this page would forbid this pen to describe, lay the silver yorkshire, kissing his vivisector's hand. in the past few months loveliness had known to the uttermost the matchless misery of the lost dog (for he had been sold and restolen more than once); he had known the miseries of cold, of hunger, of neglect, of homelessness, and other torments of which it is as well not to think; the sufferings which ignorance imposes upon animals. he was about to endure the worst torture of them all,--that reserved by wisdom and power for the dumb, the undefended, and the small. the officer seized the scalpel which the demonstrator had laid aside, and slashed through the straps that bound the victim down. when the gag was removed, and the little creature, shorn, sunken, changed, almost unrecognizable, looked up into his master's face, those cruel walls rang to such a cry of more than human anguish and ecstasy as they had never heard before, and never may again. the operator turned away; he stood in his butcher's blouse and stared through out of the laboratory window, over the head of the lily, which regarded him fixedly. the students grew rapidly quiet. when the professor took loveliness into his arms, and the yorkshire, still crying like a human child that had been lost and saved, put up his weak paws around his master's neck and tried to kiss the tears that fell, unashamed, down the cheeks of that eminent man, the lecture room burst into a storm of applause; then fell suddenly still again, as if it felt embarrassed both by its expression and by its silence, and knew not what to do. "has the knife touched him--anywhere?" asked the professor, choking. "no, thank god!" replied the demonstrator, turning around timidly; "and i assure you--our regrets--such a mistake"-"that will do, doctor," said the professor. "gentlemen, let me pass, if you please. i have no time to lose. there is one waiting for this little creature who"-he did not finish his sentence, but went out from among them. as he passed with the shorn and quivering dog in his arms, the students rose to their feet. * * * * * he stopped the cab a hundred feet away, went across a neighbor's lot, and got into the house by the back door, with the yorkshire hidden under his coat. the doctor's buggy stood at the curbstone in front. the little girl was so weak that morning--what might not have happened? the father felt, with a sudden sickness of heart, that time had hardly converged more closely with fate in the operating room than it was narrowing in his own home. the cook shrieked when she saw him come into the kitchen with the half-hidden burden in his arms; and kathleen ran in, panting. "call the doctor," he commanded hoarsely, "and ask him what we shall do." all the stories that he had ever read about joy that killed blazed through his brain. he dared neither advance nor retreat, but stood in the middle of the kitchen, stupidly. then he saw that the quick wit of kathleen had got ahead of him; for she was on her knees arranging the crimson blankets in the empty basket. between the three, they gently laid the emaciated and disfigured dog into his own bed. nora cried into the milk she was warming for the little thing. and the doctor came in while loveliness feebly drank. "wait a minute," he said, turning on his heel. he went back to the room where the child lay among the white pillows, with her hand upon the empty gray satin cushion. absently she stroked one of the red puppies whose gold eyes gazed forever at the saucer of green milk. she lay with her lashes on her cheeks. it was the first day that she had not watched the street. her mother, sitting back at the door, was fanning her. "adah!" said the doctor cheerily. "we've got something good to tell you. your father has found--there, there, my child!--yes, your father has found him. he looks a little queer and homesick--guess he's missed you some--and you mustn't mind how he looks, for--you see, adah, we think he has lived with a--with a barber, and got shaved for nothing!" added the doctor stoutly. the doctor had told his share of professional fibs in his day, like the most of his race; but i hope he was forgiven all the others for this one's merciful and beautiful sake. "come, professor!" he called, courageously enough. but his own heart beat as hard as the father's and the mother's, when the professor slowly mounted the stairs with the basket bed and the exhausted dog within it. "love-_li-ness_!" cried the child. it was the first loud word that she had spoken for months. then they lifted the dog and put him in her arms; and they turned away their faces, for the sight of that reunion was all the nerve could bear. * * * * * so it was as it has been, and ever will be, since the beginning to the end of time. joy, the angel of delight and danger, the most precious and the most perilous of messengers to the heart that loves, came to our two little friends, and might have destroyed, but saved instead. the child was strong before the dog was; but both convalesced rapidly and sweetly enough. in a week adah threw away her little crutch. her lost voice returned, to stay. the pearl and the rose of her soft, invalid skin browned with the summer sun. peals of laughter and ecstatic barks resounded through the happy house. little feet and little paws trotted together across the dew-touched lawn. wonderful neck ribbons,--a new color every day,--tied by eager, small fingers upon the silver-gray throat of the yorkshire, flashed through the bending shrubbery in pursuit of a little glancing white figure in lawn dresses, with shade hat hanging down her back. the satin cushion with the embroidered puppies was carried out among the blushing weigelia bushes; and the twain lived and loved and played, from day-start to twilight, in the live, midsummer air. [illustration: through the bending shrubbery] sometimes she was overheard conversing with the terrier,--long, confidential talks, with which no third person intermeddled. "dearness! daintiness! loveliness! did you have a little baxet with blankets while you were away? preciousness! did they cut you meat and warm you soup for you, and comfort you? did they ever let you out to shi-shiver in 'e wet and cold? tell me, dearest-in-'e-world! tell me, love-li-ness! tell me all about it. tell me about 'e barber who shaved you hair so close,--was he _kind_ to you?" when commencement was over, and the town quiet and a little dull, something of a festive nature was thought good for adah; and the doctor, who came only as a matter of occasional ceremony now, to see his patient running away from him, proposed a party; for he was not an imaginative man, and could only suggest the conventional. "something to take her mind off the dog for a little," he said. "we must avoid anything resembling a fixed idea." "love is always a fixed idea," replied the professor of psychology, smiling. "but you may try, doctor." "i will arx loveliness," said the child quietly. she ran away with the yorkshire, and they sat among the reddening weigelia bushes for some time, conversing in low tones. then they trotted back, laughing and barking. "yes, papa, we'll have a party. but it must be a _love_liness party, mamma. and we've decided who to arx, and all about it. if you would like to know, i'll whisper you, for it's a secret to loveliness and me, until we think it over." merrily she whispered in her mother's bending ear a list of chosen guests. it ran on this wise:-the family. the carrier. kathleen and nora. the newsboy. the cabman. the doctor. some of the neighbors' little dogs and girls. not boys, because they say "sister boy!" and "sickum!" the president's white puppy. the president. nobody else. not the barber. "here's 'e invitation," she added with dignity, "and we'll have a picture of him printed on his puppy cushion at 'e top, papa." she put into her father's hand a slip of paper, on which she had laboriously and irregularly printed in pencil the following legend:- +-----------------------------+ | on satterday, after nune. | | if not stormy. | | at 2 o cluk. | | loveliness | | _at home._ | +-----------------------------+ electrotyped and printed by h. o. houghton and co. the riverside press cambridge, mass., u. s. a. _fiction and biography_ by elizabeth stuart phelps (mrs. ward) the gates ajar. 16mo, $1.50. beyond the gates. 16mo, $1.25. the gates between. 16mo, $1.25. men, women, and ghosts. stories. 16mo, $1.50. hedged in. 16mo, $1.50. the silent partner. 16mo, $1.50. the story of avis. 16mo, $1.50. sealed orders, and other stories. 16mo, $1.50. friends: a duet. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. doctor zay. 16mo, $1.25. an old maid's paradise, and burglars in paradise. 16mo, $1.25. the master of the magicians. collaborated with herbert d. ward. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. come forth! collaborated with herbert d. ward. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. fourteen to one. short stories. 16mo, $1.25. donald marcy. 16mo, $1.25. a singular life. 16mo, $1.25. the supply at saint agatha's. illustrated. square 12mo, $1.00. the madonna of the tubs. illustrated. square 12mo, boards, 75 cents. jack the fisherman. illustrated. square 12mo, boards, 50 cents. loveliness: a story. illustrated. square 12mo, $1.00. chapters from a life. illustrated. 12mo, $1.50. the story of jesus christ: an interpretation. illustrated. crown 8vo, $2.00. houghton, mifflin & co. boston and new york. * * * * * transcriber's note: the list of the author's other titles (which originally appeared before the title page) has been moved to the end. page 19, comma added ("the newsboy, the carrier"). both "cab driver" and "cab-driver" were used in this text.] mountain moggy; the stoning of the witch, by william h g kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ this is quite a short book, taking only 2.5 hours to read, yet it packs quite a punch. it is devoted to the theme of forgiveness. on a remote mountainside in wales there dwells a broken-down old woman, whom the local children believe to be a witch. as such she will live for ever, and cannot be hurt, so they amuse themselves by going to her hut, taunting her, and throwing stones at the hut. one evening one of these stones knocks a burning stick from the fire, and sets fire to the old woman, but by chance a young midshipman who has lost his way, is nearby, helps her, and takes word to the village that she is badly hurt. the local clergyman had previously been a medical doctor, and rushes up to the hut to see what can be done. one of the local women helps with old mountain moggy as well. old moggy shows true forgiveness to william, one of the doctor's sons, even though he had been one of the ringleaders in taunting her. william is very much moved by this. time goes on, and on his next leave the young midshipman brings one of his shipmates, tom, to share his holiday with him. tom tells the story of how he had been brought up, and mountain moggy tells her story, as well. the story has a happy ending, after a fashion, literally on the very last page of the book. ________________________________________________________________________ mountain moggy; the stoning of the witch, by william h g kingston. chapter one. the succession of mountain ranges, precipitous and rugged, which extend from the shores of the irish sea to the boundaries of england, rising tier above tier, and culminating, at different points, in the heights of snowdon, cader idris, and plinlimmon, gives to wild wales that romantic beauty for which it is so justly celebrated. that mountain region, too, guarded by the strong arms and undaunted hearts of its heroic sons, formed an impassable bulwark against the advance of barbarian invaders, and remained for many years, while saxon england was yet pagan, the main refuge of that christian religion to which britain owes its present greatness. yet subsequently, on account of the inaccessible nature of the country, the inhabitants, separated from their more enlightened fellow-subjects, remained for a long period almost as ignorant as their ancestors in the dark ages; and, till of late years, retained many of the grosser superstitions and customs of those times. a young traveller was climbing the side of one of these mountain ranges facing the ocean, the silvery waters of which could be discerned in the distance, when he observed, far up, a hut. solitary and cheerless it looked, scarcely to be distinguished from the sombre colouring of the surrounding ground and the rocks and bushes amid which it stood. it was weather-worn and dilapidated, and appeared altogether unfit to be the abode of a human being; indeed, a thin wreath of peat smoke ascending from an aperture in the roof alone made it likely that it was inhabited. its appearance offered no temptation to the young stranger to turn aside from the path he was pursuing, and he continued his ascent till he gained a rocky pinnacle, from whence he could watch the sun dipping into the ocean; and hence he could look down, on one side, over a confused mass of barren hills and fertile valleys, rocks, and precipices, heights crowned with trees, peaks bare and rugged, and glens with sparkling torrents dashing and foaming amid them; while on the other side, towards the ocean, he saw before him a wide and smiling valley, with a stream meandering through it, and green meadows and groves of trees, from among which a church spire reared its pointed summit; and near it a cheerful village of white-washed cottages and other dwellings of more pretension; and there were sheep feeding, and cattle wending their way slowly homeward, all speaking of peace and security. "i could not have selected a more lovely spot to spend an evening in, had i been allowed a choice," said the young traveller to himself, as he took his seat on the highest point he could find. "as i cannot find my home, i could not be better off. i thought that i knew perfectly well the place my family have got to, but i am fairly puzzled with the welsh names. i ought to have kept my brother's letters in which he had clearly written it down. whether it is twrog-y-bwlch, or llwyd-y-cynfael, or dwyryd-y-ffetiog, i am sure i don't know. i hit the right post-town, of that i am nearly certain. there's a village in the bottom. i might go down and inquire, but then i probably should not find my way back again over the mountain to the inn where i left my traps. i hope that i may hit it off to-morrow. it's very tantalising, and provoking too, to be so near home, and yet not able to find it. it was very stupid to lose the letter. they do say midshipmen are very careless chaps, and that i am no exception to the rule. well, i have no reason to grumble. i haven't enjoyed such a sight as this for many a day, though it's something like being mast-headed, except with the difference that i may go down when i like. i should enjoy it more if i had a messmate to talk to about it. the air is wonderfully fine up here. it makes me feel inclined to shout out at the top of my voice, `rule, britannia, britannia rules the waves, and britons never, never, never will be slaves,' hurra! that's it. hurra, boys! `we'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.'" thus the happy young midshipman gave full scope to the exuberance of his spirits, feeling very sure that no one was listening to him. as he ceased, a curiously wild, mournful strain struck his ear, ascending from below him on the west, and forming a strange contrast to the merry notes he had been singing. it was like the noonday song of the joyous lark, as he soars into the blue sky, answered by the midnight croak of the raven as he sits on the old abbey's ivy-covered wall. he listened. it seemed rather like a continued shriek than a song, or the fearful cry of the fabled banshee as she flits by the family mansion in ireland, to warn the inmates, as is ignorantly supposed, that one of their number must prepare to quit the world, its pleasures and its sorrows. the young midshipman's mind was, however, too well trained to indulge even for a moment in any such fancies, for he owed his education to a wise, religious, and loving father. yet he was sorely puzzled at first to account for the wild strains which floated through the air, till he caught sight of the ruined hut he had observed on his way up, and discerned a large rent in the roof, through which he supposed the sounds uttered by its inmate must be ascending. he was too far off to distinguish the words; but that there were words uttered, and probably as strange as the music itself, if music he could call it, he was very certain. now the strains rose to a high pitch, now they swelled, now decreased into a low moan scarcely audible. "some poor mad creature," said the midshipman to himself. "i should think nobody but a mad person would live in such a place as that; in truth, if anybody had to live there, its solitude and its forlorn condition would be enough to drive them out of their senses; it would me, i know; only i should forthwith set to work to make it habitable. to be sure, i shouldn't be worse off than tom and i were when we were cast away on that coral island in the pacific, except that there we had summer all the year round and abundance of food of one sort or another. here it must be terribly cold in winter, and as for food, a person would soon starve if he were compelled to live only on what the hillside produces." the young midshipman had got into the habit of talking to himself, either during his night watches, or, it is just possible, while at the mast-head, at which post of honour, in some ships, the young gentlemen of his rank used to spend a considerable portion of their existence. the strange singing continued for some time. as he looked down from his rocky height he saw a number of persons coming up the hill, apparently from the village towards the hut. they appeared from their movements to be children. they got close to the hut, and were hid from his sight. now they seemed to be running away--now they returned, leaping and shouting, so that their shrill young voices reached to where he sat. suddenly he saw them all running down the hill, just as children run, jumping and pushing against each other, and evidently in high glee. the midshipman was considering that it was time for him to return to his inn for the night, when a loud shriek, which came from the direction of the hut, struck his ear, and he saw a bright light streaming through the aperture in the roof. "something is the matter," he exclaimed, as jumping from his seat he ran down the mountain towards the hut: "the cottage or its inmate is on fire; i must do my best to put out the flame, at all events." chapter two. an old woman was the sole occupant of that cheerless hut on the bleak hillside just described. she sat, on that evening, on a low stool before the hearth, on which a few clods of peat, smouldering slowly with some scarcely dry sticks on the top of them, served as an apology for a fire, and threw out the smallest possible heat to warm the shrivelled palms held up ever and anon before it. as she sat, occasionally rocking herself backwards and forwards, she sang, in a voice which sometimes sounded high and shrill, till it rose into almost a shriek, and then again sank down into a long-continued moan. she uttered words often with great rapidity, though even the poor creature herself might scarcely have been able to explain the burden of her song. the gentle breeze, pleasant in the cheerful sunshine, sighed through the rents in the tottering walls, and amid the branches of the solitary, crooked pine-tree, which bent its riven head over the building, its distorted limbs creaking and groaning as they swayed to and fro; while an owl shrieked his twit-to-hoo to the departing sun, as he prepared to go abroad with other creatures of the night in search of prey; and cold grey twilight covered the mountain-side. there still sat the lone old woman, crouching over the mocking fire. dark and drear was the hovel-floor it had none, save the damp, cold earth--nor was there a chimney or other outlet for the smoke, except a hole which a branch of the ill-favoured pine-tree had made in the roof, in one of his most restless moods. more light came through this hole than through the window, the broken panes of which were stuffed with rags, dry grass, and heather, though not tight enough to prevent the wind from whistling, and the rain, snow, and sleet from driving in upon the wretched inmate. except where the solitary gleam of cold evening light fell upon the crouching figure of poor mountain moggy, all else in the hovel was gloom and obscurity. little, however, did moggy heed the weather. winter or summer, chilling blasts or warm sunshine, the changeful seasons brought no change to her. her brain was on fire, her heart cold and forlorn, "icy cold, utterly forlorn and deserted," so she says, and all feeling for outward things has long since departed. why does moggy start, clasp her bony hands, open wide her almost sightless eyes, and mutter, "yes, yes--that's it. forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us. but it's hard, very hard to forgive our foes. does god find it so hard to forgive me?" then again she starts off in her wild song. once more she is silent, and listens to some noises outside. she seems sorely distressed. again and again she starts. the noises increase, children's feet and voices are heard around the hut, and--is it possible?--a stone comes whizzing through the glassless window across the darkened space, and a heavy thump announces that it has found a destination; another, and another follows--some come in sideways, and one striking the window bar glances off and reaches the hearth, whence it drives before it a lighted stick which sends out sparks on every side and causes a faint gleam of light in the hitherto gloomy room. shouts of laughter accompany each stone; but the sun has set, the sonorous bell of the distant church gives notice, too, that evening has arrived. the children's ears catch the sound. "away, away! home, home!" they shout, as they run off from the solitary hut. out of its window at that moment a bright light shone forth, but they did not heed it as they chased each other down the steep mountain-side, crying out, "good-night, old witch. we'll stone you again, old polly forty rags. if we hear any more of your witcheries we'll make you wish you'd kept out of this country. good-night, and bad luck to you, old mog." notwithstanding the words they used, there was terror in the voices of most of the children. some of them shouted, "she's coming after us! the witch is coming after us! she's mounting her broom, and out she'll ride. run--run--run!" on this the urchins shrieked louder, and ran faster and faster down the slope. one boy, more daring than the rest, and superior in appearance to most of them, lingered behind, and finding a stone remaining in his pocket of those with which he had, like his companions, provided himself to attack the old woman, he turned round once more, and flung it in the direction of the hut, saying, as he did so, "that's my parting gift, old moggy. ha, ha! i see the old lady is going to have a feast tonight, for she has lighted up her banqueting-hall. but i would rather not be one of the guests, though." pleased with what he considered his own wit, he shouted out again, and ran after his idle companions, a prolonged cry which came from the hut hastening his steps, for he was in no degree free from the ignorant superstition of the rest of the urchin troop. chapter three. a good log was burning brightly on the hearth, and filling with its glowing, cheerful light the dining-room of dr morgan, the new rector of the parish, where he with his wife and the younger members of his family were collected. the rector sat in his easy-chair, his book had fallen from his hand, for he was dozing after a hard day's work of physical and mental labour in the abodes of the sick and afflicted of his widely-scattered parish. his wife had a cradle by her side, but she held its usual occupant in her arms, putting it to sleep with a low lullaby, while a group of older children, boys and girls, sat at the table variously occupied. charles and anna having some fresh foreign postage-stamps, arranged them in a book according to the different countries from whence they came, and were preparing a short account of each--a plan their father had recommended, so as to give an interest to this otherwise very useless pursuit. "this must surely be american," said anna, holding up a stamp. "how like a well-done photograph is the head. can it be that of washington?" on this william, who was engaged professedly in learning his lessons for the next day, looked up. the rest decided that although the stamp was american, as it was the head of a somewhat sour-looking old gentleman it could not be that of the great washington, but of one of the later presidents of the united states. the children were talking in an undertone, so as not to disturb their father. "old polly forty rags, the witch, came from america," said william. "but it was from some place which the english don't know about; a wild, barren sea-coast, just like the mountain-side up there, where they say that she used to practise her witch tricks on the vessels which came near, and many and many's the one she has sent to the bottom or driven on the rocks." "how did she practise her witch tricks?" asked arthur, who did not very clearly understand his brother's meaning. "how!" exclaimed william. "that's more than i can tell. i'm only repeating what those who know all about the matter say." "isn't she a very wicked old woman then?" asked mabel, with simplicity. "wicked? i should think so! as wicked an old hag as you ever heard of," answered william. "it would be a good thing to rid the world of such a monster; but they say she can't be killed; not if she was soused over head and ears in the river or thrown into the fire. that's the nature of witches." anna, who was giving the finishing rub to a stamp just put in, heard the last words, and, looking up, inquired with a slight tone of irony in her voice, "what did you say about witches, willie? who has been telling you those remarkably wise things about them?" "oh, the people about here, and the other fellows at school," answered willie in a low tone and somewhat hesitating manner, for he was not fond of having to reply to his sister's pointed questions. "oh, the people about here," said anna, repeating his words. "is it possible they can believe such nonsense?" willie did not reply. "anna wouldn't think it nonsense if she was to see old polly forty rags," he muttered. after being silent for some time he added, "if ever there was an old witch she is one." "you said she came from america, willie. why, that's where frank's ship has been to, isn't it?" said arthur. "of course it is," cried willie, as if a bright thought had occurred to him. "i wonder whether he heard anything of her there? he'll soon be at home, and then he'll tell us." "if she didn't send his ship on the rocks," remarked arthur. "she'd better not have tried to do it, or we'd pay her off for it," said willie, as if speaking of some heroic purpose. "but i thought you said that she couldn't be killed; and if she couldn't be killed, she couldn't be hurt, i should think," observed arthur, who was called the philosopher of the family. "well, i don't know: they say witches can't be killed, and that old polly forty rags has lived hundreds and hundreds of years," said willie, justly considered the most thoughtless of the family. "nothing does hurt her either. you can't think what fun it is to hear the stones bounce against her, just as if she was made of straw. if anything could hurt her, i know a big stone i sent in at her window this evening would have given her a cracker she wouldn't forget in a hurry. it's my belief that she didn't care for it more than she would if it had been a pea out of a pea-shooter." anna's attention was again drawn to her brother's whispered conversation. "what are you saying about throwing stones?" she asked. "at whom have you been throwing stones?" "why at old mountain moggy, of course, or polly forty rags as they call her. who else should i throw at? she's as hard as she is wicked; and they say she has a whole suit of elephant's skin under her rags, and that's one of the reasons the stones don't hurt her." anna had been so busy examining some little three-cornered cape of good hope stamps, that she had not till now clearly comprehended what willie was speaking about. "you throw stones at mountain moggy!" she said in an incredulous tone. "of course we do, and awful fun we had this very evening," answered william, boldly. "we heard them go in at the window and thump against the old witch. the clock struck, and we had to run away, or we should have given her more of it. but it was just as well that we were off, for some of the fellows saw her lighting up her house for her witcheries, and there's no doubt but that she'd have sent down some of her imps after us if we hadn't made good use of our legs to get off." "what do you really mean, willie?" said anna, now quite interested. "you cannot tell me that you have been stoning that poor miserable old woman on the mountain?" "haven't we though," said willie, carelessly, crossing his arms on the table and beginning to pore over his book. "willie says that she's a wicked black witch, with red eyes and a blue tongue," remarked little mabel. "don't stuff the little ones' heads with such abominable nonsense, will," said charles, looking up from his book. "there's nothing i hate to hear so much; it's wrong, and you have no business to do it." "no, indeed; it's very wrong to tell stories about her, even in fun," remarked anna. "nonsense and stories, indeed!" cried willie, indignantly. "they are neither one nor the other. if she isn't black she's near it; and i never said she had red eyes and a blue tongue; but if you two were to hear her screech and howl, as i have, you'd confess fast enough that she was a witch." and willie turned back to his book with the air of an injured person. poor boy, he had not had the advantages of his brothers and sisters, though worldly people would have said that his prospects were far better than theirs. they had been carefully trained in the way they should walk from their earliest days by their parents, who, though not possessed of worldly wealth, felt that they might yet give them the richest of heritages. william had not, like the others, been brought up entirely by his parents. his godmother, miss ap reece, had offered to leave him her property, provided she might have entire charge of him, and his parents somewhat hastily consented. by her he had been well fed and well clothed, but not well educated. she was capricious, fond of gossip, and self-indulgent; and continually she would, in order to be rid of him, send him down amongst the servants, who, as her country residence was in a remote village, were more than usually ignorant. there he imbibed many of their prejudices, and learned to believe in many of their superstitions. meanwhile, happily, the good seed sown in his earlier days was not entirely eradicated, though he and his brothers and sisters always exhibited in their subsequent lives the different systems of cultivation to which they had been subjected. the residence of william with miss ap reece was brought to an abrupt termination by the failure of the county bank, in which most of her money was placed. her means were in consequence so straitened that she was obliged to ask dr morgan to take william home. it was soon after this that the conversation took place which we have already recorded. mrs morgan had been too much absorbed with her infant, and a book she occasionally read, to listen to the undertone conversation carried on by the rest of her children. her husband continued dozing in his chair, but his sleep was soon interrupted, as was the conversation of the young people, by the violent ringing of the hall-door bell. a servant came in directly afterwards to say that the doctor was wanted immediately. dr morgan at once left the room, and when william, sent by mrs morgan, went out to inquire why he was summoned, it was found that he had quitted the house without leaving any message to say where he had gone. so startled were the younger ones by the sudden noise, that arthur upset the gum-bottle over the beautiful new stamp-book. the little fellow looked very much alarmed at what he had done, and possibly in some families angry words and blows would have warned him to be more careful for the future; but charles and anna had learned that "he that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city"; and the constant practice of this principle made it now easy for them to say to their brother, who sat crying and looking very sorrowful, "never mind, little fellow; we shall soon make it clean." then warm water had to be procured, and the injured book cleansed, and a few more stamps stuck in, and the rest put away, and scraps and writing materials cleared off the table. books were then got out, and lessons looked over for the next day. mrs morgan left the room for some time to hear the younger children say their prayers, and to see them put to bed. when she re-entered the room, dr morgan had not returned. dr morgan's prolonged absence did not create any alarm. he was a doctor of divinity, but he had also, in his younger days, devoted much time to the study of medicine and surgery, so that he was qualified to become a regular practitioner. however, he had taken orders in the church of england, but he never regretted the time he had spent in walking the hospitals, for, biding his time, he had now a means of access, which he otherwise might have lacked, to even the most hardened and profligate. those who would not have called him in as a christian minister to advise them regarding their souls, were thankful to get him to attend to the ailments of their bodies. once in a house he never left it without making himself beloved and respected by its inmates, and insuring for himself, and for his glad tidings, a favourable reception. although he was not looked upon as a popular preacher, it was observed that wherever he went there was a marked change in the religious conduct of the people. such was dr morgan. his great difficulty was to give that superintendence to the education of his children which he felt they required, without at the same time neglecting the multifarious duties of his position. his parishioners gained what his family lost. but the strict discipline by which he endeavoured to make amends for the want of that constant watchfulness so important in training the youthful mind did not answer the same purpose. yet after all he could do, he knew that he must fail altogether, had he not gone daily, constantly, to the throne of grace for strength and wisdom for himself, and for protection and guidance for those committed to his charge. mrs morgan had returned to the sitting-room; the elder children had put down their books. it was bed-time. they always waited for family prayers. when the doctor was absent mrs morgan or charles read them, but as he was momentarily expected, his wife and son were unwilling to usurp his office. at length the hall-door bell rang. it was the doctor. he appeared unusually sad and serious. the family assembled. his voice, generally so firm, trembled as he prayed. when he rose from his knees, shading his eyes with his hand, he said, after he had given them his blessing-"go to bed immediately, and be up betimes, for i wish you to breakfast an hour earlier than usual, and to accompany me directly afterwards to visit a sick, and i fear a dying person." the younger children would all have been well pleased at this invitation, had it not been for their father's very grave manner; yet no one ventured to ask him the cause of this, and it was, perhaps, not without a slight misgiving that some of the party laid their heads on their pillows that night. chapter four. dr morgan gave no explanation of what had occurred till charles and anna had left the room. he then called his anxious and ever helpful wife to his side. "i much want your assistance, dearest maria," he said in a tone which showed the depressed state of his feelings; "i was summoned just now to visit a person in a most melancholy condition. you have heard of the forlorn old creature--moggy, she is called by the country people--who lives in that wretched hovel we can see high up on the side of the mountain. she has been dreadfully burnt." the doctor's wife, ever ready with help and sympathy, in spite of the numerous maternal cares to which she had to attend, immediately exclaimed, "poor old creature! i am sure that she much wants comforts. shall i not at once send up some sheets and cotton wool? and is there anything else you can think of?" "the comfort that is wanted, dear maria, is nearer home," answered the doctor, taking his wife's hand. "i have a sad story to tell you. on reaching old moggy's hovel i found her with her hands and feet horribly burnt; so much so, that, should she survive, which i think it possible she may not, she will, i fear, never recover their use. i found that sturdy old welshwoman, jenny davis, watching by her, and tending her with the care of a daughter. after i had dressed the poor creature's burnt limbs, and done all i could to alleviate her sufferings, jenny told me that when crossing the mountain that evening on her way home, and having nearly reached the bottom, she observed an unusual light streaming out of the window of old mountain moggy's hovel. believing that the hut must be on fire, she hurried up towards it, though she feared that she should be too late to render any effectual assistance to its half-witted inmate. so indeed she would, had not another person most providentially arrived before her. on looking in at the window as she passed she saw a young gentleman--a tourist, she supposed--kneeling down by the side of the poor creature; his great-coat was off, he having with it extinguished the flames with which he said that he had found her almost surrounded. happily, from the great number of under-garments she wore, only the outer rags had caught. he had been sitting on a rock above the hovel, and hearing a scream, and seeing a light break forth through a hole in the roof, he ran down, on the chance of something being wrong, and was undoubtedly the means of saving the poor creature from instant destruction. he and jenny together lifted moggy on to her straw bed, and in so doing a piece of burnt stick still smouldering fell out from among her clothes. this was evidently what had set her on fire, but how it had come there, was the question. jenny was loud in her praise of the young gentleman. he was so gentle, and kind, and didn't mind touching the dirty old creature, and helping to place her in an easy position. he took out his purse, and observing that he hadn't much money, he gave her a handful of shillings, as he said, to help to pay the doctor and to buy her some proper food and clothing. fortunately he saw a boy crossing the mountain, and running after him he gave him a shilling to go and call a doctor. the lad naturally came to me. the young gentleman would not tell jenny his name, saying, `names don't signify.' he had to get back to his inn on the other side of the mountain, and as it was growing dark he could wait no longer; but, as jenny said, ran off as fast as a deer up the steep, singing and jumping as merry as a lark. he told jenny that, if he could, he would come back to learn how the poor old creature might be getting on, but that he feared he should be living too far off to reach her on foot. this account was, i own, like a gleam of sunshine, though it threw into a yet darker shade the sad account of an act of which i am compelled to tell you. having dressed old moggy's hurts, i observed several stones, some lying on the bed, and others scattered about the floor of the hut. a large one i especially remarked on the hearth, and which i had no doubt had struck the embers of the fire, and been the immediate cause of its bursting into a flame, and igniting the poor creature's clothes. i asked jenny if she could account for the stones being, as they were, scattered about in every direction; and she then gave me a history of a piece of barbarous cruelty, the result of a thoughtlessness and an amount of ignorance i should scarcely have expected in the actors. jenny, though in most respects a true welshwoman, is free from the ignorant superstition which forms so sad an ingredient in the character of the uneducated peasants of these mountain districts, and was grieved when she found that poor old moggy had become the victim of the gross superstition of her neighbours, by whom she is reputed to be a witch who has flown across the sea from distant parts for the purpose of taking possession of the wretched hovel on the mountain. `i do think, sir,' said jenny, `if the poor creature had had the power of flying, she'd have flown to a better sort of a place than this poor shed, scarcely fit to shelter a gipsy's donkey from a snow-storm. when once the mind strays away from the truth, it's impossible to say what follies it won't believe. people don't seem to see the foolishness and nonsense of their own stones. if they'd seen her, as i have, in her right mind, they'd know that a friend of the evil one couldn't talk as she talks; and as for flying, poor old creature! she can scarcely drag one foot after the other,' jenny davis is a thoughtful and sensible woman, though her exterior is somewhat rough," observed the doctor, who was evidently unwilling, sooner than he could, to repeat the story he had heard. he continued, however: "jenny gave little heed to these foolish stories, till one day one of her boys came from playing on the mountain-side, with a scared look, and almost breathless, saying that the witch had run after him, shrieking out, and uttering the most dreadful threats. on cross-questioning the child, she found that he did not actually see moggy running after him, but that his companions said she was, while the shrieks and cries were the result of his imagination. she determined, however, to go and see the old woman herself. being a woman of action, she immediately set off. when she got near the hovel she found a number of boys yelling, hooting, and throwing stones at it. on her demanding why they did so, they said that the old witch was within, and had done them all some mischief. she had stolen the ducks of the mother of one of them, had milked the cows of a second, and a third declared that she had prevented the butter from coming in his mother's churn. one urchin asserted that his father's horse had died in consequence of her incantations, and another, that she had given his younger brother the croup; indeed, every one had some sort of complaint to make, and vehemently declared that they would pay her out. whilst she was arguing with them the door opened, and old moggy appeared, an unattractive figure, bent with age, covered with rags, and her countenance weather-beaten and scared, and expressive of a melancholy, wild, and restless spirit. the boys, on catching a momentary glimpse of her (for she instantly again closed the door), turned round, and scampered down the mountain. jenny confessed that she at first felt inclined to follow them, but once more the door slowly opened, and the poor creature looked out to ascertain if her tormentors had gone off. not seeing them she came out, and jenny heard her in a plaintive voice thanking god for having delivered her from her enemies; then she broke into a low wail, the words she uttered being disconnected and incoherent. she was on her knees, with her hands clasped and her countenance upturned towards heaven. jenny's heart was more touched than she had expected. going up to the old woman, she said, `these bad boys have been teasing you sadly, i fear, moggy.' a vacant stare was at first the only reply she received, but on repeating her words moggy seemed to gather their meaning, and answered, `ay, sadly, sadly; but ye knows what we have been taught to say by one who loved us, and died for us. "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us." so ye see that i forgive them, and i pray for them. i pray that they may never be poor and helpless as i am, that they may never be so afflicted in mind and body, and that no evil may fall on their heads; and god will hear my prayers just as much as he will the prayers of the great, and wealthy, and learned, and young, and strong, and happy,' then she suddenly stopped, and began to shriek wildly and wring her hands, moaning out, `no father, no husband, no child--all, all gone. oh, my child, my boy, my hope, my pride!' jenny tried to soothe and comfort her, and after a long time succeeded in leading her back into the hut, where she became more tranquil, but still apparently was unable to give any connected account of herself. jenny then, from the basket she was carrying to market, gave her some food, for which she looked grateful, but said nothing. after this, by little acts of kindness, jenny gradually obtained the helpless creature's confidence; and daily, whenever able, went at the same hour to disperse the boys, who after school hours have, it sterns, been in the habit of assembling, for their amusement, to torment her. jenny had often threatened to complain to the parents of the boys, and, should they not attend to her complaints, to place the whole case before the magistrates. she had complained to several whose children she recognised, but they either took no notice of what she said, or were very angry with her; and she had therefore resolved, the next time she found any boys ill-treating the old woman, to put her threat into execution. `yes, sir, and that i must do, even though some be gentlefolks' sons; one be your son, sir, and sorry i have to speak it. it's that young master william of yours, and he is the most daring and outrageous of the lot,' she added. `it's a shame, sir, i'm sure you'll allow, that they should go on so; for a more harmless sorrow-stricken soul i have never met in my life than poor old moggy here. all she's gone through would make a book, and it's not to be wondered at that with all her trials, and care, and the cruelty she meets, she is often crazy like. maybe she's listening now, and knows what i say, for at times she has got as much sense as any one; and it's then that she feels her loneliness, and poverty, and wretchedness, and that makes her go off again as bad as ever, so it seems to me, sir.' i would not at first believe the truth of the accusation brought against william, but on closely questioning jenny, i found that, without doubt, it is unfortunately the fact that one of our children is capable of thus cruelly ill-treating one of his fellow-creatures; and that he is so ignorant as not to be aware of his crime; indeed he has a vague idea that he was rather performing a meritorious act." after sitting silent for some time, and grieving over the delinquencies of her son, mrs morgan, like a tender mother, endeavoured to find some excuse for his conduct; for one of the hardest trials which parents--who have learned to look upon sin in its true light--have to bear, is to discover that any one of their children is guilty of a crime. the doctor, however, upright himself, and having a clear and distinct view of right and wrong, would not allow himself to find any excuses for the crime, though anxious as his wife for the good of the criminal; nor did he fail to blame himself, as mrs morgan blamed herself, for allowing their child, during the most impressible years of his life, to go from under their charge. "still," argued the doctor, "william has been told what is right and wrong; he has read the scriptures. he has infringed one of the chief commandments in a most cruel and cowardly manner. i must not be indulgent towards a crime which, if his victim dies, the legal authority of his country will pronounce to be manslaughter. i will endeavour, however, first to ascertain how far he is sensible of his fault by showing him its consequence. should he give no proof of penitence i must resort to severer measures. i purpose to take all the children with me to-morrow morning to old moggy's hut, and i trust that the sight william will there witness will prove, as it must if his heart is not hardened, a sufficient punishment for his act." "i hope and pray it may," said mrs morgan. "i fear, though, that miss ap reece was most injudicious in her management of him, and that he has now been allowed a long course of self-indulgence; and i believe that nothing more effectually hardens the heart and makes it indifferent to the feelings of others, to their sorrows and physical sufferings, than such a mode of treatment." long did the doctor and his wife talk over the subject, and then kneeling, they earnestly placed the matter before the throne of grace, seeking from thence guidance and strength. how little, in many instances, are prosperous, healthy, happy children aware that the chief cause of their prosperity, health, and happiness, is to be found in the earnest, trustful prayers of god-fearing parents. unhappy the children who have not praying parents! thrice blessed those who have, and who, at the same time, set high value on their parents' prayers, and learn betimes to pray aright, and to pray for them as well as for themselves. chapter five. the sky was bright and blue; a fresh breeze, invigorating and pure, came from the distant sea; the sun, just risen above the mountain tops, shone down with undiminished lustre on the smiling valley, and all nature sparkled with life and light, as the young morgans, having finished breakfast, assembled at the hall-door to accompany their father on his proposed walk. the elder ones remarked that he looked graver than usual, but hoped that the fresh air and exercise would soon restore his spirits. they all enjoyed a walk with him, for he generally took care to make it interesting, by giving them information on one or more of the various natural objects they met with. there was not a tree, a flower, or a stone, about which he had not something to say which was well worth hearing. charles called them "father's peripatetic lectures." this morning, however, the doctor was unusually silent. his daughter anna walked by his side, affectionately waiting, in the hopes of an opportunity to bring forward some subject to enliven him. charles also accompanied him. the rest of the children kept behind, wondering where he was going; willie especially sauntering at some distance, and thinking that he would rather have been out by himself or with some of the boys with whom he had lately associated. charles, finding that his father was not inclined to give one of his lectures, bethought him of a subject likely to interest him. "i say, father, i wonder when frank will be here. his ship was expected at plymouth every day. i sent a letter for him to fox, giving him full directions how he was to find his way here, so that if he could get leave he might come up at once. my only fear is that he may not have any cash for his journey. i begged fox to advance it, but frank may not think of asking him. he'll have a great deal to tell us about the pacific and the coral islands, the sandwich islanders, and the other natives, once horrible savages, now mostly christians. and those people of fiji--the black cannibals of the pacific as they were called--i want to know if they are as bad as has been represented." "yes, your brother frank will have much to say," remarked the doctor, and again relapsed into silence. "i hope he may bring tom holman with him. i should like to see the man who saved his life, that i might thank him as he deserves for his bravery," said anna. "dear frank, if it had not been for holman we might never have seen him again." "yes, indeed, i should like to see holman, the fine and gallant fellow," exclaimed charles. "the puzzle will be how to get him here. i know that seamen have difficulty in obtaining leave till their ship is paid off, and then there is the expense of the journey. however, i will do my best to manage that." "and i will help you," said anna. "i will sell some of my fowls, and the egg money of last year, which i have never spent, and old mrs taffety's present, which mamma says i have a right to do just what i like with. oh, there will be no difficulty about money matters if frank can get leave for tom holman. it will be very nice to see him and to thank him, though it will be difficult to thank him enough." dr morgan had not joined in the conversation of his elder children. he appeared to be absorbed in his own thoughts. once or twice he glanced round to ascertain if william was following. he continued for some time along the road leading to the village, and then suddenly turned into a path leading up the mountain. william began to feel not very comfortable when he saw this. still his father might possibly intend to cross over the mountain. he lingered still farther behind, and when he saw him turn off again up the uneven path which led to poor old moggy's hut he was strongly inclined to run away. surely his father would not wish to go inside the hut. what could he have to say to the old woman? however, go on he must. fortunately, charles dropped behind the doctor, and anna and william hurried up to him. "charley, is papa really going into the witch's den?" he exclaimed in a tone of alarm. "she will be doing him some harm, i am sure." "nonsense, willie," answered charles. "i did not fancy that a fellow with a head on his shoulders could be such a goose." "goose or no goose, i don't wish to fall into the old witch's clutches, nor papa, nor any of us either," muttered william, as charles walked on again rapidly to catch up their father, and to give a helping hand to the two younger ones. willie's foolish fears increased when he saw his father walk up to the door of the hut, and still more alarmed did he become when the doctor, lifting the latch, went in, and then turned round and beckoned to him to enter, though arthur and mabel were allowed to remain outside. most unwillingly he obeyed; but when he got inside the door, not a step farther could he bring himself to advance, and from the furtive glances which he ever and anon cast through the doorway, it was very evident that he would make his escape if he dared. even charles and anna drew back from the pitiable object which met their sight. the light streaming through the window fell on a low pallet, on which, covered with a sheet, lay the form of mountain moggy. by her side sat jenny davis, whom william recognised as her champion who had threatened him and his companions with condign punishment if they ever again attacked the old woman. something dreadful was going to happen-william scarcely knew what. a glance his father cast at him made him understand that he must not move. of course jenny davis had told everything. after exchanging a few words with jenny, the doctor lifted the sheet from off moggy's feet. "william, come here and witness the effects of your cruelty," he said in a stern voice, very unlike that in which he was accustomed to address his children. "now look at those poor burnt hands. you, and those with you, i have no doubt, caused all the pain this poor woman is now suffering; and should she die, at whose door, think you, will the guilt lie?" william could not answer. the doctor, taking out some salves he had brought with him, began to dress the poor creature's limbs. anna could not refrain from tears, while she went forward to assist her father and kind jenny. william stood by without uttering a word, and feeling as he had never felt before. when the sufferer's hands and feet were once more covered up, the doctor directed charles to call in the younger children. "listen to what jenny davis will tell you," he said, when they were all assembled round the bed. "ah, sir, i have a tale to tell which would soften a heart of stone; but i hope none of these young people have hearts of that sort," remarked jenny, fixing her eyes on william. "she has told me how it all happened, and it may be a warning to that young gentleman never to throw stones at any human being, even though they may be deserted; or, for that matter, at any living creature. they cannot tell where the stone may strike, and what harm it may do. well, sir, old moggy was sitting at her poor fire when those cruel boys came up here again to play off their cowardly tricks. they talk of her imps doing mischief, though they were the imps, and they were doing the mischief, i'm thinking. stone after stone was thrown in on her. at last one struck the hearth and sent a burning stick under her feet. while she stooped down to remove it, another large one gave her a blow on the head which must have stunned her, for she fell to the ground and her clothes began to burn. the agony she was suffering brought her in some degree to her senses again, when she found herself surrounded by flames, and believed that she was going to be burnt to death. there was nobody near that she knew of to help her, and she couldn't help herself; she knew that, so she prayed for the help of god. just then the door burst open, and the young gentleman i told you of ran in, and throwing his coat over her, put out the fire. i came in soon after, and helped to put her on the bed. i think that the young gentleman burnt his own hands not a little in tearing off the burning clothes which his coat couldn't cover, but he said it was just nothing, and wouldn't let me look at them even before he went away." "what a brave, noble fellow!" exclaimed charles. "i should like to have made his acquaintance." "so indeed should i," cried anna. "do not you know his name, jenny?" "no, my sweet miss, i don't," answered the welshwoman. "but i think i know where it's written, and that's where the names of the cruel, and selfish, and heartless will never be found." "god bless him! god bless him!" said a deep voice from the bed. the children started; it was the voice of old moggy. they had not supposed she was listening, much less that she was capable of speaking. the rest of the children remembered william's remarks on the previous evening, and all eyes were turned on him. he stood white as ashes, and trembling in every limb. while they had before been speaking, the window had been darkened by a person passing before it. william had remarked it, and he had taken it into his head that it was that of a person come to carry him off to prison for his misdeeds. the rest had been so interested in what they were hearing that they had not observed that a stranger was near them. "ye said that she knows the truth; ay, that she does, and practises what the word of truth tells us; for instead of railing she blesses, and from her heart forgives them who have ill-treated her," said jenny. "poor, harmless, weary soul that she is! those young ones who stand there can know little of the sorrows and trials she has been called on to endure. she has seen loss of parents, and property, and husband, and child, and her good name, and all that we think makes life pleasant; and now that she has found her way to this lone place, to die in peace, the evil one has made these lads come up here to mock and torment her. i mind reading of a good prophet going to a certain village in a foreign land, and the lads came out and mocked him, and called him old bald-head, and what do ye think happened? why, two she-bears came out of a wood and destroyed forty and two of them. i don't mean to say that old moggy is like the old prophet, but yet she is aged and friendless; and those who abuse and ill-treat her are, in the eyes of the almighty, doing a great wickedness; that they are, i'm sure." while jenny was speaking, the lips of the sufferer were seen to move; and in the same deep tones which had before been heard, the words came forth, "but forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. yes, yes: oh, i forgive them; they didn't know any better; they thought i was a witch; they thought i could work charms, and had bad power. oh! they would not have done as they did if they had known of my weary, weary, aching heart; my poor boy underneath the sea--my husband drowned before my eyes--my sad, sad days, my sleepless nights-my wandering brain--my hunger and thirst--my wretched, wretched life for long, long lonesome years. all these things you did not know of, young gentleman, when you and your companions threw stones at me. don't think i would curse you for it. no, no. come near, my children. i bless you, ay! from my heart, all of you. you who ill-treated me and you who never did me harm." slowly and reluctantly, with awe in their countenances, the children drew still nearer to the bed. the old woman's voice had dropped through weakness and exhaustion, yet she continued-"my lot has been very hard, very hard; yet i have had a friend above who has upheld and comforted me. and yet i have had many trials, many trials, many trials. my brain reels and wanders. i think of my husband and my boy, my only boy, many fathoms deep beneath the cold, cold waves, and then my head turns and my heart changes into stone, and i forget where i am and what has happened." the old woman began to ramble, and suddenly burst forth in the wild song which she had been singing on the previous evening. jenny davis shook her head, observing, "she'll not be right after this for some time. when the fit comes on her there's no more sense to be looked for till she has had some rest." "i will send her up a quieting draught and some wholesome food, which will probably do her more good than any medicine," said the doctor, taking anna's hand, and motioning the others to move towards the door. william had hitherto not spoken a word. "papa, may i take her up the medicine and food?" he said, and big tears rolled down his cheeks. "yes, william, you may," was the answer. dr morgan and his children had got outside the hut, and were on their way down the steep side of the mountain, when they heard a cheery shout behind them. turning round, anna instantly sprang up the hill, and in another moment was in the arms of a young gentleman who was running down to meet them. "it is frank! it is frank!" burst from the lips of the rest. "why, father! charley! who would have thought it?" cried the young stranger, warmly greeting them; "and willie, and mabel, and arthur! what big people they have become! i little expected to have found you so soon; and you were in that poor old woman's hut, too! well, that is curious! the truth is, i am lost, or rather i couldn't find you. i mislaid charley's letter, and though i thought i knew the name of the place, i found, when i got into the country, that i hadn't the slightest notion of what it was; and after wandering about for a couple of days, i determined to write to old evans, at bangor, and to await his answer at the inn on the other side of the mountain." "then, frank, you are the young gentleman who saved old moggy's life," said anna. "how delightful!" "oh, did i? i merely threw my jacket over the poor creature's legs, and put out the fire which had caught her clothes and would have burnt her," answered the midshipman. "i am very glad i was of use, though it's not a thing to be proud of. it was very fortunate, however, for me, for i don't know how otherwise i should have found you. there is one thing i should like to do, and that is to thrash the heartless young monkeys who threw stones at the poor woman. if i can find them i will." william looked down, overwhelmed with shame, and almost wished that frank _would_ thrash him. "then what brought you back to the hut, my boy?" asked the doctor. "oh, to look after the poor old woman," said frank, "i understood from the nurse--jenny davis she told me was her name--that she has no friends, and so i thought it was but right and proper to come back and see how she was getting on. i dropped a bundle with some old shirts and other things in at the window; but seeing some people there, not dreaming that they were all of you, i of course wouldn't go in. i waited, expecting you soon to go away, and fortunately i made you out, or i should have gone back to my inn, and not known that i had been close to you." "bless you, my boy, bless you! may you ever act in the same way from principle, and not merely from the impulse of the heart, good as that may be," said the doctor, warmly, pressing frank's hand, and undoubtedly feeling the contrast between his conduct and that of william. "and now let us hear something about yourself," he continued, in a more cheerful tone than he had hitherto been speaking in. the young sailor had plenty to talk about, though, as he remarked, he found his words apt to block up the hatchway, he was in such a hurry to get them out of the hold. charles and anna were eager to hear about tom holman, and william would have liked to hear what his brother was saying, but, in shame, he hung back some way behind the rest, and when they reached the house his father told him to go to his room, and wait there till summoned frank saw that there was something wrong, but forbore to inquire, hoping soon to have an opportunity of pleading for the culprit. "ah, that comes, whatever it is, of his being brought up by old becky ap reece," he thought to himself. "i am heartily glad he is free of her, though he may never get a farthing of her money. he was a plucky little chap, and with good training something might be made of him; but she treated him like one of her poodles, and would soon have made him of no more use in the world than a puppy dog." though frank morgan was thoughtful, he was one of the merriest fellows under the sun, and among the lightest of heart though not of head. frank's return brought life and spirit into the house; for charles, though highly esteemed, was grave and somewhat reserved; anna was sedate and quiet; and william, since his return home, had been very troublesome, and was looked upon generally as an arrant pickle; while the doctor and mrs morgan were so much occupied that they were unable to think of amusements for their children. everything, however, was to give way in order to make frank enjoy his short visit at home; and picnics and several pleasant excursions were planned that he might find the time as pleasant as possible. chapter six. dr morgan loved william fully as much as he did the rest of his children, but he saw that correction was necessary to cure him. instead of being allowed to welcome frank with the rest of the family, william was sent to his room, where he remained by himself, not knowing what was next to happen. he was very sorry for what he had done; he had seen the fearful consequences of his cruelty, by which he might have deprived a fellow-creature of life; indeed, he knew not even now whether old moggy might not die; and he also saw his own folly in believing that a poor weak old creature, who could not preserve herself from injury, could injure others in the way she was accused of doing, and he wished that he had not thrown stones at her. these thoughts made him very uncomfortable, and he would have been glad to go anywhere, or do anything which would enable him to cast them away from him. it was a great relief when his father came with the medicine and other things for old moggy, and told him that he might take them to her, but must return immediately to his room, without stopping to talk to any one. "solitude is good for our spiritual welfare, to allow of reflection, but we must not permit it to hinder us in the performance of the active duties of life," observed the doctor to his wife, when he told her how he purposed treating william. "he wished to take the things to her, and he is the fittest person to do so. it is well that he should feel that he is useful and doing his duty; but at the same time it is necessary that he should understand that the so doing cannot exonerate him from the consequences of his transgressions." william hastened out of the house with his basket. he knew that if he met any of his school companions they would ask him how long he had turned apothecary's boy, what wages he got, and whether he made the pills as well. he determined not to mind. still he anxiously looked about, fearing some might appear. he ran on, therefore, till he reached the steep part of the path up the mountain. as he climbed up his heart again failed him, for he began to fear that jenny davis would at all events scold him, and that perhaps moggy, seeing him alone, would say something disagreeable. still, as he had volunteered to go, it would be arrant cowardice if he turned back. he reached the hut and looked in at the window. jenny saw him, and saw that he had a basket in his hand. "come in, come in, my good young sir," she exclaimed. the words encouraged william, and he entered. "it's like your father's son to come and visit the poor and the afflicted," she added. "i'm sure i thank ye, and so does she who lies there, though she's ill able to speak now." moggy, whose senses had by this time returned, heard her. "ay--bless you, young gentleman! bless you!" she muttered. "i forgive you, and thank you, and am your debtor; and there's one above who'll forgive you if you go to him." it surprised and puzzled him that moggy bore him no ill-will, after all the injury he had inflicted on her. he did not stop to inquire how this was, but, having left the contents of his basket, bent his steps homeward. as he wound his way by the path down the mountain-side, at a far more sedate pace than was his wont, he thought over the matter. suddenly the words of the lord's prayer occurred to him--"forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us." "that's it; she has been very wicked, and so she forgives me that she may be forgiven," he said to himself. "but then i have been very wicked too, and i have nobody to forgive. i don't know anybody who has done me harm; i wish that somebody would, and then i might forgive them." he reached home, and made his way to his room again. no one came near him all day. at dinner-time anna stole up with a plate of meat and vegetables. she placed it before him, but he felt very little inclination to eat. anna was about to quit the room; willie stopped her. "i know i am very wicked, but i don't know what to do!" he exclaimed, sobbing. "i wish that papa would come and tell me." anna reported these words to their father. the doctor might have hastened at once to willie, but he judged it wiser to allow the good impression that had been formed to take root. he therefore sent him up the bible, by anna, and begged him to read the answer of paul to the gaoler at philippi. anna showed him other texts of scripture--"blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy"; and then pointed out warnings against those who wrong and oppress the poor and the afflicted. "i know, i know that i have done very wrong, and am very wicked," sobbed william. "do you think god will pardon me? i do not feel as if i could do anything to make god forgive me, or love me, or be kind to me again." anna stopped to collect her thoughts before she spoke; she then said-"i am very sure that you never can do anything to make god forgive you, dear willie; and yet i am sure that god _will_ forgive you if you seek him through the mediator he has given us. god loves to be gracious. if you really are sorry for what you have done, if you repent, not because your fault has brought you into trouble and disgrace, but because you have offended god, then god will assuredly pardon you, for he has promised in his holy word to do so. he says `knock and it shall be opened to you, seek and ye shall find'; so you see, dear willie, you may be pardoned if you seek it in the right way." and she spoke of god's love in sending his blessed son to save us from our sins, and of the holy spirit that he gives us to soften our hard hearts and make them tender, as well as to teach us always what we ought to do. when she ceased speaking he was sobbing, but not bitterly. "pray for me, anna," said he; "i am not able to pray for myself." "oh, be sure all those who love you will pray for you," she answered, kissing him. "papa and mamma pray for us night and morning, i am certain of that; and it makes me very happy and confident to think so. but still, dear willie, remember always that we must pray for ourselves." "yes, i know, and i will try," said william, as his sister left the room. the evening approached. charles brought him up some tea and bread-and-butter, but said nothing. no one else came near him, not even frank. he thought that frank might have come, but still he could not complain. how different had been his brother's conduct and his own towards poor old moggy! he had thought her a witch, and thrown stones at her, and called her all sorts of bad names; while brave frank had risked burning himself to save her, and had kindly treated her, and given her money, and come back to see how she was faring. "and they say that there are no such things as witches, or ugly ghosts wandering about, or such-like creatures," he thought to himself. "i always fancied there were, but papa must be right, and i am sure i hope that there are not. and as god loves us i don't think he would let such things be, to come and frighten us, certainly not to harm or frighten those who love him. how very, very foolish i have been, to believe all the nonsense i have heard." with these thoughts, repentant willie fell asleep. he did not see that his parents entered, when the rest of the family were gone to bed, and bending over him observed how placidly he slept. then they knelt down together and earnestly prayed for his spiritual welfare. he had sorely felt their absence all day, and was inclined to believe that their love was estranged from him. how far was this from the truth! thus it is that our heavenly father deals with his erring children. he shuts himself out from them. he allows evil to overtake them, but not the less does he love them. he thus afflicts them that they may more fully feel their dependence on him, and return like the prodigal to his arms. chapter seven. frank had to return to his ship, but after a short cruise he wrote word that he had again got leave to go home; and this time he hoped to be accompanied by his shipmate, the preserver of his life, tom holman. the family at the rectory were as eager to see tom as they were before. some changes had taken place among them. willie was very different to what he had been. his masters remarked that he was much improved. from being the most idle, he was now one of the most attentive and obedient of their scholars. his parents, too, believed that they had discovered a real change of heart. his godmother, miss becky ap reece, had died and left him her heir, her property realising a far larger sum than had been expected; indeed, it was surmised that the poor lady must have lost a considerable portion of her income at cards, or she would have been able to live in better style, or have done more good with it than she had done. as soon as william heard that cousin becky's property had been left to him, though of course he was ignorant of its value, he entreated that he might give it to old moggy to make her comfortable. "what, all, willie? all your fortune?" asked his father, with a feeling of pleasure about his heart. "o yes, papa, i do not think that i have a right to spend any of it on myself, while she is suffering in consequence of my wickedness," answered willie, with perfect sincerity. "i rejoice to hear you say so, my dear boy, but the matter is not left in your power, nor indeed in mine. until you are of age, the interest of the capital can alone be spent; and i, as your guardian, have authority only to expend it on your proper maintenance and education. it is only, therefore, by denying yourself all luxuries and amusements, and by saving pocket-money, with which i am directed to supply you, that you can help poor moggy as you desire." "oh then, that is what i will do," exclaimed willie. "don't give me any pocket-money, or let me have any amusements which cost money. that's almost what i wanted to do; though i should like to set her up as a lady, or in a comfortable house, with a servant to attend on her." "that would not be wise, willie," remarked dr morgan. "you would expend all your means on one person, giving her more than she requires; and though it would save you trouble, you would be prevented from benefiting others; whereas you should calculate the means at your disposal, and take trouble to ascertain how much good you can possibly do with it. i am also bound to give you your pocket-money, provided i do not find that you make a bad use of it. you must decide how it is to be spent, and of course you are at liberty to return it to me to spend for you." "oh, that will do, that will do!" exclaimed willie, with pleasure in his tone. "but you will help me, papa, in doing what is best with it?" "i have already anticipated some of your wishes with respect to poor moggy, and we will see what more can be done to make her comfortable. she says that she prefers windyside to any other spot on earth, and has no wish to move from it." on a fine day, when the sun was shining brightly over mountain and moor, and his beams were lighting up the pine-trees and the once dark, ruinous hovel on the hillside, dr morgan with most of his children took their way towards old moggy's abode. it was greatly changed for the better. a chimney was now to be seen rising above the roof, which had been fresh tiled; there was glass in the window, a latch on the door, which had been repaired, and the lichen-covered walls had been scraped, fresh pointed, and white-washed. when the party got inside they discovered an equally agreeable change. a thick curtain divided the room; a screen kept off the draught when the door was opened; the walls were whitened, and there was a cupboard, and a table and chairs, and several shelves, on which rested some neat crockery. on the inside of the curtain there was a comfortable bed, and some thick matting on the floor. old moggy was seated in a large easy-chair, with her feet on the old stool, which before was one of her sole articles of furniture, and good jenny davis was making up a nice fire of coals, on which to cook some wholesome meat and vegetables which she had just brought from the market. "she's getting quite strong and hearty, with the good food and kindness," answered jenny to the doctor's question, "how is moggy to-day?" "she can talk to ye as clear and sensibly as any one; ay, and there are some glorious things she has been saying to me, which have done my soul a world of good." "ay, doctor morgan, in one thing jenny speaks truth. i don't feel the poor demented creature i was a few short months ago," said moggy; "and it's your tender kindness, and that of your dear boy, master willie, and the rest of your children, has brought about the change which ye see in me. i am clothed, and in my right mind; and yet, through the mercy of god, i never, even when my mind was wrong, was cast out from him. i still sought him, and found him. he watched over me and protected me." "be assured, moggy," said the doctor, "that we are well repaid for what we have done for you. but i must not stay. i came up with my children to-day to see how you were. you require no doctoring, and so i must away. anna, however, will remain with the rest, as she has brought up a book to read, which may interest you." when the doctor had gone anna took a seat by moggy's side, and willie begged jenny to give him some employment which might be of use. "there's little enough, my sweet young master, that is fit for you to do," answered jenny. "there are those few pots and pans to clean, and some cups and saucers, and plates and spoons, and knives and forks, but sure that's not work fit for a young gentleman's hands." "oh, any work is fit for me, if it is to serve moggy," said william, rubbing away at the articles which were placed by his side. anna read on in her sweet, low voice. the book contained a true history of one who bore suffering and affliction with patience and perfect resignation to the divine will for long, long years, till health came back and she enjoyed peace and happiness in this world, and departed full of joy and hope. moggy, who seemed deeply interested, instantly applied the history to herself. "that's me, that's me," she muttered. "i have got peace and comfort, and it's a happiness to have all these loving, dear children round me." she paused and sighed deeply, as if a recollection of the past had come suddenly on her, for she added, "but ah, who can bring back the dead-those who lie far, far away in their ocean grave? no joy for me here till i know that i am departing to meet them." "dear moggy," said anna, interrupting her gently, and fearing that she might give way to her feelings too much, "you have more than once promised that you would give us some of your past history. we should very much like to hear it, provided you do not dwell too long on the more painful portions." moggy looked up at her with a sad expression in her eyes. "ah, sweet miss anna, you do not know what you ask," she answered. "if i were to tell you my history without the sad portions there truly would be little to tell; but i will not therefore deny you. it will do me good, maybe, to know that those i love are acquainted with my griefs, and can pity me, and as it were share them with me." "we know that you have had sore troubles, and we pity you for them, and we have all learned to love you because you bear them so patiently," said anna; "therefore if it gives you pain do not talk of your past history." "ay, that is kind in you, miss anna, to say, but i have the wish now to tell you all; what i have been, and how i came to be as i am," said moggy. "master willie, ask master charles to come in (charles had returned outside the cottage to botanise), then i'll tell ye all, yes, all. often and often i've thought of the past, so it does not seem strange to me as it will to you, dear miss anna, but ye will not weep for me, for it's long, long since i wept for myself." a shout from william made anna run to the door, and from thence she saw charley shaking hands with their brother frank, and willie running down the hill towards them. another person stood by, who must be, she was certain, tom holman. looking into the cottage again, and crying out, "frank has come! frank has come!" she also ran down the hill towards her brothers. there were warm greetings, and smiles, and laughter; and then frank sang out, "hillo, tom, come up here. my brothers and sister want to thank you for enabling me to get back and see them; and tell them how you picked me out of the water and saved my life, and have taken such good care of me ever since." tom had, with true politeness, gone some way off out of ear-shot of the brothers and sister when they met. the latter words were addressed to him, and with the activity of a seaman he sprang up the hill towards them. he did not quite come up to the idea anna had formed of him. though dressed as a seaman, he was somewhat different to the commonly-received notions of what a british tar is like; still less could he be compared to a refined pirate or dashing rover of romance. he was an ordinary sized, sunburnt, darkish man of middle age, with a somewhat grave expression of countenance. when he spoke, however, a pleasant smile lit up his firm mouth, and his eyes beamed with intelligence. anna, charles, and willie went forward, and putting out their hands one after the other, shook his cordially, and thanked him, in a few simple words, for the manly services he had rendered frank; each hoping to find means of proving their gratitude in a more substantial way than by words alone. tom answered them in a pleasant voice, evidently gratified by the way they had treated him. "why you see, miss morgan and young gentlemen, it was your brother first did me a service, and a very great one too, and so i felt very grateful, and a liking to him, and that made me have my eye oftener on him when there was any danger abroad, and be oftener talking to him; and so, do ye see, all the rest followed in course." "we never heard of frank doing anything for you," answered anna. "we thought that the obligation was all on his side." "come, tom, don't talk about that just now," cried frank. "i say, anna, how's old moggy? i'm glad to see that you have painted up her abode. i must go up and see her at once, and introduce tom to her; she'll like to hear about the foreign parts he has been to." saying this, he ran up the hill towards the hut. the rest of the party followed more slowly. tom remained outside; the young morgans entered. they found frank seated opposite to moggy, talking away to her, and telling her how happy he was to see her so comfortable. the poor old woman was much gratified with the attention paid her. "but where is tom?" cried frank. "willie, tell him to come in. i want to introduce him to moggy. he will be interested in her, for a kinder heart than his does not beat in the bosom of any man, woman, or child that i know of." tom soon made his appearance, doffing his tarpauling as he entered, and taking a seat to which frank pointed, nearly opposite moggy. for a minute or more after tom had taken his seat moggy was silent, when bending forward, and shrouding her grey eyebrows with her withered hand, with unexpected suddenness she said, in a deep, low voice, and a strange inquiring expression in her countenance-"who are you, and where do you come from?" "a seaman, mother," answered tom, "and shipmate for many a year with young mister morgan here." the old woman scarcely seemed to understand what was said, but kept muttering to herself, and intently gazing at tom. "come, moggy, you'll stare my shipmate out of countenance, for he's a bashful man, though a brave one," cried frank, who fancied that his friend did not like the scrutiny he was undergoing. frank produced the effect he wished, and moggy at once resumed the placid manner she had of late exhibited. "your pardon, sir; strange fancies come over me at times, though it's seldom now i get as bad as i used to be," said moggy. "i forgot how time passes, ay, and what changes time works, but i will not trouble you with my wild fancies. your honoured father has shown me how i may put them to flight by prayer, by looking to him who died for us, and then all becomes peace, and joy, and contentment." "moggy was just going to give me an account of her early days when you arrived," said anna. "i shall like very much to hear all about her, if moggy will put off her history till another day," remarked frank. "i promised to return home again without delay, so we must not remain any longer." "remember, children dear, time is in god's hand, not ours. we propose, but he disposes as he knows best. he may think fit to let me live, to enjoy the comforts you have provided for me in my old age, or he may think fit to call me home; but while i live my wish will be to please you if i can benefit you, and my last prayers will be for your welfare." "oh, you must live on for many a day, and we must hear your story over and over again, till we know it by heart," cried frank, about to go. "once for me to tell and once for you to hear would be enough, my dear lad," said moggy, shaking her head. "good-bye, mother, good-bye," said tom, his heart evidently touched by the poor old woman's condition. "fare thee well, my son, fare thee well. may heaven prosper thee and guard thee on the perilous waters," answered moggy, gazing intently at him as before. "so like thy countenance, and thy manners." the rest of the party uttered their farewells, and leaving the hut, took their way down the mountain. chapter eight. frank was the life of the family in the drawing-room, and tom interested and astonished the inmates of the kitchen with the accounts he gave them of his own adventures and his young officer's exploits and gallant deeds. it is possible that some of his companions might have preferred hearing him sing a rollicking sea song, and seeing him dance a hornpipe, as most seamen are represented as doing on all possible occasions; but they soon found out that such was not tom holman's way. he could talk, though, and laugh, and be very merry at times, and never seemed unhappy; and mary jones, mrs morgan's old nurse, declared that he was the pleasantest, and nicest, and quietest, ay, and more than that, the best young man she had seen for many a day. not that he was very young, for he was certainly over forty. tom holman was more than pleasant--he was an earnest, christian seaman. happily there are many such now-a-days, both in the royal navy and in the merchant service--men who are not ashamed of the cross of christ. tom and mrs jones soon became fast friends, and it was through her that the way in which he and frank first became intimate was known to mrs morgan and the rest of the family. "you see, mrs jones," said tom, as he sat with her in the housekeeper's room, "i was pretty well a castaway, without friends, without home, without any one to care for me, or show me the right course to sail on. i had got hold of some books, all about the rights of man, sneering at religion, and everything that was right, and noble, and holy; and in my ignorance i thought it all very fine, and had become a perfect infidel. all that sort of books writ by the devil's devices have brought countless beings to destruction--of body as well as of soul. our ship was on the coast of africa, employed in looking after slavers, to try and put a stop to the slave trade. i entered warmly into the work, for i thought that it was a cruel shame that men, because they had white skins, more power, and maybe, more sense, should be allowed to carry off their fellow-men and hold them in bondage. i was appointed as coxswain of the boat commanded by mr morgan. often we used to be sent away in her for days together from the ship, to lie in wait for slavers. the officers on such occasions used to allow us to talk pretty freely to one another and to express our minds. one day i said something which showed mr morgan what was in my mind--how dark and ignorant it was. he questioned me further, and found that i was an infidel, that i had no belief in god or in goodness, and that i was unhappy. some officers would have cared nothing for this, or just abused me, called me a fool, and let me alone; others, who called themselves religious, would have cast me off as a reprobate. but mr morgan, whom i always thought only a good-natured, merry young gentleman, did neither; but he stuck to me like a friend. day after day, and night after night, he talked to me, and reasoned with me, and read to me out of the blessed gospel, for he never was without the book of life in all our expedition. [see note 1.] whenever he could get me alone he pleaded earnestly with me, as a friend, nay, as affectionately as a brother. in spite of myself, he made me listen to him, and i learned to love and respect him, even when i thought myself far wiser than he was. he persevered. i began to see how vile i was, how unlike a pure and holy god; and then he showed me the only way by which i could become fit to dwell with god. it seemed so plain, so simple, so beautiful, so unlike any idea man could conceive, that i, as it were, sprang to it, just as a drowning man springs to a rock, and clutching it, lifts himself up clear of the tangled weeds which are dragging him to destruction. from that moment i became a changed man, and gained a peace and happiness of which i knew nothing before." "dr morgan's regards, and he hopes you'll step into the dining-room, mr holman," said the parlour-maid, opening the door. tom was soon seated among the family circle, his manner showing that he was perfectly at his ease without the slightest show of presumption. "tom, they want to hear about our adventures, and i've told them that i must have you present to confirm my account, lest they should suppose i am romancing," said frank, as tom entered. "they wouldn't think that, mr morgan," answered tom. "but, however, i'll take the helm for a spell if you get out of your right course." "i don't doubt you, old shipmate," said frank. "but before i get under weigh with my yarn i want you to give them a few pages out of your log before you and i sailed together." tom guessed what this request meant. "well, sir, if your honourable father and mother and you wish it, i'll tell you all i know about myself. for what i know to the contrary, i was born at sea. my first recollections were of a fearful storm on the ocean. we were tossing about in a boat. one of them, whom i for a long time afterwards thought was my father, had charge of me. he was a kind-hearted man, and looked after me most carefully. he went by the name of jack johnson, but sailors often change their names, especially if they have deserted, or have done anything for which they think that they may be punished. he always called me tom, and i didn't know that i had any other name till he told me that my name was holman, that he had known my father, who was a very respectable man, who, with my mother, and many other people, had been lost at sea. he said that he had saved me, and that we, with a few others, were the only people who had escaped from the wreck. we had been picked up by a ship outward bound round the horn. two of the men died, the rest entered on board the whaler, and as the captain could not well pitch me overboard he was obliged to take me; for indeed jack, who was the best seaman of the lot, refused to do duty unless i was put on the ship's books for rations. it was a rough school for a child, but i throve in it, and learned many things, though some of them i had better not have learned. the captain seemed a stern and morose man, and for many months he took no notice of me; but one day as i was trying to climb up the rattlins of the lower shrouds i fell to the deck. he ran to me, lifted me up, and carrying me to his cabin, placed me on his own bed, and with an anxious countenance examined me all over to find where i was hurt. he rubbed my temples and hands, and jack, who followed him into the cabin, said he looked quite pleased when i came to again. i was some weeks recovering, and he watched over me all the time with as much care as if i had been his own child. "`ah! the man's heart is in the right place, and i'd sooner sail with him than with many another softer-spoken gentleman i've fallen in with,' remarked jack one day after i had recovered. "we heard from one of the crew, who had before sailed with the captain, that he had a little son of his own killed from falling on deck, and this it was which made him take to me." "yes, god has implanted right and good feelings in the bosoms of all his creatures," observed the doctor. "but when they are neglected, and sin is allowed to get the better of them, they are destroyed. none of our hearts are in their right place, as the saying is. they are all by nature prone to ill. the same man who was doing you the kindness might in other ways have been grievously offending god." "ay, sir, it might have been; but it would not become me to find fault with one who had rendered me so great a service," said tom. "after i was well, he used to have me into his cabin every day to teach me to read and write, and the little learning i ever had i gained from him. we had been out four years, and the ship had at last got a full cargo, and was on the point of returning home, when we fell in with another ship belonging to the same owners. the captain of her had died, and the first mate had been washed overboard, and so the supercargo invited our captain to take charge of her. as he had no wife nor children living at home, this he consented to do, and thus it happened that i remained out in the pacific another four years. tom for my sake went with him to the other ship. we were nearly full. "`one more fish, and then hurrah for old england, lads,' sung out the captain, as three sperm whales were seen spouting from the mast-head. "all the boats were immediately lowered. jack was in the captain's boat. away they pulled from the ship in chase. those sperm whales are sometimes dangerous creatures to hunt. we saw that the captain's boat was fast, that is to say, he had struck the whale. away went the boat, towed at a great rate. suddenly she stopped--the whale rose. the captain pulled in to strike another harpoon into her. the monster reared her powerful tail and struck the boat a blow which split her clean in two. we had not a boat left to go to our shipmates' assistance; the other boats were far away in other directions. the wind was light, but we were able to lay up towards the spot where the accident had occurred. we could at length see the wreck of the boat and two men clinging to her. i hoped that one might be jack and the other the captain; for they were, i may well say, the only two people i cared for in the world, or who cared for me. eagerly i looked out. `it's jem rawlins and peter garvin,' i heard some one say. my heart sank within me. jem and peter were got on board. they were, of all the crew, those i had the least reason to like. they told us that the poor captain had got the line entangled round his leg, and had been drawn down when the whale sounded, and that jack had been killed by a blow from her tail. it seemed wonderful that they themselves should have escaped, considering the fury with which the whale attacked the boat. thus was the last link broken which, as it were, connected me with my lost relations, and i might say that i had not a friend in the world. all i knew about myself was that jack had saved me from the wreck of a ship called the `dove,' which, with my name, `tom holman,' he had tattooed on my arm. he had also put into a tin case the belt i had on and one or two other little articles, which tin case was in his chest. it was unanimously agreed on board that i should be his heir, so i succeeded to the chest, the chief article of value in which was the tin case. i took it out, and have ever since preserved it carefully, though with little hope of finding it of use. i had become very fond of reading, and had read all the books in the captain's cabin. there were not many of them, and there was not one which had religion in it, and i am very certain that there was not a bible on board. i only knew that there was such a book from the captain, who had read it at home, and i heard him only a few days before his death regretting that he had not got one. i believe our ship was not worse than others, and to the best of my belief not one of the south sea whalers we fell in with had a bible on board. the crews, as a rule, were lawless reprobates, and the masters petty tyrants, who cared nothing for the men, provided they would work to get their ships full. we sailed for england by the way of cape horn. i wished to go there because i wished to see what sort of a country it was, and to enjoy the amusements of which i heard the men talking. we had a prosperous passage till we were in the latitude of the falkland islands, when we were caught in a heavy gale, and after knocking about for some time in thick weather, when no observation could be obtained, we found ourselves with breakers under our lee, and a rocky shore beyond. the masts were cut away and anchors let go, but to no purpose; the ship parting from her anchors was driven on the rocks. nearly half the crew were washed away, and the rest of us succeeded in gaining the shore, soon after which the ship went to pieces, and all the cargo which we had toiled so hard to collect was returned to the sea from whence it was obtained. very few provisions came on shore, but there was a fair supply of canvas and plenty of ropes. we at once therefore put up a tent for ourselves, and placed all our more valuable possessions under cover. with some spars which came on shore we formed a lofty flagstaff, on which we hoisted a flag, in the hope that it might be seen by some passing vessel. there were springs of good water near the shore, and as long as our provisions lasted we got on pretty well, but when they began to fail the men looked at each other and asked, `what next?' "`oh, some ship must be passing soon, and will take us off,' cried out two or three, who were unwilling to be placed on reduced rations. "`but suppose no ship does pass, lads, what will you do? i have to tell you that, with the greatest economy, our provisions will not last another ten days,' said the first mate, who was now captain. `it is barren and sandy here, but maybe, if we push our way across the island, we may find a richer country, and some animals on which we may live.' "some agreed to the mate's proposal, others determined to remain on the sea-shore. i accompanied the mate. the provisions were equally divided, and those who remained said they would try and catch some fish, in case theirs ran short. "`try and catch them at once, then,' said the mate; `don't wait till you are starving.' "in our party was a man who had been in south america, and could use the lasso with dexterity. he and another man fitted two lines for the purpose, in the hope of finding some wild animals. the rest laughed at them, declaring that in an island where there was not a tree to be seen, and only some long tufts of grass, it was not likely that we should find anything but snakes and lizards. we had made good some ten miles or so, when we came upon a scene of desolation such as i have seldom elsewhere met with. far as the eye could reach the surface of the ground was one black mass of cinders. the men looked at each other. "`little prospect of finding any animals hereabouts,' observed one of the men. "`not so sure of that,' said the mate, kicking up the ashes with his foot. under them appeared some blades of green grass just springing up. "`to my mind the fire has run across the island at this part, which seems to be somewhat narrow, for from the top of that rock i climbed i could make out the sea on either hand; and thus, you understand, it may have driven the animals, if there are any, over to the other parts beyond, where i hope we may find them.' "`but how is it that the animals didn't run our way?' asked one of the men. "`because the country where we have been is barren and sandy, and they have gone to the opposite side, which is very different. to the best of my belief we shall find herds of wild cattle feeding on the other side if we bravely push on. here goes, who'll follow?' "saying this, the mate walked on quickly into the sea of cinders. i ran after him, and the rest followed. the mate supposed that the fire had occurred only a short time before we reached the island, and had been put out by the storm which had driven us on shore, or rather by the rain which accompanied it. we had to sleep that night in the middle of the cinders, without a drop of water to drink. some of the men grumbled, but the mate told them that they ought to be thankful, because there was no chance of our being burned, which there might be if we were sleeping in the long grass. "`ah, lads, every situation has its advantages, if we will but look for them,' he remarked; and i have often since thought of that saying of his. "on we went, the mate leading, the men often unwilling to proceed till he uttered a few words of encouragement. at last the sun's rays, bursting out from between the clouds, fell on some green grass which clothed the side of a hill before us. it was a welcome sight; and still more welcome was the sight of a herd of cattle which appeared before us as we got clear of the burnt district. it was important not to frighten them. we advanced carefully, the two men with lassoes leading, hiding ourselves among rocks and bushes, and keeping to leeward of the herd. to our great satisfaction, the animals as they fed moved on towards us. suddenly the men with the lassoes threw them round the neck of a cow, the nearest animal to us. we sprang forward, laying hold of the ends, one party hauling one way, one the other. in spite of all her violent struggles, we had her fast, and one of the men, rushing in, hamstrung her, and she was in our power. this capture raised our spirits, for we felt sure that we should never want food on the island, as we might catch the oxen in pitfalls if not with lassoes. the mate was asked how he came to suppose that there were cattle on the island. "`just because a shipmate, in whose word i could trust, told me he had seen them,' was the answer. `what better reason for believing a thing would you require?' "we camped where we were, and the south american showed us how to cut up the heifer and to dry the meat in the sun, so that we had as much pure meat as each of us could carry. as our companions had enough food for some days longer, the mate wished to see more of the island before returning. we saw several large herds of cattle, which fed on the long grass covering the face of the country, which was generally undulating. we were several days away, and as we caught sight of the flagstaff, we thought of the pleasure the supply of meat we had brought would afford our companions. we saw the tents, but no one came to meet us. we shouted, but there was no shout in return. we feared that they might be ill, or even dead. we reached the tent, but no one was within; we looked about, we could find no one. the mate was looking seaward. he pointed to the offing, where, sinking below the horizon, the white sail of a ship was seen. it was more than probable that our shipmates had gone in her, but whether with their own will or carried off by force we could not conjecture. some of the men were very angry, but the mate observed that was wrong. our shipmates, probably, could not help themselves. they might have supposed we should not return, and, if they had gone with their own will, might have been unable to leave any message for us. the mate was a truly charitable man, for he was anxious to put the best construction on the conduct of our shipmates. there, however, we were left, with a diminished party, with the possibility that another ship might not approach the coast for many months to come. the summer was drawing to a close. it had been somewhat damp and cold, and we expected that the winter would be proportionally severe. "`we may get off, but we may possibly have to stay; and if we are wise, lads, we shall prepare for the worst,' said the mate; and telling the men what would be wanted, forthwith began the work he advised. "we were to build a couple of huts, to cut and dry turf for fuel, and to kill some cattle and prepare the flesh; to hunt for vegetables or herbs, which might keep off scurvy, and to do various other things. "`example is better than precept, tom, as you will find,' observed the mate to me. `i never tell men to do what i am not ready to do myself. that's the reason they obey me so willingly.' "i've ever since remembered the mate's words, and told them to mr morgan; and i am sure he never orders men to do what he is not ready to try and do himself if necessary. it was fortunate for all that the mate's advice was followed. some comfortable huts were got up, and a store of provisions and fuel collected before the winter began. it set in with unusual seventy, and i believe that we should all have perished from cold, and damp, and snow, had we not been prepared, though i do not remember that the frost was hard at any time. "some of the men abused their companions for going away without them. "`let be,' said the mate; `all's for the best. we don't know where they are now, but we do know that we are not badly off, with a house, clothing, food, and firing. these islands are not so much out of the way, but what we are certain to get off some day or other, and in the meantime we have no cause to complain. let us rather be thankful, and rejoice that we are so well off.' "i remembered those words of the mate afterwards. it is now my belief that the mate was a god-fearing man, but religion had been so unpopular among those with whom he had sailed, that he was afraid of declaring his opinions, and just went and hid his light under a bushel. what a world of good he might have done us all if he had spoken out manfully! as it was, all that precious time was lost. the mate did speak to me occasionally, but timidly, and i did not understand him. how should i? it was not till long afterwards, as mr morgan knows, that i became acquainted with christianity. before that i was as a heathen; i knew nothing of christ, nothing of god. the winter passed away, the spring returned, and the summer drew on, and not a sail had been seen. all hands became anxious to get off, and from early dawn till nightfall the flag was kept flying, and one or more of the party were on the lookout from flagstaff hill. at length a sail hove in sight. nearer and nearer she came. `would our flag be seen?' was now the question. the wind was off the shore, she tacked, she was beating up towards us. from her white canvas and the length of her yards she was pronounced to be a man-of-war corvette, and her ensign showed us that she was english. some of the men declared that they would rather live the rest of their days on the island than go on board a man-of-war; but the mate told them that they were very foolish, and that if they did their duty they would be better treated than on board most merchantmen. i shared their fears, for i had heard all sorts of stones about the treatment of men on board men-of-war, which i have since found to be absurdly false. the end was that we all stood ready to receive the boat when she reached the beach. a lieutenant with a midshipman came in her. they were very much surprised to hear that we had been a whole year on shore, observing that we must have saved a good supply of provisions from the wreck. when the mate told them of the wild cattle, and that we could catch some, they begged us to do so, saying that the purser would purchase the meat from us for the ship's company. they accordingly returned on board, but soon came back with the butcher, and by the next day we had six or eight fine animals ready for them. the officer kindly gave us permission to carry off any of our property which could be stowed away on board. from the considerate treatment the men received, they all volunteered into the service, and i was rated as a ship's boy, and from that day to this have belonged to the royal navy of england. the mate was promised promotion if he would join. "`at all events i do not wish to eat the bread of idleness,' was his answer. `i'll do duty in any station to which i am appointed.' "the corvette was bound round the horn, so back again into the pacific i went. we touched at many places in chili and peru, and then stood to the west to visit some of the many islands in those seas. i had been about a year on board when one day an object was seen from the mast-head, which was made out to be a boat. "there was one man sitting up in her, but three others lay dead under the thwarts. the man was brought on board more dead than alive, and had it not been for the watchful care of our surgeon he could not have long survived. at first he was nothing but skin and bone, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, but when he got some flesh on him i recognised him as one of my shipmates who had deserted us on the falkland islands. he had not, it seemed, discovered any of us, and of course in two years i was so grown that he did not know me. so one day, sitting by him, i asked him how it was he came into the plight in which we found him. he told me many circumstances of which i was cognisant, and how the ship was wrecked on the falklands, and how part of the people had gone off into the interior, and deserted those who wisely remained on the sea-shore. `never mind, they must have got their deserts, and perished,' he added; and then he told me a ship appearing the day after we left, they had all gone on board. they soon found that the crew had been guilty of some foul deed; the captain and mate had been killed, with some others, and the rest had determined to turn pirates. my shipmate was asked if he would do so. they swore if he did not that he must die. to save his life, he with the rest consented to join them. i will not repeat the account he gave of all the crimes which he and his companions had committed. he said that he had protested against them, and excused himself. from bad they went on to worse, and frequently quarrelling, murdered each other. the end was that this ship was cast away on a reef, one boat only escaping, and of the people in her, after she had been nearly a month drifting over the ocean, he alone survived. we who had been left alone on the falklands had reason to be thankful that we had not gone off in the pirate ship. had we done so, who among us could have said that we should have escaped the terrible fate which overtook our shipmates? from the time i learned the lord's prayer, there is no part i have repeated more earnestly than `lead us not into temptation.' my poor shipmate never completely recovered from the hardships to which he had been exposed; his mind, too, was always haunted with the dreadful scenes he had witnessed, and he often told me that he never could show his face in england, lest he should be recognised by those he had wronged. he died the day before we made the coast of england. the ship was paid off, but i found the naval service so much to my taste, and there was so little on shore to attract me, that i the next day joined another fitting out for the indian station. after this, i visited in one ship or another most parts of the world. but i think, doctor morgan, you and your lady and the young gentlefolks will be getting tired, so i'll put off an account of my adventures till another evening. one thing i must say now, though. i looked upon it as a blessed day on which i joined the `rover,' where i met mister morgan, and yet there was a day which i have reason to call still more blessed, when we were off the coast of africa." "well, well, tom. don't talk of that now," said frank. "i just did what every christian man should do. i put the truth before you, and you believed it. i did not put myself to any inconvenience even to serve tom, while he risked his life to save mine. that was after the `rover' had come home and been paid off, and we belonged to the `kestrel,' and were sent out to the pacific. i had an idea before we went there that we were to find at all times calm seas and sunshine. i soon discovered my mistake. we were caught in a terrific gale when in the neighbourhood of coral islands and reefs. i had gone aloft to shorten sail, when the ship gave an unexpected lurch, and i was sent clean overboard. i felt that i must be lost, for the ship was driving away from me, and darkness was not far off, when i saw that some one had thrown a grating into the sea, and immediately afterwards a man leaped in after it. he was swimming towards me. there seemed a prospect of my being saved. still, how the man who had thus nobly risked his life for my sake, and i could ever regain the ship, i could not tell. i struck out with all my strength to support myself, and prayed heartily. i soon recognised tom holman's voice, cheering me up. he clutched me by the collar, and aided by him i gained the grating. two or three spars had been thrown in after it, and, getting hold of them we formed a raft which supported us both. by the time we were seated on it the ship was far away, and it seemed impossible that in the dangerous neighbourhood in which i knew that we were, the captain would venture to return on the mere chance of finding us, should we indeed be alive. our prospect outwardly was gloomy indeed, though we kept up hope. i was sorry when i thought that we should be lost; that tom had, as i fancied, thrown away his life for my sake. however, we will not talk of that now. we were drifting, that was certain, and might drift on shore, or we might be driven against a reef, when we must be lost. it was now night, though there was light enough to distinguish the dark white-crested seas rising up around us, and the inky sky overhead. still we knew that there was the eye of love looking down on us through that inky sky, and that though the rest of the world was shut out from us, we were not shut out from him, without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the ground. i say this to you, dear father and mother, because i wish to show my brothers and sisters the effect of your teaching. i wished to live, but i was prepared to die. the water was warm, and as we had had supper just before i fell overboard we were not hungry, so that our physical sufferings were as yet not great. hour after hour passed by; the raft drove on before the wind and sea. we supposed that it must be near dawn, for it seemed as if we had been two whole nights on the raft, when we both heard the sound of breakers. our fate would soon thus be decided. as far as we were able, we gazed around when we reached the summit of a sea. there were the breakers; we could see the white foam flying up like a vast waterspout against the leaden sky. we were passing it though, not driving against it. a current was sweeping us on. the dawn broke. as the light increased our eyes fell on a grove of cocoa-nut trees, rising it seemed directly out of the water. the current was driving us near them. we sat up and eagerly watched the shore; we had of ourselves no means of forcing on the raft a point towards it, or in any degree faster than we were going. had we been driven directly towards it, on the weather side, which, in our eagerness, we might have wished, we should probably have been dashed to pieces; but the current took us round to the lee side, and finally drifted us into a little bay where we safely got on shore. you already know how we lived luxuriously on cocoa-nuts and shell-fish, and about the clear fountain which rushed up out of the rock in the centre of our island, and how our ship came back after some weeks to water at that very fountain, and found us safe and well; and so i will bring my yarn to an end." "we cannot be too thankful that you were preserved, my dear boy, when we hear of the terrific dangers to which you and your brave friend were exposed," exclaimed dr morgan. "i will not now speak of our debt to him, never properly to be repaid, but i would point out to you all, my children (what struck me as frank was speaking), how like the way in which he and tom were preserved, is that in which god deals with his people who put their trust in him. we are in an ocean of troubles, with darkness around us. we dimly discern breakers rising up on one side, breakers ahead. we can do nothing to help ourselves, except pray on and trust in him. we see at length a haven of safety before us. our eagerness gets the better of our faith, but the current of his mercy drifts round and away from what is really a peril, and we are carried on into calm waters, and find shelter and rest from danger and trouble." -----------------------------------------------------------------------note 1. the author has a dear friend, a naval officer, who was, as is here described, the instrument of bringing some of his shipmates to a knowledge and acceptance of the truth; one especially, from being an infidel, became a faithful follower of christ. his bones lie sepulchred under the eternal snows of the arctic pole. how consolatory to believe, that amid the fearful sufferings that gallant band was called on to endure, he, with many others--it may be all--were supported by faith and hope to the last. we say all, for we cannot say what influence he and other christian men may have exerted over their companions during the long, long years they passed in those arctic regions ere they perished. chapter nine. several circumstances had prevented the young morgans from paying a sufficiently long visit to old moggy to enable her to give them her promised history. jenny reported that she was better in mind and body than she had ever known her, and as the time for frank and tom's departure was drawing near, the whole party resolved to go up to hear her tale. they did not fail to carry a few little luxuries which were likely to please her. they found her as usual, seated before her fire, for even in the summer she seemed to enjoy its warmth, on that bleak hill's side. what with chairs, benches, and stools, a log of wood, a pile of turf, and a boulder which charley rolled in, all found seats. anna had to exercise a little diplomacy to induce moggy to begin before so formidable an audience. the poor creature was inclined to chide tom for not having come up oftener to see her, when she discovered that he was going away. "i took a liking to your face and your manner my son, from the first minute my eyes fell on you; and it would have been a slight thing for ye to have come up and cheered the old woman's well-nigh withered heart," she observed, in a more testy tone than she was accustomed to use. "well, mother, don't blame me," answered tom. "many's the time i've come round this way, but feared to intrude, or i would have come in, and i'll not now miss the chance another time." this promise seemed to satisfy moggy, and after a little hesitation she began. "once i was blithe and gay as any of you dear young people. i had a home, and parents, and sisters. there were three of us, as pretty and as merry as any to be found in the country around. we merrily grew up into happy maidens, as merry as could be found, and the glass told us, even if others had been silent, that we were as pretty too. we sang and laughed from morn till night, and, alack, were somewhat thoughtless too; but we were not idle. our parents had a farm, and we helped our mother in the dairy, and there was plenty of work for us. it was a pleasant life. we were up with the lark and to bed in summer with the sun, and in winter we sat by the fire when the cows were housed and the milk was set in the pans, and all our out-door work was done, and knitted or spun, or plied our needles, and chatted and sung; and guests came in, and some of them came to woo; and we thought not of the morrow, and taught ourselves to believe that the pleasant life we led would never have an end. ah! we were foolish--like the foolish virgins who had no oil for their lamps, as all are foolish who think only of the present, and prepare not for the future. bad times were in store for us, such as all farmers must be ready to encounter. storms injured the crops, and disease attacked our cattle; a fire broke out in the farm buildings; and the end was that father had to throw up the farm, to sell his remaining stock, and to go forth almost penniless into the world. barely enough remained to pay our passage to america. i was about to go with the rest of my family, when one i had loved right well, an honest, steady youth, entreated me to remain. he might soon have enough to wed. he had a sick mother whom he could not leave, or he would have gone with us. if i went we might never meet again. i consented to remain, so that i could obtain service in which to support myself. a kind, good mistress engaged me. she was more than kind, she was wise; not worldly wise, but her wisdom was from above. she taught me that wisdom. by her means my eyes were opened to things about which i before knew nothing. i saw that god had dealt mercifully with me; that what i thought was a misfortune was a blessing. i was thus led out of darkness into light. i was happy, with a new happiness of which i before knew nothing. my intended husband enjoyed it likewise; we both embraced the truth--my only sorrow being that those who had gone away knew nothing of it. thomas lived at a distance, but whenever he could he came over to see me. my kind, good mistress often spoke to him, and approved of my choice. time wore on. we waited to hear of those who had crossed the sea. sad tidings came at length. my mother had died on the voyage. my father, heart-broken, and my sisters had landed and found a home, but they missed her who had been their guide and their friend; and they wanted me to go out and join them, and some cousins who lived a few miles off from where i was at service, and thomas also, if he would marry me. i told my kind mistress. "`if thomas loves you, and will take you to that foreign land, i will not say you nay,' was her reply. "she gave me leave to go and deliver the message to my cousins, charging me soon to return. my cousins were not averse to my sister's proposal, and talked with pleasure of the many kindred who would meet in that far-off settlement, for far off it seemed to them. on my return i found the front door of my mistress's house closed. i went round and gained an entrance through a window at the back. what was my horror to find her bathed in blood, fallen from the arm-chair in which she sat before the fire. i kneeled down to examine where she had been hurt, and was about to raise her up when the door was burst open; some men rushed in; i was seized. no one aided my dear mistress. a surgeon at length came. he pronounced her dead. these cruel men had allowed her to die unaided. i was accused of being her murderess. my horror, my indignation, at the way she had been treated, my grief, my agitation, impressed them with the conviction that i was guilty of the foul crime which had been committed; for murdered she had been, of that there was no doubt. branded as a murderess i was borne off to prison. many thought me guilty. it was cruelly said that i was found red-handed by the side of my victim. but even in prison i sought support, and obtained it whence alone it was to be afforded. as king david, i could say, `i have washed my hands in innocency. i cried unto the lord and he heard me.' oh, my young friends, keep innocency. do what is right in the sight of the lord, and never need you fear what man can do unto you. there was one, however, on earth who knew me to be innocent--my thomas. he obtained leave to visit me in prison, obtained the best legal aid by the sacrifice of his savings, and the evidence against me broke completely down. i was acquitted. i scarcely knew how, or what occurred. i entreated thomas to let me become his wife, that i might repay him by devoting my life to his service. we married; we were happy; and by watchful care i was enabled to make his wages go farther than before his marriage. more than a year had passed away; we had a child born, a son. we believed that he would prove a blessing to us. some few more years had fled by. again and again my sisters urged that we would go out to join them. at length they were both about to marry, and our father would be left alone. thomas agreed to go. i thought with delight of showing my young son to my father, of assisting and supporting him in his old age, and more than all, of imparting to him those blessed truths which i myself had found such a comfort to my soul. we sailed in as fine a ship as ever put to sea, with many others about to seek their fortunes in the new world; but scarcely had we left the shores of england a hundred leagues astern than we encountered a fearful gale, which washed away the bulwarks and some of our boats, strained the hull, and shattered our masts and spars. it was but the beginning of disasters. but, dear young people, i cannot dwell on that most grievous period of my existence. the storm had injured our provisions. after the storm came a calm, more dreadful than the storm; our water began to run short. did any of you ever feel the pangs of thirst? day after day our shattered bark lay rolling on the burning ocean. there was the constant gush of water to tantalise us, for by undiscovered leaks the sea had found an entrance, and in every watch the pumps were kept at work. we were thankful when a breeze came, and once more the ship moved across the ocean; but the breeze increased into a gale more fearful than the first. on, on we drove; the leaks again increased. day and night the men were kept toiling at the pumps; my husband worked like the rest. in vain, in vain; they could work no longer; the water was gaining on us; the raging seas were washing over our decks. the strength of the men was exhausted. some of the women offered to try and work the pumps. the night was coming on. i resolved to labour, that i might aid to save my husband's life, our boy's, my own. "my boy had clung to me. i gave him, so i thought, to his father, to watch over, while i laboured like the rest. would you hear what occurred? my heart has grown into stone, or i could not bear to tell it. the raging seas broke more and more frequently over the ship. the dreadful cry arose, `the ship is sinking, the ship is sinking!' i flew towards my husband--my child was not with him. he had not received him from me. frantically i rushed along the deck; it was with no hope of safety, but to die with my boy in my arms. once more i was approaching my husband; a flash of lightning revealed him to me at the moment that a vast sea came sweeping down on the ship. it seized him in its cruel embrace, and bore him far, far away, with many other helpless, shrieking beings. thankfully would i have followed, but i sought my boy. in vain, in vain! i felt myself seized by a strong arm, and lifted into a boat. i lost all consciousness for the next instant, it seemed. i found the boat floating alone amid the tumultuous waves. my husband and my boy were gone. they said there were other boats, and that some might have been saved in them. i know not if any were saved. neither my husband nor our child did i ever again see; the cold, cruel waves had claimed them. for many days we lay tossed about on the foaming waters. we were more dead than alive when a sail appeared in sight. how i lived i know not; it was, i believe, because all my feelings were dead. i felt nothing, thought of nothing; i was in a dream, a cold, heavy weight lay on my heart and brain. i knew not what was going on; the past was a blank, the future was darkness. we were lifted on board--carefully tended. the ship was bound, with settlers, to the same port to which i was going. those who had been saved with me told my story. some of the passengers were going to the far-off west, to the very spot where my father and sisters had settled. their hearts were touched with compassion by my misfortunes, and they bore me with them. truly they were followers of the good samaritan. day after day we journeyed on towards the setting sun. at length we reached my father's house; he and my sisters scarcely knew me, so great was the havoc grief had wrought. kind and gentle treatment by degrees thawed my long frozen faculties, and i began to take an interest in the affairs of the farm. in that region the native tribes, the red men of the prairie, were fierce and warlike, and often were engaged in deadly contests with the whites. years--many years, passed by, during which our people enjoyed peace. a storm, however, was brewing, to burst with fury on our heads. it came; in the dead of night the dreadful war-whoop of the red men was heard. on every side arose those horrid cries. our village was surrounded; young and old, men and maidens, were ruthlessly murdered. my old father and sisters were among the first slain. some few bravely made a stand. they fought their way out through the savages. i felt my arm seized by some friendly hand, and was borne on amid them. armed friends came to our assistance, and the savages were driven back through the smoking ruins of our home. all, all were gone; relatives, friends, and property. those who had accompanied me to the country, all, all were gone. i was among strangers; they pitied me, but pity cannot last long in the human breast. there is only one whose tender pity never wanes; and it is only that human pity which arises from love of him which can stand all tests, and can endure for ever. i was left alone, alone in that far-off land. my reason gave way. an idea had seized me--it was to visit that mighty ocean beneath which slept my husband and my child. i wandered on. i know not how i found my way, often through vast solitudes where foot of man but rarely trod, till i reached the more settled states. food and shelter were rarely denied to the poor mad woman, though of the roughest sort. at length i reached the eastern cities; scant was the charity i found within them, i gained the sea-coast; i gazed upon the ocean, with its majestic billows rolling up from the far-off east. they seemed to me like mighty monuments raised to the memory of those who slept beneath. for many years i had lived on that wild sea waste, when i was seized and carried to a prison. i demanded to know my crime. i heard myself branded as a pauper lunatic, and was placed on board a ship to be returned to my native land. sad, sad was my heart. i had many companions in my misery--helpless beings whom the strong new world would not receive. we were placed on shore to starve, or live as best we could. i wandered on towards the spot where long, long years before, i had lived a happy maiden. no one knew me; i was branded as a witch, and fled away. should i go to the relatives of my husband? thomas had spoken of them as kind and charitable. i reached the village; every one looked at me with suspicion as a vagrant. well they might, for a vagrant i was, poor, wretched, and despised. i had been there in my happy days with thomas; but the place itself looked strange. i inquired for his father, farmer holman. `dead many a year ago; all the rest gone away; never held up his head since his son went off with that jade who murdered her mistress.' such was the answer i received. the words fell like molten lead upon my brain. i fled away. i wandered on, not knowing whither i was going, till i reached these sheltering walls on the mountain-side." tom had been greatly agitated on hearing the name of holman. frank and anna had exchanged surprised glances with each other. "dame, do you remember the name of jack johnson on board the ship which foundered with so many on board?" asked tom. "ay, that i do. he was one who took a great fancy to my precious boy," answered moggy, gazing earnestly at tom. "it is strange, mother, but such was the name of a kind seaman who for many years acted as a second father to me; and still stranger, that he always called me tom holman," exclaimed tom, as he sat himself down on the stool at her feet, and drawing a tin case from his pocket, took from it a variety of small articles, which he placed in her lap. she gazed at them with a fixed, earnest look for some moments, and then, stretching out her arms, she exclaimed, "come to me, my son, my boy-long lost, now found! i cried unto the lord, and he heard me out of my deep distress. you bear your father's name, you have your father's looks. wonderful are the ways of the lord. the lord giveth and the lord taketh away. the lord hath restored me tenfold into my bosom. blessed be the name of the lord!" tom threw his arms round the old woman, and sobbed like a child. "mother, mother, i have found you, i have found you!" he cried out, as he kissed her withered cheek. what mattered it to him that she was aged and infirm, poor and despised? she was his mother, of whom he had dreamed in his youth whom he had always longed to find. he would now devote himself to cherish and support her, and cheer her few remaining days on earth. "my dear children," said dr morgan, who had entered soon after moggy had begun her history, "let us learn, from what we have heard, never to cease to put our whole trust and confidence in god. whatever happens, let us go on praying to god and trusting in god, for let us be assured that he always careth for us." the end. available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 43067-h.htm or 43067-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43067/43067-h/43067-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43067/43067-h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/inhandsofcavedwe00hentiala in the hands of the cave-dwellers by g. a. henty author of "with roberts to pretoria" "won by the sword" "to herat and cabul" &c. illustrated by wat. miller blackie and son limited london glasgow and dublin [illustration: "four indians stepped from among the trees"] contents chap. page i. a midnight attack 7 ii. a hearty welcome 23 iii. an ambush 42 iv. a great ranch 61 v. an indian raid 81 vi. hopeful news 101 vii. the pursuit 120 viii. the cave-dwellers 140 ix. rescued 157 in the hands of the cave-dwellers chapter i a midnight attack it was late in the evening at san diego, in the autumn of the year 1832; there was no moon, but the stars shone so brightly in the clear, dry atmosphere that it was easy to distinguish objects at some little distance. a young fellow, in the dress of a sailor, was making his way through the narrow streets that bordered the port, when he heard a sudden shout, followed by fierce exclamations and mexican oaths. without pausing to consider whether it was prudent to interfere, he grasped tightly a cudgel he had that day cut, and ran to the spot where it was evident that a conflict was going on. it was but some forty yards away, and as he approached he made out four figures who were dodging round a doorway and were evidently attacking someone standing there. the inequality of the combat was sufficient to appeal to the sailor's sympathies. the sand that lay thick in the street had deadened his footsteps, and his presence was unmarked till his stick descended with a sharp crack on the up-lifted wrist of one of the assailants, eliciting a yell of pain, while the knife the man held flew across the street. one of the man's companions turned upon the new-comer, but the sailor's arm was already raised, and the cudgel lighted with such force on the man's head that he fell stunned to the ground. this unexpected assault caused the other two fellows to pause and look around, and in an instant the defender of the doorway bounded forward and buried his knife in one of their bodies, while the other at once fled, followed by the man whose wrist had been broken by the sailor's first blow. "carambo, señor!" the mexican said. "you have rendered me a service indeed, and i tender you a thousand thanks. i could not have held out much longer, for i had been more than once wounded before you arrived." "you are heartily welcome, señor. it was but a slight business--two blows with my stick and the matter was done." "you are not a countryman of mine, señor," the other said, for the sailor spoke with a strong accent; "you are a stranger, and, as i can see now, a sailor." "that is so. i am an american." "is that so?" the other said, speaking this time in english. "as you see, i know about as much of your tongue as you do of mine. i thought you must be a stranger even before i observed your dress, for street frays are not uncommon in this town, whereas in other ports there are scores of men ready for any villany, and few of my people would care to interfere in a fray in which they have no interest. but do not let us stay here. it is best to get out of this quarter." "shall we do anything with these fellows? the one i hit can only be stunned, and i should think we ought to give him in charge to the watch." the other laughed. "you might wait some time before we found them, and, besides, it would give us a deal of trouble. no; leave them where they lie. the one i struck at least will never get up again. now, señor, may i ask the name of my preserver? mine is juan sarasta." "mine is william harland," the sailor replied. "we are friends for life, señor harland," the mexican said, as he held out his hand and gripped that of the sailor warmly. "where are you staying?" "i am staying nowhere at present," the sailor laughed. "i deserted from my ship three days ago, bought a supply of food, and have been some miles up the country. i knew that the vessel was to sail to-day, and i came back again and watched her go out just before sunset, and have been sitting on a barrel down at the wharf, wondering what i was going to do, and whether, after all, it would not have been wiser of me to have put up with that brute of a captain until we got down to valparaiso." "we will talk all that matter over later," the mexican said. "i am staying with some friends, who will, i am sure, make you welcome when i tell them that you saved my life." "i thank you very much," the sailor said, "but no doubt i shall be able to find some little inn where i can obtain a night's lodging." "such a thing is not to be thought of, señor harland, and i shall feel very much hurt if you do not accept my offer." they were now in a wider street, and, passing a wine-shop from which the light streamed out, harland saw that the mexican was a young fellow but two or three years older than himself, and his dress showed him to belong to the upper class. the mexican's glance had been as quick as his own, for he said, "why, you are younger than i am!" "i am just eighteen." "and i twenty. were you an officer on your ship?" "no. my father is one of the leading citizens of boston; he absolutely refused to allow me to follow the sea as a profession, although he is a large ship-owner himself; however, my mind was made up, and as i could not go as an officer, i came as a sailor. this is not my first voyage, for two years ago he let me sail in one of his ships as an apprentice, making sure that it would have the effect of disgusting me with the sea. however, the experiment failed, and to his anger i returned even fonder of it than when i started. he wanted me to go into his office, but i positively refused, and we had a serious quarrel, at the end of which i went down to the river and shipped before the mast. i know now that i have behaved like a fool. the captain was a brute of the worst sort, and the first mate was worse, and between them they made the ship unbearable. i stood it as long as i could, but three days before we got to this port one of the young apprentices, whom they had pretty nearly killed, jumped overboard, and then i made up my mind that as soon as we landed i would bolt and take my chance of getting a berth on board some other ship." "but you speak spanish very fairly, señor." "well, the last ship i was in traded along the western coast, putting in at every little port, so i picked up a good deal of the language, for we were out here nearly six months. the ship i have just left did the same, so i have had nearly a year on this coast, and having learned latin at school, of course it helped me very much. and you, señor, how do you come to speak english?" "i have been down for the past six months in valparaiso, staying with a relation who has a house there, and my greatest friends there were some young englishmen of my own age, sons of a merchant. my father had spoken of my paying a visit to your states some day, and therefore i was glad of the opportunity of learning the language. this, señor, is the house of my friends." as harland saw that his companion would take no denial, he followed him into the house. the young mexican led the way to a pretty room with windows to the ground, opening on to a garden. "you are late, señor juan," a gentleman said, rising from his seat; but before the young man could reply, a girl of fifteen or sixteen years old cried out: "madre maria, he is wounded!" "it is nothing serious, and i had almost forgotten it till just now it began to smart. i have two, or, i think, three stabs on my left arm; they are not very deep, as i twisted my cloak round it when i was attacked. but it would have been a very serious business had it not been for this gentleman, whom i wish to introduce to you, don guzman, as the saviour of my life. he is an american gentleman, the son of a wealthy ship-owner of boston, but, owing to some slight disagreement with his father, he has worked his way out here as a sailor. i ventured to promise that you would extend your hospitality to him." "my house is at your service, señor," the mexican said courteously. "one who has rendered so great a service to my friend don juan sarasta, is my friend also. christina, ring the bell and tell the servants to bring hot water and clothes, and then do you go to your room while we attend to don juan's injuries." the wounds proved to be by no means serious; they were all on the forearm, and, having to pierce through six or seven inches of cloth, had not penetrated very far. they had, however, bled freely, and although the young man laughed at them as mere scratches, he looked pale from the loss of blood. "a few bottles of good wine, and i shall be all right again." "i must apologize for not having asked you before," señor guzman said to harland, when the wounds were bandaged, "but have you supped?" "yes, thank you, señor. i bought some food as i came through the town, and ate it as i was waiting at the port." "have you any luggage that i can send for?" "i have a kit-bag, which i will fetch myself in the morning. it is out on the plain. i did not care to bring it from the town until i knew that the vessel i came in had sailed." "i can lend you some things for the night," juan said. "you are a little taller than i am, but they will be near enough." some wine and biscuits were now brought in, and some excellent cigars produced. "were they thieves that attacked you, think you, don juan?" his host asked, after the latter had given a detailed account of his adventure. "i cannot say, but i own i have an idea it was my life that they wanted rather than my valuables. i had a fancy that a man was following me, and i went to see the man i had spoken to about the mules. coming back i heard a whistle behind me, and twenty yards farther three men sprang out, and one ran up from behind, so that i don't think it was a chance encounter." "do you suspect anyone?" the young mexican hesitated a moment before he answered. "no, señor; i have no quarrel with anyone." "i do not see how, indeed, you could have an enemy," don guzman said, "seeing that you have been here only for a fortnight; still, it is curious. however, i have no doubt there are plenty of fellows in the town who would put a knife between any man's shoulders if they thought he was likely to have a few dollars in his pocket. your watch-chain may have attracted the eye of one of these fellows, and he may have thought it, with the watch attached to it, well worth the trouble of getting, and would have considered it an easy matter, with three comrades, to make short work of you, though i own that when you showed fight so determinedly i wonder they did not make off, for, as a rule, these fellows are rank cowards." will harland observed that when the don asked if juan had any suspicions as to the author of the attempt, donna christina, who had returned to the room when his wounds were dressed, glanced towards him, as if anxious to hear his answer. putting that and the young mexican's momentary hesitation together, he at once suspected that both he and the girl had a strong idea as to who was at the bottom of this attempt. the subject was not further alluded to, the conversation turning upon the united states, concerning which the mexican asked harland many questions. "it is a pity so great a distance divides us from them," he said. "it is more effectual than any ocean, and yet perhaps if we were nearer neighbours your people would disturb our quiet life here. they are restless, and forever pushing forward, while we abhor changes, and live as our fathers did three hundred years ago. you see, the mountains act as a barrier to us, and we have never even tried to extend the territory we occupy beyond the strip of land between the coast and the mountains, and, indeed, that is ample for us. our population has decreased rather than increased since mexico declared its independence in 1821, and took what i have always considered the ill-advised step of expelling all the spanish residents about six years ago. "not that we in this province took any very active part in the civil wars that for ten years raged in central mexico; but although the spanish authorities were bad masters, it must be granted that, while they were here, there was more trade and commerce than there has since been, and that the advantages all expected to secure from the revolution have by no means been obtained. it is curious that the same has been the case in the other countries that gained their independence. in central america there are constant troubles, in peru things have gone backward rather than forward, and chile alone shows signs of enterprise and advancement. however, these things do not concern us greatly; we live by the land and not by trade; we have all we want, or can desire, and subsist, like the patriarchs of old, on our flocks and herds. "don juan's father, a man of vigour and courage, has shown more enterprise than any of us, for before the beginning of the troubles he moved far up a valley running into the heart of the mountains, and established himself there. he had large flocks and herds, but his land was insufficient to support them, and, in spite of the warnings of all his friends, he determined to move. so far he has proved himself a wise man. he began by making a sort of treaty with the indians of that part, by which he agreed to give them a considerable amount of blankets and other goods if they would bind themselves not to interfere with him in any way. these people have generally proved themselves faithless in such matters, but this has been an exception to the rule, and i believe that he has not lost a single head of cattle since he went out there, and he is now undoubtedly one of the richest men on this coast. the fact that he should send his son on to chile to enlarge his mind and prepare him for a trip to the united states, and even to europe, shows the energy of the man, and how far removed his ideas are from those of the hacienderos in general. i can assure you that juan's departure caused quite a sensation in this part of the province." "does your father often come down here himself, don juan?" "he generally comes down once a year to arrange for the disposal of the increase of his cattle--that is to say, of the tallow and hides; as to the meat, it is practically of no value. of course the bullocks are killed on the estate; the daily consumption is large, for he has upwards of fifty peons and vaqueros, but this is a comparatively small item, for he generally kills from eighteen thousand to twenty thousand animals; the carcasses are boiled down for the fat, and that and the hides are packed on great rafts and sent down to the coast. his place is only a few miles from the colorado river. when he comes down here, he takes up a ship, which he sends round to loreto, and thence up to the mouth of the colorado." "how far is this place from here?" "about two hundred miles." "i should have thought it would have been better to have them here." "no, there is a range of hills about half-way between his place and the coast, across which it would be difficult to get them. another thing is, that there is scarce any food by the way; rain seldom falls here, and although the land is very rich when irrigated, it affords but a scanty growth in its wild state. a herd of twenty thousand bullocks could scarcely exist on the road, and even if they got here, they would have lost so much fat that they would scarce pay for boiling down." they sat smoking in the veranda until nearly midnight, and don guzman then conducted the young sailor to the chamber that had been prepared for him. chapter ii a hearty welcome early as mexican households are awake, in order to enjoy the comparatively cool hours of the morning, william harland was the first up, and, dressing hastily, he started out to fetch his kit-bag. at the bottom of this he had stowed away, before he went on board, the clothes that he had worn when he left home, and also the contents of a small trunk that he had taken with him, buying an outfit for use on board from a slop-shop. he was back in an hour, for he had hidden the bag in a clump of bushes but two miles from the town. the servants were moving about, but, with the exception of juan, none of the others were yet down. the latter met him as he entered. "i have been to your room, and when i found it empty, guessed the errand on which you were away. why did you not tell me last night? you could have had a negro slave to go with you and carry that sack of yours back." "oh, i am not too proud to carry it myself, don juan, and i was really anxious to get it the first thing this morning, for i certainly should feel very uncomfortable sitting down to breakfast with your friends in this rough sailor suit. luckily, i have some decent clothes in my bag, and half a dozen white jean jackets and trousers, which i bought for wearing ashore when i was on my last voyage; for then, as an apprentice and in a ship chiefly belonging to my father, i had a good many privileges in the way of leave when we were in port." "you look desperately hot, and if you would like a swim, there is a pond in that clump of trees at the end of the garden--i have had a dip there myself this morning." "thank you, i should like it extremely, and i can then finish my toilet there." the pond was an artificial one, the sides and bottom being lined with stone; a thick band of trees and undergrowth surrounded it; it had doubtless been formed for the purpose of a bath, and also, as was shown by two or three seats placed around it, as a shady retreat during the heat of the day. in half an hour will rejoined juan, looking cool and comfortable in his white jacket and trousers, and a white flannel shirt, with turn-down collar and black silk handkerchief around his neck. "that is a good deal better," juan said; "you only want a sombrero to complete your costume. sit down here; i told the servant to bring chocolate for us directly i saw you coming out from the trees. don guzman and christina take their chocolate in their room. i don't suppose that we shall see them till breakfast, which will not be served for an hour and a half yet." "how is your arm, don juan?" "drop the don, please; i was always called simply juan by my english friends at valparaiso. it is much more pleasant than our ceremonious way of addressing each other. so call me juan, please, and i will call you will." "now, juan," harland said, as they sipped their chocolate, "who do you believe set those ruffians on to you? i could see plainly enough that both you and the señorita had suspicions, though you did not choose to mention them to her father." "you are a sharp observer," juan laughed. "well, yes, i will tell you frankly upon whom my suspicions fell. i must tell you first that don guzman is a connection of mine, my father having married a first cousin of his. when my father went out to this new ranch of his, twelve years ago, he left me behind, under my cousin's charge, and i lived here for five years, going to the mission to be educated by the fathers. since then i have generally spent a month or two here, and not unnaturally, as you who have seen her will doubtless admit, i have grown to be very fond of christina. of course till lately she has simply looked upon me as her big cousin, but when i was last here, before going down to valparaiso, she was a little changed; she had grown to be shy with me, which she had never been before, and i hoped that she had begun to return my affection. naturally enough, when i returned the other day, i spoke out to her, and learned, to my delight, that this was so, but of course she could say nothing until our parents had been consulted--an indispensable step, as you of course know, for in mexico, although young people may have some voice in the matter, the parents' consent has to be obtained, and the preliminaries are, in fact, settled by them. in this case, happily, there is no fear of difficulty arising on that score. don guzman and my father are firm friends, and the alliance would be a suitable one in all respects, as, although my father may be more wealthy than don guzman, christina is an only child, while i have a sister who is about her age." "but i still do not see, juan, how this explains anyone having an enmity with you." "no, i am just coming to that. you must know that the military commandant of san diego, colonel pedros melos, has a son enriques, who is a captain in the regiment stationed here. christina told me before i went down to chile that captain melos was a frequent visitor, and that he was very attentive to her father, and frequently brought bouquets of choice flowers. she added that, although he was very civil to her, as far as the customs of the country permit a caballero to be civil to any young lady not related to him, she did not like him. well, it happened the other day, that, just as christina and i were coming to an understanding, exactly where we are sitting now, this captain melos stepped out from the window of the drawing-room. i should imagine that he had no great difficulty in understanding the situation. a young couple who have just declared their love for each other are apt to look a little awkward when suddenly interrupted. "the sound of his foot, as he stepped out on the veranda, caused us to look round sharply. as his eye fell on us he turned as pale as if he had received a blow, and if ever man's face wore for a moment an expression of intense rage his did then. however, he checked himself, murmured a word or two about believing that señor guzman was in the veranda, and then turned on his heel and went back into the room. christina caught my arm. 'beware, juan, that man will be your deadly enemy!' and i felt that she spoke truly. she said that his attentions of late had been very marked, and she had been in constant fear that his father would call on hers to ask for her hand for his son. we agreed that i should, without loss of time, speak to her father on the subject of my suit, and i did so on the same day. "he was good enough to say that when a request from my father reached him to that effect, he should most willingly accede to it. colonel melos did, in fact, call the day before yesterday, and formally proposed the alliance, to which don guzman replied that his daughter's affections were already engaged with his perfect consent and approval. the colonel, of course, had nothing to do but to bow himself out with as good a grace as he could muster. i fancy from what i have heard that he is a good officer and an honest man. he has played a part in all the civil wars that we have had here, but, unlike most others, he always stuck to the same side, which, fortunately for him, turned out in the end to be the successful one. his son bears an altogether different character. here, indeed, there has been nothing much against him; the fact of his father being commandant has no doubt acted as a check upon him, and possibly the hope that he may have entertained of winning christina's hand may have helped to render him discreet, but i have heard that in other places where his regiment has been in garrison, he bore the worst of characters. "thus, you see, as a bitterly-disappointed man and as an unscrupulous one, he might well have been the author of this attack upon me; and, as you noticed, the idea occurred to christina as well as myself, remembering as we did the expression of his face when he saw us together. that the affair was his work, however, we have no shadow of proof, and i should not think of whispering my suspicions to anyone. still, i shall take every precaution for the three or four days that i remain here, and shall not be out in the unfrequented streets after nightfall. and now about yourself; tell me, frankly, what are you thinking of doing? do you intend to continue at sea, or are you thinking of returning to your home, where, no doubt, you would be gladly received by your father?" "i have not thought it fully over yet, but i certainly shall not go back to my father with the tale that i found my life unbearable and deserted my ship. when i go it must be with a better record than that. he may have objected most strongly to my taking to the sea, but i think it would be an even greater annoyance to him to find that having, in defiance of his wishes, done so, i had so soon backed out of it. he himself is a man who carries through anything that he undertakes, no matter if he incurs loss in so doing. i do not say that if i saw some other opening and made a success of it, he would mind; but when i do go back it must not be as a returned prodigal, but as a man who has done something, who has in one line or another achieved a certain amount of success. as far as i have thought it over, my ideas have been to take a passage down to valparaiso, which seems to me the most go-ahead place on this coast, and there look round. i have money enough to last for some little time, for my father, on my return from my last voyage, gave me a cheque for five hundred dollars, and, beyond twenty or thirty dollars expended on my sea-kit, i still have it all in my belt." "but what do you think of doing in valparaiso?" "i would take anything that turned up except a clerkship. then, if in two or three months i could see nothing that seemed likely to lead to a good thing, i would ship again." "well, you will not embark on any such wild-goose chase for some time, for i intend to take you off with me to my father's hacienda for a long visit. you will receive the heartiest of welcomes when i tell them what you have done for me. i can promise you, i think, a pleasant time there, and you will see what will be quite a new side of life to you, and learn something of the ranching business, which, let me tell you, is as good as another, though i admit that a considerable amount of capital is required for making a fair start." "i should like it extremely," harland said, "but--" "there are no buts in it, will," the other broke in. "you don't suppose that after what has happened you are going your way and i am going mine in the course of a few days, as if we were but two passengers who had made a short voyage together. my father would never forgive me if i did not bring you up with me. i expect to-morrow or next day we shall have three or four of the men down with horses, blankets, and other necessities for travel. i sent a messenger off on the day i arrived. there is generally a wagon or two that comes down every month for groceries, wine, and other matters, and as i find that it is fully that time since the last trip, i expect that the carts and men will both arrive to-morrow. travelling comfortably, we shall take the best part of a week to get there; of course, with relays of horses it could be done in less than half that time. the wagons take ten days, and that is good travelling, especially as there are three days' heavy work over the first range of hills. here the mules will have a few days' rest and then start again." "you find mules better than horses for wagons?" "beyond all comparison better; the value of a mule is six times that of a horse, except for exceptionally good and fast animals. feed a mule well, and there is no better beast in the world. of course the mules are big animals, being bred from the finest donkeys that can be imported from spain, and can drag as much as oxen and go half as fast again." acting under his friend's advice, will purchased the necessaries for his journey, the principal item being a mexican poncho; this, in appearance, was like a large blanket made of a long, soft wool that was practically water-proof. a hole edged with braid was cut in the middle. this was slipped on over the head, and a long riding-cloak, reaching to the stirrups, was obtained, while at night it served all the purposes of an ordinary blanket. juan presented him with a rifle, a brace of handsomely mounted double-barrelled pistols, and a sword. "we always ride armed across the hills; we are on good terms with the indians near us, but might fall in with some wandering bands, or possibly a party of white cut-throats, fugitives from justice. besides," he added significantly, "there may possibly be dangers on this side of the first range of hills." "you think--" will began. "yes, i think it possible that the organizer of the first attempt on my life may try again. it is not probable that he likes me any better for the failure he then made." some high riding-boots, a couple of pairs of fringed mexican trousers, and a few other necessaries completed the equipment, most of which was to be sent up in the wagon with the kit-bag. will was in high spirits. nothing could be more pleasant than the trip promised to be, and he looked eagerly forward to the start. the wagons had arrived, and with them four mounted men who had overtaken them on the day before they reached san diego. they brought down with them two riding horses, intended for juan's use. "my father always sends two down," juan said, "so that i can have a change each day, and be beyond the reach of such accidents as a horse straining himself or casting a shoe. besides, on more than one occasion i have brought back a friend with me, as i am going to do now." "i suppose you breed a good many up there?" "we breed enough for the wants of our vaqueros, and a few high-class animals for our own riding. we don't care about having more than is necessary, for a good horse is a temptation that an indian can scarcely withstand. cattle they don't care so much for, for up in the mountains feed would be scarce for them; besides, they have no difficulty in getting meat--game is plentiful enough, deer and bear, while at times they go down into the great plains on the other side of the rockies and kill as many buffalo as they please, jerk the meat, and bring it up to their villages. in point of fact, we never refuse half a dozen or a dozen cattle to any party of indians who come down and ask for them. it keeps us on good terms with them, and practically costs us nothing, for they do not often take the hides, preferring greatly deer-skins for their hunting-shirts and leggings, for which bullock hide is too heavy, while for their lariats and heel ropes, and so on, they use buffalo hide, which is stronger and tougher. so practically, you see, it is only the value of the fat that we lose." three days later juan and will said good-bye to señor guzman and his daughter and set out, the four mounted men riding behind them with two led animals carrying provisions and water-skins. "how far is it before we get beyond the settled country?" "the country is cultivated as far as the chocolate hills, as there are several small rivers, whose water is used for irrigating the fields. beyond these hills there are scattered villages and haciendas, their positions being determined by the existence of streams coming down from a great mountain range, for although rain seldom falls near the coast, there are heavy showers there occasionally. except in the rainy season, the beds of these streams are dry, but wells sunk in them at all times yield a plentiful supply of water. it is drawn up by the labour of bullocks, and the ground irrigated; and they grow oranges, bananas, grapes, melons, and all kinds of fruit, in fact, in abundance. some of these irrigated estates are of considerable size. for the last fifty miles we shall come across no settlements until we reach our own hacienda, for the country is too much open to indian forays. though we do not suffer as much as they do on the other side of the colorado; still the risk is great--too great for men who embark their capital, to say nothing of risking their lives. we are fortunate in the fact that the tribe immediately in our neighbourhood is a small one, and far less warlike than many of their neighbours. the goods they receive from us, and the cattle, make them comparatively rich, and they have never shown any signs whatever of enmity against us. we have promised them that if they are attacked by any of their savage neighbours we will, if they come down to us, assist them, and as the hacienda is strongly built and we have a supply of arms sufficient for all our men, we could resist any attack. i think this understanding has quite as much to do with their friendly feeling towards us as the benefits they receive from us." "it must be a large valley to be capable of sustaining so vast a herd as that of your father?" "yes; the valley is not very wide at the lower end near the river, but the hills open out and form a basin some ten miles wide and twenty miles long. beyond that it extends a considerable distance, but narrows fast; a stream runs down the centre, and during the rainy season and at the time of the melting of the snows there are innumerable rivulets coming down from the hills, and in consequence the grass is sweet and long. our herds amount to about forty thousand head, and we do not let them exceed that number. we do not use the upper part of the valley. by our agreement with the indians that is to remain untouched as a hunting-ground for them." that night they slept at the hacienda of some acquaintances of señor sarasta, where they were most hospitably entertained; the next day they halted for a few hours at san felice, and rode on as soon as the sun had lost its full power. they were now beyond the region of general cultivation; the plain was, however, fairly green, as a short time before the unusual circumstance of a heavy rain had occurred, with the result that in the course of a few days the whole face of the country was changed. as soon as the horses were unsaddled the men scattered to collect dead brushwood, and in a short time a fire was blazing, and a slice from a hindquarter of venison that had been presented to them by their host of the night before was skewered on a ramrod and placed over it. they had made sixty-five miles in two days' journey. they had not been following any beaten track, but the men had all made the journey so often that no path was needed. in the morning they would begin the ascent of the lower slopes of the mountains, whose crest rose some thirty miles ahead of them, although, seen in the clear air, they did not seem to will harland to be more than a fifth of that distance. rather to the surprise of the men, juan ordered that a watch should be kept, a precaution they had never taken before. "i have an idea," he said to will, "that we shall be attacked either to-night or while mounting the hill to-morrow. it is just as well to take the precaution to set a guard to-night, but i do not really think that if a party are out after us they will trouble us to-night. they could not know exactly the road we should take, but will be sure that we shall cross the hills and come down on the north side of the great dry lake, and probably stop at martinez. from there the country is better cultivated, as we go along the chatenezonais valley, in which there are several villages. to-morrow's journey is, therefore, the most lonely and dangerous, and they would have no motive whatever in going farther, so i think that for to-night we can sleep tranquilly. to-morrow we shall have to be on our guard." chapter iii an ambush the night passed quietly. the soil was soft and sandy, and, rolled in his poncho, will slept as comfortably as if in a hammock. they were in the saddle early, for the day's ride would be a very long one, and juan intended to give the horses a day's rest at martinez. "we don't consider sixty miles to be a long journey here," juan said, as they started, "and, indeed, if one starts on fresh horses it is a mere nothing; but when one rides the same, day after day, forty is as much as one has a right to expect from them after one is once fairly on his way. we shall meet with no water to-day, and it is specially for this part of the journey that we brought the water-skins with us." "i noticed that you did not fill them half full at the last stream we crossed." "no, it was not necessary; the horses will have a good drink at a stream we shall cross in a couple of hours, and we shall fill the skins there; beyond that we enter the mountains and travel through an extremely difficult pass, or, rather, i should say, passes, till we come down into the valley. the carts do not come this way; they strike the colorado river many miles down and follow its bank. it is at least a third longer, but if it were three times as long they would have to go that way; the passes are difficult enough for horses, but they would be impossible for wheeled carriages." after riding for thirty miles they halted for half an hour; the horses were watered, and the men ate some of the meat they had cooked overnight and some cold pancakes that had been fried in deer's fat. they were now far up on the hillside and following a regular track. "another hour's sharp climbing and we shall be on the top summit of the pass. see to the priming of your rifles and pistols. if we are not attacked before we reach the top i shall admit that i have been wrong, and that the attack upon me was, after all, the work of street ruffians." the four vaqueros were ordered to look to their pistols before remounting; they did not carry guns. "do you expect an attack, master?" one asked. "i have not heard of there being any bands on the road just lately, but of course there may be some, and this bit of road is their favourite lurking-place, as the traffic between san filepi and the chatenezonais valley all comes this way." "i do not know that i expect to be attacked, lopez, but i have grounds for suspecting that it is possible. if we should be ambushed, dismount at once, and take up your position behind the rocks and fight them in their own way. if the road were good enough i should say gallop on, but it is too steep and too rough for that." will harland soon found that his friend had not exaggerated the difficulty of the pass. on both sides the hills sloped very steeply and were covered by boulders. the track in the middle of the ravine was just wide enough for a cart, but at distances of two hundred or three hundred yards apart the rock had been cut away for some twenty yards, so that two or three carts could draw aside there to allow others coming the other way to pass. as it was inconvenient for two to ride abreast, juan said: "we had better go in single file." "yes, and i will ride first," will replied. "if there should be a fellow hiding among these rocks, it will be you they are after, and, riding first, you would present an easy mark for them; whereas, if i am first, they won't be able to aim at you till you are pretty nearly abreast of them." "i don't like that," juan began, but will pushed his horse forward. both had unslung their rifles from their shoulders, and were carrying them in readiness for instant use. "keep your eyes on the rocks," juan said to the men behind him; "if one of you sees the least movement give a shout, and all throw yourselves at once off your horses." it would, however, have been no easy matter to distinguish a man's head among the masses of rock and boulders through which in many places brushwood and small trees had sprung up, and, although all kept scanning the hillsides minutely, nothing suspicious was heard, until suddenly a shot was fired from a spot some forty feet up the rocks on the left-hand side. will instantly swung himself to the ground, gave a sharp slap on his horse's quarters, and ensconced himself behind a rock, while the animal, relieved from the weight of his rider, made his way rapidly along the path. the first shot had been followed by half a dozen others. these came from both sides of the ravine, and a ball striking the rock close to will's head, showed him that his position was no more safe there than it would have been on horseback. he therefore made a rush upward, and took up a position between two rocks which covered him from either side. then he took advantage of some bushes and crawled some yards farther along, until he came to a spot where he could lie in shelter, and yet obtain a view through the bushes both above and below him. "are you all right, juan?" he shouted. the answer came from rocks on the other side. "yes; the ball aimed at me has killed my horse, but i am unhurt. lopez is killed." for some time shots were fired at intervals. juan shouted to the vaqueros not to use their pistols. "you would have no chance of hitting them," he said, "and they would only pick you off one by one. lie quiet for the present; keep your shots till they come to close quarters. now, will," he said in english, "you watch the rocks above me, and i will watch those above you. mark, if you can, where a shot is fired; lie with your rifle pointed at it until the fellow stands up to fire again, and then let him have it." four shots were fired almost together from will's side, the assailants aiming in the direction from which the voice had come, but will had no doubt that juan had foreseen this and was in shelter when he spoke. presently he saw a puff of smoke shoot out from the side of a large rock. he brought his rifle to bear upon it and watched intently. three minutes later a head appeared cautiously round the rock, then a shoulder appeared, and a rifle was pointed towards the spot behind which he had first sheltered. he fired, there was a sharp scream, and the rifle went clattering down, exploding as it fell. the moment that he had fired, will drew back into the shelter of the stone. two other shots rang out, and the balls cut up and scattered the small pebbles on which he had been lying. he was able to observe, however, the position of one of his assailants. while he was reloading he heard the crack of juan's rifle, followed by an exclamation of satisfaction. "that is two of them, will. they will soon get tired of this game." the distances were so short, in fact, that it was almost impossible for even an indifferent shot to miss his aim when he once caught sight of the head of an enemy. presently another shot struck the rock close to will. it was fired some paces from the stone that he was watching, and showed that the assailants were using the same tactics that he had done, and were shifting their positions after firing. he moved a few yards away, and did not answer to the next two or three shots that were fired. "he is done for," he heard one of the men on the other side of the ravine say. they were but some fifty feet away from him, and it was, therefore, easy to catch their words as they shouted from one to the other. "well, then, go down and attack the man we want," another voice said. "no one but the englishman had a rifle over there, so you are quite safe." "you had better come and show us the way. we did not bargain for this sort of thing. you said we should settle it all in one volley." "so you would have done, you fools, if you could have shot straight. who could have supposed that you were all going to miss at that distance. why, a child of ten years old would have fired straighter. however, i am ready to lead the way. you, over there, make a rush when we do." will marked the exact position of the speaker. it was behind a large boulder some fifteen yards up the hill and as much ahead of him; he saw that to join the men who had been firing he would have to pass an open space between that and some other large masses of rock, and he laid his sights on that spot. the speaker, who was evidently confident that he was killed, and that therefore there was no danger of a shot being fired at him while he moved to join the others, appeared half a minute later. he was stooping, and held a pistol in each hand. the moment his body appeared in the line of fire will pressed the trigger, and the man rolled over like a log. a cry of dismay burst from the hillside above harland, where the men had evidently been watching also for their leader to join his comrades and give the signal for a rush. "i have shot melos, juan!" will shouted. "at least if he is, as you suppose, their leader." "well done, indeed! we shall have no difficulty with the rest of them if their paymaster is dead; they will think of nothing now but saving their own wretched lives." the parties on the opposite sides of the ravine now shouted to each other. two or three of them urged their companions to make a general rush, but the majority were altogether against this. "why should we throw away our lives?" one said. "they have all got pistols, and even if we got the better of them, four or five of us would be likely to go down before we had finished with them. indeed, they would shoot us down directly we showed ourselves, and half of us would never reach the bottom." there was a silence which showed that there was a general feeling that he was right. then the same speaker went on: "caballeros, we have been cruelly misled; we are poor men, and have been led into this. two of us have been killed; we ask your mercy." as he ceased there was a general cry of "mercy! mercy!" "you dogs!" juan shouted back, "if it were not that all of your lives are not worth as much as a drop of the honest blood of those with me, i would not move from here until i had put an end to the last of you. however, you have had a lesson now. come down one at a time into the road. when you get there drop your pistols and knives to the ground, and then go down the hill. when one man has started let the next man come down. how many are there of you?" "there are six of us alive," the man answered. "we were eight besides our leader. my brother was killed by you in san diego the other night, and if it had not been for that i should not have come." "look here," juan said, "i shall see every one of your faces plainly as you come down, and when you have thrown down your arms you will stand and face this rock so that i may have a good look at you. i warn you to leave san diego as soon as you get back, for when i return i will have the town searched for you, and any of you found there will pay for this with your lives. now you come down first." one by one the six men came down, placed their weapons upon the ground, turned to the rock where juan was lying, and then went down the pass without a word being uttered. when the last had gone juan stepped down into the road, and was at once joined by will, who had kept his rifle pointed on each man as he reached the road, in case he should intend treachery against juan. two of the vaqueros also stepped out. "where is pedro?" juan asked. "he is dead, sir. he was shot through the body, but had just strength to throw himself in among the rocks. i heard him groaning just at first, but he was soon silent; i could see him from where i lay, and he has not moved since." "see if he is dead, sancho. this is a bad business." the man returned in a minute. "he is quite dead, señor." "where is the man you shot, will? let us see if my suspicions are correct." will led the way to the spot, followed by the others. juan glanced at the dead man. "it is as i thought," he said. then he turned to the vaqueros. "you may as well search him. it is likely he has money upon him." "he has a bag, and a heavy one, sir," one of them said, as he lifted a canvas bag from the dead man's sash. "let us see what he valued my life at," juan replied. the two vaqueros counted over the gold pieces. "there are eighty of them." "ten apiece," juan remarked. "put aside sixty for the widows of pedro and lopez, and take ten each yourselves." "shall we do anything with the body, señor?" "fetch some big stones and pile them over it. there will be no search for him, for you may be sure he has not mentioned to anyone in the town what he was going to do, or where he was going. he probably asked for a week's leave of absence, and would likely enough say that he was going up to los angeles or santa barbara, and when he does not return it will be supposed that he has been murdered on the way. when you have done with him you had better do the same thing with the bodies of your two comrades. the ground is too rocky to dig graves, and they will sleep as well there as elsewhere. it would be impossible for us to carry them home." an hour's labour and the work was finished. will assisted the men in the work. juan did not offer to do so. "i have a bullet in my shoulder," he said. "another fellow fired the instant that i shot his comrade. he luckily hit my shoulder instead of my head. i will get you to fetch pedro's sash and make a sling for my arm. we can do nothing for it until we go down to monterey." "have the horses gone far, do you think, juan?" "no, we shall probably find them a few hundred yards up the pass. they are trained not to go on without riders, and when their first alarm at the firing has ceased they will halt." when the cairns were finished the vaqueros cut down two saplings and made a couple of rude crosses, which they fixed above their fallen comrades. then they all proceeded up the pass, and soon came upon the horses, and, mounting, continued their way down into monterey, where they arrived just as the sun was setting. here juan's wound was attended to. the injury was to the left arm, which had been thrown forward in the act of firing. the ball struck just above the elbow, and had cut a groove from that point nearly up to the shoulder. "this is evidently my unlucky arm at present, will," he said, with a smile; "after having had three gashes below the elbow a week ago, it now gets ploughed with a rifle-bullet." "i should call it a lucky limb, juan, considering that they are nothing but flesh wounds, and that had not the arm received them, both knife and bullet might have given you a vastly more serious wound elsewhere." "yes, that is true enough. there is one comfort in being wounded in this country. you can't go into the smallest village without finding half a dozen people capable of dressing an injury, more especially a knife wound. in fact, knife fights are so common that very little is thought of them unless really dangerous injury is inflicted." "will not this prevent your riding for a day or two, juan?" "not a bit of it. we had intended to stop here to-morrow to give a rest to the horses, but the next day we will push on. happily, we shall not have to be on our guard against danger, for the risk of falling in with marauding red-skins is too slight to be thought of. our next day's ride will be an easy one, across a cultivated country. then we have a long day and a half of mountain work." the passes which they had to traverse before arriving at señor sagasta's ranch astonished harland, who had no previous experience of such scenery. sometimes they were travelling up ravines so deep and rugged that it was almost twilight below, while at others they wound along on natural ledges on the face of precipices where a stumble of the horse would mean certain death to it and its rider. higher and higher they wound, until, crossing a narrow shoulder of bare rock, they looked down into the broad valley owned by juan's father. "do you see that white speck in front of the dark patch of trees? that is the hacienda. as the crow flies, i do not suppose it is more than seven or eight miles away, but by the way we have to go it is five times that distance, and if we are there by this time to-morrow we shall have every reason to be satisfied." when they started the next morning, juan sent one of the vaqueros on with the news that he would arrive two hours after his messenger. "it is just as well to give them notice," he said to will. "i told him to mention that i have my arm in a sling, but that i have no serious injury. it has been hurting me a good bit for the past two days, and as i have not got much sleep i expect that i am not looking what you call very fit, therefore it is as well that they should not think me in a very bad way when i ride up; besides, i dare say they are getting anxious about me. you see, they will have calculated upon my having ridden a good deal faster than we have done, for with the two horses one can push on rapidly, and, knowing when the horses would have arrived at san diego, they have, i am sure, been on the look-out for me for the past three or four days. of course the wound was nothing in itself, but in such rough riding as we have had one gets sudden jerks that do not improve its condition. you have bathed it for me night and morning, but there is no doubt it has become a good deal inflamed, and i shall have to keep quiet for a few days after we get there." will himself was by no means sorry that the journey was approaching its end. wholly unaccustomed to riding, he had been so stiff at the end of the second day's journey that he could scarcely dismount unassisted from his horse. this had to some extent worn off, but he still felt that every bone in his body ached. the last ten miles were performed at a canter. the horses seemed as glad as their riders at being on level ground again, and were doubtless well aware that they were close to their home once more. they were within three miles of the hacienda, when they saw two mounted figures riding to meet them. "it is my father and sister," juan said. "i thought that they would lose no time in starting after antonio arrived with the news that i was close at hand." chapter iv a great ranch antonio had indeed been charged to make light of the fight in the pass. "my father is almost sure to mount and ride out to meet me," juan said to him before starting. "you can say we had a skirmish with some brigands in the hills, and that i have a slight flesh wound in the shoulder, but don't say more about it until he has started to meet us. then you can go to the huts and break the news of the death of lopez and pedro to their wives, but keep them from going anywhere near the house till i arrive. i don't wish my mother to know anything about it till i see her. if she heard that two of the men had been killed she would at once imagine that i had been badly wounded and that you were concealing the truth from her. of course you will tell them, antonio, that i am bringing a friend with me." señor sarasta and his daughter came up. will harland reined in his horse a little so as to allow his companion to meet his friends alone. juan checked his horse and dismounted as they came up to them, and they, too, leaped from their horses. "welcome home again, juan!" his father said, embracing him in spanish fashion; while the girl kissed him with warm affection. "so i hear from antonio that you have had trouble on the way and have lost some blood." "'tis only a flesh wound, sir, but just at present it is smarting a good deal. riding over those mountains is not the best thing in the world, even for a trifling wound. now i wish to introduce you to my friend, don william harland, an american gentleman, who has done me vital service, as i will presently relate to you." will had also dismounted, and was standing by his horse, some fifteen yards away. juan's father walked across to him, and, lifting his sombrero, said: "as the friend of my son, señor, i welcome you most warmly, the more so since he tells me that you have rendered him a signal service, though of what nature i am not aware, but in any case, as his friend you are mine, and i beg you to consider my house as your own. this is my daughter, donna clara." will removed his sombrero and bowed deeply, while the girl made a ceremonious salute. "now let us mount and ride on," señor sarasta said. "your mother will be anxiously expecting you, juan. we have been looking for you for the past two days. but where are your other two men?" "i am sorry to say, father, that they are both killed," juan replied. "killed!" the haciendero repeated; while the girl uttered an exclamation of horror. "why, antonio only spoke of the attack upon you as a trifle!" "i told him to do so, sir. i did not wish for you or my mother to be alarmed. she might well have imagined that the wound was much more serious than he reported; but it was a serious affair. we were ambushed by a party of nine men in the upper part of the pass in the hills beyond monterey. the two men were killed by their first fire. we took to the rocks. my friend here shot their leader and one of the men. i shot another, but should not have been much further use, for one of them fired almost at the same instant that i did, and his bullet cut my arm from the elbow to the shoulder. it is not at all a serious wound, but it disabled the arm for a time. however, the fall of their leader settled the affair. the other six men, finding that they could not get away without a certainty of being shot, surrendered, coming out one by one and throwing down their weapons in the road and then going down the pass singly. i was obliged to let them go, for they were still superior to us in number, and we could no more show ourselves out of shelter than they could. some at least of us might have fallen had the fight gone on." "well, let us mount," the don said. "you must tell me all about it later on. the first thing to do is to have your wound seen to. padre hidalgo is a famous hand at such matters." "well, señor," he went on to will, as they cantered along, "i can quite understand now that the service that you rendered to my son is a valuable one, for had you not shot the leader of these rascals, to say nothing of some of the others, the fight might have terminated very differently." "that is certainly so," juan said, "but that was not the service to which i alluded. don william and i made our first acquaintance in the streets of san diego after nightfall. i was returning through the quarter by the port when i was attacked suddenly by four cut-throats. i was defending myself as well as i could, but should certainly have been killed had not this gentleman, who was an entire stranger to me, ran up and levelled one of my assailants to the ground with a blow from a stick he carried, and broke the wrist of another. the third, turning to defend himself, i disposed of, and the other ran away." "by the saints! you seem to have had a hot time of it, juan, and, indeed, we have all good reason to be most grateful to your preserver. señor harland, my obligations to you are infinite--such as i can never repay." "really, señor, you are making more of the matter than it is worth," will said earnestly. "i was going quietly along when i heard shouts and exclamations, and felt that someone was being attacked. i ran forward, and, seeing four men attacking one, had no difficulty in deciding who were the aggressors, and without hesitation joined in. as i took them by surprise, and, in fact, disposed of two of them before they could attack me, while almost at the same moment juan killed another, the affair was over almost before it began. it was not a quarter of a minute from the time i came up to that in which the fourth man was running off at the top of his speed. i have already benefited very largely by the affair, having gained thereby the friendship of your son, the hospitality of his friend, señor guzman, and the opportunity of making this journey and paying you a visit. as to the affair in the mountains, i was defending my own life also, and our success was as important to me as to him." "it is well for you to make light of it, sir, but whether the first affair lasted a quarter of a minute or a quarter of an hour, the result was the same. your quickness and courage in thus plunging into a street fray on behalf of a stranger saved my son's life, as doubtless did the shot that killed the leader of the party attacking you. it is strange, indeed, that he should have met with two such adventures in the course of a week. possibly, juan, the one was a sequel to the other, and those engaged in it may have been the comrades of the men who attacked you at san diego, and who thus assaulted you to obtain revenge for their mishap there." "that was so, father. both attacks were the work of one man, who, i am happy to say, will trouble me no more, as he was the leader of the second attack--the man whom señor harland shot." "but who is the man, and what could have been his motive for thus attacking you?" "i only suspected the first time, father, and until i looked at the man harland had shot i was not sure of it. happily none of the men who acted for him are likely to open their lips on the matter, and no one else will have a suspicion. had it been otherwise we might have had a good deal of trouble over it, for the man was captain enriques melos." sarasta looked grave. "as you say, that would lead to serious trouble were it known, although, clearly, you were not to blame in the matter; but what was the reason of his enmity against you?" "he was a suitor for donna christina guzman's hand, father." "ah, ah, that explains it! well, we will think no more of it at present; but what did you do with his body?" "we piled rocks over it; there is no fear of his being discovered, and as he certainly would not have mentioned to anyone his intention of murdering me on my way home, no search is likely to be made in that direction." "that is well. of course i received your letter, juan, and sent off a messenger at once to señor guzman, giving my and your mother's hearty consent to the match, which indeed pleased us much." two or three minutes later they arrived at the hacienda, in front of which a number of servants and peons employed in the gardens and stables had gathered to welcome their young master back after his nine months' absence. as they dismounted, donna sarasta appeared at the door. juan ran up the steps and tenderly embraced her; señor sarasta then led will up. "your first welcome, my dear, should have been given to this gentleman, señor william harland, for had it not been for him you would not have juan by your side now. he has twice saved his life." "twice saved his life!" donna sarasta exclaimed incredulously. "is it possible, philip?" "it is quite true," her husband said gravely. "had it not been for him juan would never have returned to us. do not be alarmed; the danger is over, for the author of these attacks has fallen by don william's rifle." the lady held out both hands to will. the tears were streaming down her cheeks. "señor," she said, "i cannot thank you now. remember that it is our only son's life that you have saved. think of what we should have felt had he not returned, and our men had brought us news of his death. may the blessed virgin reward you and bless you! give me your arm, philip, i am faint." her husband and son supported her into the house and placed her on a couch. "look after your mother, clara," the mexican said, as two female attendants came in. "sancho, go and call father hidalgo down from his study. doubtless he is unaware that my son has returned. tell him that he is to bring bandages and salves, for there is a wound to be dressed. he will find my son in the dining-room. do one of you fetch basins of hot water and sponges there. now, señor harland, i will lead you to your room. doubtless a bath will be agreeable to you after your journey." will was glad to be out of the way during this family meeting, and willingly followed his host, who took him to a large chamber on the first floor. a bath stood ready filled, with towels and all conveniences. "i told them to put a suit of juan's clothes in readiness. i did not know whether they would fit, but i have no doubt they will do so. they will save you the trouble of opening your bag till evening. and now, if you will excuse me, i will go down and look at the boy's wound." "well, luck has favoured me, indeed," will said to himself, as he looked round the room before proceeding to undress. "a fortnight ago there was i, a runaway lad without plans, in a strange country, with nothing but my kit-bag and some ninety pounds to rely upon. now i am in clover, with a good friend, a welcome assured as long as i choose to stay here, and an amount of gratitude that seems to me almost ridiculous, considering that it is all the result of my interfering in a street row, just as i might have done in any other port. at any rate, i shall have some new experiences to tell about when i get home. i shall certainly like the señor; he has been so long out here that he has shaken off the indolent air and the formal constraint that almost all these spanish people have, and is much more like an american than an englishman. the mere fact of his having settled in this out-of-the-way valley is a proof that he has a lot of go and pluck. "of course i can't tell much about his wife yet; she is naturally upset at the thought of juan's danger. as to his sister, she is ever so much prettier than his sweetheart, though certainly christina guzman is pretty, too. she hardly said a word after her first welcome to him--i suppose she was too upset to talk, and will brighten up when she finds that juan's wounds are really trifling. well, i expect i shall have a jolly time of it here, and get some shooting and hunting. it will be great fun among all these herds of wild cattle. the first thing to do will be to learn to ride properly. i should not like to have all these mexican fellows laughing at me. at any rate, i have learned something on our way here. i will get juan to go out alone with me for a bit till i can be sure of sticking on. from what he was saying, some of their horses must be brutes to sit, especially those who jump straight up into the air, and keep on doing it until they get rid of their riders." having taken a bath and dressed very leisurely, he went downstairs again, feeling pleased that juan's clothes fitted him so well, and that it was not necessary for him to get out his own, for, although new, they would certainly not look so well after their journey in the kit-bag as did the spotless white garments that had been provided for him. he found clara alone in the patio. this hacienda, like most of its kind, was a large square building with a courtyard in its centre. in this case the patio had been transformed into a shady little garden, with orange-trees, bananas, and other tropical productions. grape-vines climbed round the light pillars that supported the veranda that surrounded it, and covered its roof with a mass of foliage dotted with great purple bunches of grapes. two or three little fountains were half-hidden among the trees, and the air was heavy with the scent of the orange and citron flowers. "my father and mother will be down directly, señor," she said; "the bell will ring for the mid-day meal in a few minutes." "what a lovely little garden this is!" will said cheerfully, for he saw that the girl was nervous and embarrassed. "you would not see anything like this in the east, even under glass." the girl was silent for a few moments, and then broke out: "i hope you do not think me ungrateful, señor, that i have said nothing to thank you for what you did for my brother, but it was not that. it was because i felt that if i were to say a word i should break out crying. we love each other dearly, juan and i, and it was so awful to think that i might never have seen him alive again;" and she stopped, with her eyes full of tears. "i quite understand, señorita," he said; "and, indeed, i have been very much more than sufficiently thanked by your father and mother. as for my share in the matter, it was really not worth talking about. i am a sailor, you know, and i am sorry to say that sailors when in port are often in the habit of getting into rows, and i have half a dozen times at least, when in foreign ports, taken part in a scrimmage when i saw drunken sailors engaged in a broil with others, and have had to fight very much harder than i did at san diego, where, in point of fact, so far as i was concerned, there was really no fighting at all. i do not say that your brother might not have come off very badly if i had not happened to come along, but there was really no shadow of risk to myself. a couple of blows and it was all over; and i do hope that no one will say any more in the way of thanking me." at this moment señor sarasta, his wife, and juan, all came out together. "well, juan, how do you feel now?" will asked, well pleased at their arrival. "i feel a different man altogether," the young mexican replied. "a warm bath first and then the padre's salves have done wonders for me, and in a week i shall have forgotten all about it." the rest of the day was spent in sauntering or sitting in the gardens round the house. they were of the spanish fashion, containing but few flowers except those borne by the fruit-trees, and resembling shrubberies and orchards rather than gardens, shade being the principal object aimed at. during the afternoon will told his friend of his desire to become a good horseman. "i will put you in charge of antonio; we have no better rider on the ranch. he will put you through a course, beginning with comparatively well-broken bronchos, until you can sit the worst buckers on the plains; but you must not mind a few heavy falls at first." "i shall not mind that a bit, juan. sailors have the knack of falling lightly." "ah, well, he will choose a spot where the grass is long and the ground soft for your lessons, and i can tell you it makes a good deal of difference whether you come off on ground like that or on a spot where there is next to no grass, and the ground is as hard as a brick. i have no doubt that in the course of two or three weeks you will, if you stick to it, be able to ride almost anything." "you need not be afraid of my not sticking to it, juan. i certainly should not like to look like a fool to your vaqueros, still less before your mother and sister." accordingly next morning will's lessons began in a meadow close to the stream, and half a mile away from the house. at first he was thrown an innumerable number of times, for he had told antonio to bring with him some fairly restive horses. "it is of no use my spending my time on quiet animals," he said. "i have just had a week's riding on one of them. i may as well begin with a fairly bad one at once; it only means a few more throws. i have got to learn to hold on, and the sooner i begin that the better." "with beginners we sometimes put a strap for them to hold on by, señor." will shook his head. "i don't want anything of that sort," he said. "i want to be able to stick on by my knees." "it is more by properly balancing yourself than by holding on," the man said. "if you always keep your balance you will come straight down again into the saddle, no matter how high he throws you, and there is no doubt that the tighter you hold on by your knees the more heavy are the throws that you will get." "i can understand that, antonio. now i am ready to begin." will had expected to find it difficult, but he was fairly astounded by the rapidity and variety of the tricks by which he was again and again thrown off. after a time antonio urged him to give it up for the day, but he insisted on continuing until he was so absolutely exhausted that he could do no more. "well, señor," the man said, "you have done wonderfully well for a beginner, and i will guarantee that in another week you will be able to ride any ordinary horse, and in a month you will be able to mount fearlessly any animal that you may come across, except, of course, a few brutes that scarcely a vaquero on the ranch would care to back." antonio's opinion was justified. it was ten days before juan was able to ride again, and by that time william harland was so far accustomed to the saddle that he was able to accompany him and his father on their excursions to visit the herds and see that all was going on well. he did not, however, give up his lessons with antonio, devoting three or four hours a day to the work, and at the end of the month he was able to sit any ordinary bucker without difficulty. after that he practised for an hour a day on vicious animals, and at the end of three months antonio said: "now, señor, i can do no more for you; that brute that you have been riding the last week is the terror of the ranch, and after sitting him as you have done for the last three days, without his being able to get rid of you once, you can ride anything without fear." chapter v an indian raid the time passed very pleasantly; will had become a great favourite with both señor sarasta and his wife, and was treated as one of the family. donna clara often accompanied the party on horseback, and when her first shyness with will had worn off, he found that she was lively and high-spirited. accustomed to horses from her infancy, she was an admirable rider, and, although both juan and will were mounted on some of the best horses on the ranch, she could leave them behind on her favourite mare, a beautiful creature that she herself had broken in. at the end of three months will felt that, much as he was enjoying himself, he must not outstay his welcome; but, upon his broaching the subject of leaving, the whole family protested so indignantly against such an idea, that he felt they really desired him to stay with them. juan spoke to him on the subject as soon as they started on horseback together that afternoon. "the idea of your leaving us is altogether preposterous, will; do you think that we should for a moment let you go? where, indeed, would you go? what ideas have you in your mind? are you not one of us completely?" "you are awfully good to me; i was never so happy in my life," will replied, "but there is reason in all things; i cannot spend my life here. i must be doing something for my living. as i told you, i do not want to return home until i can say to my father, i have been a success, i require no favours, and am in a position to keep myself." "i understand that," juan said, "but how do you propose doing it?" "i should do it somehow. i can at least ride now, and have more ways of making a living open to me than i had before." "my dear will, you are talking nonsense, and if you suppose that we are going to let you go out into the world in that sort of way you are altogether mistaken. at any rate, leave the matter alone for the present; we may see our way more clearly in time;" and had will happened to glance at his companion's face, he would have been puzzled by the slight smile that glanced across it. two months later all hands were busy on the ranch. it was the season at which the herds were weeded out, the old bulls and some of the young ones slaughtered, skinned, and boiled down. will only once accompanied señor sarasta and juan to the scene of operations. he was interested in the indians, who, with their squaws and young ones, had come down and established a camp of their own. they were free to take as much meat as they pleased, not only for eating, but for drying for future consumption; broad, thin slices of flesh were cut up and hung on ropes between poles to dry in the sun. three days sufficed for the operation. the meat, now almost as hard as leather, was pounded by the women between heavy stones, and then mixed with a little salt and packed tightly in bags made of skins. in this state it would keep for an indefinite time. will harland often went there, but could not be induced to approach the spot where the animals were slaughtered. he was much rallied by señor sarasta and juan on what they called his faint-heartedness. "i admit all you say," he replied. "i don't mind going into a fight myself, but i cannot stand seeing those poor brutes killed. i know that it is necessary, and that your vaqueros do it almost instantaneously; at the same time, it is not necessary for me to see it. i would very much rather stay away and watch the natives, with the shrivelled old women, and the funny little papooses." clara nodded approvingly. "you are quite right, don william," for although the others all, like juan, called him simply by his christian name, clara still continued the more formal mode of address. "i never go near the yard myself when it is going on." "ah! it is one thing for a girl not to like it," juan said, "but for will, whom i have seen as cool as possible when his life was in danger, and who fired at a man as steadily as if he had been shooting at a target, it seems odd. however, one does not go to see the animals killed; no one can take pleasure in that. the interest lies in the skill and courage of the vaqueros, who are constantly risking their lives; and, indeed, there is scarcely a season passes in which one or two of them are not killed." the work occupied nearly a month; then juan started with his father for san diego, where the formal betrothal of the former was to take place. at this his father's presence was necessary, and the latter would make his usual arrangements for chartering a ship to go down to receive the hides and skins full of tallow at the mouth of the river. will had again proposed that he should accompany them and say good-bye to them there. as before, his proposal was scoffed at. "it will be time enough to think of that when i go down three months hence to be married," juan said; "and now you must take our places here, and look after my mother and sister. you will have to play the part of my younger brother, and keep things straight. when we come back, we will have a serious talk about the future." will was indeed now quite at home in the work of the ranch, and not infrequently rode in one direction to give orders respecting the herds, while juan rode in the other; and the vaqueros all regarded him as being invested with authority by their master. the report of antonio and sancho of what had taken place at san diego and on the road, had greatly predisposed them in his favour, and the manner in which he had succeeded in sitting a horse that few of them would venture to mount had greatly increased their respect for him. don señor sarasta settled the matter by saying, "if you were to go with juan i could not leave at the same time, will, and i particularly wish to be present at his betrothal. it would be strange and contrary to all custom if one of his family were not there; still, we could hardly be away together unless there were someone here to take our place. you know questions are constantly referred to us. one herd strays into the ground allotted to another, disputes arise between vaqueros, and, in fact, someone in authority must be here." "very well, sir. then, if you think that i can be really useful, i shall be only too glad to stay. you know that my own inclinations are all that way. i have already been here five months, and i feel that this delightful life must come to an end before long. however, since you are good enough to say that i can really be of use in your absence, i will gladly remain here until juan goes down again to fetch his bride." two days later the mexican and his son rode off, accompanied by six well-armed horsemen. will found plenty to do, and was out the greater part of the day. two days after the others had started he saw one of the indians talking to antonio. as soon as the latter saw him he left the indian and came up to him. "this indian, who is one of the chiefs of our tribe, señor, tells me that there is a report that the indians on the other side of the river are preparing for an expedition. it is supposed that it is against another tribe farther east. they have not raided on this side of the river for many years, but he thought that it was as well to let us know that they are at present in an unsettled state. he says that he will have some of his warriors down near the river, and that he will let us know as soon as he has any certain news." "is there anything to be done, do you think, antonio?" "no, señor; wars are frequently going on between the indians to the east, but we have never had any trouble with them since we came here. if our indians thought that there was any danger, they would very soon be flocking down here, for they have always been promised that they should be supplied with firearms were anything of that sort to happen, and they know that, with the aid of our people, they could beat off any number of these red-skins." "i have no doubt that we could defend ourselves, antonio; however, you see that in don sarasta's absence i have a very heavy responsibility, and i think that it would be as well to take some precaution. will you ask the chief to send down a dozen of his warriors? they shall be paid, in powder and in blankets, whatever is the usual sum. i want them to establish themselves round the hacienda, to keep guard at night. i don't mean that they shall stay close to the house, but scout down towards the river, so that in case of alarm there would be time to get you all in from the huts. how many sleep there?" "there are about thirty of us who look after the herds in the lower parts of the valley, and eight or ten peons who work in the garden round the house." "well, that force, with the half-dozen servants in the house, would be able to hold the hacienda against almost any number of indians, and you could all be here in ten minutes from the alarm being given." "very well, señor, i will tell the chief." he talked for a few minutes with the indian. "he will send twelve of his braves down to-morrow," he said, when he rejoined will. "very well, let him do so; i shall certainly feel more comfortable. what tribe do these indians on the other side of the river belong to?" "they are a branch of the tejunas, who are themselves a branch of the apaches. the head-quarters of the tribe lie on the east side of arizona, between the gila river and the little colorado. the tejunas lie between them and the colorado; they are just as bad as the apaches themselves, and both of them are scourges to the northern districts of mexico." "what are our indians?" "they are a branch of the genigueh indians. they live among the hills between iron bluff, sixty miles below us, and those hills you see as many miles up. a good many of them hunt during the season on the other side as far east as aquarius mountains, in what is known as the mohave country, but they never go farther south that side than the river santemaria, for the tejunas would be down upon them if they caught them in what they consider their country." "i wish the señor was back," will said; "though i dare say it is all right, and that, as the indians haven't made a raid across here for many years, they will not do so now. how would they get across the river?" "they would swim across, señor. an indian thinks nothing of swimming a wide river; he simply slips off his horse, and either puts his hands on its back, or more generally holds on by its tail." "have these fellows guns?" "a great many of them have. they capture them from the mexicans, or, in peaceable times, trade skins or their blankets or their indian trumpery for them. it is against the law to sell guns to the indians, but most mexicans will make a bargain if they have the chance, without the slightest regard to any law." "how is it that the mexican government does not try and get rid of these indians? i see by the map that the frontier line is a long way north of the gila." "yes, señor; they may put the line where they like, but there is not a white man for a couple of hundred miles north of the gila, except on the santa fé river, and even there they are never safe from the apaches and the navajoes. why, it would want an army of twenty thousand men to venture among the mountains north of the gila, and they would all die of starvation before they ever caught sight of an apache. no, señor; unless there is an earthquake and the whole region is swallowed up, i don't see any chance of getting the better of the red rascals." after entering the house, will said nothing of the news which he had heard. it seemed that there was no real ground for alarm, and yet he could not but feel very uneasy. the next morning he rode down to the river, where a number of peons were engaged in loading the rafts with hides and tallow. he had told donna sarasta that he should be down there all day, as he wanted to get the work pushed on. he had been there but two hours when antonio rode up at a headlong gallop. "what is it, antonio?" will exclaimed, for it was evident from the man's appearance that his errand was one of extreme importance. "the hacienda has been attacked by indians, señor; i was with the herd two miles this side of it when i heard some shots fired. i galloped to see what was the matter, but when i got within a quarter of a mile i saw that the indians were swarming round it. a dozen started in pursuit of me, but they did not follow me far." will stood as one thunderstruck. "but how can they have got there, antonio?" "they must have come by what is called the little gap. you know it, señor,--that valley that runs off from the other nearly abreast of the hacienda. following that and crossing a shoulder, you cross down on to the river some ten miles higher up. they must have crossed there by swimming in the night." "but the chief said he had scouts there." "they could hardly watch thirty miles of the river, señor; besides, the red-skins would have sent over two or three swimmers to silence anyone they found near the place where they were to cross." by this time a dozen other vaqueros, who had been warned by antonio as he came down, joined them. "we must ride for the hacienda at once," will said, leaping into the saddle. "no use, señor, no use. i should say there must be four hundred or five hundred of the red-skins, and we may be sure that there is not a soul alive now at the hacienda or at the huts. they will be here in a short time, of that there is no doubt; probably half will come down the valley and half will go up. we must ride for it, sir; follow the river down till we are past the hills; there is not a moment to be lost." the peons who had gathered round gave a cry of despair. "you can go if you like, antonio; i see we can do nothing at present, but i will not leave the place." "what will you do then, señor?" "we will take the rafts and pole them across the river; there are no signs of indians there, and it is not likely there will be now." then he turned to the peons. "you have heard what i said. get to the rafts at once, there is not a moment to be lost. look at that herd galloping wildly; you may be sure that the red-skins are after them." "the señor's advice is good," antonio said, "and there is not a moment to be lost. get on board all of you, comrades; tie your bridles to the rafts." all hurried on to the rafts, the ropes that held them to the shore were cut, and the peons, putting out the poles, pushed them into the stream. the rafts were already heavily laden, by far the greater portion of the cargo having been placed on board. most of the vaqueros had their rifles slung across their shoulders, as they had heard from antonio what the indian had said, and had, on starting out, taken their guns with them. "one never can tell what will happen," antonio said; "it is always well to be on the safe side." although the peons exerted themselves to the utmost, the rafts moved but slowly, and they were but seventy or eighty yards from the shore when a large band of indians rode down to the bank and at once opened fire. as they approached, will shouted to all the men to take their places on the other side of the piles of hide, and, using these as a breast-work, those having guns at once returned the indian fire. five or six of the red-skins fell, and the plunging of many horses showed that they were wounded. a chief, who seemed to be in command, waved his hand and shouted to his followers, who were evidently about to urge their horses into the river, when will, who had held his fire, took a steady aim at the chief, and the latter fell dead from his horse. "will they take to the water, antonio?" he asked the vaquero, who had taken his place on the raft with him. "i do not think so, señor; it is not in indian nature to run such a risk as that. we should shoot down numbers of them before they reached us, and they would have a tough job then, for the peons would fight desperately with their long knives, and it is no easy matter to climb out of the water on to a raft with two or three men with long knives waiting for you. this band are apaches, señor; they have evidently joined the tejunas in a big raid." the indians for a few minutes continued their fire, but as those on the rafts only showed their heads when they stood up to fire, and every bullet told in the crowded mass, the indians sullenly rode off. the peons then resumed their poles, and in ten minutes reached the opposite shore. will sat down as soon as he had seen the horses landed, with a feeling of despair in his heart. in the hurried arrangements for the safety of those with him he had scarcely had time to think. now that there was nothing to do, the full horror of the situation was felt, and the thought of donna sarasta and of clara being murdered altogether overpowered him, and his cheeks were moistened with tears. what would the señor and juan say on their return? they had left him in charge, and although he could hardly be said to be to blame, yet he might have taken greater precautions. he should not have relied upon the indian scouts, but have kept at least enough of the men up at the house to offer a serious defence. antonio, who was at the head of one of the parties in charge of a herd, came up to him presently. "well, señor, 'tis no use grieving, and assuredly if anyone is to blame it is i rather than you, for i assured you that there was no danger. i shall tell the señor so when he comes. had he been here he would, i feel sure, have waited for further news before regarding the matter as serious. now, señor, what do you propose to do next? you are our leader." "the first thing to do is to go to the hacienda after dark, and to find out what has happened there. how long do you think that the indians will remain in the valley?" "some days, i should say, señor. they will no doubt kill a number of cattle and jerk the meat. then they will drive off as many as they think they can take with them, and probably slay the rest out of pure wickedness." "the principal point is to find out if all at the hacienda have been killed." "that you may be sure of, señor; but still it is right that we should know. there may be one exception, although i can hardly hope." "how do you mean, antonio?" "i mean, señor, that the señorita may have been spared for a worse fate--i mean, may have been carried off by them. the indians, while sparing no one else, old or young, always carry off the young women." "great heavens!" will exclaimed, stepping back, as if he had been struck. "you do not say so! a thousand times better had she been murdered by her mother's side. it is maddening to sit here and be able to do nothing, not even to be able to find out if this dreadful thing is true. how many men have we with guns?" "thirteen besides myself and you, señor." "those who have no rifles will be useless; they had better go down with the rafts as soon as it becomes dark." "yes, señor, that would be best. the indians are sure to swim across to-night, and the four rafts would do well to push off as soon as they can no longer be seen from the other side. the four head men, who will go down with them, are all here." "call them up." the four white men came to him. "as soon as it is dark," he said, "you must push off; do not make the slightest noise; when you get out in the middle of the stream let the current take you down, only using the poles, when it is absolutely necessary to keep you from approaching either bank. the twelve vaqueros who have not guns had better go with you; that will give three to each raft. we will pick out thirteen of the best horses, the others you must kill this afternoon for food. have you fishing-lines?" "yes, señor, we always carry them with us; and we have spears and can fish by torch-light." "good! then you will manage very well. the vaqueros and what peons you do not require must be landed as soon as you have passed the mountains; they had better strike up to monterey and wait there for orders. i will give money to one of them to buy a horse there and ride with the news to don sarasta at san diego." chapter vi hopeful news when all the arrangements had been made for the departure of the raft, will harland said to antonio: "do you think that it will be absolutely impossible to approach the hacienda by daylight?" "it could not be done, señor, and, indeed, i don't see that any good could come of it, for even if we could get in unobserved, there would be no one of whom we could ask questions or find out anything as to what has taken place. it is just possible that in the confusion of the attack some of the peons employed in the house, the stables, or our huts may have escaped and hidden themselves. the indians are good searchers, but just at first they would be anxious to make their success as complete as possible, and doubtless a large party rode up the valley at once while the others started down it. it was important that they should surprise the men with the various herds before they could gather together, for even if twenty or thirty could have rallied they would have made a hard fight of it before they lost their scalps. therefore, any who escaped in the attack on the house may have hidden themselves from the first search, and we may possibly come across them at night. they would assuredly never leave their hiding-places until darkness had fallen. "i have some hopes of sancho. if anyone has got out safe he has. he had a good deal of experience in indian fighting some fifteen years ago, when he was farther east, and is sure to have his wits about him. he was at our hut when i came along this morning. as you know, he got hurt by a young bull in the yard ten days since. he was nearly well again, but the padre said he had better keep quiet for another day or two. i fancy that he was the only man there except the peons, for it is a busy time. at the first war-whoop he heard he would make for shelter, for he would know that it was no use his trying to fight the whole tribe. there is a thick patch of brush twenty or thirty yards from the huts. i expect that he would make for that straight. there is a tank in the middle that was used at one time, but the water was always muddy, and the master had a fresh one made handy to the huts, and since then the path to the old tank has been overgrown, and no one ever goes there. if francisco is alive, he is lying in that pond under the bushes that droop over it all round." "he would not be able to give us any information as to what was done in the house." "no, señor. but he would be of great assistance to us if we follow the red-skins. he is up to all their ways, and is a good shot with the rifle. at any rate, if we go down to the house i should like to try to find him. we have been comrades a good many years now." "certainly, antonio, you shall see if you can find him. he is a good fellow, and, as you say, would be of great assistance to us. do you think that we could make a circuit and come down on the river again two or three miles higher up, and cross there and get anywhere near the house?" "we might do it, señor, but as we cannot get near enough to do any good, i think we should be wrong to move from here. you may be sure that there are some of the red-skins hiding on the opposite bank, keeping a sharp watch on us. if any of us were to ride away, one of them would carry the news at once, and they would be on the look-out for us. if we all stay here till it is dark, they would suppose that we have all gone down with the rafts. that will be good for the rafts, too, for the indians would be unlikely to attack them, believing that there were some fifteen or twenty men with guns on them; and, in the next place, they will think that they are clear of us altogether and be less cautious than they might be if they were to suppose that we were still in their neighbourhood." "you are right, antonio, and i will try and be patient." as soon as it was dark the little party of fifteen men started, moving as noiselessly as possible. they rode two miles up the river to a point where antonio said they were opposite a path by which they could keep along at the foot of the hills until in a line with the hacienda. "you don't think that there is any fear of there being any red-skins on the farther side?" "not the slightest, señor. long before this they will have their fires lighted and be gorging themselves with meat. they know how small our force is, and will never dream of our venturing back into their midst." as they rode into the river they slipped off their horses as the latter began to swim, holding on with one hand, and with the other keeping their guns, pistols, and ammunition above the water. the river at this point was some two hundred yards wide, and flowing with a quiet current. in a few minutes they were across. antonio soon discovered the path, and, following it, they rode in single file for an hour. then they reached a spot where there was an opening among the trees, and antonio said that they were abreast of the hacienda, which was some four miles away; the building itself was not visible, but the number of fires which blazed round it was a sufficient indication of its position. at various other points up and down the valley fires also blazed, but there was none much nearer their side of the valley than those round the hacienda. "do you mean to go with me, señor?" "certainly i mean to go. how had it best be done?" "i should say that we had better ride to within two miles; it would not be safe to go with so large a party nearer than that; then we will take one of the others with us to hold our horses, and, going at a foot-pace, we might get within half a mile of the house without their hearing us. there will be a good deal of movement in the valley; the cattle will be restless, having been chased all day, and the herds broken up, so i think that we can reckon on getting pretty close. then we will go forward on foot. we had better make for the huts first; you see, the indians are thick round the house; i don't think there is any chance of anyone being saved there, because that would be the first point of attack. if we do not find sancho, possibly we may come upon one or two of the peons, who would be likely enough to make for the same shelter; if not, we can try round the stables. still, i am afraid there is no chance of hearing what has happened at the house--i mean, whether the señorita is killed or a prisoner. if there is no other way we must get hold of an indian and kill him; i will then dress up in his clothes, and see if i can get into the house. as there are two tribes engaged, one would have more chance of passing unsuspected than if they all knew each other personally. at any rate, it must be risked. i know the indian ways pretty well, and might pass muster, but you would have no chance, señor." when they dismounted antonio said: "we had better leave our jackets and sombreros here; their outline would show on the darkest night that we were not indians." before leaving the raft will had obtained from one of the head men a pair of the mexican fringed leggings, as their own white trousers would betray him at once, and now, with a dark blanket thrown over his shoulder, he might at a short distance be easily mistaken for an indian. he had already left his riding-boots behind him, and had obtained a pair of moccasins from one of the peons. "i will lead the way, señor, as i know every foot of the ground," antonio said. moving along noiselessly they came down upon the huts of the white employés of the hacienda. as there were no fires burning here, they had but slight fear of encountering any of the indians. each, however, carried a long knife ready for instant action. they had left their rifles and pistols behind them, for if it was necessary to fight, the combat must be a silent one. they crossed to the clump of bushes of which antonio had spoken. "you stop outside, señor; it is of no use two of us making our way into the tangle." as he parted the bushes before entering, a slight sound was heard. "good! there is someone here," he muttered; and then, making his way a few paces forward, he uttered sancho's name. there was no reply, and he repeated it in a louder tone. at once there was a low reply: "here am i. is it you, tonio?" "yes; i have come to look for you. i thought you would have made a bee-line here as soon as you heard the red-skins." "you were right, and there are two peons here. we were just going to start to make our way down to the river. are you alone?" "i have the young señor with me." "that is good. i was afraid that we had all been wiped out." in a couple of minutes the four men emerged from the bushes. "i am glad to see that you are safe, sancho," will said warmly. "now can you tell me what has happened?" "i know nothing whatever, señor. i was eating my breakfast when i heard a sudden yell, and knew that it was the apache war-whoop, and that there must be a big force of them. there was evidently no fighting to be done, so i caught up my rifle and pistols and made for the bush. these two peons who were outside followed me. i told them to hide as best they could, and i went on into the pool, found a good place under some thick bushes, hid my powder-horn and weapons handy for use close by, and lay down with my head out of water, listening. already they were down at the huts, and i heard the cries of the peons they caught there. luckily i was the only mexican above. a few shots were fired up at the hacienda, and i thought i heard screams, but, owing to the yells of the indians, i could not be sure. presently it all died away. i don't fancy they suspected that anyone had got away, the attack being so sudden; at any rate, they made no search here. i made up my mind to lie down till most of them would be asleep and then to make for the river, and i told the peons that we must each shift for ourselves, as we had more chances of getting away singly than if together." all this was spoken in a low voice. "the principal thing that i wanted to ask you is, do you know whether the señorita was killed, or whether they have kept her to carry off? but, of course, you don't know." "they would not kill her," the man said confidently; "but so far as i know, they have not even caught her. i was at the stables maybe half an hour before the señorita came down and had her horse saddled. she had a basket with her, and told me she was going to ride up the valley to that wigwam that remained when the indians went away, carrying as much meat as their ponies could take. there were an old indian and his wife left there--she had got a fever or something, and was too ill to travel, and the señorita was going to take a basket of food and some medicine that the padre had made up for the old man. i have been thinking of her all day. i should say she was coming back when the red-skins rode up the valley after the cattle. she could hardly have helped seeing them, and i wondered whether she would take to the trees and ride on this way until after they had passed, or whether she had turned and ridden on. if she did the first, she is pretty sure to have been captured when she got down near home; if she went the other way, she gave them a mighty long chase, for there is not a horse on the estate as fast as hers, and as for the indian ponies, she could leave them behind as if they were standing still." "thank god, there is a hope, then!" will exclaimed. "now we must move farther off and chat it over." when they had gone a quarter of a mile from the house they stopped. antonio told the two peons that the rafts had started fully two hours before. "the current is only about a mile and a half an hour, and if you cross the river and keep on, you ought to catch them up before morning, and can then swim off to them. don't keep this side of the river, there are red-skins on the bank; but if you stay on this side of the valley, among the trees, down to the river, you will meet none of them. we have come that way." the peons at once started. "now, señor, will you go on to where the horses are? sancho and i will go back to the house; he understands the apache language. we will crawl up near the fires, and i should think that we are pretty certain to hear if they have caught the señorita or not. however, we may be some time, so do not be anxious, and don't move if you hear a sudden row, for we might miss you in the dark. we shall make straight to this tree, and for a bit my horse must carry double; you had better hand your jacket to señor harland, sancho, and take his blanket." "how far are the horses?" "there are three of them about two hundred yards farther on." "i will go there first, then," the man said. "this is a terrible business, señor." "terrible, indeed. i am afraid there is no doubt that donna sarasta has lost her life." "i reckon," the man said, "that except ourselves and any you may have with you, there ain't a dozen alive in the valley; it is a clean wipe out. i never knew a worse surprise. how about the party by the river?" antonio related what had taken place there. "well, that is something saved," he said, "and with sixteen of us all well armed we can manage to make a decent fight of it. we must get another horse, but that won't be very difficult; most of the others are sure to have their lassos with them, there are a score of horses running loose on the plains, and they cannot have roped them all in yet." when they reached the horses he went on: "you had better stop here, tonio; you are not accustomed, as i am, to them injuns, and as you don't know much of their lingo, you would not understand much of their talk. i would much rather go alone." "all right, old man!" the other said. "now for my toilet," sancho went on; and, going up to one of the horses, he pricked it with his knife. "steady, boy, steady!" he said, as the horse plunged. "it is for your good as well as mine, for you would not find life in an indian village as pleasant as the life you have been used to." he dipped his fingers in the blood, drew a broad line across his forehead and round his eyes, placed a patch on his cheek; then he cut off two handfuls of long hair from the animal's tail, tied these together with string and fastened them in his hair, so that the horse-hair fell down on to his shoulder on each side and partially hid his face. "it is rough," he said, "but it will pass in the darkness. it is lucky you have got a 'pache blanket; that will help me wonderfully." "yes; i bought it from the indians when they traded here a few weeks since. the man i got it of said that he had traded a good pony for it when he was hunting in the spring on the other side of the river." "i will take your rifle, tonio," sancho said. "i must either have that or a bow and arrow. now, good-bye!" without another word he turned and strolled away towards the hacienda. it was nearly two hours before he returned. "the señorita has got away so far," he said. "the red-skins came across her half-way up the valley; she turned and rode straight up; a dozen well-mounted men were sent after her. i heard that they sent so many because they were afraid that they might fall in with a party of the genigueh indians, who would certainly attack them at once." "thank god!" will exclaimed fervently. "there is a chance of saving her, after all, for if they overtake her--and they won't do that for some time--we can attack them as they come back again." "now let us join the others at once, and make up the valley." during the time sancho had been away he had been questioning antonio as to the extent of the valley. "it goes a long way into the heart of the mountains, señor, but none of us know it beyond what we have learned from the indians, for we were strictly forbidden to go beyond the boundary for fear of disturbing the game in the indian country. they say that it runs three hours' fast riding beyond our bounds. after that it becomes a mere ravine, but it can be followed up to the top of the hill, and from there across a wild country, until at last the track comes down on a ford on the colorado. from there there is a track leading west at the foot of the san francisco mountain, and coming down on the little colorado, close to the moquis country." "how far would that be from here?" will asked. "i have never been across there, señor, and i doubt whether any white man has--not on that line. i should think that from what the indians say it must be some fifty miles from the end of our part of the valley to the ford of the colorado, and from there to the little colorado it must be one hundred and fifty miles in a straight line, perhaps two hundred by the way the track goes--that is to say, if there is a track that anyone can follow. these tracks mostly run pretty straight, so that i should say that it would be about as far to the moquis country as it would be to san diego from here; however, we may be sure that we are not going to make such a journey as that; the apaches are not likely to follow her farther than the end of this valley, or at most to the colorado ford." as they rode along will learned from sancho how he had obtained the news. "there was no difficulty about that," the other said carelessly. "i waited till the fires were a bit low, and then sauntered about near those of a party of the tejunas, and heard them talking about it. i learned that they had, as they believed, wiped out all our people except those who crossed the river on rafts, and the señorita, though they allowed that a few of the men with the herds might have got away, and they were going to search the valley thoroughly to-morrow. not a soul in the hacienda escaped. the red-skins were exultant over the amount of booty they had taken, and were glad that the cattle were amply sufficient for both tribes, so that there would be no cause for dispute as to the division; and were specially pleased with the stores of flour and goods of all kinds in the magazines." when they joined the main body sancho was heartily welcomed by his comrades, who were delighted to hear that there was at least a chance of saving the señorita, of whom all hands on the estate were fond. it was arranged at once that sancho should ride by turns behind the others, and then they started at a gallop up the valley, keeping close within the edge of the trees that covered the hillside. chapter vii the pursuit but few words were spoken until the party arrived at a spot where the valley began to narrow in near the boundary of the ranch. they were now considerably beyond the indian fires. "there is no fear of our meeting with any of the red devils now," sancho said. "they know well enough that our indians would not venture to attack them, and that there are no other enemies near. a quarter of a mile and we shall be at the wigwam where the señorita went this morning." "we will stop there for a moment," will said; "it is not likely that we shall find anything that will give us useful information, but at any rate the horses may as well have a short rest there as well as anywhere else." they had come fifteen miles now at a smart pace. the men all dismounted. one of them struck a light with his flint and steel, and then lit the end of a short coil of cord that had been soaked in saltpetre, and waved it round his head till it burst into a flame. as they expected, they found the two indians lying dead; both had been tomahawked and then scalped. on the ground lay a broken medicine bottle and a portion of some soft pudding. "that does not tell us much," will said. sancho made no answer, but looked all round the wigwam. "the basket is not here," he said. "i noticed that it was pretty full." "i suppose the red-skins took it, sancho?" "they would not bother about a basket; it is the last thing they would think of taking. my idea is that the señorita came back here. i expect she came to warn the indians. she would, to begin with, if she rode at full speed, have distanced the 'paches, who would not be able to get through the herd, which must have been between them and her when she first saw them. if she were half-way down the valley she might have been here some minutes before them. of course the two old indians knew that there was no escape for them, and made no effort to avoid their fate. i expect they had only taken that pudding and medicine out of the basket when she got back. now, seeing that the basket and all that was in it are gone, it seems to me possible enough that the señorita may have caught it up and ridden off with it, knowing that she had a long ride before her, and through a country where there are no posadas." "i hope, indeed, that it may be so, sancho, for i have been wondering what she would do if she were lost in these mountains. what would she be likely to put in the basket?" "i handed it up to her, señor, when she had mounted; there were two bottles of milk, a bottle of wine, and a pile of cakes. there were a few other things, but i did not notice what they were." "i only hope that your idea is correct, sancho; it would be a great comfort to know that she had enough provisions to last her for two or three days." "i expect you will find that it is so, señor; the señorita is quick-witted and cool. i saw her once when a dozen bulls stampeded when we were trying to drive them into the yard; she was sitting her horse a short distance from the gate, and was just in their line. she didn't try to dash aside across their path, as many would have done, but turned and started, keeping her horse in at first, and then letting him out gradually and edging off out of their line, and she came cantering back laughing as she joined her father, who was looking pale as death at the danger she had been in. i have very little doubt that it has been as i said; she galloped at first at full speed, then when she got near this hut she saw that she was well ahead of the red-skins. she rode up here, jumped off to warn the indians, and when she found they would not go she took the basket, knowing the things could be of no use to them, and might be worth a hundred times their weight in gold to her. maybe the old indian may have suggested it to her; at any rate, i feel sure she took them." "well, we will ride steadily on. is there any place where she could have left the valley?" "not beyond this, señor; at least, i know of none; but, as i told you, we know very little of the valley beyond this point. certainly she could have known no path; no doubt she went straight on. well mounted as she was, she would feel sure that the red-skins could not overtake her, and i expect she did not press her horse much, but contented herself with keeping out of rifle-shot. i don't know whether she knew of the ford across the river, but she would naturally plunge in at the point where the track comes down on it, and would, no doubt, be surprised at finding that the horse was able to cross without swimming." "she would not be able to turn, after she had crossed, and come down on the opposite bank?" "no, señor; that would not be possible; there are high mountains there, and the river at some places runs through deep gorges." "how far do you think the apaches would follow?" "i think that they would keep on for some distance beyond the river; when they found at last that they had no chance of catching her, they might turn and come back and cross the river, and camp on this side. by that time their horses would be done for; you see, they most likely had a long ride yesterday; maybe they were travelling all night, and, of course, it gave the señorita an immense advantage that her horse was fresh, while theirs had anyhow a great deal taken out of them before they set out in pursuit. i should recommend that we halt, as soon as it becomes light, in some clump of trees and wait for them as they come back. we are pretty well matched in numbers, and with the advantage of a surprise we ought to be able to wipe them out altogether. we might go as far as we can up the valley to the point where it becomes a mere ravine, before daylight breaks, and our horses will be all the better for a rest of a few hours. they will have gone over forty miles since they left the river, and we may probably have a very long journey to do again to-morrow. there is no saying how far the señorita may have gone; she would not know whether the red-skins might not follow all night, and i should think that she would keep on till daybreak, though, of course, she would only go at a walk." "it is difficult to say what she is most likely to do." "it is, indeed, señor; if i myself were in her place i should be puzzled. i should reckon that all in the valley had been wiped out. the red-skins would assuredly first make a rush for the hacienda, because it was most important that they should carry that before the men could rally round and make a defence. i should reckon that the red-skins would remain there for four or five days before they had jerked as much meat as they could carry, and that, when they started, a party would like enough be placed in ambush to catch me as i came back. i should know that it was next to hopeless to try and find my way down across such mountains as there are ahead, through which, so far as i know, there are no tracks, and i am not sure that i should not push on in hopes of reaching the moquis, who are peaceful indians, as i have heard, with their villages perched on the top of hills, and having flocks and herds, and being in all ways different from all the other tribes except the zunis. "the red-skins say that these people were here before them, and that they really belong to the tribes of central mexico, and came from there long before the white man ever set foot in america. from there one could travel north, strike the santa fé trail, and possibly make one's way through safely, though the navajoes are pretty nearly as bad there as the apaches are here. whether the señorita has ever heard of the moquis i cannot say, but if she finds that she is on a trail she will follow it, thinking anything better than going back and falling into the hands of the apaches." "are there any other tribes she would have to pass through on the way?" "i think not. it is a great mountain track, where even red-skins could not pick up a living. as far as i have heard, the track from the ford leads through a series of passes between lofty hills. it is not the course of a river, and, therefore, there are not likely to be any villages. i should say that there would be forest on the lower slopes, and we are sure to meet with enough game to keep us." they now proceeded at a walk, for the trees in most places grew thickly, and the ground here and there was broken by boulders that had rolled down from the hillside. at last they came to a point where the valley was but a hundred yards wide. here they halted, took off the horses' bridles to allow them to pick what grass there was, and threw themselves down, and most of them were asleep in a few minutes. "is it necessary to keep watch?" will said. "no, señor, the 'paches will assuredly not start to come back until morning. the country is as strange to them as it is to us. i should say, from what i have heard, it is about ten miles from the river, and in an hour or an hour and a half after daylight they are likely to be here." will took a seat by the trunk of a tree. he had no inclination for sleep. his thoughts were busy with the girl--alone in these mountains with an unknown country before her and a band of relentless savages who might, for aught she knew, be still pressing after her. it was difficult to conceive a more terrible situation. she might lose the trail, which was sure to be a faintly-marked one, and in some places indistinguishable save to an eye accustomed to tracking. if so, her fate was sealed. she must wander about till she died of hunger and thirst. it was maddening to be waiting there even for an hour or two and to know that she was alone. as soon as daylight broke, sancho sent four of the men back to hunt for game. if they did not come upon something in the course of three-quarters of an hour, they were to return. they had been gone, however, half that time when the crack of a rifle was heard, and ten minutes later they rode back, bringing with them a stag they had shot. already a fire had been lighted one hundred yards behind the camping-ground. antonio had collected some perfectly dry wood for the purpose. "there will be no smoke to speak of," he said to will, "and what little there is will make its way out through the leaves. it is unlikely in the extreme that the indians will notice it, and if they do, they will think that it is a fire made by one of our indians." a couple of the hunters at once set about skinning and cutting up the carcass. they were to go on cooking it until a signal was made to them that the indians were approaching. the horses had now been collected, and the men disposed themselves behind trunks of trees, each with his horse a few yards behind him. all these were well trained to stand still when the reins were thrown over their heads. in front of them was a clear space some thirty yards across. after half an hour's anxious waiting, sancho, who was lying with his ear to the ground, raised his hand as a signal that he could hear the indians coming. the men from the fire ran up and took their places with the rest. the rifles were thrown forward in readiness. all could now hear the dull tread of the horses, with an occasional sharper sound as the hoofs fell upon rock. as the apaches rode out from the wood their leader suddenly checked his horse with a warning cry, but it was too late. sixteen rifles flashed out, half the apaches fell, and before the others could recover from their surprise at this unexpected attack the vaqueros charged down upon them. hopelessly outnumbered as they were, the apaches fought desperately, but the combat was short. the pistols of will and sancho were used with deadly effect, and in a couple of minutes the fight was over and the last indian had fallen. "now, let us waste no time," will said. "ten minutes must do for our breakfast; then we will be off." none of the party was seriously hurt, and the wounds were soon bandaged. the joints hanging above the fire were soon taken down, cut into slices, and grilled. they were being eaten when four indians stepped from among the trees, one of them being evidently a chief. "you are breaking the rules," he said to will, whom he recognized as the leader of the party. "we shall lay a complaint before the great master." will did not answer, but antonio, who spoke their language fairly, replied, "have you not heard the news?" "we have heard no news," the chief said. "we heard a gun fire when we were hunting two miles down the valley. we came to see what it was. then we heard many guns, and, not knowing what it could be, hid our horses and came on." "then do you not know that there are three or four hundred apaches and tejunas in the valley below; that the hacienda has been attacked, all within it killed, and that the herds have been destroyed? so far as we know, we alone have escaped." the indians uttered deep exclamations of surprise. "what was the firing?" the chief asked. "if you go on a hundred yards farther up, you will find the dead bodies of twenty apache braves; they have been riding in pursuit of donna clara, the daughter of the señor, who was fortunately at your end of the valley, having gone there with food and medicine for the old indian of your tribe who was too ill to leave with the rest, a fortnight since." "i saw her often then," the chief said, "and this young brave"--and he motioned to will--"he was often in our camp, and the girl visited our wigwams and gave many little presents to our women. did she escape them?" "she did, but where she is we know not. we are going in search of her. if you and your warriors will go with us, we shall be glad, for your eyes are better than ours, and could follow the footmarks of her horse where we should see nothing." "teczuma, with one of his warriors, will go," the chief said. "the other two must go and carry the news to our people, and, though they are not strong enough to fight so large a force, yet they will not be idle, and many of the apaches and tejunas will lose their scalps before they cross the river again." he spoke a few words to the three men, who at once left, and in ten minutes one returned with two horses. the chief had already eaten two slices of deer's flesh, and he mounted and rode on with the others, while his follower waited for a minute to eat the flesh that had already been cooked for him. sancho had chosen the horse that had been ridden by the apache chief, and, without stopping, they rode on until they were, a few minutes later, joined by the other indian. they now pushed on rapidly, ascending the ravine, and on reaching the top will saw with satisfaction that high hills on both sides bordered what was, in fact, a pass between them, and that clara must therefore have kept on straight. the chief with his follower rode a little ahead of the others, will, with antonio and sancho, following closely behind him. once or twice the chief pointed down to marks on the rocks, with the remark, "a shod horse". "that is all right," antonio said. "the indians do not shoe their horses, so we may be sure it was the señorita." the path soon began to descend again, and in an hour from the time of starting they emerged from the pass within one hundred yards of the river; the ground here being soft, a well-marked track was visible. "made by our people," the chief said, turning round. "they often cross ford to hunt on the other side--large forests there, two hours' ride away--good hunting-ground. apache not come there. hills too big to cross." beyond the river the track was for some time perfectly distinct, but it presently became fainter. however, as the indians rode on rapidly, will had no doubt that, although he could not see the tracks on the ground, they were plain enough to the eyes of the indians. "it is a mighty good job we have the chief with us," antonio said. "the trail is plain enough at present, but it is sure to get fainter when we get into these forests they speak of. probably it goes straight enough there, but once among the trees it will break up, as the indians would scatter to hunt. we should have lost a lot of time following it. now we have got these two red-skin fellows, they will pick it up almost as fast as we can ride." the road, indeed, after passing over a rocky plateau, dipped suddenly down into a deep valley running up from the river, and extending as far as one could see almost due east among the hills. the track they were following turned to the right at the foot of the hill. for miles it was clearly defined, then gradually became fainter, as the indians who had followed it turned off in search of game. the footprints of the shod horse continued straight up the valley, until, ten miles from the point at which they had entered it, they turned to the left. "it has been going at a walk for some miles," the chief said, "and the white girl has been walking beside it. i saw her footprints many times. we shall find that she halted for the night at the little stream in the middle of the valley. it must have been getting dark when she arrived here. she must be a good horsewoman and have a good horse under her, for it is nearly eighty miles from here to the hacienda." by the stream, indeed, they found the place where clara had slept. the indian pointed to spots where the horse had cropped the grass by the edge of the stream, and where it had at last lain down near its mistress, who had, as a few crumbs showed, eaten some of the cakes. "i wonder we don't see one of the bottles," will remarked. antonio translated his remarks to the chief, who said, "girl wise; fill bottle with water; not know how far stream come. we halt here; cannot follow trail farther; soon come dark." this was evident to them all; men and horses alike needed rest. they lit a fire and sat around it for a short time; all were encouraged by the success so far, and even the fact that they were supperless did not affect them. "teczuma and wolf go out and find game in the morning," the chief said confidently. "plenty of game here." long before the others were awake, indeed, the chief and his follower were moving. just as daylight broke, the latter ran into camp. "come," he said, "bring gun; grizzly coming down valley. teczuma watch him." the men were on their feet the instant antonio translated the indian's words, and followed the indian on foot. "was the bear too much for the two indians?" will asked sancho. "if they had been alone they would have fought it, but the chief was right to send for us. it was like enough they might have got badly hurt, and that would have been a bad thing for us." presently the indian stopped. it was still twilight under the trees, but they could make out a great gray form advancing towards them. when within twenty yards it scented danger, and stopped with an angry growl. almost at the same moment a rifle flashed out behind a tree near its flank. with a furious growl it turned, exposing its flank to the watchers. antonio had warned five of these not to fire; the other ten rifles were fired simultaneously, and the bear rolled over and over. it scrambled to its feet again, and stood rocking itself, evidently wounded to death. the other five men ran forward together, and when three yards distant poured in their fire, and the bear fell dead. the vaqueros lost no time in skinning it. a portion of the flesh was carried to the fire, cut up into strips, and at once cooked. as soon as the meal was finished, the rest of the meat was cut off and divided between the party, who then mounted and rode on, the two indians again leading the way. chapter viii the cave-dwellers three days later the party stood on the brow of a steep bluff looking down upon the colorado chiquita river. it had been a weary journey. it was evident that the girl had, after the second day's riding, allowed the horse to go its own way, trusting perhaps to its instinct to make for some habitation, should there be any in the region. there had been no difficulty in following its footsteps until the third day, when they were passing over a stony plateau. here even the keen sight of the indians sometimes failed them, and hours were lost in taking up the trail. there was no water to be met with here, and the indians agreed that the horse was going slowly and weakly, and the girl for the most part walking beside it, as they pointed out by a crushed blade of grass or flattened lichen by the side of the horse's track. later in the day the trail was straighter, and the chief said confidently, "the horse smells water; the river cannot be many miles away." it was an hour after starting, on the third morning, that they reached the bluff opposite to them. for a distance of a couple of miles rose a steep island of basalt, some hundreds of feet above the plain around it, and on the summit a large village could be seen. "moquis," the indian said, pointing to it. "then she must have got there in safety!" will exclaimed in delight. the chief shook his head. "horse not able to swim river, must stop a day to eat grass. there horse!" and he pointed to an animal seven hundred or eight hundred feet below them. "that is its colour, sure enough," antonio exclaimed, "but i don't see the señorita." "she may be asleep," will suggested. "likely enough, señor; we shall soon see." dismounting, they made their way down the steep descent. then all leaped into their saddles and galloped forward to the edge of the stream, a quarter of a mile away. the mare, which evidently scented that the new-comers were not indians, cantered to meet them with a whinny of pleasure. there were no signs of the girl, and all dismounted to search among the low bushes for her, will loudly calling her name. presently the indian, who, with his follower, had moved along the bank, called them. "she slept here yesterday," he said, and the level grass close to a shrub testified to the truth of the exclamation. the two indians looked serious. "what is it, chief?" "indians," he said. "white girl come down to river to drink; then she lay down here; then indians come along; you see footprints on soft earth of bank; they catch her when asleep and carry her off. teczuma and the wolf have looked; no marks of little feet; four feet deeper marks than when they came along; indian carry her off." "perhaps they have taken her along the river to some ford, and carried her up to their village." "soon see;" and he and the wolf moved along the bank, the others following at a short distance, having first taken off their horses' bridles, allowing them to take a good drink, and turned them loose to feed. "small men," the chief said, when will with the two chief vaqueros came up to him. "short steps; got spears and bows." "how on earth does he know that?" will said, when the words were translated to him. sancho pointed to a round mark on the ground. "there is the butt end of a spear, and i dare say the chief has noticed some holes of a different shape made by the ends of bows." half a mile farther the bluffs approached the river and bordered it with a perpendicular cliff, which had doubtless been caused by the face of the hill being eaten away by the river countless ages before. the stream was here some thirty yards from the foot of the cliff. more and more puzzled at the direction in which clara had been carried, the trackers followed. they had gone a hundred yards along the foot of the cliff when a great stone came bounding down from above, striking the ground a few yards in front of the indians, who leaped back. almost instantly a shrill voice shouted from above, and, looking up, they saw a number of natives on a ledge a hundred feet above them, with bows bent threateningly. "back, all of you!" sancho shouted. "their arrows may be poisoned." seeing, however, that the party retreated in haste, the indians did not shoot; when a short distance away a council was held, and all returned to their horses, mounted, and swam the river; then they rode along to view the cliff. three or four openings were seen on the level of the ledge on which the indians were posted, and will was astonished to see that above, the cliff, which was here quite perpendicular, was covered with strange sculptures, some of which still retained the colour with which they had in times long past been painted. "they are the old people, the cave-dwellers," sancho said. "i have heard of them; they were here long before the moquis were here. they were a people dwelling in caves. there are hundreds of these caves in some places. they have always kept themselves apart, and never made friends with the moquis. in the early times with the spaniards there were missionaries among the moquis, but they could never do anything among the cave people, who are, they say, idolaters and offer human sacrifices." "how do the people live?" antonio asked. "they fish, and steal animals from the moquis when they get a chance, and they dwell in such inaccessible caves that, once there, they are safe from pursuit. "if you like, señor, i will go up to the moquis village, and try to find out something about them. i don't know the moquis language, but i understand something of the sign language, which is understood by all indians, and i dare say that i shall be able to learn something about these people." will dismounted as the vaquero rode off, and, bidding antonio do the same, told the man to take their horses a quarter of a mile away, and there to dismount and cook a meal. "now, antonio," he said, "we have to see how this place can be climbed." antonio shook his head. "i should say that it was altogether impossible, señor. you see there is a zigzag path cut in the face of the cliff up to that ledge. in some places the rock is cut away altogether, and then they have got ladders, which they would no doubt draw up at once if they were attacked. you see the lower ones have already been pulled up. like enough sentries are posted at each of those breaks when they are threatened with an attack. besides, the chances are that if they thought there were any risk of our getting up, they would kill the señorita." "i see all that, antonio, and i have no thought of making my way up by the steps; the question is, could it be climbed elsewhere? the other end of the ledge would be the best point to get up at, for any watch that is kept would certainly be where the steps come up." antonio shook his head. "unless one could fly, señor, there would be no way of getting up there." "i don't know that," will said shortly; "wait till i have had a good look at it." lying on the ground, with his chin resting on his hands, he gazed intently at the cliff, observing even the most trifling projections, the tiny ledges that here and there ran along the face. "it would be a difficult job and a dangerous one," he said, "but i am not sure that it cannot be managed. at any rate, i shall try. i am a sailor, you know, antonio, and am accustomed, when we have been sailing in the gale, to hold on with my toes as well as my fingers. now, do you go back to the others. i shall want two poles, say fifteen feet long, and some hooks, which i can make from ramrods. do you see just in the middle of that ledge, where the large square entrance is, the cliff bulges out, and i should say the ledge was twenty feet wide; this is lucky, for if there are sentries on the steps they would not be able to see beyond that point. if they could do so, i should not have much chance of getting up, for it will be a bright moonlight night. when i get to the top--that is, if i do get there--i shall lower down a rope. you can fasten the lariats together. they would hold the weight of a dozen men. the lightest and most active of you must come up first. when two or three are up we can haul the rest up easily enough. now you can go. i shall be here another half-hour at least. i must see exactly the best way to climb, calculate the number of feet along each of those little ledges to a point where i can reach the one above with my hook, and get the whole thing well in my mind." antonio went away shaking his head. to him the feat seemed so impossible that he thought that it was nothing short of madness to attempt it. such was the opinion of the rest of the vaqueros and the two indians when, on arriving at the fire, he told them what will proposed doing. their leader, however, when he joined them, had a look of confidence on his face. "i am more convinced than ever that it can be done," he said. when the meal of bear's flesh had been eaten, he lit his pipe and began to smoke quietly. the chief came up and spoke to him. "what does he say, antonio?" "he says that you are a brave man, señor, but that no man could do what you are talking of, and that you will throw away your life." "tell him i will bet my horse against his that i shall succeed, and you shall be witness to the bet in case i don't come back again." the chief nodded gravely when the offer was made to him. indians of all tribes are given to wagering, and as the horse will was riding was a far better one than his own, he regarded the matter rather as a legacy than a bet. an hour later sancho came down, accompanied by several of the moquis indians, leading four sheep as a present, and followed by women carrying pans of milk, baskets of eggs, and cakes of various descriptions. sancho presented the chief to will. "they are quite friendly, señor; they hate the cave-dwellers, who are constantly robbing them, and who compel them to keep guard over the animals at night. i can understand them pretty well; they bid me tell you that they would gladly assist you against the cave-dwellers, but that it is impossible to reach the caves." will shook hands with the chiefs, and asked sancho to explain by signs that he was much obliged for their presents. "tell them, sancho, that i am going to try to scale the cliff to-night." "you are going to scale the cliff?" the vaquero asked incredulously. "i did not say that i was going to scale it, but that i was going to try; and i may add that i hope that i shall succeed. will you ask if the cave-dwellers poison their arrows?" "i have already asked that, señor, but he said no. the cattle have often been wounded by them, and unless the wound is a mortal one, they recover." "that is very satisfactory," will said, "for i own i have more fear of being hit by a poisoned arrow than i have of scaling the cliff." "the chief says that if you will go up to their village he will place a house at your disposal, señor." "tell him that i am much obliged, and that to-morrow i may accept their invitation. our horses will require three or four days' rest before starting back, and i can hardly hope that the señorita will be fit to travel for a good deal longer than that." although they had but just eaten a meal, the vaqueros were perfectly ready to begin another. a number of eggs were roasted in the ashes, and washed down by long draughts of milk. the chiefs then left them, but a number of the villagers came down and watched the proceedings of the strangers with great interest. will at once proceeded to carry out his plan of bending the ramrods: a hot spot in the fire was selected, and two of the vaqueros increased the intensity of the heat by fanning it with their sombreros. three others went down to the river and brought up a large flat boulder and two or three smaller ones, and, using the large one as an anvil, the ends of the hooks were hammered into sharp, broad, chisel-shaped blades. sancho had explained to the chiefs that two poles, some fifteen feet long, were required, and when these were brought down the ramrods were securely bound to them with strips of wetted hide. other strips were, by will's directions, bound round the pole so as to form projections a foot apart. "that will greatly assist me in climbing it," he said. "i don't say i could not do without it, but it will make it very much easier." in order to lull the cave-dwellers into security, the camp was shifted in the afternoon to the foot of the moquis hill, and there will gave his men instructions as to the operations. "we will cross the river on the horses a mile above the cave," he said; "we must use them, or we could not keep our rifles and pistols dry. you must all remove your boots as soon as you dismount, and we will now tear up two or three blankets, and twist strips round the barrels of the guns, so that, should they strike against the rocks, no sound shall be made. you had better do the same with the barrels of your pistols." then he chose the lightest of the vaqueros to follow him. another light-weight was to be third. antonio was to follow him, and then sancho, and the order in which all the others were to go was arranged. lariats were securely knotted together, and the knots tied with strips of hide, to prevent the possibility of their slipping. the men carried out his orders, but it was evident from their manner that they had not the slightest hope that his attempt would be successful. an hour after sunset they started. it was two days after full moon, and they had, therefore, as many hours to reach the foot of the cliffs before it rose. an hour was sufficient to traverse the distance, and they therefore rested for that time, after darkness set in, before starting, swam the river, and after removing their boots made their way noiselessly along, keeping some distance from the river bank until they reached the spot where the cliff rose perpendicularly; then, keeping close to its foot, they held on until they arrived at the spot will had fixed upon. there all lay down among the boulders close to the rock wall, and remained there until the moon rose. there had been several discussions as to the best way to get the lariat up, as it was agreed that, whether carried in a coil over the shoulder or wound round the body, it would hamper the climber's movements. the question was finally solved by his taking a coil of thin hide, which, while little thicker than string, was amply strong enough to support the weight of the lariat. four or five bullets had been sewn up in a piece of skin and attached to one end. a strap was fastened to each pole so that these could be slung behind him, so permitting him the free use of both hands where it was not needful to use them. "the saints watch over you, señor!" antonio whispered, as will prepared to start, and he and sancho gave him a silent grip of the hand, while the indian chief laid his hand on his shoulder and muttered, "ugh, heap brave!" for a short distance the ascent was comparatively easy. then he arrived at the first of the ledges he had noticed. it was some ten inches wide, and, keeping his face to the wall and using his hands to grip the most trifling irregularity, or to get a hold in small crevices, he made his way along until he arrived at a projection which barred farther progress. slipping one of the slings from his shoulder, he reached up until the hook caught the next ledge, and obtained a good hold there. he then climbed the pole until his fingers got a grip of the ledge, when he hauled himself up to it. it was some fifteen inches wide here, and without difficulty he obtained a footing, again slung the pole on his shoulder and went on. the ledge narrowed rapidly, and he was now at one of the points which appeared to him the most difficult, for from where he had been lying the ledge seemed almost to cease, while the next ledge above it was also so narrow that he knew he could not obtain standing room upon it. as he approached the narrow path he took the poles, one in each hand, and obtained a grip of the upper ledge. he now made his way along on tiptoe, having his weight almost entirely on the poles, shifting them alternately. to a landsman this would have been an extraordinary feat, but, accustomed to hang to the ropes by one hand, it was not so difficult for him, especially as he obtained some slight support from his feet. without the poles it would have been impossible for him to have passed, as the ledge in some places was only three inches wide. at the end of some thirty feet it again widened; the next forty or fifty feet upward were comparatively easy, for the rock sloped to some extent inward, and there were many fissures in which he was enabled to get a firm grip with his fingers. then came several difficult places, but he was confident now in the hold the hooks had on the rocks, and, always working with great caution and using sometimes his hands, sometimes the poles, he reached the top in half an hour after starting. chapter ix rescued he threw himself down on the platform, which was entirely deserted, and lay there for five minutes; then he unwound the coil of leather-thong, and threw the weighted end over. he knew that he had allowed ample length, and drew it in until he felt a slight strain; then came three jerks. the party below had hold of the thong; two more jerks told that they had fastened the end of the lariat to it; in a couple of minutes it was in his hands. there was a parapet some eighteen inches high along the edge of the platform, intended doubtless to prevent the children from falling over. seeing no place to which he could fasten the lariat, he tied it round the middle of the two poles, laid these on the ground close to the parapet, put his feet upon them, and then leaned over. two pulls on the lariat told him that the next man was tied on, and he began at once to haul upon it. he found the weight much less than he had expected. not only was the vaquero short and wiry, but he was using both his hands and feet with such effect that in five minutes he stood beside will. the work went on quickly now. one after another the men were pulled up, and in less than an hour all were assembled on the platform, where, save three engaged in pulling their comrades up, they had laid down as soon as they reached it. will had been glad to relinquish the work to others, for his hands were cut and bleeding. he had crawled along, keeping by the wall of rock until he reached the point where the bulge or bend in the face of the cliff enabled him to see to the other end of the platform. to his surprise not a soul was visible, but, peering over the parapet, he saw four figures standing as sentinels at the points where there were breaks in the path, and the moonlight enabled him to make out that the ladders had been pulled up and laid beside them. he could hear a confused hum of voices from the principal cave, but, though most anxious to know what was going on there, he dared not venture farther until all the men were up, as anyone coming out of the cave would at once see him. he therefore rejoined the others. each man as he came up gave him a silent grip of the hand, and the indian chief muttered something which sancho whispered meant "heap great brave". as soon as the last man was up they moved silently forward. every man knew the part he had to play. sancho and three others crept forward on hands and knees, under shelter of the parapet, to the other end of the platform, where they were to await the signal, the rest halting at the front of the main entrance to the cave. here a sight met their eyes that filled them with horror. the entrance opened into a wide hall, which was lighted by a dozen torches. at the farther end was a hideous idol carved from a solid rock; in front of this was a sort of altar, upon which lay a figure, which they at once recognized as that of donna clara. beside her stood two men, naked to the waist, with their bodies painted with strange figures. they had knives in their hands, and, rocking themselves to and fro, were uttering some sort of prayer or incantation. "you take the fellow to the left, antonio, i will take the other." [illustration: the fight in the cave] the shots rang out together--the distance was but sixteen or seventeen yards--and without a cry the two priests or executioners fell dead. a terrible cry of astonishment and dismay broke from the crowd, and before they could recover from their surprise, the vaqueros and the two indians, headed by will, burst their way through them. will had given strict orders that there was to be no general firing, as men, women, and children were likely to be mixed up together, but as they entered they caught the sound of four rifles outside, and knew that the sentries had been disposed of. will caught up the girl, who was evidently insensible, and threw her over his shoulder, and, surrounded by his men, made his way outside the cave. here he handed her over to antonio, who was a very powerfully built man, and the latter, without a word, started for the steps. "now, my men," will shouted, as with cries of fury the indians followed them, "don't spare one of these bloodthirsty wretches, but don't touch the women." the fight was short, half the indians being shot down as they poured out on to the platform; the others, however, maddened by the loss of their expected victim and the capture of their stronghold, fought desperately to the end, the mexicans using the butt ends of their rifles, while the savages fought with knives. after the fight was over, the cave was thoroughly searched; many of the women had fallen, for they had joined in the fight as fiercely as the men, and in the darkness and confusion it was impossible to distinguish them apart. the rest, with the children, were forced to descend the steps. the ladders had been replaced by sancho and his party, who, having finished their work, had run off at once to bring up the horses. clara was still unconscious when they returned. will mounted, and antonio handed her to him. sancho and two of the men accompanied him, while the rest in charge of the captives followed more slowly. fires were blazing high at the moquis village, and it was evident that the attack had been eagerly watched, and that the firing on the platform had shown that the caves had been taken, for on the still night air came the sound of horses, drums, and loud shouting. will at once urged his horse into the water, his companions swimming by their horses close to him so as to render assistance, if necessary; but the distance was short, and it was not long before the horse felt the bottom again. the sudden chill of the water had roused the girl from her faint. "where am i?" she murmured. "you are safe in my arms," will said. "we have got you safely out of the hands of those wretches. all danger is over." "is it will," she asked, "or am i dreaming?" "it is i, sure enough, clara," he said; "and i am glad that for once you have dropped the don. i followed you with antonio and sancho and thirteen other vaqueros. we were joined by the genigueh chief, teczuma, and one of his tribe, who have been invaluable in following your track." "holy virgin, i thank you!" the girl murmured, and then lay silent for a time. "where are you going now?" she asked presently. "to the moquis village, where you will be most kindly received, and where we shall stay till you have got your strength again." "zona, my gallant zona! is she safe?" "yes. she seemed pretty nearly recovered from her fatigue when we found her this morning, and will be ready to carry you back again." as they approached the hill they saw a number of people coming down the zigzag path, with torches, who welcomed will on his arrival with loud cries of triumph. the horses could go no farther, as the path, like that up to the caverns, was at several points cut away, the breaks being in the daytime filled with long planks. as the girl was altogether unable to walk, some of the boys ran up the hill, and in a quarter of an hour returned with some poles, with which a litter was speedily improvised. in this she was laid, and four moquis carried her up the hill, will walking beside her and holding her hand. the whole of the villagers were assembled on the top of the hill, shouting and dancing with joy at the destruction of their enemies, for sancho had already made the chiefs aware that all the men had been killed, and the women and the children were being brought in as prisoners. the moquis houses surprised will, as they had neither windows nor doors on the ground floor, and entrance was only obtainable by a ladder to the upper story. clara was here handed over to the care of the principal women of the village. half an hour later the rest of the party came up with the prisoners. these were for the time confined in one of the houses, two armed moquis keeping guard over them. the women would, sancho explained to will, be used as servants and to fetch water from the springs at the foot of the hill. the children would probably be adopted into the tribe. it was ten days before clara was strong enough to think of starting. she had for twenty-four hours been in a high fever, but the care lavished upon her, and her fine constitution, speedily brought her through this, and two days later she was able to see will. "tell me all that has happened," she said. "i feel sure that mother has been killed, for the valley was full of indians, and i know that there were but few men at home." "i am afraid that there is no doubt about that," will said gently. "we may be thankful, clara, that your father and juan were both away, or they, too, might have fallen." then he related very briefly how those by the river had been saved, how they had learned from sancho that she had been away at the end of the valley, and how they had started in chase; and then, in a few words, told how he had scaled the face of the cliff, had assisted his followers up, and had arrived just in time. "i will tell you about my journey another time," she said. "i do not like to think of the last part of it; we were both worn out, zona and i, and if we had not come down upon the river we should have both died. i took a long drink, and then fell down and went to sleep. i was awakened by being lifted up, and found that i was being carried by two indians, and that others were all round me. i was too weak even to struggle, but i remember being carried up a very steep path on the face of the cliff. as soon as i was laid down i went to sleep, and i suppose slept all night. in the morning they gave me food and water, but left me alone till it was dark again; then they led me into a large cave lit up by torches, with a horrible idol at the end. they laid me down on a great stone in front of it, and two men with knives came beside me. then i suppose i fainted, and i remember nothing more till i woke up feeling strangely cold as we were swimming across that river." almost the whole of the inhabitants of the village paid a visit to the cave on the morning after the fight, and when shown the ropes, still hanging, by which the party had been drawn up, could at first hardly believe sancho and the two indians who assured them that will had climbed up there unaided. after clara's illness had taken a turn, and there was no longer cause for anxiety about her, will was greatly interested in the moquis village. he was taken into one of the underground rooms that served as temples, and was horrified at finding that hundreds of rattlesnakes and other venomous serpents were kept there, and still more astonished when he saw the priests handle them carelessly and take them in their mouths. he could not believe that they had not been rendered harmless until shown that they still retained their poison-fangs. he was told that once a year there was a great festival in which all the men in the village took part and performed dances, holding the snakes in their mouths. the villagers endeavoured to show their thankfulness at the destruction of their enemies by profuse hospitality to their guests, and the latter thoroughly enjoyed their stay. on starting on the return journey clara rode with will, the two vaqueros, and the indian chief to the foot of the cliff, and was shown the spot where will had climbed up. after looking at it for some time she suddenly burst into tears. "it is dreadful even to think of your going up there, will," she said. "i should never have forgiven myself if you had been killed when risking your life in that way to save me." "you would never have known it," he said. "i should have known it," she said earnestly, "when we met in the hereafter." the journey home was conducted in easy stages. wolf, the indian, and one of the vaqueros had been sent off the day after clara rallied from her attack of fever. if they found the apaches still in the valley, they were to return to warn them; if not, they were to ride on until they met señor sarasta and told him of his daughter's safety. when half-way back they met juan with ten well-armed vaqueros. the meeting was a joyful one, although saddened by the loss, now confirmed, of their mother. "ah! will," juan exclaimed, after his first tender embrace of his sister, "you are tenfold my brother now. you have saved clara's life as well as mine; your messengers have told me how you scaled a cliff that seemed to all of them so impossible that none had the slightest hope that you could succeed." "and how are things in the valley?" "better than might have been hoped. the red-skins only remained three days; some ten thousand of the cattle have been recovered; many were found in the woods in the hillsides, more still had gone right up the valley, and when the red-skins tried to follow them they were assailed with such showers of arrows by the geniguehs that they fell back, having indeed already as many cattle as they could drive away. two of the men from the raft brought us the news to san diego, and the commandant at once told off one hundred cavalry to accompany us, and in future a fort is to be built near the hacienda, and fifty soldiers are to be stationed there. the commandant was rather reluctant to agree to this until he had received orders from government, but on our undertaking to supply the garrison with bread and meat, he consented, seeing that it would be a distinct saving of expense. so we need have no fear of the red-skins meddling with us again. my father has already sent down to monterey to arrange for the purchase of ten thousand head of cattle from the ranches there, so in two or three years we shall be in full working order again. we found twenty of the vaqueros assembled at the hacienda; they had taken to the woods at the first attack, and had remained in hiding until they found that the red-skins had gone." a messenger was at once sent on ahead to inform señor sarasta of the time at which the party would arrive, and he met them at the upper end of the valley. the meeting was an affecting one. after embracing his daughter the mexican threw his arms round will with as much affection as if he had been his father. "i did not think," he said, when the first emotion was over, "when i left you in charge that the duty would be such an onerous one, but you have nobly fulfilled your trust, most nobly, and i thank you from the bottom of my heart." on arriving at the hacienda they found that great efforts had been made to remove all signs of the visit of the apaches. donna sarasta had been buried in the little chapel near the house. the broken and torn-up shrubs had been replaced, and although inside the rooms were bare, for the furniture had been hacked to pieces by the red-skins, everything was spotlessly clean. will did not enter with señor sarasta into the house, but went straight to the stables with the vaqueros and saw his horse and zona cared for. when he went to the house, don sarasta and juan went out to him. "we have been talking together, will," the mexican said, "and the result is this: i do not know what your sentiments may be, but i have ascertained those of my daughter. we have been as one family for seven or eight months. we all wish that we shall continue to be so in reality, and i now offer you formally the hand of my daughter, donna clara sarasta, in marriage. i know that i can intrust her happiness to you, and the match will afford both myself and juan the most lively satisfaction." "it would be altogether beyond my hopes, señor," will said, greatly moved. "i will not deny that i have from the first had a profound admiration for your daughter, but i should never have spoken of it, seeing that i am at present a penniless man, and am, indeed, much below the age at which we think of marriage in the states." the mexican smiled. "according to spanish law, and our own policy, the legal age for marriage is fourteen for the man and twelve for the woman, and although it is not often that marriages take place quite so young as that, they are very frequent when the man is sixteen and the girl fourteen or fifteen; therefore, that is no obstacle whatever." "then, señor, i accept your generous offer most gladly and thankfully, and shall consider myself the most fortunate man alive in winning such a bride as donna clara." "well, you had better go in and tell her so," the señor said. "i think that that will be more in accordance with your american customs than for me to go in and formally hand her over to you." three months later a double marriage took place at san diego. don sarasta settled a large sum of money upon his daughter, and, with juan's cordial assent, arranged that at his death the hacienda and ranch, and, indeed, all of his property, should become the joint property of his son and daughter, with power to make any future division of it that they might think fit. after remaining a week at san diego, will sailed with his wife to panama, crossed the isthmus, and took ship to new york, where he astounded his father and mother by presenting to them his wife, and mentioning casually that she had a fortune of $200,000, and was joint heiress to estates and property worth at least $2,000,000, which caused mr. harland, senior, to acknowledge that will's mania for the sea had not turned out so badly after all. * * * * * historical tales by g. a. henty the cat of bubastes: a story of ancient egypt. for the temple: a tale of the fall of jerusalem. the dragon and the raven: or, the days of king alfred. a knight of the white cross: the siege of rhodes. the lion of st. mark: a story of venice in the 14th century. a march on london: a story of wat tyler. at agincourt: a tale of the white hoods of paris. st bartholomew's eve: a tale of the huguenot wars. by england's aid: or, the freeing of the netherlands. the lion of the north: a tale of gustavus adolphus. when london burned: a story of the great fire. a jacobite exile: in the service of charles xii. bonnie prince charlie: a tale of fontenoy and culloden. at the point of the bayonet: a tale of the mahratta war. with frederick the great: the seven years' war. true to the old flag: the american war of independence. in the reign of terror: the french revolution. a roving commission: a story of the hayti insurrection. at aboukir and acre: napoleon's invasion of egypt. under wellington's command: the peninsular war. through the fray: a story of the luddite riots. one of the 28th: a story of waterloo. on the irrawaddy: a story of the first burmese war. maori and settler: a story of the new zealand war. by sheer pluck: a tale of the ashanti war. out with garibaldi: a story of the liberation of italy. the dash for khartoum: a tale of the nile expedition. with roberts to pretoria: a tale of the south african war. london: blackie & son, limited, 50 old bailey, e.c. [note of etext editor: this etext is based on the post-1900 version published by m. a. donohue & co. it differs from etext34499, which is the a.l. burt publication of 1899, in that it contains seven less chapters between chapter xxxi and the concluding chapter.] mark mason's victory by horatio alger, jr. author of "erie train boy," "slow and sure," "risen from the ranks," "julius, the street boy," etc., etc. m. a. donohue & company chicago new york printed bound by m. a. donohue & company chicago made in u. s. a. contents chapter i. two strangers from syracuse. chapter ii. where mark lived. chapter iii. an unexpected call. chapter iv. a night at daly's. chapter v. mark as a hero. chapter vi. "the evening globe." chapter vii. the great mr. bunsby. chapter viii. a scene in mrs. mack's room. chapter ix. an adventure in a fifth avenue stage. chapter x. an important commission. chapter xi. mr. hamilton schuyler is astonished. chapter xii. mr. schuyler has a bad time. chapter xiii. mark starts on a journey. chapter xiv. the telltale memorandum. chapter xv. a railroad incident. chapter xvi. mark as a detective. chapter xvii. mark makes a call on euclid avenue. chapter xviii. a midnight visit. chapter xix. at niagara falls. chapter xx. a newspaper paragraph. chapter xxi. mark returns home. chapter xxii. a crafty schemer. chapter xxiii. mark's good luck. chapter xxiv. the two sisters meet. chapter xxv. maud gilbert's party. chapter xxvi. an important commission. chapter xxvii. last instructions. chapter xxviii. mark at omaha. chapter xxix. nahum sprague and his orphan ward. chapter xxx. philip finds a friend. chapter xxxi. the mining stock is sold. chapter xxxii. conclusion. mark mason's victory. chapter i. two strangers from syracuse. "that is the city hall over there, edgar." the speaker was a man of middle age, with a thin face and a nose like a hawk. he was well dressed, and across his vest was visible a showy gold chain with a cameo charm attached to it. the boy, probably about fifteen, was the image of his father. they were crossing city hall park in new york and mr. talbot was pointing out to his son the public buildings which make this one of the noted localities in the metropolis. "shine?" asked a bootblack walking up to the pair. "i'd like to take a shine, father," said edgar. "what do you charge?" "five cents, but i don't object to a dime," replied the bootblack. "can i have a shine, father?" "why didn't you get one at the hotel?" "because they charged ten cents. i thought i could get it for less outside." "good boy!" said the father in a tone of approval. "get things as low as you can. that's my motto, and that's the way i got rich. here, boy, you can get to work." instantly the bootblack was on his knees, and signed for edgar to put his foot on the box. "what's your name, boy?" asked edgar with a condescending tone. "no, it ain't boy. it's tom." "well, tom, do you make much money?" "well, i don't often make more'n five dollars a day." "five dollars? you are trying to humbug me." "it's true though. i never made more'n five dollars in a day in my life, 'cept when i shined shoes for swells like you who were liberal with their cash." edgar felt rather flattered to be called a swell, but a little alarmed at the suggestion that tom might expect more than the usual sum. "that's all right, but i shall only pay you five cents." "i knew you wouldn't as soon as i saw you." "why?" "'cause you don't look like george w. childs." "who's he?" "the _ledger_ man from philadelphia. i once blacked his shoes and he gave me a quarter. general washington once paid me a dollar." "what!" ejaculated edgar. "do you mean to say that you ever blacked general washington's shoes?" "no; he wore boots." "why, my good boy, general washington died almost a hundred years ago." "did he? well, it might have been some other general." "i guess it was. you don't seem to know much about history." "no, i don't. i spent all my time studyin' astronomy when i went to school." "what's your whole name?" "tom trotter. i guess you've heard of my father. he's judge trotter of the supreme court?" "i am afraid you don't tell the truth very often." "no, i don't. it ain't healthy. do you?" "of course i do." this conversation was not heard by mr. talbot, who had taken a seat on one of the park benches, and was busily engaged in reading the morning _world_. by this time tom began to think it was his time to ask questions. "where did you come from?" he inquired. "how do you know but i live in the city?" "'cause you ain't got new york style." "oh!" said edgar rather mortified. then he added in a tone which he intended to be highly sarcastic: "i suppose you have." "well, i guess. you'd ought to see me walk down fifth avener sunday mornin' with my best girl." "do you wear the same clothes you've got on now?" "no, i guess not. i've got a little lord fauntleroy suit of black velvet, with kid gloves and all the fixin's. but you ain't told me where you live yet." "i live in syracuse. my father's one of the most prominent citizens of that city." "is it the man you was walkin' with?" "yes; there he is sitting on that bench." "he ain't much to look at. you look just like him." "really, i think you are the most impudent boy i ever met!" said edgar with asperity. "why, what have i said? i only told you you looked like him." "yes, but you said he wasn't much to look at!" "i guess he's rich, and that's better than good looks." "yes, my father is quite wealthy," returned edgar complacently. "i wish i was rich instead of good lookin'." "you good looking!" "that's what everybody says. i ain't no judge myself." tom looked roguishly at edgar, and his aristocratic patron was obliged to confess that he had a pleasant face, though it was marred by a black spot on each cheek, probably caused by the contact of his hands. "you're a queer boy," said edgar. "i don't know what to make of you." "make a rich man of me, and well go to europe together. my doctor says i ought to travel for my health." "edgar, haven't you got your shoes blacked yet?" asked his father from the bench. tom struck the box sharply with his brush to show that the job was completed. "just got done, governor," he said familiarly. "here is your money," said edgar, producing some pennies from his pockets. "there's only four," observed tom with a critical glance. "only four! haven't you dropped one?" "no. that's all you gave me." "father, have you got a cent?" mr. talbot's hand dived into his pocket, and he brought out a penny, but it was a canadian coin. "i don't know as i can pass this," said tom. "they're very particular at the windsor hotel, where i am boarding." "you can save it till you go traveling in canada," suggested edgar, with unusual brightness for him. "that's so," answered tom, who appreciated a joke. "i'll stop in syracuse on the way and pay you a visit." "how does he know about our living in syracuse?" asked mr. talbot. "i told him i lived there." "he said you was a big bug up there." "i hope you didn't use that expression, edgar," said his father. "oh well, that's what he meant. won't you have a shine yourself, governor?" "no; i don't think i shall need it." "where'd you get that shine you've got on?" "in syracuse." "tell 'em they don't understand shinin' boots up there." "hadn't you better go up there and give them some lessons?" suggested edgar. "well, i don't mind, if i can get free board at your house." "do you think we would have a bootblack living in our house?" "don't waste any time on him, edgar. he is a street boy, and his manners are fitted to his station." "thank you, governor. that's the biggest compliment i've had for a long time." mr. talbot laughed. "really, boy, you are very grotesque." "that's another compliment," said tom, taking off his hat and bowing with mock politeness. "hallo, tom!" tom turned to meet the smile of a district telegraph messenger, who was crossing the park to broadway. "how's yourself, mark?" he said. "i'd offer to shake hands, but i've been doin' a little business for these gentlemen, and my gloves ain't handy." no. 79, following the direction of tom's nod, glanced at mr. talbot and edgar, and instantly a look of surprise came over his face. "why, uncle solon, is that you?" he exclaimed. solon talbot looked embarrassed, and seemed in doubt whether to acknowledge his relationship to the humble telegraph boy. "are you mark mason?" he asked. "yes; don't you know me?" "i haven't seen you for two years, you know." "and this is edgar!" continued the telegraph boy. "you've grown so i would hardly know you." "i hope you are well," said edgar coldly. "thank you. uncle solon, where are you staying?" "ahem! i am stopping up town." "shall you be in the city long?" "i don't think so." "mother would like very much to see you. she would like to ask about grandfather's estate." "ah--um--yes! where do you live?" "no. 174 st. mark's place, near first avenue." "we'll call if we can. edgar, we'll have to hurry away." as they walked toward the other side of the park at a brisk pace, tom asked: "you don't mean to say that's your uncle, mark?" "yes; that is, he married my mother's sister." "and that young swell is your cousin?" "yes." "he is rich, isn't he?" "i suppose so." "why don't he do something for you and your mother?" "he was always a very selfish man. but we don't ask any favors--mother and i don't. all we ask is justice." "what do you mean by that?" "my grandfather, that is mother's father and mrs. talbot's, died two years ago, and uncle solon was the administrator. we supposed he had left a good deal of money, but all we have received from his estate is seventy-five dollars." "do you think the old feller's been playin' any game on you?" "i don't know what to think." "i tell you what, mark, he deserves a good lickin' if he's cheated you, and i'd like to give it to him." "well, tom, i must be going. i can't stop talking here, or i'll get into trouble at the office." chapter ii. where mark lived. there is a large tenement house on st. mark's place, between third avenue and avenue a. the suites of rooms consist, as is the general new york custom in tenement houses, of one square apartment used as kitchen, sitting room and parlor combined, and two small bedrooms opening out of it. it was in an apartment of this kind on the third floor back, that mark mason's mother and little sister edith lived. it was a humble home, and plainly furnished, but a few books and pictures saved from the wreck of their former prosperity, gave the rooms an air of refinement not to be found in those of their neighbors. mrs. mason was setting the table for supper and edith was studying a lesson in geography when the door opened and mark entered. his mother greeted him with a pleasant smile. "you are through early, mark," she said. "yes, mother. i was let off earlier than usual, as there was an errand up this way that fortunately took very little time." "i'm glad you've come home, mark," said edith, "i want you to help me in my map questions." "all right, edie, but you will have to wait till after supper. i've got something to tell mother." "what is it, mark?" "i saw two old acquaintances of ours from syracuse, this forenoon." "who were they?" asked mrs. mason eagerly. "uncle solon and edgar." "is it possible? where did you see them?" "in city hall park. edgar had just been having his boots blacked by tom trotter." "did you speak to them?" "yes." "how did they appear?" "well, they didn't fall on my neck and embrace me," answered mark with a smile. "in fact they seemed very cool." "and yet solon talbot is my brother-in-law, the husband of my only sister." "and edgar is my own cousin. he's an awful snob, mother, and he looks as like his father as one pea looks like another." "then he is not very handsome. i wish i could see them. did you invite them to call?" "yes." "and what did solon--mr. talbot--say?" "he said he _might_ call; but he was in a great hurry." "did you remember to give him our address?" "yes, mother; i said you would like to see him about grandfather's estate." "i certainly would. it seems strange, very strange--that father should have left so little money." "we only got seventy-five dollars out of it." "when i expected at least five thousand." "i suspect there's been some dishonesty on the part of uncle solon. you know he is awfully fond of money." "yes, he always was." "and tom trotter says that edgar told him his father was very rich." "it seems strange the change that has taken place. when i first knew solon talbot i was a young lady in society with a high position, and he was a clerk in my father's store. he was of humble parentage, though that, of course, is not to his discredit. his father used to go about sawing wood for those who chose to employ him." "you don't mean it! you never told me that before." "no, for i knew that solon would be ashamed to have it known, and as i said before it is nothing to his discredit." "but it might prevent edgar from putting on such airs. he looked at me as if i was an inferior being, and he didn't care to have anything to say to me." "i hope you don't feel sensitive on that account." "sensitive? no. i can get along without edgar talbot's notice. i mean some time to stand as high or higher than uncle solon, and to be quite as rich." "i hope you will, mark, but as we are at present situated it will be hard to rise." "plenty of poor boys have risen, and why not i?" "it is natural for the young to be hopeful, but i have had a good deal to depress me. did you remember that the rent comes due the day after to-morrow?" "how much have you towards it, mother?" "only five dollars, and it's eight. i don't see where the other three dollars are coming from, unless,"--and here her glance rested on the plain gold ring on her finger. "pledge your wedding-ring, mother!" exclaimed mark. "surely you don't mean that?" "i would rather do it than lose our shelter, poor as it is." "there must be some other way--there must be." "you will not receive any wages till saturday." "no, but perhaps we can borrow something till then. there's mrs. mack up-stairs. she has plenty of money, though she lives in a poor way." "there isn't much hope there, mark. she feels poorer than i do, though i am told she has five thousand dollars out at interest." "never mind. i am going to try her." "eat your supper first." "so i will. i shall need all the strength i can get from a good meal to confront her." half an hour later mark went up-stairs and tapped at the door of the rooms above his mother's. "come in!" said a feeble quavering voice. mark opened the door and entered. in a rocking chair sat, or rather crouched, a little old woman, her face seamed and wrinkled. she had taken a comforter from the bed and wrapped it around her to keep her warm, for it was a chilly day, and there was no fire in her little stove. "good evening, mrs. mack," said mark. "how do you feel?" "it's a cold day," groaned the old lady. "i--i feel very uncomfortable." "why don't you have a fire then?" "it's gone out, and it's so late it isn't worth while to light it again." "but it is worth while to be comfortable," insisted mark. "i--i can keep warm with this comforter around me, and--fuel is high, very high." "but you can afford to buy more when this is burned." "no, mark. i have to be economical--very economical. i don't want to spend all my money, and go to the poor-house." "i don't think there's much danger of that. you've got money in the savings bank, haven't you?" "yes--a little, but i can't earn anything. i'm too old to work, for i am seventy-seven, and i might live years longer, you know." "don't you get interest on your money?" "yes, a little, but it costs a good deal to live." "well, if the interest isn't enough, you can use some of the principal. i can put you in the way of earning twenty-five cents." "can you?" asked the old woman eagerly. "how?" "if you'll lend me three dollars till saturday--i get my wages then--i'll pay you twenty-five cents for the accommodation." "but you might not pay me," said the old woman cautiously, "and it would kill me to lose three dollars." mark wanted to laugh, but felt that it would not do. "there isn't any danger," he said. "i get two weeks' pay on saturday. it will be as much as nine dollars, so you see you are sure of getting back your money." "i--i don't know. i am afraid." "what are you afraid of?" "you might get run over by the horse cars, or a truck, and then you couldn't get your money." "i will be careful for your sake, mrs. mack," said mark good-humoredly. "you'll get your money back, and twenty-five cents more." the old woman's face was a study--between avarice on the one hand and timidity on the other. "i--i'm afraid," she said. she rocked to and fro in her chair in her mental perturbation, and mark saw that his errand was a failure. "if you change your mind, let me know," he said. as he reached the foot of the stairs he was treated to a surprise. there just in front of his mother's door stood solon talbot and edgar. chapter iii. an unexpected call. "in what room does your mother live?" asked solon talbot. "this is our home," said mark, proceeding to open the door. edgar talbot sniffed contemptuously. "i don't see how you can live in such a mean place," he remarked. "it is not a matter of choice," returned mark gravely. "we have to live in a cheap tenement." by this time the door was opened. "mother," said mark, preceding the two visitors, "here are uncle solon and edgar come to call on you." mrs. mason's pale cheek flushed, partly with mortification at her humble surroundings, for when she first knew solon talbot he was only a clerk, as she had said, and she was a society belle. there was another feeling also. she had a strong suspicion that her brother-in-law had defrauded her of her share in her father's estate. "i am glad to see you, mr. talbot," she said, extending her hand. "and this is edgar! how you have grown, edgar." "yes, ma'am," responded edgar stiffly. both mrs. mason and mark noticed that he did not call her "aunt." her nephew's coldness chilled her. "i am sorry to see you in such a poor place," she said, smiling faintly. "i suppose rents are high in new york," said solon talbot awkwardly. "yes, and our means are small. how is my sister mary?" "quite well, thank you." "did she send me any message?" "she did not know i was going to call." "how long it seems since i saw her!" sighed mrs. mason. "i suppose you heard that i was in town." "yes; mark told me." "i was not sure whether i could call, as i am here on a hurried business errand." "i am glad you have called. i wished to ask you about father's estate." "just so! it is very surprising--i assure you that it amazed me very much--to find that he left so little." "i can't understand it at all, solon. only a year before he died he told me that he considered himself worth fifteen thousand dollars." "people are often deluded as to the amount of their possessions. i have known many such cases." "but i have only received seventy-five dollars, and there were two heirs--mary and myself. according to that father must have left only one hundred and fifty dollars." "of course he left more, but there were debts--and funeral expenses and doctor's bills." "i understand that, but it seems so little." "it _was_ very little, and i felt sorry, not only on your account, but on mary's. of course, as my wife, she will be provided for, but it would have been comfortable for her to inherit a fair sum." "you can imagine what it is to me who am not amply provided for. i thought there might be five thousand dollars coming to me." solon talbot shook his head. "that anticipation was very extravagant!" he said. "it was founded on what father told me." "true: but i think your father's mind was weakened towards the end of his life. he was not really responsible for what he said." "i disagree with you there, solon. father seemed to me in full possession of his faculties to the last." "you viewed him through the eyes of filial affection, but i was less likely to be influenced in my judgments." "five thousand dollars would have made me so happy. we are miserably poor, and mark has to work so hard to support us in this poor way." "i thought telegraph boys earned quite a snug income," said solon talbot, who looked uncomfortable. he was dreading every moment that his sister-in-law would ask him for pecuniary assistance. he did not understand her independent nature. her brother-in-law was about the last man to whom she would have stooped to beg a favor. "mark sometimes makes as high as five dollars a week," said mrs. mason in a tone of mild sarcasm. "i am sure that is very good pay for a boy of his age." "it is a small sum for a family of three persons to live upon, solon." "um, ah! i thought perhaps you might earn something else." "sometimes i earn as high as a dollar and a half a week making shirts." mr. talbot thought it best to drop the subject. "i am deeply sorry for you," he said. "it is a pity your husband didn't insure his life. he might have left you in comfort." "he did make application for insurance, but his lungs were already diseased, and the application was refused." "i may be able to help you--in a small way, of course," proceeded solon talbot. mark looked up in surprise. was it possible that his close-fisted uncle was offering to assist them. mrs. mason did not answer, but waited for developments. "i have already paid you seventy-five dollars from your father's estate," resumed mr. talbot. "strictly speaking, it is all you are entitled to. but i feel for your position, and--and your natural disappointment, and i feel prompted to make it a hundred dollars by paying you twenty-five dollars more. i have drafted a simple receipt here, which i will get you to sign, and then i will hand you the money." he drew from his wallet a narrow slip of paper, on which was written this form: "received from solon talbot the sum of one hundred dollars, being the full amount due me from the estate of my late father, elisha doane, of which he is the administrator." * * * * * mr. talbot placed the paper on the table, and pointing to a black line below the writing, said, "sign here." "let me see the paper, mother," said mark. he read it carefully. "i advise you not to sign it," he added, looking up. "what do you mean?" exclaimed solon talbot angrily. "i mean," returned mark firmly, "that mother has no means of knowing that a hundred dollars is all that she is entitled to from grandfather's estate." "didn't i tell you it was?" demanded talbot frowning. "uncle solon," said mark calmly, "i am only a boy, but i know that one can't be too careful in business matters." "do you dare to doubt my father's word?" blustered edgar. "our business is with your father, not with you," said mark. "what is it you want?" asked solon talbot irritably. "i want, or rather mother does, to see a detailed statement of grandfather's property, and the items of his debts and expenses." solon talbot was quite taken aback, by mark's demand. he had supposed the boy knew nothing of business. "really," he said, "this impertinence from my own nephew is something i was by no means prepared for. it is a poor return for my liberal offer." "your liberal offer?" "yes, the twenty-five dollars i offered your mother is out of my own pocket--offered solely out of consideration for her poverty. do i understand," he asked, addressing his sister-in-law, "that you decline my offer?" mrs. mason looked doubtfully at mark. twenty-five dollars in their present circumstances would be a boon, and, in addition to mark's earnings, would tide them over at least three months. was it right, or wise, to decline it? mark's face showed no signs of wavering. he was calm and resolute. "what do you think, mark?" asked his mother. "you know what i think, mother. we have no knowledge that the estate has been fairly administered, and you would be bartering away our rights." "i think i won't sign the receipt, solon," said mrs. mason. solon talbot looked very angry. "then," he replied, "i cannot give you the twenty-five dollars. edgar, we will go." "give my love to mary," faltered mrs. mason. solon talbot deigned no answer, but strode from the room with angry look. "mother, i am convinced that uncle solon was trying to swindle us," said mark. "i hope we have done right, mark," rejoined his mother doubtfully. "what is this, mother?" asked mark, as he picked up from the floor a letter partially torn. "it must have been dropped by solon talbot." chapter iv. a night at daly's. "i will read this letter to see if it is of any importance," said mark. "in that case i will forward it to syracuse." he read as follows: "wall street exchange. "dear sir: in reference to the mining stock about which you inquire, our information is that the mine is a valuable one, and very productive. the stock is held in few hands, and it is difficult to obtain it. you tell me that it belongs to an estate of which you are the administrator. i advise you to hold it awhile longer before you seek to dispose of it. we are about to send an agent to nevada to look after some mining interests of our own, and will authorize him also to look up the golden hope mine. "yours truly, "crane & lawton, "stock and mining brokers." mother and son looked at each other significantly. finally mark said, "this mining stock must have belonged to grandfather." "yes; i remember now his alluding to having purchased a hundred shares of some mine." "the brokers say they are valuable. yet uncle solon has never said anything about them. mother, he means to defraud us of our share in this property, supposing that we will hear nothing about it." "how shameful!" exclaimed mrs. mason indignantly. "i will sit right down and write him a letter taxing him with his treachery." "no, mother; i don't want you to do anything of the kind." "you don't want us to submit to imposition? that don't sound like you, mark." "i mean that he shall give us whatever is our due, but i don't want him to suspect that we know anything of his underhand schemes. he hasn't sold the mining stock yet." "what do you want me to do?" "leave the matter in my hands, mother. i will keep the letter, and it will always be evidence against him. he is shrewd, and will get full value for the stock. then we can make him hand you your share." "if you think that is best, mark," said mrs. mason doubtfully. "i haven't much of a head for business." "i think i have, mother. there is nothing i like better." "did you see mrs. mack about a loan? i didn't think to ask you, as your uncle came in with you when you returned from up-stairs." "yes, i saw her, but it was of no use." "then she won't lend us the money?" "no, she is afraid to, though i offered her twenty-five cents interest. i told her that i should have nine dollars coming in on saturday, but she thought something might prevent my getting it." "then i had better pawn my ring. the landlord won't wait even a day for his money." "don't be in a hurry, mother. the rent is not due till day after to-morrow, and something may happen between now and then to put me in funds." "perhaps you are right, mark." five minutes later there was a knock at the door. opening it, mark saw another telegraph boy in the entrance. he had a paper in his hand. "you're to go there," he said, handing mark a card. "put on your best clothes. it's a lady to take to the theater." "all right, jimmy. i'll be ready in a jiffy. do you know what theater?" "no, i don't. the lady will tell you." "mother, i'll be home late," said mark. "i must put on some clean clothes. is my collar dirty?" "yes, you had better put on a clean one. i don't like your being out so late. i thought you were through for the day." "i'll get extra pay, mother, and every little helps." "i say, mark," said jimmy, "you'd better wear your dress suit and diamond scarf-pin." "i would, jimmy, only i lent 'em both to a bootblack of my acquaintance who's going to attend a ball on fifth avenue to-night." jimmy laughed. "you've always got an answer ready, mark," he said. "well, so long! hope you'll have a good time." "where does the lady live, mark?" asked mrs. mason. "at no. 90 west forty-fifth street. i haven't much time to spare. i must go as soon as i can get ready." it was half-past seven o'clock before mark rang the bell at a fine brown stone house on west forty-fifth street. the door was opened by a colored servant, who, without speaking to mark, turned his head, and called out: "the messenger's come, miss maud." "i'm _so_ glad," said a silvery voice, as a young lady of twenty, already dressed for the street, came out of a room on the left of the hall. mark took off his hat politely. "so you are the messenger boy?" she said. "you are to take me to daly's theater." "yes, miss. so i heard." "let us go at once. we will take the horse cars at sixth avenue, and get out at thirtieth street." before she had finished they were already in the street. "i must explain," she said, "that my uncle bought two tickets this morning and expected to accompany me, but an important engagement has prevented. i was resolved to go, and so i sent for a messenger. perhaps you had better take the tickets." "all right, miss----." "gilbert. as you are to be my escort i will ask your name." "mark mason." "shall i call you mark, or mr. mason?" she asked with a roguish smile. "i would rather you would call me mark." "perhaps, as you are taking the place of my uncle, it would be proper to call you uncle mark," she laughed. "all right, if you prefer it," said mark. "on the whole i won't. i am afraid you don't look the character. are you quite sure you can protect me?" "i'll try to, miss gilbert." "then i won't borrow any trouble." maud gilbert had carefully observed mark, and as he was an attractive-looking boy she felt satisfied with the selection made for her. "i am glad you didn't wear your uniform," she said. "i forgot to speak about that." "when i heard what i was wanted for i thought it would be better to leave off the uniform," said mark. "that was right. now i can pass you off as a young friend. if i meet any young lady friend, don't call me miss gilbert, but call me maud. perhaps you had better call me that at any rate." "i will--maud." "that's right, and i will call you--let me see, cousin mark. i don't want my friends to think i had to send for an escort to a telegraph office." when they entered daly's miss gilbert met an old school friend--louisa morton. "why, maud, are you here?" said her friend. "how delightful! and who is this young gentleman?" "my cousin, mark mason." "indeed! well, i congratulate you on having such a nice escort. if he were a few years older i might try to make you jealous." maud laughed gaily. "oh, you can't get him away. he is devoted to me. aren't you, cousin mark?" mark was about to say "you bet," but it occurred to him that this would not be _comme il faut_, so he only said, "you are right, maud." "where are your seats? i hope they are near ours." they proved to be in the same row, but on the other side of the center aisle. as mark and the young lady took seats two pairs of astonished eyes noted their entrance. these belonged to edgar and his father, who sat two rows behind. edgar was the first to catch sight of them. "look, father!" he said, clutching his father's arm. "there is mark mason and a beautiful girl just taking their seats. what does it mean?" "i don't know," returned mr. talbot. "she seems to be a fashionable young lady." "how in the world did he get acquainted with such people? she treats him as familiarly as if he were a brother or cousin." "it is very strange." "please take the opera-glass, mark," edgar heard miss gilbert say. "you know i must make you useful." for the rest of the evening the attention of edgar and his father was divided between the play and miss gilbert and mark. for the benefit chiefly of her friend, maud treated her young escort with the utmost familiarity, and quite misled solon talbot and edgar. when the play was over mark carefully adjusted miss gilbert's wraps. as he passed through the aisle he saw for the first time edgar and his father looking at him with astonished eyes. "good evening," he said with a smile. "i hope you enjoyed the play." "come, mark, it is growing late," said maud. mark bowed and passed on. "well, if that doesn't beat all!" ejaculated edgar. "they seemed very intimate." when mark bade miss gilbert good night after ringing the bell at her home, she pressed a bank note into his hand. "thank you so much," she said. "keep the change, and when i want another escort i will send for you." by the light of the street lamp mark inspected the bill and found it was a five. "that will give me over three dollars for myself," he said joyfully. "so the rent is secure." the next day about two o'clock he was in the office of a prominent banker to whom he had carried a message, when a wild-looking man with light brown hair and wearing glasses, rushed in, and exclaimed dramatically to the astonished banker, "i want a hundred thousand dollars! give it to me at once, or i will blow your office to atoms." he pointed significantly to a small carpet bag which he carried in his left hand. the broker turned pale, and half rose from his chair. he was too frightened to speak, while two clerks writing in another part of the office seemed ready to faint. chapter v. mark as a hero. the situation was critical. that the wild-eyed visitor was demented, there was hardly a doubt, but his madness was of a most dangerous character. the eyes of all were fixed with terror upon the innocent-looking valise which he held in his left hand, and in the mind of all was the terrible thought, dynamite! "well, will you give me the money?" demanded the crank fiercely. "i--i don't think i have as much money in the office," stammered the pallid banker. "that won't work," exclaimed the visitor angrily. "if you can't find it i will send you where you won't need money," and he moved his arm as if to throw the valise on the floor. "i--i'll give you a check," faltered luther rockwell, the banker. "and stop payment on it," said the crank with a cunning look. "no, that won't do." "give me half an hour to get the money," pleaded rockwell desperately. "perhaps twenty minutes will do." "you would send for a policeman," said the intruder. "that won't do, i must have the money now. or, if you haven't got it, bonds will answer." luther rockwell looked helplessly toward the two clerks, but they were even more terrified than he. there was one to whom he did not look for help, and that was the telegraph boy, who stood but three feet from the crank, watching him sharply. for a plan of relief had come into the mind of mark mason, who, though he appreciated the danger, was cooler and more self-possessed than any one else in the office. standing just behind the crank, so that he did not attract his attention, he swiftly signaled to the clerks, who saw the signal but did not know what it meant. mark had observed that the dangerous satchel was held loosely in the hands of the visitor whose blazing eyes were fixed upon the banker. the telegraph boy had made up his mind to take a desperate step, which depended for its success on rapid execution and unfaltering nerves. luther rockwell was hesitating what reply to make to his visitor's demand when mark, with one step forward, snatched the valise from the unsuspecting visitor and rapidly retreated in the direction of the two clerks. "now do your part!" he exclaimed in keen excitement. the crank uttered a howl of rage, and turning his fierce, bloodshot eyes upon mark dashed towards him. the two clerks were now nerved up to action. they were not cowards, but the nature of the peril had dazed them. one was a member of an athletic club, and unusually strong. they dashed forward and together seized the madman. mr. rockwell, too, sprang from his seat, and, though an old man, joined the attacking party. "quick!" he shouted to mark. "take that valise out of the office, and carry it where it will do no harm. then come back!" mark needed no second bidding. he ran out of the office and down-stairs, never stopping till he reached the nearest police station. quickly he told his story, and two policemen were despatched on a run to mr. rockwell's office. they arrived none too soon. the crank appeared to have the strength of three men, and it seemed doubtful how the contest between him and the three who assailed him would terminate. the two policemen turned the scale. they dexterously slipped handcuffs over his wrists, and at last he sank to the floor conquered. he was panting and frothing at the mouth. luther rockwell fell back into his seat exhausted. "you've had a trying time, sir!" said one of the policemen respectfully. "yes," ejaculated the banker with dry lips. "i wouldn't pass-through it again for fifty thousand dollars. i've been as near a terrible death as any man can be--and live! but for the heroism of that boy--where is he?" the question was answered by the appearance of mark mason himself, just returned from the police station. "but for you," said the banker gratefully, "we should all be in eternity." "i too!" answered mark. "let me get at him!" shrieked the crank, eying mark with a demoniac hatred. "but for him i should have succeeded." "was there really dynamite in the bag?" asked one of the policemen. "yes," answered mark. "the sergeant opened it in my presence. he said there was enough dynamite to blow up the biggest building in the city." "what is going to be done with it?" asked the banker anxiously. "the policemen were starting with it for the north river." "that's the only safe place for it." "if you have no further use for this man we'll carry him to the station-house," said one of the officers. "yes, yes, take him away!" ejaculated the banker with a shudder. struggling fiercely, the crank was hurried down the stairs by the two official guardians, and then mr. rockwell who was an old man, quietly fainted away. when he came to, he said feebly, "i am very much upset. i think i will go home. call a cab, my boy." mark soon had one at the door. "now, i want you to go with me and see me home. i don't dare to go by myself." mark helped the old gentleman into his cab, and up the stairs of his dwelling. mr. rockwell paid the cab driver adding. "take this boy back to my office. what is your name, my boy?" "mark mason, no. 79." luther rockwell scribbled a few lines on a leaf torn from his memorandum book, and gave it to mark. "present that at the office," he said. "come round next week and see me." "yes, sir," answered mark respectfully, and sprang into the cab. as he was riding through madison avenue he noticed from the window his uncle solon and edgar walking slowly along on the left hand side. at the same moment they espied him. "look, father!" cried edgar in excitement "mark mason is riding in that cab." "so he is!" echoed mr. talbot in surprise. catching their glance, mark smiled and bowed. he could understand their amazement, and he enjoyed it. mechanically mr. talbot returned the salutation, but edgar closed his lips very firmly and refused to take any notice of his cousin. "i don't understand it," he said to his father, when the cab had passed. "doesn't it cost a good deal to ride in a cab in new york?" "yes. i never rode in one but once, and then i had to pay two dollars." "and yet mark mason, who is little more than a beggar, can afford to ride! and last evening he was at the theater in company with a fashionable young lady. telegraph boys must get higher pay than he said." "perhaps, edgar," suggested his father with an attempt at humor, "you would like to become a telegraph boy yourself." "i'd scorn to go into such a low business." "well, i won't urge you to do so." meanwhile mark continued on his way in the cab. as he passed city hall park tom trotter, who had just finished shining a gentleman's boots, chanced to look towards broadway. as he saw his friend mark leaning back in the cab, his eyes opened wide. "well, i'll be jiggered!" he exclaimed. "how's that for puttin' on style? fust thing you know mark mason will have his name down wid de four hundred!" it did not occur to mark to look at the paper given him by mr. rockwell till he got out of the cab. this was what he read: mr. nichols: give this boy ten dollars. luther rockwell. his eyes flashed with delight. "this is a lucky day!" he exclaimed. "it's worth while running the risk of being blown up when you're so well paid for it." nichols, the chief clerk, at once complied with his employer's directions. "you're a brave boy, 79," he said. "if it hadn't been for you, we'd all have been blown higher than a kite. how did you leave mr. rockwell?" "he seems pretty well upset," answered mark. "no wonder; he's an old man. i don't mind saying i was upset myself, and i am less than half his age. you were the only one of us that kept his wits about him." "somehow i didn't think of danger," said mark. "i was considering how i could get the better of the crank." "you took a great risk. if the valise had fallen, we'd have all gone up," and he pointed significantly overhead. "i am glad mr. rockwell has given you something. if he had given you a hundred dollars, or a thousand, it wouldn't have been too much." "he told me to call at the office next week." "don't forget to do it. it will be to your interest." chapter vi. "the evening globe." while mark was passing through these exciting scenes mrs. mason went about her daily duties at home, anxiously considering how the rent was to be paid on the following day. mark had not told her of his gift from maud gilbert, intending it as a surprise. as she was washing the breakfast dishes, there was a little tap at the door. to her surprise, the visitor turned out to be mrs. mack, of the floor above, to whom mark had applied for a loan without success. as mrs. mack seldom left her room mrs. mason regarded her with surprise. "come in and sit down, mrs. mack," she said kindly. she had no regard for the old woman, but felt that she deserved some consideration on account of her great age. mrs. mack hobbled in and seated herself in a rocking-chair. "i hope you are well," said mrs. mason. "tollable, tollable," answered the old woman, glancing curiously about the room, as if making an inventory of what it contained. "can't i give you a cup of tea? at your age it will be strengthening." "i'm not so very old," said the old woman querulously. "i'm only seventy-seven, and my mother lived to be eighty-seven." "i hope you will live as long as you wish to. but, mrs. mack, you must make yourself comfortable. old people live longer if they live in comfort. will you have the tea?" "i don't mind," answered mrs. mack, brightening up at the prospect of this unwonted luxury. she did not allow herself tea every day, on account of its cost. there are many foolish people in the world, but among the most foolish are those who deny themselves ordinary comforts in order to save money for their heirs. the tea was prepared, and the old woman drank it with evident enjoyment. "your boy came up yesterday to borrow three dollars," she began then, coming to business. "yes, he told me so." "he said he'd pay me saturday night." "yes, he gets two weeks' pay then." "i--i was afraid he might not pay me back and i can't afford to lose so much money, i'm a poor old woman." "mark would have paid you back. he always pays his debts." "yes; i think he is a good boy. if i thought he would pay me back. i--i think i would lend him the money. he offered to pay me interest." "yes; he would pay you for the favor." "if--if he will pay me four dollars on saturday night i will lend him what he wants." "what!" ejaculated mrs. mason, "do you propose to ask him a dollar for the use of three dollars for two or three days?" "it's--it's a great risk!" mumbled mrs. mack. "there is no risk at all. to ask such interest as that would be sheer robbery. we are poor and we can't afford to pay it." "i am a poor old woman." "you are not poor at all. you are worth thousands of dollars." "who said so?" demanded mrs. mack in alarm. "everybody knows it." "it's--it's a-mistake, a great mistake. i--i can't earn anything, i'm too old to work. i don't want to die in a poor-house." "you would live a great deal better in a poor-house than you live by yourself. i decline your offer, mrs. mack. i would rather pawn my wedding ring, as i proposed to mark. that would only cost me nine cents in place of the dollar that you demand." the old woman looked disappointed. she had thought of the matter all night with an avaricious longing for the interest that she expected to get out of mark, and she had no thought that her offer would be declined. "never mind about business, mrs. mack!" said mrs. mason more kindly, as she reflected that the old woman could not change her nature. "won't you have another cup of tea, and i can give you some toast, too, if you think you would like it." an expression of pleasure appeared on the old woman's face. "if--it's handy," she said. "i don't always make tea, for it is too much trouble." it is safe to say that mrs. mack thoroughly enjoyed her call, though she did not effect the loan she desired to make. when she rose to go, mrs. mason invited her to call again. "i always have tea, or i can make it in five minutes," she said. "thank you kindly, ma'am; i will come," she said, "if it isn't putting you to too much trouble." "mother," said edith, after the visitor had hobbled up-stairs, "i wouldn't give tea to that stingy old woman." "my dear child, she is old, and though she is not poor, she thinks she is, which is almost as bad. if i can brighten her cheerless life in any way, i am glad to do so." about one o'clock a knock was heard at the door. mrs. mason answered it in person, and to her surprise found in the caller a brisk-looking young man, with an intelligent face. he had a note-book in his hand. "is this mrs. mason?" he inquired. "yes, sir." "your son is a telegraph boy?" "yes." "no. 79?" "yes, sir. has anything happened to him?" she asked in quick alarm. "i bring no bad news," answered the young man with a smile. "have you a photograph or even a tintype of your son, recently taken?" "i have a tintype taken last summer at coney island." "that will do. will you lend it to me till to-morrow?" "but what can you possibly want with mark's picture?" asked the mother, feeling quite bewildered. "i represent the _daily globe_, mrs. mason. his picture is to appear in the evening edition." "but why should you publish mark's picture?" "because he has distinguished himself by a heroic action. i can't stop to give you particulars, for i ought to be at the office now, but i will refer you to the paper." with the tintype in his hand the reporter hurried to the office of the journal he represented, leaving mrs. mason in a state of wondering perplexity. within an incredibly short time hundreds of newsboys were running through the streets crying "extry! extra! a dynamite crank at the office of luther rockwell, the great banker!" mark mason was returning from a trip to brooklyn, when a newsboy thrust the paper in his face. "here, johnny, give me that paper!" he said. the boy peered curiously at him. "ain't you mark mason?" he asked. "yes; how did you know me?" "your picture is in the paper." mark opened the paper in natural excitement, and being a modest boy, blushed as he saw his picture staring at him from the front page, labeled underneath "the heroic telegraph boy." he read the account, which was quite correctly written with a mixture of emotions, among which gratification predominated. "but where did they get my picture?" he asked himself. there was also a picture of the dynamite crank, which was also tolerably accurate. "i must take this home to mother," said mark, folding up the paper, "won't she be surprised!" about the same time solon talbot and edgar were in the grand central depot on forty-second street. their visit was over, and mr. talbot had purchased the return tickets. "you may buy a couple of evening papers, edgar," said his father. one of them selected was the _evening globe_. edgar uttered an exclamation as he opened it. "what's the matter, edgar?" asked his father. "just look at this! here's mark mason's picture in the paper!" "what nonsense you talk!" said solon talbot. "no, i don't. here is the picture, and here is his name!" said edgar triumphantly. solon talbot read the account in silence. "i see," said another syracuse man coming up, "you are reading the account of the daring attempt to blow up banker rockwell's office!" "yes," answered solon. "that was a brave telegraph boy who seized the bag of dynamite." "very true!" said solon, unable to resist the temptation to shine by the help of the nephew whom he had hitherto despised. "that boy is my own nephew!" "you don't say so!" "yes; his mother is the sister of my wife." "but how does he happen to be a telegraph boy?" "a whim of his. he is a very independent boy, and he insisted on entering the messenger service." "be that as it may, you have reason to be proud of him." edgar said nothing, but he wished that just for this once he could change places with his poor cousin. "i'd have done the same if i'd had the chance," he said to himself. chapter vii. the great mr. bunsby. "so you have become quite a hero, mark," said his mother smiling, as mark entered the house at half-past six. "have you heard of it then, mother?" asked the messenger boy. "yes, a little bird came and told me." "i suppose you saw the _evening globe_." "yes, i sent edith out to buy a copy." "but how did you know it contained anything about me?" "because a reporter came to me for your picture." "that explains it. i couldn't understand how they got that." "it makes me shudder, mark, when i think of the risk you ran. how did you dare to go near that terrible man?" "i knew something must be done or we should all lose our lives. no one seemed to think what to do except myself." "you ought to have been handsomely paid. the least mr. rockwell could do was to give you five dollars." "he gave me ten, and told me to call at the office next week." "then," said his mother relieved, "we shall be able to pay the rent." "that was provided for already. the young lady i escorted to the theater last evening gave me three dollars over the regular charges for my services." "why didn't you tell me before, mark?" "i ought to have done so, but i wanted it to be an agreeable surprise. so you see i have thirteen dollars on hand." "it is a blessed relief. oh, i mustn't forget to tell you that mrs. mack came in this morning to offer to lend me three dollars." "what! has the old woman become kind-hearted all at once?" "as to that, i think there is very little kindness in offering three dollars at thirty-three per cent. interest for three days. she was willing to lend three dollars, but demanded four dollars in return." "it is lucky we shall not have to pay such enormous interest. now, mother, what have you got for supper?" "some tea and toast, mark." "we must have something better. i will go out and buy a sirloin steak, and some potatoes. we will have a good supper for once." at the entrance to the street mark found tom trotter. tom's honest face lighted up with pleasure. "i see you've got into de papers, mark," he said. "yes, tom." "i wouldn't believe it when jim sheehan told me, but i went and bought de _evening globe_, and there you was!" "i hope you'll get into the papers some time, tom." "there ain't no chance for me, 'cept i rob a bank. where you goin', mark?" "to buy some steak for supper. have you eaten supper yet?" "no." "then come along with me, and i'll invite you to join us." "i don't look fit, mark." "never mind about your clothes, tom. we don't generally put on dress suits. a little soap and water will make you all right." "what'll your mudder say?" "that any friend of mine is welcome." so tom allowed himself to be persuaded, and had no reason to complain of his reception. the steak emitted appetizing odors as it was being broiled, and when at length supper was ready no one enjoyed it more than tom. "how do you think my mother can cook, tom?" asked mark. "she beats beefsteak john all hollow. i just wish she'd open a eaten' house." "i'll think about it, tom," said mrs. mason smiling. "would you be one of my regular customers?" "i would if i had money enough." it is hard to say which enjoyed the supper most. the day before mrs. mason had been anxious and apprehensive, but to-day, with a surplus fund of thirteen dollars, she felt in high spirits. this may seem a small sum to many of our readers, but to the frugal little household it meant nearly two weeks' comfort. the table was cleared, and mark and tom sat down to a game of checkers. they had just finished the first game when steps were heard on the stairs and directly there was a knock at the door. "go to the door, mark," said his mother. mark opened the door and found himself in the presence of a stout man, rather showily dressed, and wearing a white hat. "is this mark mason?" asked the visitor. "yes, sir." the visitor took out a copy of the _evening globe_, and compared mark with the picture. "yes, i see you are," he proceeded. "you are the telegraph boy that disarmed the dynamite crank in mr. rockwell's office." "yes, sir." "allow me to say, young man, i wouldn't have been in your shoes at that moment for ten thousand dollars." "i wouldn't want to go through it again myself," smiled mark. all the while he was wondering why the stout man should have taken the trouble to come and see him. "perhaps you'll know me when i tell you that i'm bunsby," said the stout visitor drawing himself up and inflating his chest with an air of importance. "of bunsby's dime museum?" asked mark. "exactly! you've hit it the first time. most people have heard of me," he added complacently. "oh yes, sir, i've heard of you often. so have you, tom?" "yes," answered tom, fixing his eyes on mr. bunsby with awe-struck deference, "i've been to de museum often." "mr. bunsby," said mark gravely, "this is my particular friend, tom trotter." "glad to make your acquaintance, mr. trotter," said mr. bunsby, offering his hand. tom took it shyly, and felt that it was indeed a proud moment for him. to be called mr. trotter by the great bunsby, and to have his hand shaken into the bargain, put him on a pinnacle of greatness which he had never hoped to reach. "won't you walk in, mr. bunsby? this is my mother, mrs. mason, and this is my sister edith." "glad to meet you, ladies both! i congratulate you, mrs. mason, on having so distinguished a son." "he is a good boy, mr. bunsby, whether he is distinguished or not." "i have no doubt of it. in fact i am sure of it. you already know that i keep a dime museum, where, if i do say it myself, may be found an unrivaled collection of curiosities gathered from the four quarters of the globe, and where may be witnessed the most refined and recherchã© entertainments, which delight daily the ã©lite of new york and the surrounding cities." "yes, sir," assented mrs. mason, rather puzzled to guess what all this had to do with her. "i have come here to offer your son an engagement of four weeks at twenty-five dollars a week, and the privilege of selling his photographs, with all the profits it may bring." "but what am i to do?" asked mark. "merely to sit on the platform with the other curiosities." "but i am not a curiosity." "i beg your pardon, my dear boy, but everybody will want to see the heroic boy who foiled a dynamite fiend and saved the life of a banker." somehow this proposal was very repugnant to mark. "thank you, mr. bunsby," he said, "but i should not like to earn money in that way." "i might say thirty dollars a week," continued mr. bunsby. "come, let us strike up a bargain." "it isn't the money. twenty-five dollars a week is more than i could earn in any other way, but i shouldn't like to have people staring at me." "my dear boy, you are not practical." "i quite agree with mark," said mrs. mason. "i would not wish him to become a public spectacle." chapter viii. a scene in mrs. mack's room. fifteen minutes before a stout, ill-dressed man of perhaps forty years of age knocked at the door of mrs. mack's room. "come in!" called the old lady in quavering accents. the visitor opened the door and entered. "who are you?" asked the old lady in alarm. "don't you know me, aunt jane?" replied the intruder. "i'm jack minton, your nephew." "i don't want to see you--go away!" cried mrs. mack. "that's a pretty way to receive your own sister's son, whom you haven't seen for five years." "i haven't seen you because you've been in jail," retorted his aunt in a shrill voice. "yes, i was took for another man," said jack. "he stole and laid it off on to me." "i don't care how it was, but i don't want to see you. go away." "look here, aunt jane, you're treating me awful mean. i'm your own orphan nephew, and you ought to make much of me." "an orphan--yes. you hurried your poor mother to the grave by your bad conduct," said mrs. mack with some emotion. "you won't find me so soft as she was." "soft? no, you're as hard as flint, but all the same you're my aunt, and you're rich, while i haven't a dollar to bless myself with." "rich! me rich!" repeated the old lady shrilly. "you see how i live. does it look as if i was rich?" "oh, you can't humbug me that way. you could live better if you wanted to." "i'm poor--miserably poor!" returned the old woman. "i'd like to be as poor as you are!" said jack minton grimly. "you're a miser, that's all there is about it. you half starve yourself and live without fire, when you might be comfortable, and all to save money. you're a fool! do you know where all your money will go when you're dead?" "there won't be any left." "won't there? i'll take the risk of that, for i shall be your heir. it'll all go to me!" said jack, chuckling. "go away! go away!" cried the terrified old woman wildly. "i want to have a little talk with you first, aunt," said jack, drawing the only other chair in the room in front of mrs. mack and sitting down on it. "you're my only relation, and we ought to have an understanding. why, you can't live more than a year or two--at your age." "what do you mean?" said mrs. mack angrily. "i'm good for ten years. i'm only seventy-seven." "you're living on borrowed time, aunt jane, you know that yourself. you've lived seven years beyond the regular term, and you can't live much longer." "go away! go away!" said the terrified old woman, really alarmed at her nephew's prediction. "i don't want to have anything to do with you." "don't forget that i'm your heir." "i can leave my money as i please--not that i've got much to leave." "you mean you'll make a will? well, go ahead and do it. there was a man i know made a will and he died the next day." this shot struck home, for the old woman really had a superstitious dread of making a will. "you're a terrible man!" she moaned. "you scare me." "come, aunt, be reasonable. you can leave part of your money away from me if you like, but i want you to help me now. i'm hard up. do you see this nickel?" and he drew one from his vest pocket. "yes." "well, it's all the money i've got. why, i haven't eaten anything to-day, and i have no money to pay for a bed." "i--i haven't any supper for you." "i don't want any _here_. i wouldn't care to board with you, aunt jane. why, i should soon become a bag of bones like yourself. i don't believe you've got five cents' worth of provisions in the room." "there's half a loaf of bread in the closet." "let me take a look at it." he strode to the closet and opened the door. on a shelf he saw half a loaf of bread, dry and stale. he took it in his hand, laughing. "why, that bread is three days' old," he said. "where's your butter?" "i--i don't eat butter. its too high!" "and you don't care to live high!" said jack, laughing at his own joke. "i don't care to rob you of this bread. aunt jane. it's too rich for my blood. don't you ever eat anything else?" "sometimes," she answered, hesitating. "i'd rather take my supper at the cheapest restaurant on the bowery. what i want is money." mrs. mack uttered a little cry of alarm. "oh, don't go into a fit, aunt! i only want a little, just to get along till i can find work. give me twenty-five dollars, and i won't come near you again for a month. i swear it." "twenty-five dollars!" ejaculated mrs. mack in dismay. "do you think i am made of money?" "i don't take you for an astor or a vanderbilt, aunt jane, but you've got a tidy lot of money somewhere--that i am sure of. i shouldn't wonder if you had five thousand dollars. now where do you keep it?" "have you taken leave of your senses?" asked the old woman sharply. "no, i haven't, but it looks to me as if you had. but i can't waste my time here all night. i'm your only relative, and it's your duty to help me. will you let me have twenty-five dollars or not?" "no, i won't," answered mrs. mack angrily. "then i'll take the liberty of helping myself if i can find where you keep your hoards." jack minton jumped up from his chair and went at once to a cheap bureau, which, however, was probably the most valuable article in the room, and pulling out the top drawer, began to rummage about among the contents. then it was that mrs. mack uttered the piercing shriek referred to at the end of the last chapter, and her nephew, tramping across the floor, seized her roughly by the shoulder. "what do you mean by this noise, you old fool?" he demanded roughly. "help! murder! thieves!" screamed the old woman. then the door opened, and mark mason burst into the room, followed by tom trotter. "what's the matter, mrs. mack?" asked mark. "this man is going to rob me," answered the old woman. "oh, save me!" "it's a lie!" said jack minton. "just ask this woman who i am. she knows." "who is he, mrs. mack?" "it is my nephew, jack minton. he----" "do you hear that? i'm her nephew, come in to make her a call after a long time." "what are you doing to her?" demanded mark suspiciously. "trying to stop her infernal racket. you'd think i was murdering her by the way she goes on." "what made you scream, mrs. mack?" "because he--he was going to rob me." "how is that?" demanded mark sternly. "none of your business, kid! you ain't no call to interfere between me and my aunt." "i have if she asks me to." "he was at my bureau drawers. he told me i must give him twenty-five dollars." "supposing i did? it's the least you can do for your own nephew that hasn't a cent to bless himself with." "oh, take him away, mark! hell rob me first and murder me afterwards, and i'm his mother's only sister." "you see she admits it. she's rolling in money----" "oh!" exclaimed mrs. mack, throwing up her hands. "you know i'm poor, mark mason." "no, i don't, mrs. mack. i think you've got all the money you need, but you have a right to keep it if you want to. mr. minton, you had better leave the room. your aunt is evidently afraid of you, and, old as she is, your staying here may make her sick." "it ain't much use living, the way she is. aunt jane, i ask you again will you lend me twenty-five dollars?" "no, no!" "will you lend me five dollars?" "no." "are you going to turn your own nephew out into the street without a cent to buy food or pay for a bed?" he glowered at his aunt so fiercely as he said this that mark was afraid he might strangle her. "mrs. mack," he said, "you had better give him something if he is in so much need. since he is really your nephew, you might give him a dollar on condition that he won't trouble you again." after long persuasion the old woman was induced to do this, though she declared that it would leave her destitute, and send her to the poor-house. "now, mr. minton," said mark, "i advise you not to come here again, or i may have to call in a policeman." "i've a great mind to throw you down-stairs," growled jack. "you'd have to throw me too!" put in tom trotter. "i'd do it with pleasure." jack left the room and steered his way to the nearest saloon, while mark and tom returned to the room beneath. chapter ix. an adventure in a fifth avenue stage. mark did not fail to call at mr. rockwell's office during the following week. nichols, the clerk, who had already shown a friendly interest in him, received him kindly. "mr. rockwell is still confined at his house," he said. "the affair of last week was a great shock to him, and, not being a strong man, he is quite prostrated." "i am sorry to hear it," said mark in a tone of sympathy, "but i am not surprised. that is what i read in the papers. still, as i was asked to call at the office, i have done so." "i am glad to see you. i hope you are getting along well." "oh yes, fairly well." "how do you like being a telegraph messenger?" "it will do very well for a boy, but it leads to nothing. i wish i could get into some position where i would be promoted." "that will come after a while, if you show yourself faithful and reliable." the next day mark had a surprise. walking past the metropolitan hotel, not far from houston street, he saw a boy just leaving the hotel whose face and figure were familiar. "edgar talbot!" he exclaimed in surprise. "oh, it's you, is it?" said edgar, turning at the call. "yes; how do you happen to visit new york again so soon?" "we are going to move to new york," answered edgar. "father feels that syracuse is too small a place for a man of his business ability," he added in a consequential tone. "are you going to live at the hotel?" "no. we shall live in a nice flat up town, near the park." this was news indeed. mark felt no interest in any of the family except in mrs. talbot, his mother's sister, who alone of all displayed a friendly regard for her poor relatives. "mother will be glad to hear of it," he said. "why?" "because your mother is her only sister, and she will like to call on her." "look here!" said edgar. "i hope you don't expect to be on visiting terms at our house." "why not? you are my own cousin, aren't you?" "yes, i suppose so," answered edgar, making the admission grudgingly, "but of course there is a great difference in our social positions." "you mean that you are rich and we are poor?" "yes, that's about the size of it." "i don't care a particle about seeing you, but my mother will be glad to see her sister." "oh, well! mother can call at your--tenement house, now and then, but it would be better that none of you should call on us." "why?" "because we wouldn't like to let the servants know that we have such poor relations." "do you say this on your own account, or did your father tell you this?" said mark indignantly. "i know that is the way he feels." "i don't believe aunt mary feels so." just then a boy approached whom edgar seemed to know. "good morning," he said hurriedly. "i have an engagement." mark felt that he was dismissed, and kept on his way. he hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry that his uncle's family was coming to new york. he did not care for edgar's companionship, nor did he expect to get any of it, but he knew that his mother would like to meet her sister occasionally. about the middle of the afternoon he found himself riding in a fifth avenue stage. the stage was tolerably full. directly opposite mark sat an old lady richly dressed, whose means were evidently large. next to her sat a flashily dressed young man, on whose bosom glittered what might be a valuable diamond stud, conspicuous for its size. he had a diamond ring on his finger, and might easily be mistaken for a banker's son. all at once mark noticed some suspicious movements which led him to think that the young man might be quite different from what he appeared. a moment later he saw the young man's hand dive into the old lady's side pocket. directly afterwards he rose and pulled the strap for the stage to stop. mark realized that a robbery had taken place. he rose and placed himself between the young man and the door. "madam," he said to the old lady, "i think you have been robbed. feel in your pockets and see." the old lady, startled, followed mark's advice. "my pocketbook is gone!" she said nervously. "out of the way, boy!" cried the young man. "i have to get out here." "not yet," answered mark firmly. "give back the lady's pocketbook." "why, you insolent young rascal! what do you mean?" "i mean just what i say." "you have insulted me, and i will horsewhip you!" exclaimed the rogue in assumed virtuous indignation. he seized mark by the shoulder and was about to thrust him forcibly aside, when a stout, thick-set man rose and ranged himself by mark's side. "young man," he said, "give back the pocketbook as the boy tells you." "i have no pocketbook." as he spoke he dexterously dropped it to the floor of the stage. "here's your pocketbook, ma'am," said a nurse girl, picking it up. "thank you!" responded the old lady, relieved. "what did i tell you?" exclaimed the dude triumphantly. "boy, you're too fresh! i am a young man of high family. it is most ridiculous to charge me with stealing." "i saw you with your hand in the lady's pocket," said mark calmly. "it's a lie! but i ought not to be surprised. i know you now. you were sent to the island last summer for stealing. i remember seeing you on trial at jefferson market police court." suspicious glances were directed at mark, for most people are inclined to believe evil of their neighbors--but the stout man only laughed. "that is too thin, my friend!" he said. "of course your motive in bringing a charge against this boy is plain." "let me out, sir!" stormed the crook. "madam, do you wish to bring a charge against this man?" "no, let him go. i've got my pocketbook back, and that's all i want." the stout man turned aside, and the adventurer sprang out of the stage and dashed down thirty-ninth street in the direction of third avenue. "i'm very much obliged to you, boy," said the old lady. "did you really see that young man take my pocketbook?" "i saw him with his hand in your pocket." "i'm so sorry. he seemed so nicely dressed, too. i thought he belonged to a rich family." the stout man laughed. "my dear madam," he said, "the young men connected with our best families don't dress as flashily as your late companion. he is probably a professional pickpocket. did you have much money with you?" "over a hundred dollars. i was going down town to pay a bill." "then you ought to be much obliged to this boy for detecting the thief." "i am," said the old lady earnestly. "here, take this," she continued, and she drew a five-dollar bill from her pocketbook. mark hung back. "no, thank you!" he said. "i don't want any pay for that." "give me your name and address, then." mark had a business card in his pocket, and wrote his name and address upon it. "give me your name and address too," said the gentleman who had proved so valuable an ally. "i may need your services some time." "i don't think i have another card, sir." "then take one of mine." mark glanced at the card offered him. henry swan. watches, diamonds, jewelry. no. 185-1/2 broadway. "were that young man's diamonds bought at your store," asked mark smiling. "they were only paste. they might deceive a novice, but i saw through them at once. but i must bid you good morning. i have to make a call at the fifth avenue hotel." a few blocks farther on the old lady got out. mark assisted her to the street. "you're a very polite boy," she said. "you've done me a great favor. you had better take the five dollars i offered you." "no, thank you, madam. i will wait till i have a chance to do you another service." he did not resume his seat in the stage, having an errand on eighteenth street. as he was passing lord & taylor's store, he heard his name called. turning in some surprise he saw maud gilbert, the young lady he had escorted to daly's theater, leaving the store. "how do you do, mark?" she said, extending her hand with a smile. "very well, thank you, miss gilbert." "didn't i see your picture in the _evening globe_ a short time since?" "yes, i believe so," answered mark, blushing. "in connection with mr. rockwell, the banker?" "yes." "you have become quite a hero. i concluded it was you and i felt quite proud to think i knew you. did i tell you that i had a brother about your age?" "no, miss gilbert." "i have, and he is home on a vacation from exeter academy. if you have no engagement on thursday evening call and i will introduce you." "i shall be delighted to do so miss----" "maud," suggested the young lady smiling. "miss maud. thank you for the invitation. i will come." chapter x. an important commission. "no. 79!" called the superintendent. mark mason came forward to receive his commission. he had been sitting on a bench with several other telegraph boys, awaiting a call. "do you know henry swan, jeweler?" asked the superintendent, referring to a paper in his hand. "yes, sir; that is, i met him lately in a fifth avenue stage." "he has sent for a telegraph boy, no. 79 preferred." mark smiled with pleasure. "i am glad he remembers me," he said. "you may go there at once." mark put on his cap and went to the jeweler's store. as he entered, mr. swan, who was crossing from one side of the store to the other, recognized him. "you see i haven't forgotten you," he said. "i am glad of that, sir." "the boy in my employ has sent word that he is sick. it is necessary for me to supply his place. in my business fidelity and sharpness are requisite. i knew that you possess these traits, and as i don't want to experiment with a new boy of whom i know nothing, i sent for you." "i will try to meet your wishes, sir." "to begin with, have you another suit? i don't want you to wear the uniform of a telegraph boy while you are in my employ." "yes, sir. shall i go home and get it?" "on the whole, no. i will give you an order on a clothier in fulton street for a new suit." "you are very kind, mr. swan," said mark in astonishment. "i have done nothing to deserve such kindness." "not yet," answered the jeweler pleasantly; "but perhaps you may soon. take this note to knight brothers, and you will have no trouble." this was the note. "knight brothers, fulton street: "fit out this boy with a nice suit and send the bill to me. "henry swan." mark lost no time in visiting the clothiers. "what can i do for you, young man?" asked the salesman. "this note will explain," said mark. the salesman opened and read it. "it will be all right," he said. "mr. swan gets his clothes here, but he has them made to order. do you want one made to order or ready made?" "ready made. i want to put it on to-day." "come up-stairs then." in twenty minutes mark left the store attired in a nice eighteen dollar suit. he would have selected a cheaper one, but the salesman overruled him. "mr. swan never buys a cheap suit or inferior article," he said. "in the letter he wishes you to have a nice suit, and we must follow directions." "i don't want to abuse his generosity." "you won't. he is a very liberal man. he is teacher of a class of five poor boys in a mission sunday-school. last christmas he sent them all in here for new suits." "if that is the case," said mark, "i shall feel easier." when he reappeared at the jeweler's mr. swan regarded him with critical approval. "you have made a good selection," he said. "i hope i didn't go too high for the suit, mr. swan. i wanted to order a cheaper one, but the salesman wouldn't let me." "the salesman was right," said the jeweler smiling. "i am satisfied. and now to your work. i have a request from a lady up town to send her a couple of diamonds rings to select from. she professed to be on her way from brooklyn and to be in haste. she is, she says, staying at the house of a friend at no. 282 west forty-seventh between seventh and eighth avenues. she is to go away to-morrow and would like to make choice of a ring to-day." mark was rather surprised to hear this full account from the jeweler. as he was only to take the part of an errand boy he didn't see the necessity for it. he was soon enlightened. "now," proceeded the jeweler, "i am of the opinion that this lady is a clever swindler. i believe she wants to get hold of the rings, and carry them off without paying for them." "then you won't send them to her, i suppose." "i would not if i were absolutely sure that she is a fraud, but this i don't know. she may be a _bona fide_ customer, and if so i should like to sell her a ring." "how can you find out, sir?" "i hope to do so with your help." chapter xi. mr. hamilton schuyler is astonished. the jeweler took from his case two diamond rings. they were large, brilliant, and showy. "how do you like the appearance of these rings?" he asked. "they are beautiful!" exclaimed mark admiringly. "don't you think the lady would admire them?" "i should think so, sir." "what should you think they are worth?" "a hundred dollars apiece," guessed mark. "if the diamonds were genuine, one would be worth three hundred and fifty dollars and the other four hundred." "are they not genuine?" asked mark in surprise. "paste, my boy, paste. the gold, however, is real. instead of being worth the sum mentioned, one is worth perhaps three dollars and a half, the other four dollars." "but i shouldn't think it would be worth your while to keep false diamond rings." "nor would it if all persons were honest. i never sell them. i only sell genuine jewelry. i will let you understand the use i mean to make of them. these two rings i mean to have you carry to mrs. montgomery on forty-seventh street." "but suppose she takes them for genuine?" "then i will make them so. in other words, i will take out the paste diamonds and replace them with real stones. if on the other hand any fraud is intended it won't benefit her much." "very well, sir. i think i understand." "you must to a certain extent exercise your own discretion. i judged from the observations i made the other afternoon that you are a boy who possesses that important quality." "thank you for the compliment." "i will tell you what made me suspect the woman of whom i have spoken. first, the name. she calls herself mrs. philip montgomery. it sounds like a fictitious name. again, she is a stout, rather common-looking woman, with a florid complexion and larger features. now montgomery is an aristocratic name. again, she says she is from buffalo. swindlers generally hail from some distant city. then again, it is rather suspicious that she should be in such haste. "the purchase is an important one, and the amount to be paid--she herself fixed the approximate value--is considerable. you would think she would wish to inspect my stock carefully before making a selection. instead of this she only asked to have two rings sent up to her of the value of three or four hundred dollars, and she would make choice of one of them." "it does look rather suspicious, sir." mr. swan gave mark some further directions, and the latter started up town on the eighth avenue horse cars, which he took on the lower side of the astor house. "this is new business to me," thought mark. "i feel an interest to see this mrs. montgomery. if she is planning to entrap me, she won't make as much as she anticipates." mark had the rings, each in a little morocco case, carefully laid away in the inside pocket of his coat. when they reached canal street, to mark's surprise, his cousin edgar entered the car. he did not recognize mark at first, the latter no longer wearing the messenger's uniform. "how do you do, cousin edgar?" said mark. edgar turned sharply around. "oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "please don't call me cousin." "i am just as much ashamed of the relationship as you are," responded mark with a comical smile. "that is impertinent. besides it isn't true. have you been discharged from the telegraph service?" "no; what makes you think so?" "because you are not wearing the uniform." "i am working for a party that doesn't want me to wear it while in his service." "who is it?" "i don't feel at liberty to tell." "oh, just as you like. isn't that a new suit?" "yes." "where did you get it?" "i bought it." "business seems to be pretty good with you. how much did it cost?" "eighteen dollars." "is it paid for?" "of course it is." "i didn't know but you might have bought it in installments." "i don't have to do that." "yet you pretended a little while since that you and your mother had hard work to get along." "business is looking up." edgar got out at twenty-third street. mark kept on till he reached forty-seventh street. he walked toward seventh avenue, and finally stood in front of the house in which the customer for the diamond rings was staying. it was a plain three-story residence with nothing peculiar about it. mark rang the bell, little suspecting what was in store for him. a boy of about seventeen, shabbily dressed, answered the bell. "is mrs. montgomery at home?" asked mark, referring to a card. "i guess so," answered the boy. "i should like to see her." "all right! i'll go up and ask." the boy left mark standing in the doorway, and went up-stairs. he returned in a very short time. "you're to come up," he said. mark followed him up the staircase and into a back room. it was scantily furnished. there was a lounge on one side of the room, and a cabinet bed on the other. these, with three chairs and a bureau, constituted the furniture. "just step in here," said the boy, "and i'll call mrs. montgomery." mark took a seat on the sofa and awaited the arrival of the lady. he did not have long to wait. the door opened, but the lady he expected did not appear. instead, a young man entered whom mark instantly recognized as the person who had left the fifth avenue stage under suspicious circumstances on the day when the old lady was robbed of her pocketbook. mark started and wondered if the recognition was mutual. it did not appear to be. "you're the jeweler's boy, i believe?" said the newcomer languidly. "i came from henry swan." "exactly, and you have brought two diamond rings with you?" "yes." "all right! you can show them to me." mark's suspicions were aroused and he felt that he had need of all his shrewdness. he was very glad now that the diamonds were paste and the rings of little value. "excuse me," he said, "but i was told to deliver the rings to mrs. philip montgomery." "yes, that's all right. mrs. montgomery is my aunt." "i should like to see her," persisted mark. "come, boy, you're too fresh. it'll be all the same if you hand the rings to me." "i don't think so. isn't mrs. montgomery at home?" "yes, but she has a severe headache and cannot see you at present." "then perhaps i had better call again." "no you don't. i am a gentleman and won't permit you to insult me." "what do you want to do?" "to take the rings up to my aunt. if she likes them, or either of them, she will send you down a check." mark reflected a moment. remembering that the rings were not valuable, he decided to show them. "here are the rings!" he said, producing them from his pocket. the young man opened the small caskets, and his eyes lighted up with satisfaction when he saw the glittering rings. "what is the price?" he asked, looking up. "that ring is three hundred and fifty dollars, the other is four hundred." "seven hundred and fifty together." "yes." "i will show them to my aunt. perhaps she may decide to keep both." "you won't be long?" asked mark, as the young man left the room. "no. i'll be back as soon as my aunt decides." left alone mark began to think over the situation. his recognition of his unprincipled acquaintance of the fifth avenue stage convinced him that some fraudulent scheme was being carried out. mrs. montgomery was probably a confederate of the young man who had just left the room. "is he going up-stairs or down?" thought mark. he listened, and thought he heard the front door open and shut. it occurred to him to open the door of the chamber and look down-stairs. he started to do this, but to his surprise found that the door was fastened in some way. he had not heard a key turned in the lock. possibly there was an outside bolt. "what object can they have in keeping me a prisoner?" he asked. should he ring the bell and summon a servant? if he did so, he would have to leave the house in a state of uncertainty. no! he decided to wait and let further events throw a light on the mystery. meanwhile the young man who had possessed himself of the rings left the house, for it was he who had descended the stairs and gone out into the street. he bent his steps to the nearest pawnshop on eighth avenue, and taking out one of the boxes, said in a nonchalant voice: "what will you loan me on this magnificent diamond ring?" the pawnbroker took the box, and drawing out the ring held it up in the best light. he examined it through a magnifying glass, and a gleam of intelligence flashed in his face. he returned to the counter, and scrutinizing the young man who had presented it asked in a matter-of-fact tone, "what do you want to borrow on the ring, my friend?" "two hundred dollars," answered the customer promptly. "humph!" said the pawnbroker with an amused smile, "two hundred dollars is a large sum of money." "yes, but the ring cost three hundred and fifty dollars. i am asking a little more than half price." "so! the ring cost three hundred and fifty dollars! did you pay that price for it?" "no, the ring does not belong to me." "then to whom does it belong?" "to my aunt, mrs. philip montgomery." "i do not know the lady. does she live in the city?" "no, she lives in buffalo." "and she sent the ring to you?" "yes, she sent it to me. she is in want of a little money, and did not like to ask her husband for it, for he might not be pleased. so she wants to borrow money on this ring which was given her by her brother at the time of her marriage." "so, so! and your aunt would like me to lend her two hundred dollars on the ring?" "yes, sir." "i think you will have to carry it to some other pawnbroker, my friend!" "i don't mind taking a little less," said the young man, who was anxious for more than one reason to realize on the ring at once. "how much now do you call a little less?" "well, say a hundred and seventy-five dollars. probably my aunt will be able to redeem it in a few weeks." "if i give you a hundred and seventy-five dollars," laughed the pawnbroker, "i think your aunt will let me keep it for good." "as to that," said the young man impatiently, "i can make no promises. how much will you give on it?" "i might give you a dollar and a half," answered the pawnbroker composedly. "a dollar and a half!" exclaimed the young man, clutching at the counter for support. "a dollar and a half on this magnificent diamond ring, for which my aunt paid three hundred and fifty dollars! what do you mean?" "i mean not to be cheated, my friend. how much do you think this _magnificent_ ring is worth?" "i have told you what it cost." "my friend, you are very much mistaken. the ring cost only three dollars or three and a half." "what do you mean?" gasped the visitor, turning pale. "i mean that it is not diamond, but paste." "but--it came from a jeweler of great reputation. surely you have heard of mr. henry swan." "yes, i have heard of mr. swan. if you will bring him here, and he will say that the diamond is real, i will see if i can't give you more." "wait!" said the customer hurriedly, drawing out the other casket. "look at this ring, and tell me what it is worth." the pawnbroker took it to the window and examined it attentively. "that may be worth four dollars," he answered, after a brief pause. "and is this stone false also?" "yes, my friend." "then i won't pawn either. here, give me back both rings." "here they are." "i am afraid you are not a good judge of diamonds. i am sure they are real." "go somewhere else, my friend, and satisfy yourself. if you can find any one in my line who will give you five dollars for either, you had better take it and call yourself a fortunate man. will you leave your name?" "my name is hamilton schuyler, and i live on second avenue." "it is a very good name, my friend. i think you must belong to the four hundred." "i do," answered schuyler haughtily. "it is a pity you should have to pawn your aunt's diamonds, and such diamonds!" chuckled the pawnbroker. but mr. schuyler had already left the shop, and was hurrying along the avenue to another of the same class at which he had occasionally had dealings. chapter xii. mr. schuyler has a bad time. "i shall have to stay here till i am let out," thought mark. he didn't worry particularly, as he knew that even if the rings were kept they would not involve his employer in any serious loss. in about half an hour he heard steps ascending the stairs, then he heard a bolt shoved back, and he was not surprised when the young man, whose name he did not know, entered the room. he noted, not without amusement, that his face betrayed dissatisfaction. "what does your aunt think of the rings?" asked mark ingenuously. "look here, young fellow!" said schuyler, sitting down and glaring at the messenger, "you've played a pretty trick on me!" "what kind of a trick?" asked mark, arching his eyebrows. "these rings are not diamond rings." "what are they, then?" asked mark in assumed surprise. "paste--bogus!" answered schuyler scornfully. "are you sure of that, mr.----?" "schuyler." "mr. schuyler." "yes. i took them round to a--jeweler, and had him test them." "it must be a mistake," murmured mark. "it is a very strange mistake, then, for a first-class house to make," rejoined schuyler in a tone of sarcasm. "so it is. they must have given me the wrong rings," said mark innocently. "my aunt is very much disappointed. she wanted to start this evening for buffalo." "i thought she lived in syracuse." "she is going to visit her son in buffalo," explained schuyler with ready wit. "i am really sorry. if she would go down to the jeweler's with me, or if you would, the matter could be set right at once." mr. hamilton schuyler thought over this suggestion, and on the whole regarded it favorably. "i will go down in about an hour," he said. "you can explain matters to mr. swan. just think if my aunt had taken the rings and paid full price for them, and not found out till she got to buffalo that they were not genuine!" "in that case mr. swan would have paid her the money or exchanged the rings." "i hope so." "perhaps you had better hand me back the caskets, and i will carry them back to the store." mr. schuyler returned the boxes to mark, who opened them to see if the rings were inside. "you will go down in an hour then?" he said. "yes, or--upon second thought you had better come right back with the genuine rings. i have an appointment at the windsor hotel, but will be back to receive them." mark understood why schuyler did not care to go to the jeweler's. he could not get possession of the genuine rings without paying for them, whereas, if mark should bring them, he could carry out his original plan and retain them by stratagem. schuyler accompanied mark to the front door. "now hurry down and back," he said. "my aunt is anxious to catch the evening train." "very well, mr. schuyler." at this moment schuyler noted for the first time a familiar look in mark's face. "haven't i seen you before?" he asked abruptly. "very likely," said mark with self-possession. "perhaps you have been in the store." "no; my aunt called there, but i did not. you look very much like some boy i saw recently," and schuyler wrinkled up his forehead in the vain endeavor to place mark. "i hope i remind you of a good-looking boy," he said, laughing. "i see it now. you look like a telegraph boy i recently met in a fifth avenue stage." "i should like to see him, but i shouldn't think you'd remember a common telegraph boy." "he was impertinent to me, that is why i remember him," frowned schuyler. "i hope to meet him alone some time. i will give him a lesson he won't be likely to forget." "then i'm glad i'm not the boy you mean. good day!" "good day. hurry back as fast as you can." when mark re-entered the jewelry store mr. swan advanced to meet him. "well," he said, "how did you make out?" "i've got the rings with me." "did you see mrs. montgomery?" "no, but i saw a young man who claimed to be her nephew." "what did he say about the rings?" "he left me alone in a back room on the second floor. when i went to the door i found that it was locked. but i didn't trouble myself. i concluded that he had gone out to pawn or sell the rings. he returned in half an hour quite angry, and told me he had ascertained that the diamonds were not genuine." "why did you think he went out to pawn or sell them?" "because i recognized him." "you recognized him?" "yes, as the young man in the fifth avenue stage who robbed an old lady of her wallet." "the day that we first met?" "yes, sir." the jeweler looked surprised. "didn't he recognize you?" "he asked if we hadn't met before. he said there was something familiar in my face. finally, he said i reminded him of an impudent telegraph boy he had fallen in with. he wants to meet that telegraph boy alone," added mark with a smile. "he has had his wish." "yes, but luckily for me he didn't recognize me." "how did you explain about the rings being false?" "i said you had probably made a mistake." "i see you are quick-witted. well, was that satisfactory?" "he expects me to bring back the genuine rings this afternoon, as his aunt wants to leave the city this evening." "i think he will have to wait. perhaps it may be as well to notify him that she needn't put off her journey on that account. i don't want to spare you to go there again, however." "there's a boy i know out on the street," suggested mark. "he would be glad to go." "who is it?" "tom trotter, a friend of mine. he's a good boy, though he's only a bootblack." "is he reliable?" "yes, sir; i will answer for him." "very well. call him in." mark went to the door and called "tom! tom trotter!" tom looked around and recognized mark. "you ain't left de telegraph, have you, mark?" he said. "no, but i'm working here for a day or two. would you like to go up town on an errand?" "yes," answered tom with alacrity. "will i be paid?" "of course. can't you leave your blacking box somewhere and get your face and hands washed?" "yes, mark; there's a small s'loon near by, where i hang out sometimes. just wait for me and i'll be back in a jiffy." tom reappeared in a very short time with his appearance greatly improved by the application of cold water and soap. "mr. swan," said mark, smiling, "this is mr. thomas trotter, the young gentleman i spoke to you about." "oh, stow that, mark!" expostulated tom; "i ain't mr. trotter. i'm tom." "mr. trotter," said the jeweler, smiling, for he had a sense of humor, "i have a letter here which i wish you to take to the address named." "and to walk, sir." "no; i will give you ten cents for car fare, and when you return and make your report you shall be paid for doing the errand." "all right, governor." tom started up town, and in due time reached the house on forty-seventh street. he rang the bell, and the door was opened by the hall boy already referred to. "is mr. schuyler at home?" asked tom. "i've got a letter for him." mr. schuyler, who was anxiously awaiting mark's return, came out of a room to the left of the hall. when he saw tom he looked disappointed. "i was expecting a boy from mr. swan's jewelry store." "that's where i come from." "did you bring the rings?" asked schuyler eagerly. "i don't know nothin' about no rings," answered tom. "i've brought you a letter." "give it to me quick." he opened the letter, and this is what he read with contracted brow. "mr. hamilton schuyler: "when i called here this morning i recognized you as the young man who stole an old lady's pocketbook in a fifth avenue stage not long since. of course i knew that this was another scheme of yours to get hold of money that did not belong to you. if you had been all right i would myself have brought back the real diamond rings which your aunt wished to buy. tell her not to put off her journey to buffalo, as mr. swan has made up his mind not to send them. "yours as ever, "a. d. t. 79." "then it was the telegraph boy, after all!" ejaculated schuyler in a rage. "i only wish i had known it. are you a friend of--the telegraph boy?" "am i a friend of mark mason? i should smile." "step in a minute, then!" said schuyler, with an assumed friendliness. as the unsuspecting tom stepped inside the hall, the young man began to shower blows on his shoulders with a cane that he snatched from the hat rack. tom was for a minute dazed. then his wits returned to him. he lowered his head and butted schuyler in the stomach with such force that the latter fell over backwards with an ejaculation of pain. then tom darted through the open door, but paused on the steps to say, "with the compliments of tom trotter." schuyler picked himself up, uttering execrations, and looked for the boy, but he was gone! chapter xiii. mark starts on a journey. "shall you want me to-morrow, mr. swan?" asked mark, as the clock struck six, and the jeweler prepared to close up. "yes; i shall probably want you for a week." "very well, sir; i will so report at the office." the next morning about eight o'clock mark reported for duty and waited for orders. the jeweler looked up from a letter he had been reading. "how would you like to make a journey?" he asked. "very much, sir." "i shall probably send you to cleveland." "is cleveland in ohio?" asked mark, his eyes sparkling. "yes. do you think you can find your way there?" "i'll try." "you generally succeed in what you undertake to do. well, i will explain. i have a customer living in euclid avenue in cleveland, who used to be a new york society lady. she bought a good deal of jewelry, and always purchased of me. this is what she writes." the material part of the letter was this: "i want a diamond pin worth about one thousand dollars. my husband has agreed to give it to me for a birthday present, and left the selection to me. i can't find anything here that i want, and have been led to think of my old jeweler in new york. you know my taste. select what you think i will like and send me by private messenger. i might of course employ an express, but there have been some express robberies recently, and i am ready to pay the extra expense required by a special messenger. send at once. "arabella loring." "you see," said the jeweler, "that this is an important matter. the messenger will bear great responsibility on account of the value of what he has in charge." "do you think i am old enough for the commission, mr. swan?" said mark modestly. "it is not so much a matter of age as of shrewdness and reliability. i have been led to think that you possess these qualifications. of course there would be danger of your being robbed if it were known that you carried such a valuable parcel." "i am not afraid, sir." "of course, again, you must take care not to let it be known what you have in charge. make what statements you like as to your business. i can safely leave that to your own shrewdness." "when do you want me to start, mr. swan?" "there is a train this afternoon for buffalo on the new york central road. can you get ready to take that?" "yes, sir. may i go home and let my mother know? i am not quite sure whether i have a supply of clean clothes." "you can buy anything that you need on the way. have you a gripsack?" "yes, sir. my mother has one." "will it do?" "i think so." "so far so good then. now about money. i can't tell just how much you will need, but i will give you a certain amount, and if there is any over when you return you can account for it to me." mrs. mason was greatly surprised when mark came home and inquired for her traveling bag. "what do you want of it, mark?" she asked. "i am going to start for cleveland this afternoon." "you're only funning, mark," said edith. "no, i am not. i have agreed to go to cleveland on business." "what kind of business, mark?" asked his mother. "the gentleman who sends me, mr. swan, the jeweler, has asked me to keep my business secret." "how long will you be gone?" "i can't tell, but i will write you. mr. swan has told me i may stop over at niagara falls, but i shall not be very apt to do so till i am on my return." "this seems very sudden. i don't know how i shall ever get along without you." "you have money enough to last you, mother?" "yes." "then i think there won't be any trouble. if i stay away longer than i anticipate i will send you some more." "it seems strange that mr. swan should send a boy on an important errand." "the fact of the matter is, mother, that he has confidence in me." "i am sure he is justified in this, but boys are not usually selected for important missions." "that is the reason why i feel ambitious to succeed." "by the way, mark, mrs. mack's nephew called yesterday and tried to get some more money out of his aunt." "did you give him any?" "no. she was very much frightened, but i threatened to call a policeman, and the fellow went off grumbling." "she won't be safe till he gets into prison again." on his way back to the jeweler's mark met his friend tom trotter. "where are you goin'?" "out west." tom's eyes expanded like saucers. "you ain't jokin'?" "no." "when you're goin'?" "this afternoon." "goin' to be gone long?" "i expect to be back in a week." "i wish you'd take me with you." "i'd like to, tom, but i can't. traveling costs money." tom showed considerable curiosity as to the nature of mark's business, but on this point the telegraph boy was not communicative. he liked tom as a friend, but did not dare to trust him with so important a secret. mr. swan had already been to a ticket agent and procured a through ticket for mark. "your train starts at four-thirty," said the jeweler. "you can engage a sleeping berth at the grand central depot. you will travel all night." "i am sorry for that," said mark. "i shall miss some of the scenery." "you can arrange to travel over this part by day on your return." it was four o'clock when mark entered the depot. he thought it best to be on time. when the doors were opened he entered the station proper and sought the car containing his berth. there was an upper and a lower berth, his being the lower. the two were numbered 7 and 8. he had scarcely taken his seat when a gentleman came in and sat down beside him. neither he nor mark had noticed each other particularly till the train had left the depot. then the gentleman exclaimed in surprise, "mark mason?" "uncle solon?" exclaimed the messenger in equal surprise. "what brings you here?" "a ticket," answered mark briefly. "you are in the wrong car. didn't you know that this is the limited western express?" "yes. i know it." "where are you going then?" "i shall stop at buffalo," answered mark, not caring to mention his further destination. solon talbot looked amazed. "what on earth carries you out there?" he asked. "this train," answered mark demurely. solon talbot frowned. "you know what i mean. why are you going to buffalo?" "a little matter of business." "what business can a boy like you possibly have, i'd like to know?" "it isn't my own business, uncle solon, and so i don't feel at liberty to tell." "it is very strange. have you a sleeping berth?" "yes." "what number?" "no. 7." "that is the lower berth--just the one i wanted," exclaimed talbot in vexation. "mine is the upper. let me see your sleeping check." mark showed it. solon talbot regarded it enviously. "i will give you twenty-five cents to exchange," he said. "i will exchange without the twenty-five cents if you prefer the lower berth." "i do, but--i would rather pay." "i can't accept it. here is the check. give me yours in return." solon did so muttering his thanks rather ungraciously. he hated to be under any obligation to his nephew. "where is edgar?" asked mark. "i left him in new york. i am going back to syracuse to attend to a little business, and shall then return to new york." mr. talbot took out an evening paper and began to read. mark prepared to look around him. presently mr. talbot arose. "i am going into the smoking-car to smoke a cigar," he said. "have an eye on my grip while i am gone." "all right, uncle." hours passed. the two travelers retired to their respective berths. about two o'clock mark was startled by a severe shock that nearly threw him out of his berth. there was a confused shouting, and mark heard some one crying. "what's happened?" leaning out of the berth he saw solon talbot standing in the aisle, his face pale as a sheet. there was a swaying movement of the car, and a sudden lurch. the car had gone over an embankment. chapter xiv. the telltale memorandum. when mark came to himself he realized that he was lying on his back on the ground. it was a bright moonlight night, and he could see for some distance. first of all he moved his arms and legs to ascertain whether any of his limbs were broken. reassured on this point he felt next for the diamond pin. to his great relief it was safe. all about him was confusion. he was just thinking of getting up when a man came along with a lantern, and stooping over, began to feel in the pockets of a prostrate figure lying near by. instantly mark was on the alert, for he felt sure that this man must be a thief intent on robbing the victims of the disaster. he peered into the face of the robber who fancied himself unobserved, and with a thrill of excitement he recognized the man whom he had met twice before in new york, and who had called himself hamilton schuyler. at the same time, glancing at the upturned face of the recumbent figure he saw that it was his uncle, solon talbot, still insensible. schuyler had just drawn mr. talbot's watch from his pocket, when mark, putting a whistle to his mouth, blew a sharp note on it. schuyler started, let the watch drop, and rose in a state of nervous alarm. "what was that?" he cried. "mr. hamilton schuyler," said mark calmly, "that gentleman will have occasion for his watch. you had better let it alone." "i was only going to take care of it for him," muttered schuyler. "you'd take care of it well," retorted mark. "who are you?" demanded schuyler, and he stepped over to where mark lay and peered into his face. "by jingo, if it isn't the telegraph boy!" he exclaimed. "how came you here?" "by the train." "have you any more bogus diamonds about you?" inquired schuyler sarcastically. "i might have had if i had expected to meet you." "i'll see what i can find at any rate." as he spoke he leaned over and was about to feel in mark's pockets when the telegraph messenger blew another blast on his whistle so loud that a relief party came running up in haste. "what's the matter?" asked the leader. "the matter is that here is a thief, rifling the pockets of the passengers. he was just feeling in mine." schuyler started to run, but was quickly captured. "what are you about, you scoundrel?" asked his captor. "trying to relieve the victims of the disaster," answered schuyler. "on my honor that is all i was doing." "is this true?" asked his captor, turning to mark. "yes; he was trying to relieve us of our valuables. he had that gentleman's watch out of his pocket when i first whistled. as you came up, he was trying to rob me." "that's enough! take him along." two strong men tied schuyler's hands together and marched him away. "i'll get even with you for this, you young rascal!" he exclaimed in a rage, shaking his fist at mark. just then solon talbot recovered consciousness. "where am i?" he groaned. "there has been an accident, uncle solon," said mark, now on his feet. "we went over an embankment and were spilled out. are you all right? are any of your limbs broken?" "i--i don't think so, but i have had a shock, and my head is bruised." "you'll do!" said a surgeon, who was one of the relief party. "you'll be as good as new in a day or two." "is there a hotel near by? i want to be moved." "as soon as we can attend to the matter. we are looking for the bad cases." "i'll look after you, uncle solon," said mark. "see if you can't get up." with much ado mr. talbot arose, and leaning on mark's arm left the scene of the disaster. mark procured a carriage and directed the driver to take them to the nearest hotel. when they reached it the messenger ordered a room and helped his uncle up to it. "just look and see if you've lost anything," he suggested. "i saw a thief trying to relieve you of your watch, but i interrupted him and gave him in charge." with a look of alarm solon talbot examined his pockets, but ascertained to his relief that nothing was missing. "can't you stay with me, mark?" he asked almost imploringly, for the nervous alarm inspired by the accident had made him quite a different man for the time being. "there is another bed in the room, and you can lie there." "i will stay with you till morning, uncle solon, but i shall have to leave you then, as i have business to attend to." "what kind of business?" "i don't care to mention it just now. i am traveling for another party." "i had no idea there would be an accident," said mr. talbot. "good heavens, we might have been in eternity by this time," he added with a shudder. "i feel very much alive," said mark, laughing. "i suppose the accident will be in the new york morning papers." "so it will. i must telegraph that i am all right, or my mother will be frightened." "telegraph for me too," said solon talbot. "all right. tell me to whom to telegraph, uncle solon, and where." "to edgar, i think." few more words were spoken, as mark and his uncle were both dead tired. it was eight o'clock when mark opened his eyes. he dressed himself as quickly as possible and prepared to go down-stairs. as he was moving toward the door, mark espied a scrap of paper. it contained what appeared to be a memorandum in his uncle's handwriting. it was brief, and a single glance revealed its purpose to mark. it ran thus: "crane and lawton told me to-day that their agent writes them from nevada that the golden hope mine is developing great richness. i shouldn't wonder if it would run up to one hundred dollars per share. at this rate the 400 shares i hold will make a small fortune. c. & l. advise holding on for at least six months." it may be imagined that mark read this memorandum with interest. he knew very well that the mining stock referred to belonged to his grandfather's estate, but hitherto had been ignorant of the number of shares held by the same. if there were four hundred, and the price ran up to one hundred dollars per share, this would make his mother's share twenty thousand dollars! this would be a fortune indeed, and it made his blood boil to think that his uncle proposed to cheat her out of it. the munificent sum of twenty-five dollars was all that he had offered for a receipt in full that would give him a title to the whole value of the golden hope shares. mark turned to the bed. his uncle was fast asleep. he was not a strong man, and the shock and fatigue of the night previous had quite exhausted him. "what shall i do with the memorandum?" thought mark. he felt that it was not quite the thing to keep a private paper belonging to his uncle, yet under the circumstances, considering that his uncle was deliberately seeking to defraud his mother and himself, he decided that he was justified in doing so. accordingly he put the memorandum carefully in his pocketbook, and opening the chamber door prepared to go down-stairs. just then solon talbot opened his eyes. "where am i?" he asked, in temporary bewilderment. "in the merchants' hotel," replied mark. "don't you remember the accident of last night?" "oh, yes," answered solon shuddering. "where are you going?" "out to telegraph to my mother." "you have my telegram?" "yes." mark went out and despatched two telegrams, one to his mother, and the second to mr. swan. the latter ran thus: "there has been a railroad accident, but i am all right. nothing lost." the last two words were intended to assure the jeweler of the safety of the diamond pin. mark ascertained that the next train westward would start at eleven o'clock, and so reported to his uncle. "i shall go by the next train," he said. as they went up to the office to pay their bills, the clerk asked mr. talbot, "do you pay for this young man as well as yourself?" solon talbot hesitated and looked confused. "no," answered mark promptly, "i pay for myself." he drew out a ten-dollar bill and tendered it to the clerk. "you seem to be well provided with money," said his uncle curiously. "yes, uncle solon, i can pay my way," replied mark. "it is very strange," thought mr. talbot, "how a common telegraph boy should have so much money." he did not seem to miss the memorandum. had he known that it was snugly reposing in mark's pocketbook he would have felt disturbed. chapter xv. a railroad incident. mark pushed on intent upon reaching cleveland. he decided not to stop off at niagara till he was on his return. he never for a moment forgot that a great responsibility rested upon him for the safe delivery of the valuable diamond pin intrusted to him by mr. swan. when it was safely out of his hands and in those of mrs. loring he would feel relieved. he was within a hundred miles of cleveland in a car well filled with passengers when his attention was called to a young lady sitting in the seat directly opposite him. she seemed lively and was particularly attractive. mark was too young to be deeply impressed by female beauty, but he experienced, like most persons, a greater pleasure in looking at a beautiful than at an ugly object. the young lady had been sitting alone, when a tall man of about forty came up the aisle and paused by her seat. "is this seat occupied?" he asked softly. "no, sir." "then i will presume to occupy it." "he must be a minister," thought mark. his clothes were of clerical cut, he wore a white necktie, and on his head was a brown straw hat with wide brim. he folded his hands meekly on his knees, and turned towards his young companion. "i am sorry to intrude upon you, young lady," mark heard him say. "it is no intrusion, sir," answered the girl pleasantly. "i have only paid for one seat, and cannot expect to monopolize two." "nevertheless i am sorry if in any way i have intruded upon you. i am, as you may perhaps have inferred from my appearance, a minister." "i thought you looked like one, sir." "i am going to make an exchange with a clerical brother." "yes, sir," returned the young lady, wondering what interest she could be expected to take in this circumstance. "i always like to get acquainted with young people. i may perhaps have an opportunity of influencing them for good." "just so, sir; but i think such advice is better suited for sunday, don't you?" "i am accustomed to drop words of counsel in season, and out of season." "i would rather listen to them when they are in season." "true! i stand reproved." the minister took from his pocket a small volume which he opened and began to read. "this volume," he said, "contains the sermons of the excellent dr. hooker. if i had another copy i should be glad to offer it to you." "thank you, i don't care to read just at present." half an hour passed. the minister put back his book into his pocket, and bowing politely, bade the young lady good morning. "i am pleased to have made your acquaintance," he said. "thank you, sir." five minutes later the young lady put her hand into her pocket. she uttered a cry of alarm. "what is the matter, miss?" asked mark. "my purse is gone!" exclaimed the young lady in a state of nervous excitement. "when did you last see it?" asked the messenger boy. "about an hour ago. i bought a copy of munsey's magazine of the train boy, and took out my purse to pay for it." "an hour ago? you were sitting alone at the time?" "yes." "did any one sit beside you except the old gentleman who has just left?" "no." "you are sure it hasn't fallen on the floor?" "i will look." the young lady rose and looked about under the seat, but the lost purse was not found. "i--i don't see how i could have lost it. i have been sitting here all the time." an idea flashed upon mark. "it must have been taken by the man who just left you," he said. "but that can't be! he was a minister." "i know he was dressed as a minister, but i don't believe he was one." "he looked just like one. besides he was reading a volume of sermons. i can't believe that he would rob me." "there was one thing that didn't look very ministerial." "what was that?" "his nose. do you not notice how red it was?" "yes, but i thought it might be some humor." "it was colored by whisky, i think. i know topers in new york who have noses exactly like his. you may depend upon it that he has your purse. i hope there wasn't much in it." "only about five dollars. generally the loss would not inconvenience me, but as it is--" and she looked anxious. "if--if i can be of any service," stammered mark, "i hope you won't mind saying so. i can lend you five dollars." the young lady looked grateful, but seemed in doubt as to whether she ought to accept the offer. "i don't know whether i ought to accept such an offer from a young gentleman--" she said hesitating. "i am a _very_ young gentleman," said mark smiling. "i am only sixteen!" "that is true, and it does make a difference. are you sure you can spare the money for a day or two." "quite so, miss--" "loring," prompted the young lady. "are you related to mrs. arabella loring of cleveland?" the young lady looked very much surprised. "she is my mother," she replied. "but how in the world do you know of her?" "i will tell you later," answered mark. he felt that it wouldn't be wise to mention the commission, or let any one know that he had a diamond ring in charge. "are you going directly to cleveland, miss loring?" "yes, but about thirty miles this side i have a young niece at a boarding school. she will join me on the train, and will expect me to pay her railroad fare. but for that, the loss of the money would have entailed no inconvenience." mark drew from his pocket book a five-dollar bill and passed it to miss loring. "but how can i return this to you?" she asked. "i will call at your house. i am going to cleveland also." "do so. here is my card." she took out a small card and tendered it to mark. on it was inscribed: miss florence loring. no. 1001-1/2 euclid avenue. "inquire for me when you call!" she said. "thank you." "it seems so strange that you should know my mother," she continued evidently feeling curious. mark smiled. "you will know in time," he said. "if we were alone i would tell you now." here there was a stop at some station, and a shabby and dirty-looking man entered the car. there was but one seat vacant, the one next to florence loring. mark hastily rose and sat down in it. "i thought," he said apologetically, "you might prefer me to the man who has just entered the car." "by all means," she answered with a bright smile. "i prefer you also to the clerical gentleman who rode with me earlier." "thank you. when your niece joins you i will vacate the seat in her favor." florence loring was perhaps nineteen, three years older than mark. she looked upon him quite as a boy, and therefore felt under no constraint. "do you come from new york?" she asked. "yes." "you seem young to travel alone." "i don't think you can be much older than i," said mark. "mercy! i feel ever so much older. i feel old enough to be your aunt." "i shouldn't mind having you for an aunt," returned mark. "on the whole, though, it might prove to be too much of a responsibility. you may be very hard to manage." "do you mind my calling you aunt?" "well, perhaps it might make me appear too venerable." "did you notice, miss loring, whether your clerical friend left the cars when he left the seat?" "no; i didn't feel any particular interest in him, and did not give him a second thought." "perhaps he may still be on the train. i have a great mind to go and see." "i don't think it would do any good. we could not prove that he took my purse." "if you will excuse me for five minutes i will make a search." mark went through the next car and entered the second one, which was a smoking car. he looked about him, and in a seat about the middle of the car he saw the man of whom he was in search. he recognized him by his white tie and his red nose. he was smoking a cigar and gazing out of the car window. the seat beside him being vacant mark went forward and sat down in it. the gentleman with the white tie glanced at him carelessly, but did not appear to think mark was worthy of attention. he changed his mind when mark said in a low voice: "please give me the purse which you took from a young lady in the second car back." chapter xvi. mark as a detective. the adventurer turned swiftly when he heard mark's startling question. he seemed astounded at the boy's audacity. "what did you say?" he demanded with hauteur. "i asked you to return the purse which you took from a young lady in the second car back," repeated mark calmly. "boy," said the false minister, "you must be insane or drunk." "i don't think i am either," returned mark. "what do you mean by such nonsense, then? are you aware that i am a minister of the gospel?" "where do you preach?" "it is of no consequence," said the other loftily. "i am not in habit of being insulted by whipper-snappers like you." "are you in the habit of taking young ladies' purses, mr.----" "rev. mr. buffington is my name, young man." "then, mr. buffington, will you answer my question?" "i shall be tempted to forget my sacred profession and throw you out of the car," said the pseudo minister, looking very unclerical as he spoke. "i have no doubt you would like to do so." "you ought to be thrashed for your impertinence." "suppose you call the conductor and complain of me. you may tell your story and i will tell mine." this suggestion seemed fair enough, but it did not appear to strike the rev. mr. buffington favorably. "i do not care to notice the foolish insolence of a half grown boy," and the pseudo clergyman, taking a paper from his lap, half turned away from mark, and began to read, or appeared to do so. mark, however, did not propose to be bluffed off in this manner. "mr. buffington," he said resolutely, "i am a boy, but i know what i am about. you took the young lady's purse. before you sat down beside her she had it in her pocket. when you left the car it was gone." "if i ever get you alone," said buffington in a low tone of concentrated rage. "if you do, i hope you won't forget your sacred profession." "i am a minister, but i am also a gentleman, and i shall resent an insult." "look here," said mark, getting out of patience, "either you give me back that purse for the young lady or i will call the conductor and lay the matter before him." "rev." mr. buffington tried to turn mark from his purpose by threats, but he was evidently alarmed. he was conscious of guilt, and he knew how such an appeal would end for him. mark saw him waver, and followed up his advantage. "there was only about five dollars in the purse," he said, "and it won't pay you to keep it. if you give it up without further trouble i won't expose you. what do you say?" mr. buffington looked in mark's resolute face and he saw that he was in serious earnest. he felt that he was in the boy's power, and much as it galled him, he decided that he must yield. "it is possible, of course, that the young lady in handling the purse, may have dropped it into my pocket," he said. "i will search for it, and if that is the case it shall be returned." he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out the purse. "i wouldn't have believed it," he murmured. "it is a most extraordinary incident. is this the young lady's purse?" mark took it, and opening it, saw that it contained three dollars in bills, and a dollar and seventy-five cents in silver. "yes, sir," he said; "this answers the description." "give it back to the young lady with my compliments," said buffington with unabashed assurance. "express my regrets at the unfortunate mistake. i now remember how it occurred. i saw the purse on the floor where she had doubtless dropped it, and supposing it to be my own put it into my pocket. i was so busily engaged, reading the volume of sermons which i carry with me that it made little impression on my mind." "i will tell her what you say, mr. buffington," said mark gravely. of course he might have expressed doubt of the accuracy of his companion's statement, but he had accomplished his purpose, and did not care to humiliate buffington farther. "good morning, young man," said buffington with christian forgetfulness of mark's errand. "good morning, sir." when mark had left the car buffington's face underwent a change. he looked absolutely ferocious. "to think i should have been trapped and worsted by a kid!" he said to himself. "the boy is about as cool and resolute as any i ever saw. i hope i shall some day have a chance to get even with him." mark returned to his own car and paused at miss loring's seat. "is this your purse?" he asked, holding it up. "yes. oh, where did you get it?" "from the party who took it." "is he on the smoking car still?" "yes he is on the smoking car." "but--didn't he object to surrendering it?" "he made a decided objection, but i succeeded in convincing him that it was for his interest to do so." "you are a remarkable boy," said florence loring admiringly. "thank you, miss loring. you will make me vain if you flatter me." "but i am quite in earnest. i am now able to return the money you so kindly lent me." "are you sure you will not need it?" "quite sure." the hours sped fast. soon they reached the station where miss loring expected to see her niece. she went to the door of the car, and from the platform signaled to a child of eight, who returned the greeting joyfully. "i was so afraid i should miss you, auntie," said the child. "i have been on the lookout for you, gertie. come in at once." of course mark vacated his seat, and aunt and niece were able to sit together. the messenger boy secured a seat a little nearer the door. he found the journey less interesting now that he was deprived of his fair companion's company. as they were leaving the train at the cleveland station, florence said, "gertie, this is mr. mason, who has been of great service to me during the journey." gertie surveyed mark attentively. she was an irrepressible young lady, given to plain speaking. "he ain't your beau, is he, aunt florence?" she asked. florence smiled and blushed. "no," she answered. "don't you see he is younger than i am. he is better suited to be your beau." "i've got a beau already," said the child unexpectedly. "indeed! that is news. what's his name?" "dan sillis. he is a nice boy." "how old is he?" "about fifteen." "isn't that too old for you?" "oh no. husbands always are older than their wives." both mark and florence laughed. "don't you think you could make room for another beau?" asked mark. "no; but if i get tired of dan i won't mind taking you," responded gertie with the most perfect gravity. "i will remember that. if we should get married your aunt florence would be my aunt too." "can i do anything for you, miss loring?" mark asked as they reached the exterior of the depot. "if you would be kind enough to call a cab." mark did so, and the two young ladies entered. "i suppose you will call if you have business with mother," said florence. "yes; i shall call to-morrow." mark was in doubt where to go, knowing nothing of the hotels in cleveland, but seeing a stage bearing the name "erie hotel," decided to go there. for obvious reasons i have not given the right name of the hotel. this name will answer so far as our story goes. he sprang in with his valise and in a few minutes was set down before a comfortable looking hotel of good size. he entered, and registering his name was assigned to room 96. "will you go up-stairs at once, mr. mason?" asked the clerk. "yes, sir." mark followed the hall boy to a room on the third floor. "will dinner be ready soon?" he asked. "it is on the table now, sir." mark washed his hands and face, combed his hair, and went down-stairs. he had but one flight to descend, the dining-room being on the second floor. even if the dinner had been an indifferent one mark would have appreciated it, for he was very hungry. when he had satisfied his appetite he had a chance to look around. what was his surprise when a little farther down the table, on the same side, he recognized his acquaintance of the smoking car, mr. buffington! chapter xvii. mark makes a call on euclid avenue. mark was not altogether pleased to find that he had not got rid of the railroad adventurer. he recognized him as a dangerous and unprincipled man. as long as mark had the diamond pin in his possession, the vicinity of such a fellow meant peril. he decided that he had better lose no time in delivering the pin to mrs. loring. he had told florence that he would call the next day, but really there was no reason why he should not deliver it at once. about three o'clock he called a cab and directed the driver to drive to no. 1001-1/2 euclid avenue. the distance was somewhat more than a mile, and in fifteen minutes he found himself at his destination. "shall i wait for you?" asked the hackman. "no; i may be in the house some time." he paid for the cab and rang the doorbell. "is mrs. loring at home?" asked mark of the servant who answered the bell. "yes, sir, but i don't know if she will see you?" "tell her that i come from mr. swan of new york." "she will see you," said the servant returning after a short absence. mark was ushered into the reception room, and in a few minutes a pleasant-looking woman of middle age entered. she seemed surprised when her glance rested upon mark. "surely you are not mr. swan's messenger?" she said. "yes, madam." "and you--have brought the pin?" "here it is," said mark, producing it from his pocket. mrs. loring eagerly opened the casket and uttered an exclamation of delight. "it is beautiful--just what i wanted," she said. "mr. swan said he thought he knew your taste." "did he mention the price?" "a thousand dollars. here is the bill." "i shall not dispute the price, for i have perfect confidence in mr. swan. but--isn't it strange that he should have selected so young a messenger?" she continued, regarding mark with curiosity. "i agree with you," said mark, smiling, "but i feel confidence in mr. swan's judgment and did not object to come." "you might have been robbed, if any evil-minded person had known what you carried." "that is true, but they would not be likely to think a boy would be intrusted with an article of great value." "that is certainly an important consideration. how long have you been in mr. swan's employ?" "about a week." "and he trusted you like this?" said the lady in astonishment. "i am really a telegraph boy. mr. swan had known me in that character." "he certainly paid you a great compliment, and his confidence does not seem to have been misplaced. shall i pay you for the pin?" "you can give me a check payable to mr. swan, and i will forward it to him by mail." "i will do so. can you wait?" "oh, yes, mrs. loring. i had no business in cleveland except to deliver this ring." at that moment florence loring entered the room, and to her mother's surprise went up to mark and offered her hand. "i am glad to see you, mr. mason," she said. "thank you, miss florence." "is this call made on me?" "partly," answered mark smiling, "but i had some business with your mother." "how in the world did you two get acquainted?" asked mrs. loring. "don't you remember, mama, what i told you about being robbed by a man who sat next to me, and having my purse returned by a boy--a young gentleman." "i don't mind being called a boy," said mark. "i shall be one for some time yet." "well?" "mr. mason is the one who recovered my purse. before that he kindly offered to loan me some money. but what possible business can he have with you?" "see what he has brought me from new york. he comes from mr. swan." "oh mama, how lovely! is it a present for me? you know my birthday comes in eight months." "my dear child, even if it came to-morrow i should hardly pay a thousand dollars for a birthday gift for you." "a thousand dollars? it seems even more lovely now that i know the price." "remain here, florence, and entertain mr. mason while i go to the library and write a check for the purchase money." "all right, mama! mr. mason, why didn't you tell me what business you had with mama?" "i shouldn't have minded telling you, but if some one else had heard, your clerical friend for instance, i might have been robbed." "that is true. i hope i shall never see him again." "perhaps you may. i have seen him." "you have seen him?" ejaculated florence in surprise. "where?" "at the dinner table at my hotel." "do you think he is staying there?" "i only know that i saw him at the table." "at what hotel are you staying?" "at the erie hotel." "i hope you will be cautious. he may do you an injury," said florence with flattering earnestness. "it was because i saw him that i was anxious to deliver the pin as soon as possible." "but he wouldn't know you had it." "he would suppose i had some money for traveling expenses." "true. and now you will have the large check my mother is to give you." "i shall not keep it in my possession. i shall go back to the hotel at once and inclose it in a letter to mr. swan." "you seem to be a remarkable boy--i mean you are remarkably sharp for your age." "telegraph boys have to be sharp." "so you are a telegraph boy. are there any telegraph girls?" "not that i know of." "i am afraid we poor girls would be too easily imposed upon." "well, have you entertained mr. mason?" asked mrs. loring re-entering the room. "i have done my best, mama. what do you think he tells me? that horrid man that stole my purse is staying at his hotel." "then i hope you won't send him an invitation to call here." "he would call fast enough," suggested mark, "if he knew what a valuable diamond pin you have in the house." "then i hope he won't find out. how did it happen, florence, you didn't watch him when he was sitting beside you?" "how could you expect me to watch a man who was engaged in reading a volume of sermons. they were the sermons of rev. dr. hooker." "perhaps that is where he learned _hooking_," laughed mark. "that's a good joke!" said florence. "by the way, mama, have you tickets for the theater this evening?" "yes, but one won't be used. louisa frost can't go." "then suppose you give it to mr. mason. i am sure he would enjoy the play." "well thought of, florence. won't you get one of the tickets? you will find them on my bureau, that is if our young friend has no other engagement." "i have none whatever," said mark promptly. "you are very kind, mrs. loring." "you must thank florence. if you were a few years older i should be afraid she had designs upon you. it is leap year, you know." "now, mama, what will mr. mason think of me? i am propriety personified." mark concluded his call and left the house, well pleased at having successfully carried out his instructions. he went back directly to the hotel, and sitting down in the reading room wrote the following letter to his employer: "henry swan, esq., "dear sir: i have delivered the diamond ring, and inclose mrs. loring's check for a thousand dollars in payment. she is very much pleased with it, and says it exactly suits her. i have had a pleasant journey, and expect to start on my return to-morrow. "yours respectfully, "mark mason." as he was writing the address some one passed behind his chair and looked over his shoulder at the superscription. it was the "rev." mr. buffington, as he called himself. his eye lighted up as he saw to whom the letter was addressed. "so this boy is traveling for a new york jeweler," he said to himself. "i am glad to know this. he probably carries a stock of jewelry with him, and if so, i shall cultivate his acquaintance." he passed out of the reading room without mark observing him. mr. buffington took care to keep out of the way, and mark supposed he had left the hotel. chapter xviii. a midnight visit. mark was confirmed in his belief that mr. buffington had left the hotel, because on looking over the book he found no such name. it did not occur to him that lawrence perkins was his railroad friend under another _alias_. mr. buffington was rich in names, and had masqueraded under at least a dozen. he, however, had seen mark's name in the register, and noted carefully the number of his room. the information seemed to him important, especially after he had looked over mark's shoulder and found that he represented a prominent jeweler in new york. mark did not fail to keep his appointment at the theater. he arrived first, but five minutes later mrs. loring, florence and a young man, cousin to the latter, made their appearance. florence smiled pleasantly, and arranged the party so that mark should sit beside her. "now, george," she said to her cousin, "make yourself agreeable to mama, and i will try to entertain mr. mason." "no flirting, florence," cautioned her cousin. "did you ever know me to flirt?" asked florence in mock indignation. "well, occasionally." "very well, if i have the reputation i may as well deserve it," and she proceeded to chat with mark. in the gallery, among the cheap seats, sat mr. buffington, who wanted to while away the evening in a pleasant but economical manner. he did not immediately discover mark below, but after a time recognized him. "it is just as well i came here," he reflected, "as the kid won't get to bed till late. wonder who his friends are. that young lady looks stylish." buffington took good care when the play was over to keep out of the way of the throng issuing from the main entrance. he made his way to the hotel by a devious course, and on arriving went up to his room. mark came in not long after him, and went up to bed at once. he felt quite tired, but was well pleased with his experiences thus far. he had got rid of his responsibility, having delivered the diamond ring, received pay therefor and forwarded the check to his principal in new york. "now i can have a comfortable night's rest," he reflected. he had nearly fifty dollars with him, but this seemed a trifle compared with the diamond pin. still he considered in what way he could secure this from chance of theft. there seemed, however, to be very little danger. he had locked the door inside, leaving the key in the lock. there was no door communicating with any other room. after some consideration he decided to hide the wallet containing his money, not under his pillow, but under the sheet at the lower part of the bed where he could feel it with his feet. "i guess i'll find it safe in the morning," he said to himself. now that he was relieved from all anxiety he composed himself to sleep, and in less than ten minutes he was unconscious of all around him. about an hour later mr. buffington in bare feet stood in front of mark's door. through the open transom he could hear the boy's peaceful breathing. "he is fast asleep," he said to himself with satisfaction. "i know how boys sleep, especially when they are tired. i don't think there will be much risk in carrying out my scheme." he had a skeleton key which would readily have opened the door had the key not been in the lock on the inside. this fact he soon ascertained. "it will make it harder for me," he reflected, "but there is the transom. i shall have to make use of that." mr. buffington, to use the name by which we first knew him, had some experience as a gymnast. he drew himself up to a level with the transom, and then with considerable difficulty managed to get through. the room was partially illuminated with moonlight. first of all, on descending on the other side, he turned the key in the lock so as to afford himself a way of easy escape in case of need. though he made some noise in landing mark was too sound asleep to be aware of it. "now where does the boy keep his valuables?" buffington asked himself. he searched all mark's pockets, even to the vest, but without finding anything. next he turned his attention to the gripsack, but that proved to contain only wearing apparel. but mr. buffington was sharp enough to understand the ways of wary travelers. he went to the bed, and gently slid his hand under the pillow. that is the most common hiding-place for watches and other valuables. but he made no discovery. buffington paused to reflect on the situation. "the kid has certainly got a pocketbook," he soliloquized. "he can't travel without money. now where is it? that is the question." he had searched everywhere else. he decided that it must be concealed somewhere about the bed. finally he made a correct guess. he approached the bed at the lower end, and raising the covering began to feel about in the neighborhood of mark's feet. now, as probably all my young readers know from personal experience, the feet are very sensitive, and there are few who are not "ticklish." mark who had been unconscious of the intruder's presence till now speedily became aware that some one was fumbling about his feet. on the impulse of the moment he drew one foot back and extended it suddenly in the act of kicking. mr. buffington withdrew his hand swiftly, and looked anxiously at the sleeper. mark's eyes did not open, and the burglar resolved after a suitable pause to continue his investigations. but mark's slumbers, since the interruption, were not as sound as before. when the visitor continued his manipulations he woke suddenly, and opening his eyes took in the situation. he recognized mr. buffington's features and at once was wide awake. but for the fact that the burglar was dangerously near the money he would have allowed him to keep on. as it was he thought it time to interfere. he gave a vigorous kick, and called out, "who's there?" buffington understood that his scheme was defeated. to rob mark when he was awake was to run too much risk. he sprang for the door which he had unlocked, as already noted, and opening it dashed out into the corridor. mark did not propose to facilitate his flight. he sprang from the bed and called out in a loud tone, "help! thieves!" now it so happened that the watchman attached to the hotel was just making his rounds and was not far off. he ran to the spot, caught sight of the flying figure of the departing burglar, and caught him by the shoulder. buffington was a strong man, and could have got away from a man of ordinary muscles. but the watchman was a man of more than average strength, having served as porter before he had been transferred to the post of watchman and detective. he gripped buffington in a vise-like grasp. "no, my man," he said, "you don't get away so easy. stand still, and give an account of yourself." "i am a guest of the hotel," said buffington sullenly. "then why are you not in bed?" "because i had a severe headache and thought i would take a little walk in the corridor." "what made you come into my room?" demanded mark, who now appeared on the scene. "i didn't know whose room it was. i thought it was my own." "how did you get in? the door was locked." "no, it wasn't," answered buffington boldly. "you thought you locked it, but you didn't. trying the knob it opened at once, and i supposed it was my own which i had left unlocked." "is that true?" asked the watchman, looking doubtfully at mark. "no, it isn't. i took special pains to lock the door, for i knew that there was a possibility of my room being entered." "then he must have got through the transom. we have had such cases before." "if you have finished asking foolish questions i will go back to bed," said buffington with remarkable assurance. "wait a minute. did you see this man in your room?" the question was addressed to mark. "yes. i woke up while he was there." "what was he doing?" "searching for my purse. he was fumbling about the bedclothes at the foot of the bed." "was your money there?" "yes." buffington's face contracted with disappointment. he had been on the brink of success, when mark, unfortunately for him, awoke. "and you spoke to him?" "yes." "what then?" "he sprang for the door, and would have escaped if you had not caught him." "did you ever see the man before?" "i saw him on the train coming here for the first time." "did anything happen on the train?" "yes. he stole a young lady's pocketbook. i made him give it up." buffington looked at mark menacingly. he would have liked to wreak his vengeance upon him. "do you know his name?" "he calls himself _rev._ mr. buffington." the watchman laughed grimly. "sorry to disturb you, reverend sir," he said, "but i shall be obliged to lock you in your room till morning." buffington shrugged his shoulders. "all right!" he said. "i shall at any rate secure a good night's sleep." the watchman did as he suggested. he shut the burglar in his room, and locked the door from the outside. "now," he said to mark, "you can sleep undisturbed for the balance of the night." chapter xix. at niagara falls. although mark was inclined to pity any man deprived of his liberty, he felt pleased to think that buffington's career was cut short for a time. there was little doubt that he would be imprisoned for a time more or less extended. "how much better it would be for him," thought mark, "if he had earned his living in some honest way!" stealing may seem an easy way of obtaining money, but the one who depends on it is likely to be brought up with a round term at last. when mark went down in the morning the clerk said to him, "so you had a little excitement in your room last night, the watchman tells me." "yes; i had a visitor, but fortunately he was caught without securing anything. he was about to take my pocketbook when i woke up. i was lucky, for i might have found myself unable to pay my bill here." "we would have given you time. we can tell by your face that you are honest." "thank you. has buffington been taken from his room yet?" "buffington? i don't know any such name." "that is what he gave me as his name." "he is down on our books as lawrence perkins." "he seems to have more than one name." "he may have a dozen. such gentry usually do. i will send you a couple of policemen and have him taken round to the station-house." two policemen were summoned and soon made their appearance. they went up-stairs, preceded by the clerk. he opened the door of the adventurer's room and entered. "he isn't here!" he exclaimed in surprise, turning to the two officers. "not here?" there was no need to ask how perkins, or buffington, whichever name he claimed, had escaped. he had made use of the fire-escape and had disappeared. "he seems to have slept here," remarked one of the policeman, pointing to the bed. "yes." "he must have escaped early this morning." "i wonder i did not think of the fire-escape." "he didn't call at the office and pay his bill, i suppose." "no. he was probably in too great a hurry." "if you will give us a description of him we can warn the public against him." "i didn't notice him particularly. i have to deal with so many that i don't scrutinize any one closely, unless there seems to be especial reason for doing so. this boy," pointing to mark, "saw him on the car, and can describe him to you." mark gave what information he could and then went to breakfast. "i hope i shan't meet him again," he reflected. "i am not anxious to keep up the acquaintance." about noon he took a train for niagara falls, and didn't leave it till he reached suspension bridge. he arrived too late to see the cataract, and proceeded at once to a modest hotel in the village where the price charged was two dollars per day. he might have gone to the international hotel, and would have been justified in doing so, but he thought it right to be careful of his employer's money. he looked over the book, half expecting to meet the name of buffington or perkins, but found neither. "i hope i have seen my last of him," he said to himself. he did not feel obliged to take any extra precautions, but slept peacefully and long. after breakfast he started out to see the falls. he was resolved to see them thoroughly no matter how much time might be required in the process. "i wish mother were here," he thought. "some time if i can afford it i will bring her here." this resolve gave him satisfaction, though there seemed little prospect of his soon being in a condition to carry out his wish. mark had no idea of meeting any one whom he knew. he was but a boy, and his acquaintance was limited. already, however, it included three persons whom he would have been glad to be assured he would never meet again. one of these was buffington, the other two were hamilton schuyler and jack minton, the nephew of old mrs. mack, who lived in the same tenement house in new york with his mother. he supposed jack to be in new york and therefore his surprise may be imagined when he heard a hoarse voice behind him saying, "well, i'll be blowed, if it isn't the kid! how are you, kid?" mark did not suppose that he was referred to, but with natural curiosity he turned to observe the speaker. he saw jack minton, rough and uncouth as when he last met him, advancing to meet him. "you're about the last bloke as i expected to see here, kid," observed jack, his face still betraying surprise. "what brought you here?" "business," answered mark briefly. "they don't send telegraph boys as far as this, do they?" "well, not often, but i was sent here, and i came." "what were you sent for?" "that is my employer's business, and i don't feel at liberty to tell." "oh well, i ain't at all partic'lar to know. but it seems good to meet a friend so far away." "how long have i been his friend?" thought mark. "i say, kid, we'll celebrate on that. come in and have a drink." they were passing a saloon, and minton turned his steps towards it. "no, thank you, mr. minton. i am not thirsty." "oh, hang it! who cares whether you are thirsty or not? you ain't goin' to turn against a friend, are you?" it was clear that jack minton had already satisfied his thirst two or three times, for his face was flushed and his step unsteady. mark saw that his refusal would make minton angry, and he accepted his invitation. "what will you have, kid?" asked jack, staggering to the counter. "a glass of sarsaparilla." "oh, don't have sarsaparilla? it's only fit for old women and young children. take whisky." "no; it must be sarsaparilla or nothing." "just as you say. barkeeper, give me some whisky straight, and give the kid sarsaparilla if he wants it." the orders were filled. jack tossed down a glass of fiery whisky, which made his face even redder than before, and then drawing from his pocket a roll of bills, settled for both drinks. mark was surprised at the abundance of money his companion seemed to have. when they met in new york jack was very hard up, and had only succeeded in obtaining twenty five-cents from his parsimonious aunt. after drinking the whisky jack sank into a chair, finding a sitting position more comfortable under the circumstances. "have you seen your aunt lately, mr. minton?" mark asked. "who's my aunt?" hiccoughed jack, "i ain't got no aunt." "i mean mrs. mack, the old lady who lives in st. mark's place." "i don't know anything about--'bout mrs. mack," answered minton with a cunning look. "what sh'd i know of miss--mrs. mack?" "she's your aunt, isn't she?" "she used to be, but she's a bad old woman. i don't want to see her again." "she would be very glad to hear that," thought mark. "when did you come to niagara?" "i d'n'ow, do you? don't ask me any more of your fool questions," answered jack with uncontrollable irritation. "did i pay you for the drinks?" he asked, turning to the barkeeper. "yes, you paid me." "thought i did--didn't know." as he spoke, jack minton's head fell forward on the table, and he closed his eyes. the last potation was too much for him. "you'd better take your friend away," said the barkeeper, eying jack without much favor. "i don't want him to go to sleep here!" "he's no friend of mine," answered mark. "didn't you come in with him? didn't he treat you?" "yes, but i only accepted because he looked quarrelsome, and i was afraid he might take offense if i refused." "if i let him stay here i shall charge him extra." "do as you like! i never saw him but once before, and i don't care to have anything to do with him. i wish you would let me pay for that sarsaparilla i had. i don't want to feel that he treated me." "he has paid, and i can't take pay twice." "then take the money and return it to him." mark without waiting to see if his proposal was accepted put a dime on the counter, and left the saloon. he met a newsboy with copies of a morning buffalo paper. he bought one, and turning to new york news, his eyes fell upon a paragraph which surprised and excited him. chapter xx. a newspaper paragraph. this was the paragraph that attracted mark's attention: "this morning mrs. rachel mack, an old woman over seventy years of age, living in an upper room at no. 174 st. mark's place, was found insensible in her room, as the result of an attack made by some person unknown. when found she seemed very much frightened and was unable to give a coherent account of what had happened. "from marks upon her throat it was clear that her assailant had nearly strangled her. his intention was obvious. though living in a poor room amid squalid surroundings, neighbors testified that mrs. mack is comparatively rich, being in fact a female miser, and this was doubtless known to her assailant. the old woman testified that she kept one hundred dollars in bills in the bureau drawer. this sum was missing, having evidently been taken by the person who attacked her. "she was not in a condition to throw much light upon the affair, being dazed and confused. when she recovers from her temporary stupefaction she may be able to give the police a clew that will lead to the arrest of the man who robbed her." when mark read this paragraph he decided at once that jack minton, mrs. mack's nephew, was the old woman's assailant. jack had evidently left the city by the first outgoing train, considering that at niagara he would be safe. so indeed he might have been but for the chance that threw mark and himself together. so it happened that the telegraph boy held in his hand the clew to the mysterious attack. in his hand probably lay the liberty of minton. what should he do? while mark was not especially fond of the old woman, he felt indignant with her burly nephew for attacking her, and was clearly of the opinion that he ought to be punished. after a little consideration he decided to call at the office of the local police and put the matter in their hands. he inquired the way to the police office. a pleasant-looking man in the uniform of a sergeant was on duty. "well, young man, what can i do for you?" he asked. "please read this paragraph, sir, and then i will tell you." the sergeant read the newspaper notice attentively. "well?" he said inquiringly. "the man who i think committed the assault is in a saloon only a quarter of a mile distant." "who is it?" "a nephew of the old lady." "but what makes you think he is the guilty party?" "he has once before visited mrs. mack, and tried to extort money from her." "how do you know this?" "because i live in the same house with mrs. mack. she occupies the room directly over where my mother and myself live." "then you live in new york?" "yes, sir." "how do you happen to be here?" "i came on business for a new york jeweler." "what is the name of the party you suspect?" "jack minton." "do you know anything of his character or antecedents?" "he is a criminal. he has been confined at sing sing prison for a term of years." "that alone is a ground of suspicion. now how do you know he is here?" "i met him less than an hour since." "did you speak to him?" "yes." "state the particulars of your interview." "he recognized me and invited me into a saloon to take a drink." "and you accepted?" "yes, sir." "i hardly approve of a boy of your age accepting such an invitation." "i only drank a glass of sarsaparilla." "i am glad to hear it. i have a son about your age, and i should be sorry to have him drink whisky." "there is no danger of my doing that," said mark quietly. "i have a good mother. for her sake, if not for my own, i would not drink liquor." "that does you credit. now as to your information it may prove important. have you anything to corroborate your suspicion?" "yes, sir. jack minton seemed to have plenty of money. when he paid the barkeeper for our drinks i saw him pull out a roll of bills. when he was in new york he had no money at all, and succeeded in obtaining only twenty-five cents from his aunt." "this is an important bit of information. i could order the arrest of minton, however, on your information without orders from new york. i will telegraph to inspector byrnes, and will act in accordance with any orders i may receive from him." "shall you need to see me again?" "give me your name and address and i will communicate with you if necessary." "my name is mark mason, and i am staying at the international hotel." "if convenient, come here in about two hours." "all right, sir." two hours later mark returned to the police station. "oh, here you are!" said the sergeant with a friendly nod. "well, i have heard from new york." "have you, sir?" asked mark eagerly. "from inspector byrnes?" "yes." "what does he say?" "here is his telegram." mark took it in his hand and read these words: "hold the suspected party. ask the boy to remain. will send officer by next train. "byrnes." "you see that you are requested to remain. can you do so?" "yes, sir." "i am glad of it, as your testimony will be important. now i will send a couple of officers with you to the saloon that you may identify minton. we don't want to make any mistake." "all right, sir." of course there was a chance that minton might have left the saloon, or been turned out by the proprietor. but fortunately he was so stupefied that the latter had put him in an inner room, and kept him there till he was in a better condition to move. by direction of the officers mark entered the saloon alone. he did not wish to excite suspicion, and therefore going up to the bar ordered a glass of lemon soda. while he was drinking it he asked: "is the man i came in with a little while ago still here?" "yes, and i wish you would get him out." "where is he?" "inside. he has been snoring till my regular customers asked me who i had in there." "very well. if you will show me where he is i will get him out for you." the barkeeper opened a door leading to an inner room. on a settee lay jack minton breathing heavily. his eyes were closed and he was quite unconscious of his position. "i don't believe you can stir him," said the barkeeper. "i will call a friend then." mark went to the door and beckoned to the two officers. when they came in the barkeeper looked dismayed. "am i in trouble?" he asked. "no, but we want the man." "what has he done?" "committed a murderous assault on a party in new york." "well, he looks as if he were capable of it. you can take him. i shall offer no resistance." one of the officers went forward and shook jack minton vigorously. "wha's the matter?" muttered jack, not opening his eyes. "wake up and see." "i'm sleepy. le' me alone!" hiccoughed jack. "give a hand here," said the officer, signaling to to his companion. with no gentle hand they pulled jack from the settee, and stood him up on his feet. then for the first time he opened his eyes, and stupefied as he was, he realized that he was in the hands of policemen. "wha's all this?" he muttered. "what have i done?" "you're wanted in new york." "new york? never was there in my life." "do you know an old lady named mack?" "i--i didn't do it. i tell you i didn't do it. it was somebody else." mark and the officers looked at each other significantly. the drunken man had unintentionally given himself away. just then his glance fell on mark. "it's the kid," he said. "what's all this mean, kid?" "i'll tell you, mr. minton. your aunt, mrs. mack, has been attacked and robbed." "is she--dead?" asked jack eagerly. "no." "she is my aunt. if she dies i'll get all her money. take me to a good hotel. i'm sleepy." it was clear that jack did not fully realize the situation. next morning, however, when the two new york officers arrived, he realized it fully and charged mark with betraying him. they went to new york in the same train, jack wearing handcuffs. chapter xxi. mark returns home. "welcome home, mark!" exclaimed mrs. mason with radiant face as the telegraph boy opened the door of their humble apartment. "then you have missed me?" said mark smiling. "it has seemed a long time since you went away. did you have a successful trip?" "yes, indeed. mr. swan was so well satisfied that he gave me fifteen dollars besides paying the telegraph company for my services. i shall be paid my regular wages by them also." "poor mrs. mack has been attacked and robbed of a hundred dollars since you went away." "i read a paragraph about it copied from the new york papers. how is she now?" "she is confined to her bed. the villain, whoever he was, nearly choked her, and the shock was so great that it quite prostrated her." "were you at home when the attack took place?" "no; i had gone out on an errand. meanwhile the rascal escaped. i suppose it was her nephew." "i have brought him back to stand trial." "_you!_" exclaimed his mother in amazement. "yes; i met him at niagara, and on reading the paragraph i concluded that he was the thief, especially as he seemed to be well provided with money. on my information a telegram was sent to inspector byrnes, and he was brought back on the same train with me." "go up and tell mrs. mack. it will do her good." mark went up-stairs with his mother. the old lady, looking unusually feeble, was lying on the bed. "how do you feel, mrs. mack?" asked mark. "i'm almost dead," groaned the old woman. "i've been robbed and almost murdered since you went away, mark." "who did it?" "who but that rascal jack minton, and he my own nephew!" "are you sure it was he?" "yes, i saw him and talked with him." "tell me about it." "he come in while i was sitting in the rocking chair and asked me for some money. he begged and implored but i would give him nothing. then he began to threaten, and i said i would call you. 'if you do i'll kill the kid,' he said. then he put his hand around my throat and almost choked me. "i fainted away, and when i came to he was gone and a hundred dollars was taken from the bureau, all i had to keep me from the poor-house," added the old woman whimpering. "but i'll get even with him. he thinks he'll have the little i have to leave because he is my nephew. he'll find himself mistaken. i'll make a will--i'll----" "mrs. mack, i have something to tell you that will please you." "has my money been found?" asked the old woman eagerly. "your nephew has been arrested and he is now in the hands of the police." "heaven be praised! i don't mind the money now. and where was he found?" "i found him at niagara falls and had him arrested." "you're a good boy, mark, and you won't be sorry for helping a poor old woman; no, you won't be sorry. tell me all about it." mark told the story, and it so cheered up the old woman that she got up from her bed and the next day was as well as ever. she no longer complained of her loss of money. her satisfaction in the retribution which had overtaken her nephew was so great that it overcame every other feeling. when the trial came on she even succeeded in getting to the court room where she positively identified jack minton as her assailant, and her evidence procured his conviction. he was sentenced to seven years' imprisonment at sing sing. "he'll not trouble me again," said mrs. mack triumphantly as she walked out of court leaning on mark's arm. the prisoner glared at the pair and his hands were clenched. "if i could only get at 'em i'd kill 'em both!" he muttered, but in his position his threats were futile. two days afterwards mrs. mason was surprised by another call from solon talbot. he looked about him as he entered the room and his eyes lighted up with satisfaction as he noted the evidences of poverty. though mark was now better off no new furniture had been bought. he was waiting till he would feel justified in securing better apartments for his mother. mrs. mason looked surprised when her brother-in-law entered. "have you moved into the city yet, mr. talbot?" she asked. "yes; i arrived yesterday." "how is mary? is she with you?" "yes." "i should like to see her. where are you located?" "why, the fact is, we are not located yet." "i should be glad to see mary. it is so long since we have met." "i can't ask you to call as we are so unsettled. in a short time she will come and call upon you." "i hope so. it is tantalizing to think she is in the same city, and yet not to meet." "we all have our duties, and her duty is to her husband and son. i was surprised a few days since to meet mark on the central road." "yes; he went to cleveland on business." "indeed! has he returned yet?" "he returned two days since." "for whom was he traveling?" "i don't know that it is any secret. he had a business commission from mr. swan, a broadway jeweler." "he must be a strange business man to select a boy to travel for him." "he made no mistake in selecting mark. he professed himself well pleased with him." "humph! it may have turned out right in a single instance. when i select an agent i prefer to employ a man." "how is edgar?" "he is well. i am looking for a position for him. i have hopes of getting him into the office of a prominent broker on wall street." "i shall be glad to hear that he is doing well. he is about the age of mark." "true, but their paths will lie apart. my, ahem! position will secure for edgar an entrance into fashionable society, while your son, though doubtless a deserving boy, must necessarily associate with his equals." "mark has some excellent friends," said mrs. mason, nettled. "no doubt, no doubt. i have not a word to say derogatory of him except that he is inclined to be conceited." "i suppose edgar is quite free from that fault." "well no, perhaps not, but he has a social position to maintain. however, this is not what i came to talk about. you remember that when i was last here i asked your signature to a statement that you had received your rightful portion of your father's estate." "i remember it." "i offered you a small sum in consideration of this release. as the administrator i find it desirable to have it in order that i may render a final account." "i remember the circumstances." "i think you made some objection--a foolish one, to which you were instigated probably by your son mark." "i remember that too." "no doubt the boy was honest in his advice, but i need hardly suggest to you how incompetent a boy of his age is as an adviser in a serious business matter. well, i have come this morning on the same business, but i wish to be liberal. i think it only fair to take your circumstances into consideration. i am ready to give you a hundred dollars if you will sign the paper i have here." "let me see the paper, solon." mr. talbot took from his pocket a folded document which he placed before his sister-in-law. it ran thus: "i hereby acknowledge that i have received from solon talbot, administrator of the estate of my late father, elisha doane, my full share in that estate, and i hereby release him from all further claim on my part to said estate." "sign here, if you please," said solon suavely, "and i will give you the sum promised." as he spoke he drew from his wallet a roll of ten ten-dollar bills, which he judged would look tempting to a woman of mrs. mason's limited means. "if you will leave this paper here, solon," said the widow, "i will show it to mark when he gets home, and ask his advice." mr. talbot frowned and looked vexed. "ask advice of a boy of sixteen!" he sneered. "surely you are better able to judge what is best than he." "i am not sure about that. at any rate he is interested, and i prefer to wait till i see him." "then the offer of a hundred dollars is withdrawn." "just as you think best, solon. i shall not sign without consulting mark." "well, i will leave the paper, then," said talbot, finding it hard to conceal his chagrin. "i hope for your sake that mark will advise you sensibly." "i think he will. he is young, but he has always shown good judgment." "confound the woman!" muttered talbot, as he left the house. "it is most provoking to have her act in this way. should she hear of the golden hope mine it would be most disastrous. once let me obtain her release and i can sell it out for my own advantage." chapter xxii. a crafty schemer. "your uncle has been here, mark," said mrs. mason, when mark reached home. "i can tell you what business he came about, mother." "he wanted my signature to a paper acknowledging that i had received my full share of father's estate." "you didn't give it?" inquired mark anxiously. "no; i would not take such an important step without your knowledge." "i feel much relieved. i have not told you what i found on my journey to niagara." "what is it?" "that uncle solon is trying to cheat you out of a large sum of money." "is that possible? but father did not leave a fortune." "so we all supposed. what if i should tell you that he left you enough to make you comfortable for life on your share." mrs. mason looked incredulous. "here, read this memorandum, mother," and mark explained briefly how he came into possession of it. "tell me what it all means, mark. i have a poor head for business." "it means that grandfather owned four hundred shares of the golden hope mine in colorado. probably he bought it for a small sum. but it has proved unexpectedly rich, and it will probably soon be worth one hundred dollars a share. that means twenty thousand dollars for you, mother." "and solon talbot wants me to relinquish my claim for a hundred dollars!" exclaimed mrs. mason indignantly. "exactly so, mother." "then i will give him a piece of my mind when he comes here this afternoon." "don't do it, mother. it is our policy to make him think we are ignorant of the existence of this important item in grandfather's estate. only you must steadily refuse to sign a release." "i will. i hope you will be here when he calls." "i will get off for the afternoon. i wish to be here myself. i have a little headache, which will give me an excuse." when solon talbot called on his sister-in-law about three o'clock in the afternoon he was rather disgusted to find mark at home. he knew that mark was much more clear-sighted than his mother, and he feared that he would influence her to refuse her signature. "good afternoon, ellen," he said suavely. "take a seat, mr. talbot," said mrs. mason coldly. "how do you happen to be at home, mark?" asked solon, regarding mark with a slight frown. "i got excused for the afternoon. i have a headache." "perhaps you won't mind going out for a few minutes. i wish to speak to your mother on business." "do you wish me to go out, mother?" asked mark. "no. whatever affects you affects me. besides, i may want your advice." "i don't ask edgar for advice," returned solon talbot dryly. "i suppose not. you are a business man, and can judge better than he. i am not a business man." "you are older than mark." "i have always found mark a safe and good adviser." "you will spoil him by such flattery." "i am not afraid of it." "very well. i will humor your prejudices. mark may have more judgment than i give him credit for." this he said because he saw that it was necessary under the circumstances to propitiate mark. the telegraph boy understood his uncle's object very well and was amused, but remained outwardly grave. "thank you, uncle," he said briefly. "i will address myself, then, to both of you. you will remember that i offered you a hundred dollars in cash--i have the money with me," he added, tapping his pocket--"if you will sign acknowledgment that you have received your full share of your father's estate. it is a mere form, but i want to wind the whole business up and have it off my hands." "i can't sign such a paper at present, solon." "why not?" "because i am not sure that i have received my full share." "don't you believe my assurance to that effect?" said solon talbot impatiently. "it is an important matter, and i have no evidence but your word." "do you doubt my word?" "in this matter your interests and mine might clash." "then let me tell you that you are getting more than your share--that is, when i have paid you the hundred dollars. the fact is, your father left a very small estate. after paying his funeral expenses and debts there was scarcely anything over, and off that little you have already had your share. still i understand your position and sympathize with you in your poverty, and therefore i am willing to strain a point and give you a hundred dollars." if mr. talbot expected his sister-in-law to look grateful he was doomed to disappointment. "a hundred dollars," he continued, "is a good deal of money, especially in your circumstances. i am sure mark will agree with me in this." "it is more than all the money we have," replied mark. "precisely. it will make things easy for you for a year to come. by that time mark will probably be earning higher pay than at present, and so your mind will be quite at ease." "you are very considerate, solon, but i think i would rather not sign." "why, this is midsummer madness. i am sure mark will not advise you to refuse." "i quite agree with my mother," said mark. "well," returned talbot angrily, "i have heard of foolish people, but i must own that you two beat the record." "why are you so anxious that my mother should sign a release, uncle solon," asked mark quietly. "because i wish to have the whole matter settled and off my hands, as i have told you. i have business interests exclusively my own that demand my attention, and i don't want to be bothered by this small matter." "i have no doubt you have good reasons for wishing mother to sign," said mark. "what do you mean?" demanded solon suspiciously. "only that you are a good business man, and understand your own interests." "i wish i could say the same for you," retorted solon talbot sharply. "perhaps we do." "i ought not to be surprised at meeting opposition from a woman and a boy, both ignorant of business. as a rule those who know nothing think they know the most and are most suspicious. however, i can afford to overlook your unexpected obstinacy. i will do what i had no idea of doing when i entered the room. i will increase my offer to a hundred and twenty-five dollars. that is certainly handsome, and i shall not let mrs. talbot and edgar know how foolishly i have acted." as he spoke he laid the paper before mrs. mason. "here is a fountain pen," he said. "you can sign at once." "i don't care to sign, solon." "have you been talking to your mother, mark?" demanded talbot sharply. "have you put her up to this?" "we had a little talk together, but i think she is just as determined on the subject as i am." "then," said solon talbot, "i can only regard your refusal as an act of hostility. evidently you want to break with me and mine. it was my intention to invite you both to take dinner at my house to-morrow; but, as matters stand, we cannot receive you, and i shall forbid mrs. talbot to call upon you." "i shall be sorry to be separated from my sister," said mrs. mason in a pained tone, "but i cannot sign away my own and my children's rightful inheritance." "i don't know what you mean by this nonsense. i have offered you more than your share of your rightful inheritance, as you see fit to call it. if you choose to return my kindness with ingratitude, i can only leave you to the consequences of your own folly." he looked first at mark and then at his mother to see how this speech affected them, but both looked firm, and there seemed to be nothing to do but to leave them. he took his hat and strode to the door, his hands trembling with nervous anger. but at the door he paused. "if you come to your senses," he said, "and desire to accept my offer, mark can call on me. i hate to see you so blind to your own interests." after he had left the room mark and his mother looked at each other. "uncle solon seemed very much in earnest," said mark. "yes; i am now ready to believe that he is conspiring to cheat us. it is shameful! he is a rich man already, and we are so poor." "but we shan't be long, mother." "you must take good care of that memorandum, mark." "i shall carry it to a young lawyer whom i know well, and ask his advice about it. when the right time comes i shall bring it forward. i will ask him to keep it in his safe." "very well, mark. i think that will be wise." the next day mark received a letter at the office where he was employed. on the left-hand upper corner was the imprint: luther rockwell, broker and banker. "he is going to take you into partnership, 79," said a. d. t. 80. "if he does i'll make you my office-boy," said mark in a jocular tone. "i hope the old gentleman has quite recovered from his dynamite scare." chapter xxiii. mark's good luck. mark presented himself at mr. rockwell's office at eleven o'clock. the letter which he had received was a simple invitation to call, signed by the banker himself. "is mr. rockwell in?" he asked. "yes," said the clerk smiling pleasantly, for mark was a favorite in the office. mark went over to the open door, and stood on the threshold with his hat in his hand. the banker looked up. "oh, it is my young friend the messenger boy!" he said cordially, holding out his hand. "i hope you are quite recovered, sir," said mark respectfully. "yes, i believe so. the visit of our dynamite friend was quite a shock to me, and at my age it takes longer to recover from the effects of such an incident than at yours. you must not think that i have forgotten what a service you rendered me." "i am very glad to have done you a service, sir, but i am afraid i must confess that i was thinking partly of myself." "i don't think any the less of you for your frankness. still i am sensible that your promptness and presence of mind saved me from a terrible death--i feel that i ought to do something to show my gratitude." "you have already repaid me, sir, by your kind words." "kind words are well enough, but they are not practical. i should like to take you into my employ but i have no vacancy, and i do not like to discharge any of my old and trusted employees." "i should not be willing to displace any of them, sir." "but there may be another way. are your parents living?" "my mother is living, and i have a little sister." "and i suppose they are dependent upon you partly for support." "yes, sir." "probably you are poor?" "yes, sir; our means are very limited." "so i suppose. what is your name?" "mark mason." mr. rockwell turned to his desk, and opening his check book, deliberately filled up a check. he tore it off and handed it to mark. mark read it in amazement. it was a check for one thousand dollars, payable to the order of mark mason. "a thousand dollars!" he ejaculated. "yes, does it seem to you a large amount? i assure you that i value my life a great deal higher than this sum, so i shall remain your debtor." "it seems a fortune to me, mr. rockwell. how can i thank you for your generous gift?" "my boy, generosity is a variable quality--i am blessed by fortune, and for me it is a small sum to bestow in return for the heroic act. would you like to have mr. nichols go with you to identify you at the bank?" "i don't think i should like to draw it all, sir. i should be afraid to have so much money in my possession." "then you can leave it with me as a deposit subject to your call. how much of it would you like to draw now?" "about fifty dollars, sir. i would like to buy a dress for my mother and sister and a new suit for myself." "well thought of. will you call mr. nichols?" the clerk made his appearance. "my young friend wishes to make a deposit with our house. let him indorse the check. then credit him with the entire amount, and he will draw what sum he wishes." "you are in luck, mark," said the clerk when mark accompanied him into the main office. "you are in luck, and i am heartily glad of it." "thank you, mr. nichols. i feel rich." "it is a good beginning at any rate. i am ten years older than you probably, but i haven't as much money as you. but i don't envy you, and i won't even ask for a loan." when mark left the office and reappeared on broadway his face was flushed with pleasure, and he walked with the elastic step of one whose spirits are light. just as he stepped into the street, he met his cousin edgar. "hello!" said edgar in a condescending tone. "so it's you, is it?" "to the best of my knowledge it is, my good cousin." "don't call me cousin," said edgar, hastily. "i wont," answered mark promptly. "i am just as much ashamed of the relationship as you are." "i suppose that is a joke!" responded edgar haughtily. "if it is, it is a poor one." "no joke at all!" "where have you been?" "to the office of mr. rockwell, my banker." "_your_ banker!" sneered edgar. "how long has he been your banker, i should like to know." "only since this morning. i have just deposited some money with him." "indeed! how much?" "a thousand dollars." "you are too funny altogether. if you are ever worth a thousand cents you will be lucky." "do you think so?" returned mark, smiling. "i shouldn't be satisfied with so small a fortune as that." "my father tells me you and your mother have made him a very poor return for a kind offer he made you yesterday." "that's a matter of business, edgar. we didn't look upon it in the same way. but i am afraid i must tear myself away from your company. i shall be expected at the office." "go by all means. it wouldn't do for you to be bounced. you might starve if you lost your place." "i am not very much afraid of that." "at any rate i ought not to be talking with you. father does not care to have me associate with you." "i hope he won't disinherit you. that would be serious for you. if he does, come round to our house, and we will take care of you." "you are too awfully funny. i think it would be better for you if you were not quite so fresh." mark laughed and went on his way. "wouldn't edgar be surprised," he thought, "if he knew how large a sum i had on deposit with mr. rockwell? he thought i was joking when i was only telling the truth." when mark went home to his supper he said: "mother, i want you to buy a new dress for yourself and one for edith." "there are a good many things we would like, mark, but you must remember that we are not rich." "perhaps not, but i think you can afford new dresses. how much would they cost?" "the material will cost from ten to twenty dollars. i could make them up myself." "all right, mother. here are twenty dollars." "but, mark, can you spare that amount? our rent comes due next week." "it is the last rent we shall pay here. we will move to better quarters." "really, mark, i am afraid you are forgetting your prudence." "that is because you don't know how rich i am mother. i have a thousand dollars on deposit with my banker, or rather nine hundred and fifty, for i drew fifty dollars this morning." mrs. mason surveyed her son with alarm. a terrible suspicion entered her mind. was he becoming mentally unbalanced? mark understood her thoughts and was amused. "don't think i am crazy, mother," he said. "the fact is, mr. rockwell made me a present of a thousand dollars this morning." "is this really true? you are not joking?" "i was never more serious in my life. he told me that i had saved his life, and he didn't think he was overpaying me in giving me a thousand dollars." "he was right, but i was afraid few men would have been so generous. so i really have a rich son." "and i shall have a rich mother when she gets her share of her father's estate." "oh, by the way, there is a letter for you. edith, get mark's letter." "i guess it's from a girl, mark," said his sister, as she handed the messenger boy a dainty epistle in a square envelope. mark opened it and read it aloud. miss maud gilbert asks the favor of mr. mark mason's company at her residence on the evening of thursday, sept. 23d. "an invitation to a party," said mark flushing with pleasure. "where, mark?" "at the house of miss maud gilbert." "shall you go?" "yes, i can go now, for i shall have a nice suit." "you are getting to be fashionable, mark. who knows but you will be counted among the four hundred some time?" chapter xxiv. the two sisters meet. solon talbot had two strong desires. one was to acquire wealth. the other was to get into good society. he had moved to the city of new york with the idea of helping himself in both these particulars. he took a house on an up-town street at a considerable rental. it was really beyond his means, but he felt that he must make a good appearance. he sent edgar to a fashionable school where he instructed him to be especially attentive to his wealthier schoolfellows. though edgar made himself disagreeable to his poor relations, he flattered and fawned upon the boys who he thought could help him socially, for he, like his father, was ambitious to "get into society." thus he contrived to get invited to the party given by maud gilbert. when he had compassed this he was greatly elated. "father," he said on his return home, "i am invited to miss gilbert's party next thursday evening." "do you mean the gilberts of west forty-fifth street?" "yes." "i am very much pleased, edgar. mr. gilbert is a wealthy merchant, and stands very high in society. how did you manage it?" "through stanley rayburn, who knows her brother." "have you made the acquaintance of miss gilbert?" "yes, i met her walking with stanley on fifth avenue. he introduced me." "i should hardly think she would have invited you on such short acquaintance." "i got stanley to make a personal request of her. she objected at first, but finally came round. stanley says she is very good-natured and obliging." "luckily for you. well, i am glad you have the invitation. it will be an entering wedge. you must try to get acquainted with as many of her guests as possible." "trust me for that, father. i know on which side my bread is buttered." "i know you are sensible. you quite accord with me in your views on this subject. as for your mother she has no proper pride. she would be contented to associate with persons in the same social position as mrs. mason and mark. this very morning she applied to me for permission to call upon her sister." "of course you refused." "of course. not but i would consent if your aunt, instigated by mark, had not acted in such an extraordinary way about signing a release to me as administrator to your grandfather's estate." "what is her reason?" "i suppose she thinks she ought to have more than she has received from it." "grandfather was very poor, wasn't he?" "i didn't think so when he lived, but he left next to nothing after his debts were paid." "some people are very unreasonable." "of course. i suppose mrs. mason and mark think i ought to make up for their disappointment." "but you won't, father?" "certainly not. i did offer them a hundred dollars out of pity for their poverty, but they are standing out for more." "it is quite disgusting." "it is human nature, i suppose," said mr. talbot leniently. "i don't know that i am surprised." mrs. talbot was very unlike her husband and son. she was sincerely attached to her sister, and her affection had not been diminished by mrs. mason's poverty. it was her desire to call on her as soon as she arrived in the city, but she stood somewhat in awe of her husband who had positively refused his consent. so she unwillingly gave up the plan for the present, hoping that the time would soon come when she and her sister could meet. it came two days before the party. with the money with which mark supplied her, mrs. mason went up town to the well-known store of arnold & constable, intending to get dress patterns there. she had made her purchases and received her bundle. "will you have it sent home?" asked the salesman courteously. "no, thank you." mrs. mason shrank from having the parcel brought to her humble abode in st. mark's place. she was turning to go when she heard her name called in glad and familiar accents. "why, ellen, do i meet you at last?" "lucy!" exclaimed mrs. mason, as she clasped hands warmly with her sister. "this is a delightful surprise." "to me also; i thought i should never see you again." "it is not my fault, lucy." "no, no. i know it," answered mrs. talbot. "mr. talbot is peculiar, as you know. he thinks everything of social rank. now tell me, how are you getting on?" "very poorly till lately, but now better." "you are not in want? solon doesn't allow me much money, but----" "no, lucy. i want for nothing. mark is a good boy, and he has been fortunate. you see i have just bought two dress patterns, one for edith, the other for myself." "i am glad indeed to hear it. mark is a telegraph messenger, is he not?" "yes." "i shouldn't think that would pay very well." "it does not, so far as wages go, but some who have employed him have been liberal." "come out with me for a walk. my purchases can wait. we will go to sixth avenue, as we are less likely to be seen together than on broadway." for an hour the two sisters talked, and it seemed delightful to both to be again together. "i must go home now," said mrs. mason, "as i left edith alone. besides it is time for me to prepare supper for mark. i wish you could go with me." "i would, ellen, but mr. talbot would be angry." "do you think he is justified in keeping you away from your only sister?" "no, but, ellen, i am ready to make a sacrifice for a quiet life." "can't we meet again?" "yes; i will go to arnold & constable's next week on the same day and at the same hour. i wish i could invite you to my house, but you know how matters stand." "yes i know. mr. talbot appears to have increased his property." "yes, i judge so, though i receive no larger allowance. but he tells me very little of his affairs. he is more confidential with edgar than myself." "i have seen edgar. he came to my rooms with his father some time since. he is about the age of mark." "yes; there is not over a month's difference between them." "if mr. talbot was different they would be company for each other. i believe mark meets edgar occasionally in the street. i hope edgar is a comfort to you." "he is my son, and of course i love him; but, ellen; i fear his father is not exercising a good influence upon him. he is making him proud and arrogant. i would not mention this except to you." at this moment mark, going up-town on an errand in a sixth avenue car, saw his mother and his aunt together on the sidewalk. he instantly left the car and joined them. "how do you do, aunt lucy?" he said, his face lighting up. "and this is mark!" said mrs. talbot equally pleased. "how you have grown and how well you look!" "thank you, aunt. i am tall enough to look over my mother's head." "as edgar is taller than i. your mother tells me you meet edgar sometimes." "yes, aunt lucy," returned mark smiling, "but he doesn't care to be very intimate with his poor relations." mrs. talbot looked grave. "you won't suspect me of the same feeling, mark?" she said. "no; you are too much like mother." "i am glad to hear that you are doing well." "yes; i have been fortunate." "i wish you were in a better position. perhaps mr. talbot might interest himself to get you a better place." "no, aunt, don't ask him. i have other friends who will help me when i wish to make a change. for the present i am content to remain as i am." mark excused himself and boarded the next car, as he did not wish to lose any time. the sisters separated and mrs. mason went home feeling cheered by her unexpected interview with mrs. talbot. when she returned to her humble home edith said, "mrs. mack wants to see you. i think she is very sick. a gentleman came to see her, but i don't know whether it was a doctor." mrs. mason went up stairs immediately. the old lady was lying on the bed, looking fatigued. "how do you do, mrs. mack?" said mrs. mason kindly. "i feel tired, but i am strong--oh, yes, i am very strong. i think i shall live ten years," and the old woman peered anxiously into mrs. mason's face hoping for a confirmation of her opinion. "i hope you will if you desire it. edith tells me you have had a visit from the doctor." "no, it was not the doctor; it was a lawyer. i have made my will." mrs. mason looked surprised. "not that i have much to leave, but i don't want my nephew to get anything. if anything happens to me--some years hence--i would like you to call on my lawyer and tell him. he has an office at 132 nassau street. mr. page. you will remember?" "yes." "he has my will. i didn't want to leave it here. it might be stolen, or mislaid, and then jack minton would inherit. you'll put down the address?" "i will do it at once." "that is all. i think i will sleep now." "i wonder who will inherit the old lady's money," thought mrs. mason. "very probably she has left it to some charitable society. i know of no other relation except jack minton." chapter xxv. maud gilbert's party. edgar talbot looked forward with eager anticipation to the evening of maud gilbert's party. it was to be his introduction into new york society. he flattered himself that his appearance would win him favor. though far from handsome, he thought himself so--a delusion not uncommon among boys and men. he dressed himself very carefully, and at the proper time set out for the house where the party was to be held. he and stanley rayburn had agreed to go together. on reaching the house they were directed to the room set apart for gentlemen to arrange their toilet and leave their coats. the mansion was brilliantly decorated, and as edgar went up-stairs he felt a thrill of exultation at being a guest in such a house. he inwardly resolved that he would take advantage of his slight acquaintance with the gilberts and push himself into intimate friendship. in that way he would be in a position to extend his acquaintance among fashionable people. but a surprise and a shock were in store for him. as he entered the room he saw a boy standing in front of the mirror brushing his hair. he started in surprise. the figure looked familiar. could it be! yes, it was his cousin mark mason--mark mason, handsomely dressed in party costume, and with a rose in his button-hole. mark turned round to see who were the newcomers. "good evening, edgar," said mark. "_you_ here!" exclaimed edgar, in unqualified amazement. "yes; i did not expect to have the pleasure of meeting you," answered mark with an amused smile. he understood edgar's surprise, and the reason of it. meanwhile stanley rayburn stood by in silence. "introduce me to your friend, edgar," he said, for he was attracted by mark's frank, handsome face. "mark mason--stanley rayburn!" said edgar awkwardly. he would have liked to decline introducing stanley to his poor cousin, but there seemed to be no way of avoiding it. "i am glad to make your acquaintance, mr. mason," said stanley cordially. "thank you, but don't call me mr. mason." "i would rather say mark. any friend of edgar----" "mark mason and i are only acquaintances," said edgar hurriedly, and in the worst possible taste. "i hope that _we_ shall be friends," said stanley with emphasis, thinking that edgar was a cad. "i hope so too," rejoined mark earnestly, "if, after getting my 'character' from edgar," he added with a smile, "you still wish it." stanley was a little puzzled, not knowing how mark was regarded by his companion. "i think i shall go down at once," said stanley. "i don't think i require any finishing touches to my toilet." "be ready to go with me to miss gilbert," said edgar. "i will follow you in a minute." "very well." "now," said edgar, when he and his cousin were alone, "how do you happen to be here?" "by miss gilbert's invitation, of course. i suppose that is the case with you." "certainly. does she know that you are a telegraph boy?" "yes." "that's strange. did you ever meet her?" "oh, yes; i have spent the evening here two or three times." "that's queer. by the way, you seem to be very nicely dressed." "i am glad you like my suit." "yet you are as poor as poverty. it was a crazy idea to run into debt for an expensive suit." "i didn't run into debt. my suit is paid for." "yet your mother claims to be very poor." "we are getting along better now." "it would have been wiser for you to save the money you spent on this suit and keep it for rent and food." "your advice is very kind, edgar, but i really feel that i can manage my own business." "oh, well, if you choose to resent my good advice----" "i don't. i hope it springs from your interest in me." during this conversation edgar was brushing his hair carefully and "prinking" before the glass, for he was anxious to appear as fascinating as possible when he presented himself to miss gilbert. "shall we go down?" asked mark. "yes, perhaps we may as well. i suppose you would feel awkward entering the drawing-room alone." "perhaps so," said mark smiling. as the two presented themselves in the room below edgar looked about for stanley, but did not see him. "i wonder where stanley has disappeared to," he said in a tone of vexation. "he promised to go up with me to miss gilbert." "if he doesn't show up, edgar, i shall be glad to take his place. as you have only recently come to the city, i suppose you don't know her well." "i only met her once," edgar admitted, "and she may not remember me." "then come with me." almost against his wishes edgar found himself walking up to the other end of the room with his despised cousin. he would not have believed it possible if this had been predicted to him an hour earlier. "good evening, mark! i am glad to see you here," said maud gilbert, with a pleasant smile. "let me present mr. edgar talbot," said mark after a suitable acknowledgment. "i had the pleasure of meeting you when in company with stanley rayburn," explained edgar. "oh, yes, i remember. and so you are also acquainted with mark." "yes," answered edgar, rather awkwardly. "i expected mr. rayburn to present me." "you have found a sponsor equally good," returned maud. then the two walked on, giving place to others. "you seem to know miss gilbert very well," said edgar in a tone of curiosity. "yes." "it is strange. i don't understand it." edgar was relieved to find that mark did not claim him as a cousin, though to his surprise he saw that mark stood particularly well with the young hostess. "how do you, mark?" the speaker was a bright boy of sixteen, the brother of miss gilbert. "how well you are looking!" "thank you, charlie. if a young lady had told me that it would make me proud." "come along. i will introduce you to a couple of nice girls." "who is that?" asked edgar of rayburn, who had now come up. "don't you know? that is charlie gilbert, maud's brother." "so he knows mark, too." "why shouldn't he?" "because mark is--you will be surprised to hear it--a common telegraph boy." "he may be a telegraph boy, but he certainly is not a common one. he is a nice-looking fellow, and i am glad to know him." presently dancing began. in his earlier days, when his father was living, mark had taken lessons from a teacher, and though he was rather out of practise he ventured to go out on the floor, having as his partner one of the prettiest girls in the room. as there was space for but two sets of dancers, edgar was obliged to sit still and see the others dance. he felt very much dissatisfied especially as mark seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly. "society in new york seems to be very much mixed," he said to himself, "when telegraph boys can push in and make themselves so conspicuous in rich men's houses." edgar got a chance to dance once later on, but the girl he danced with was very small and insignificant in appearance. * * * * * "well, what kind of a time did you have?" asked solon talbot when his son returned home. "very good." "i suppose it was quite a brilliant affair," said solon talbot complacently. "i am glad to have you invited to such a swell house. did stanley rayburn take you up to miss gilbert?" "no; he promised to, but when i looked for him he was not to be found." "that was awkward." "no; i found a substitute, a boy whom you and i both know." "i have no idea whom you can mean." "no; you might guess all night, but without success. it was mark mason." "what! you don't mean to say that mark mason was a guest at the party?" "yes he was, and he seemed very well acquainted too." "was he in his telegraph uniform?" "no; he had on a nice new suit, as handsome as mine. he had a rose in his button-hole and looked quite like a dude." "how very extraordinary!" ejaculated solon. "i thought you would say so." "why, they are living from hand to mouth, steeped in poverty." "so i thought, but it doesn't seem like it." "the boy must be very cheeky, but even so, i can't account for his success. i shall have to call on his mother and ask what it means." chapter xxvi. an important commission. a week later mark received the following letter: "mark mason: please call at my office as soon as convenient. "d. gilbert." "this letter is from maud gilbert's father," said mark, addressing his mother. "i wonder what he wants." "nothing disagreeable, i am sure. of course you will go." "i will call to-morrow morning." mr. gilbert was a commission merchant, with an office in the lower part of the city, west of broadway. mark obtained leave of absence for an hour agreeing to pay the price usually charged to customers. he had seen mr. gilbert, a stout, portly man of fifty, during his call at the house in forty-fifth street. therefore when he was admitted to mr. gilbert's office, he addressed him not as a stranger but as an old acquaintance. "i received your note, mr. gilbert, and have called according to your request." "that is right, mark. sit down till i have finished looking over my letters. you will find the morning _herald_ on the table near you." in ten minutes the merchant had finished with his letters, and whirled round in his chair. "i believe you are a telegraph boy," he said. "yes, sir." "what pay do you receive?" "i don't average over six dollars a week." "how old are you?" "sixteen." "my daughter thinks you are unusually bright and intelligent." "i am very much obliged to miss maud for her good opinion," said mark, his face flushing with gratification. "how can you get along on six dollars a week? you have a mother partially dependent upon you, i believe." "i have lately had a present of a thousand dollars from mr. luther rockwell, the banker. i was in his office when a dynamite crank threatened to blow us all up." "i heartily congratulate you, mark. you deserved the gift for your coolness and courage, but it isn't every rich man who would make so generous an acknowledgment for your services." "that's true, sir. mr. rockwell has been very kind." "how do you like the position of telegraph boy?" "i would like to give it up. it doesn't lead to anything. but i don't want to throw myself out of work. six dollars a week is a small income, but it is better than nothing." "i approve your prudence, but i think other and better employment can be obtained for you. maud tells me that you were sent not long since to cleveland with some valuable jewelry." "yes, sir." "you succeeded in your mission?" "yes, sir." "did you meet with any adventures while you were gone?" "yes, sir." "tell me briefly what they were." mark did so. "don't think i am influenced by curiosity," said mr. gilbert. "the fact is, i have a still longer journey for you if you don't object, and i wished to assure myself that you were adequate to undertake it. it may take six weeks, or it may take two months. i should advise you to give up your position as messenger, and i will guarantee you an equally good place when you return." "thank you, sir. in that case i won't hesitate to give it up." "your week closes to-morrow, i suppose." "yes, sir." "then give notice at once." "where are you going to send me, sir?" asked mark, with pardonable curiosity. "to california." mark looked amazed. he knew that california was even further away than liverpool, and having the love of travel and adventure natural to boys of his age he felt that he should thoroughly enjoy the trip. "i should like very much to go," he said promptly. "now i must tell you why i send you. a cousin of mine has just died in california, leaving a young son of ten years of age. he wrote me a letter from his death-bed commending the boy to my care. i will gladly undertake the charge of the boy, as i had a strong regard for his father, who, by the way had died poor. "but a difficulty presented itself. the boy could not come east by himself, and there seemed no one to bring him. of course i can't leave my business, and there is no one else in my family who can be sent. under these circumstances maud has recommended me to send you." "i shall be glad to go, sir." "you are a rather young guardian for a young boy, but i think you possess the necessary qualification. your experience as a telegraph boy has made you sharp and self-reliant, and altogether i think you will acquit yourself to my satisfaction." "i will try to, sir." "i need no assurance of that." "how am i to go?" "by the union and central pacific road from omaha. i will supply you with a through ticket." "shall you wish me to return immediately?" "no; you can stay in california two or three weeks and get acquainted with the boy. i have never seen him, but i think you won't find him troublesome. are you fond of children?" "very, sir." "the poor boy will need a kind friend, having lost his father so recently. and now, there is one thing more to be spoken of--your compensation." "i shall be satisfied with whatever you think right." "then we will fix that after your return. but you will need to leave some money with your mother to pay expenses while you are away." "i can draw from mr. rockwell." "no; if you have money in his hands let it remain. i will advance you a hundred dollars to leave with your mother. i may as well do that now. on saturday evening, when you are released from your present position, call at the house and receive your ticket and final instructions." "thank you, sir." mr. gilbert rang a little bell, and a boy appeared. "go to the bank and get this check cashed," said the merchant. in a few minutes he returned with a roll of bills. "count them over and see if they are right, mark." "yes, sir; they are correct." "very good! remember that they are for your mother. tell her also that if you remain longer than i anticipate, and she gets short of money, she can call at my office and i will supply her with more." mark left the office in a state of joyful excitement. he was to make a long journey across the continent. he would see many states and cities, and become acquainted with places which he now knew only by hearsay. and after he returned his prospects would be brighter, for mr. gilbert had promised to find him a position at least equal to the one he resigned. in the afternoon as mark was returning from an errand in west fiftieth street, he saw edgar talbot in the neighborhood of bryant park. "hallo!" said edgar condescendingly. "are you on an errand?" "yes." "ho, ho! how you will look in a telegraph boy's uniform when you are a young man of twenty-five." "what makes you think i am going to be a telegraph boy so long?" "because you are not fit for any other business." mark smiled. "i am sorry for that," he said, "for as it happens i have tendered my resignation." "you don't mean that you are going to leave the messenger service?" "yes." "but how are you going to live? it won't be any use to ask father for money." "i presume not." "perhaps," suggested edgar hopefully, "you have been discharged." "i discharged myself." "have you got another position?" "i am going to travel for a while." edgar talbot was more and more perplexed. in fact he had always found mark a perplexing problem. "how can you travel without money?" "give it up. i don't propose to." "have you got any money?" mark happened to have with him the roll of bills given him for his mother. he drew it out. "do you mean to say that is yours? how much is there?" "a hundred dollars." "i don't believe it is yours." "it isn't. it belongs to my mother." "but father said she was very poor." "at any rate this money belongs to her." "where are you going to travel?" "out west." this was all the information mark would give. edgar reported the conversation to his father, who was also perplexed. "mark mason is a strange boy," he said. "i don't understand him." chapter xxvii. last instructions. mark had intended to find a new and more comfortable place for his mother, being dissatisfied with their humble rooms in st. mark's place, but the journey he was called upon so unexpectedly to make, led to a postponement of this plan. "you can move, mother, if you like," said mark, after placing the hundred dollars in her hands. "you'll have money enough." "that's true, mark, but you wouldn't know how to address me, and i might lose some of your letters. i shall be satisfied to stay here till you return. but do you think you had better go? you are very young to cross the continent alone." "i am nearly sixteen, mother, and i have been in the habit of looking out for myself. besides mr. gilbert thinks i am old enough, and if he has confidence in me i ought to have confidence in myself." "i suppose it is all right, but i shall miss you terribly." "it is for my good, and will be for yours, mother. i have long wanted to leave the messenger service and get into some steady position where i can push myself ahead, and this seems to me my chance." "you will write often, mark?" "i will be sure to do that. you don't think i will forget my mother?" on saturday evening mark went to mr. gilbert's to receive instructions. "i must tell you something about the boy of whom you are to be temporary guardian," said mr. gilbert. "perhaps it will be best for me to read you in the first place the letter i received from my poor cousin just before his death. it was written at his dictation, for he was already too weak to hold the pen." he drew from a desk this letter which he proceeded to read aloud: "gulchville, california, "oct. 17. "my dear cousin, "when this letter reaches you i shall in all probability be in a better world. i am dying of consumption. i leave behind me a boy of ten--my poor little philip. i leave him to the mercies of a cold world, for i am penniless. i had a little property once, but i speculated and lost all. poor philip will be an orphan and destitute. i know you are rich and prosperous. won't you, in your generosity, agree to care for my poor boy? he won't require much, and i shall be content to have him reared plainly, but i don't want him to suffer. "i am sick at the house of a cousin of my wife. he is a mean man, and his wife is also penurious and mean. they have made my sickness still more bitter by their taunts. they complain that i am an expense to them, and they would turn me out of doors, sick as i am, i am convinced, if they were not ashamed to do so. poor philip will be left to their tender mercies, but i hope only for a short time. i can bear to suffer myself, but i can't bear to think of his suffering. he is a sensitive boy, not over strong, and ill-fitted to bear the buffetings of a cold and unkind world. won't you send for him as soon as you can? in your hands i am sure he will be safe and kindly cared for. "i am getting very tired and must stop. god bless you! "your unfortunate cousin, "john lillis. "p. s. the man in whose house i am stopping is named nahum sprague." "you see, mark, your mission will be one of mercy. the sooner the poor boy is rescued from such people as mr. and mrs. sprague the better for him. by the way, i don't want them to say my cousin has been an expense to them. therefore i will authorize you to obtain from them an itemized account of what they have spent for him and the boy and pay it. you will see that they don't impose upon me by presenting too large a bill." "yes, sir. i will look sharply after your interests." "i shall give you more than enough to get you to san francisco, and i will give you a letter to a firm there, authorizing you to draw upon them for any sum you may require up to a thousand dollars." "but that will be a great deal more than i shall need." "i presume so, but i give you so large a credit to use in case of emergencies." "you are trusting me very far, mr. gilbert." "i am aware of that, but i feel entirely safe in doing so." "thank you, sir." other directions were given, and it was agreed that mark should start on his long journey on monday morning. chapter xxviii. mark at omaha. some days later mark found himself at omaha. here he was to transfer himself to the union pacific railroad; at that time the only pacific road built with the exception of the central pacific, which formed with it a continuous line to san francisco. mark decided to remain in omaha for a single day and then take the train for his destination. at the hotel mark found himself sitting next to a man with bronzed face and rough attire who embodied his ideas of a miner. the stranger during the meal devoted himself strictly to business, but going out of the dining-room at the same time with mark he grew sociable. "well, young pard.," he said, "what's your trail?" mark looked puzzled. "i mean which way are you going--east or west?" "i am going to san francisco." "ever been there before?" mark shook his head. "i never was as far west as this before," he answered. "i came from new york." "so i thought. you look like a tenderfoot. are you going out to stay?" "only a short time. i am going after a young boy. i am going to carry him back with me." "a kid, eh? you're not much more than a kid yourself." "i guess i can take care of myself," said mark with a smile. "shouldn't wonder. you look like it. nothing soft about you." "i hope i haven't got a soft head. as to my heart, i hope that isn't hard." "good for you. i reckon you're a likely kind of boy." "i suppose you have been to california," said mark, thinking it his turn to ask questions. "yes; i've been on the coast for three years, more or less." "how do you like it out there?" "well, i've had my ups and downs. a year ago, six months for that matter, i was dead broke." "did your luck change?" "not till i struck nevada. then i got a small interest in the golden hope mine----" "the golden hope mine?" exclaimed mark in excitement. "do you know anything of that mine, youngster?" "yes; i have a--a friend who owns some stock in it." "then your friend is in luck. why, do you know where the stock stands to-day?" "no, but i should like to know." "at 110." mark's eyes sparkled with joyous excitement. "is it possible?" he exclaimed. "it's so. i've got a block of a hundred shares myself, which i bought eighteen months ago for a song. i give you my word i didn't think it worth more than a dollar or two a share--what i gave--when i learned not long since that they'd struck it rich, and i was no longer a pauper." "that's good news for me," said mark slowly. "why? have you got any of it?" "my mother is entitled to two hundred shares from her father's estate." "whew! have you come out to see about it?" "no; that was not my object, but i shall find what i can about it." "you're in luck." "well, perhaps so. but my uncle is trying to cheat my mother out of it." "then he must be a rascal. tell me about it." the man looked sympathetic and trustworthy, and mark without hesitation told him the story as it is already known to the reader. "do you think the stock has reached its highest point?" he asked anxiously. "no; it will probably rise to two hundred." "then my uncle probably won't close it out just at present." "no; he will hear how the matter stands, and if he is sharp he will hold on." "i am glad of that, for i want a little time to decide how to act." "i am going to stop at the mine on my way to 'frisco." "i will give you my address and ask you to write me a line to the care of my banker there, letting me know what you can about the mine." "all right, boy! i like you, and i'll do it. when do you start?" "to-morrow." "we'll start together, and i'll get off the train in nevada." chapter xxix. nahum sprague and his orphan ward. leaving mark on his way we will precede him, and carry the reader at once to gulchville, in california, where he was to find the young boy of whom mr. gilbert had requested him to take charge. in an unpainted frame house lived mr. nahum sprague. in new england such a building would hardly have cost over five hundred dollars, but here it had been erected at more than double the expense by the original owner. when he became out of health and left california it was bought for a trifling price by nahum sprague. the latter was a man of forty-five with small eyes and a face prematurely wrinkled. he was well-to-do, but how he had gained his money no one knew. he and his wife, however, were mean and parsimonious. they had one son, a boy of fifteen, who resembled them physically and mentally. he was named oscar, after a gentleman of wealth, in the hope that at his death the boy would be remembered. unfortunately for oscar the gentleman died without a will and his namesake received nothing. the disappointed parents would gladly have changed the boy's name, but oscar would not hear of it, preferring the name that had become familiar. this was the family whose grudging hospitality had embittered the last days of john lillis, and to them he was obliged to commit the temporary guardianship of his little son philip. in the field adjoining, philip lillis, a small pale boy, was playing when oscar sprague issued from the house. "come here, you little brat!" he said harshly. philip looked with a frightened expression. "what do you want of me?" he asked. "what do i want? come here and see." the little fellow approached. he was received with a sharp slap in the face. "why do you hit me, oscar?" philip asked tearfully. "because you didn't come quicker," answered the young tyrant. "i didn't know you were in a hurry." "well, you know it now." "you wouldn't have hit me when papa was alive," said philip with a flash of spirit. "well, he isn't alive, see?" "i know he isn't, and i am alone in the world." "well, don't snivel! if anything makes me sick at the stomach it is to see a boy snivel." "maybe you'd cry if your papa was dead." "there ain't much fear. the old man's too tough," responded oscar, who had no sentimental love for his father. indeed, it would have been surprising if he had shown any attachment to nahum sprague, who was about as unattractive in outward appearance as he was in character and disposition. "you didn't tell me what you wanted me to do." "just wait till i tell you, smarty. do you see this bottle?" "yes." "take it to the saloon and get it full of whisky." "papa didn't want me to go into a liquor saloon." "well, your papa ain't got nothing to do with you now. see? you just do as i tell you." philip took the bottle unwillingly and started for the saloon. "mind you don't drink any of it on the way home," called out oscar. "as if i would," said philip indignantly. "i don't drink whisky and i never will." "oh, you're an angel!" sneered oscar. "you're too good for this world. ain't you afraid you'll die young, as they say good boys do?" "i don't believe you'll die young, oscar." "hey? was that meant for an insult? but never mind! i don't pretend to be one of the goody-goody sunday-school kids. now mind you don't loiter on the way." oscar sat down on the doorstep and began to whittle. the door opened and his father came out. "why didn't you go to the saloon as i told you?" he asked hastily. "it's all the same. i sent philip." "you sent that boy? he ain't fit to send on such an errand." "why ain't he? he can ask to have the bottle filled, can't he?" "what did he say? was he willing to go?" "he said his papa," mimicked oscar, "didn't want him to go into a liquor saloon." "he did, hey? all the more reason for making him go. his poverty-stricken father can't help him now. why, i am keeping the boy from starving." "are you going to keep him always, dad?" "i ought to turn him over to the town, but folks would talk. there's a man in new york that his father said would send for him. i don't know whether he will or not. there's a matter of fifty dollars due to me for burying john lillis. that's the way i get imposed upon." philip kept on his way to the saloon. he was a timid, sensitive boy, and he shrank from going into the place which was generally filled with rough men. two miners were leaning against the front of the wooden shanty used for the sale of liquor when philip appeared. as he passed in one said to the other, "well, i'll be jiggered if here isn't a kid comin' for his liquor. i say, kid, what do you want?" "some whisky," answered philip timidly. "how old are you?" "ten." "i say, young 'un, you're beginnin' early." "i don't want it for myself," returned philip half indignantly. "oh, no, of course not. you won't take a sip yourself, of course not." "no, i won't. my papa never drank whisky, and he told me not to." "where is your papa?" "gone to heaven." the miner whistled. "then who sent you for whisky?" "mr. sprague." "old nahum?" "his name is nahum." "i thought he was too mean to buy whisky. do you live with him?" "yes, sir." "is he any kin to you?" "no," answered philip quickly. "does he treat you well?" "i don't like to answer such questions," said philip guardedly. "i suppose you are afraid to. did your father leave any money?" "no," answered philip sadly. "then i understand how it is. do you expect to keep on living with mr. sprague?" "papa wrote to a gentleman in new york. i expect he will send for me." "i hope he will for your sake, poor little chap. well, go on and get your whisky. i don't want to take up your time." as philip entered the first speaker remarked, "well, bill, i don't pretend to be an angel, but i wouldn't send a kid like that for whisky. i drink it myself, but i wouldn't want a boy like that to go for it. i'd go myself." "i agree with you," said bill. "that sprague ain't of much account any way. i'd lick him myself for a dollar. he's about as mean as they make 'em." chapter xxx. philip finds a friend. when the two unauthorized ministers of justice had departed oscar and his father looked at each other in anger and stupefaction. "it's an outrage!" exclaimed nahum sprague. "i'd like to shoot them!" returned oscar. "i'd like to see them flayed within an inch of their lives." "so would i. they are the most audacious desperadoes i ever encountered." "do you know them, dad?" "yes; they are bill murphy and joe hastings. they are always hanging round the drinking saloon." "we can lick philip at any rate!" said oscar, with a furious look at poor phil. "he brought it on us." but nahum sprague was more prudent. he had heard the threat of bill and joe to repeat the punishment if philip were attacked, and he thought it best to wait. "leave it to me," he said. "i'll flog him in due time." "ain't you going to do anything to him, dad?" asked oscar in disappointment. "yes. come here, you, sir!" phil approached his stern guardian with an uncomfortable sense of something unpleasant awaiting him. nahum sprague seized him by the collar and said, "follow me." he pushed the boy before him and walked him into the house, then up the stairs into an attic room, where he locked him in. just then the bell rang for dinner. poor phil was hungry, but nothing was said about dinner for him. a dread suspicion came to him that he was to be starved. but half an hour later the door opened, and oscar appeared with two thin slices of bread without butter. "here's your dinner," he said. it was a poor enough provision for a hungry boy, but phil ate them with relish, oscar looking on with an amused smile. "is that all i am to have?" asked phil. "yes; it is all you deserve." "i don't know what i have done." "you don't, hey? you broke the bottle and spilled the whisky." "i wouldn't have done it if you hadn't pushed me." "there you go, laying it off on me. you'd better not." "but it's true, oscar." "no, it isn't. you broke the bottle to spite pa." "i wouldn't have dared to do it," said philip. "you dared a little too much, anyway. didn't you get those men to follow you and interfere with what was none of their business?" "no, i didn't." "hadn't you spoken with them at the saloon?" "yes." "i thought so." "they asked me who sent me for the whisky and i told them." "you didn't need to tell them. if it hadn't been for that they wouldn't have come round to our place and assaulted pa and me. they'll catch it, pa says. shouldn't wonder if they'd be put in prison for five years." young as he was phil put no faith in this ridiculous statement, but he thought it best not to make any comment. "how long is your father going to keep me here?" he asked. "maybe a month." this opened a terrible prospect to poor phil, who thought mr. sprague quite capable of inflicting such a severe punishment. "if he does i won't live through it," he said desperately. "you don't mean to kill yourself!" said oscar, startled. "no, but i shall starve. i am awfully hungry now." "what, after eating two slices of bread?" "they were very thin, and i have exercised a good deal." "then i advise you to make it up with pa. if you get down on your knees and tell him you are sorry, perhaps he will forgive you, and let you out." phil did not feel willing to humiliate himself in that way, and remained silent. "there ain't any bed for me to sleep on," he said, looking around. "you will have to sleep on the floor. i guess you'll get enough of it." oscar locked the door on the outside and went down-stairs. disagreeable as he was phil was sorry to have him go. he was some company, and when left to himself there was nothing for him to do. if there had been any paper or book in the room it would have helped him tide over the time, but the apartment was bare of furniture. there was one window looking out on the side of the house. phil posted himself at this, and soon saw oscar and his father leave the premises and go down the street. nahum had a bottle in his hand, and phil concluded he was going to the drinking saloon to get a fresh bottle of whisky. phil continued to look out of the window. presently he saw a boy pass whom he knew--a boy named arthur burks. he opened the window and called out eagerly, "arthur!" arthur turned round and looking up espied philip. "hello!" he cried. "what are you doing up there?" "i am locked in." "what for?" "i accidentally dropped a bottle of whisky, and spilled it. mr. sprague got mad and locked me up here." "that's a shame. how long have you got to stay?" "oscar says he may keep me here a month." "he's only frightening you. old sprague wouldn't dare to do it." "that isn't all. i am half starved. he only gave me two small slices of bread for dinner." "he's a mean old hunks. i just wish you could come round to our house. we'd give you enough to eat." "i wish i were there now," sighed philip. "i've got an idea," said arthur, brightening up. "what time do mr. sprague and oscar go to bed?" "very early. about nine o'clock." "would you run away if you could?" "yes." "then i'll tell you what i'll do. at half-past nine albert frost and i will come around with a tall ladder--mr. frost has got one--and we'll put it up against your window. will you dare to get out of the window, and come down?" "yes, i'll do anything to get away. but can you get the ladder?" "yes; albert will manage it. do you think the old man will be likely to see or hear us?" "no; he sleeps on the other side of the house." "all right! you can expect us. i guess i had better go now, for fear i may be seen, and they might suspect something." "but where can i go when i leave here?" "come to our house. you can sleep with rob, my little brother." "thank you, arthur. i'll expect you." philip felt a good deal more cheerful after arthur had gone. he knew that in arthur's house he would be very differently treated from what he had been by nahum sprague. he did not feel it wrong to leave the spragues', as they were constantly complaining that he was a burden. "if mr. burks would only let me live with him," he thought, "i should be happy, and i would be willing to work hard." at half-past five oscar came up to the room again, this time accompanied by his father. "how do you like being locked up here?" asked nahum. "not very well." "get down on your knees and beg my pardon for your bad conduct, and i will let you out." "i would rather not, sir." "do you hear that, oscar? he would rather not." "i heard it, pa." "it is only right that he should suffer the penalty of his headstrong conduct. give him his supper and we will leave him to think of his sinfulness." oscar produced two more thin slices of bread and a cup of very weak tea. "you are not entitled to tea," said nahum. "it is only because we are kind-hearted that i permitted mrs. sprague to send up a cup. i have not put in milk or sugar because i refuse to pamper you." philip made no comment, but disposed of the tea and bread in a very short space of time. he felt ready to join in with oliver, in dickens's immortal story, when he asked for "more." but he knew it would be of no use. "now, we will go down, oscar." "all right, pa. i hope the house won't catch fire in the night," he added, with the laudable purpose of terrifying philip, "for we might not be able to come up and unlock the door." philip felt uncomfortable, but he reflected that before many hours, if arthur burks kept his promise, he would no longer be an inmate of mr. sprague's home. "he'll have a sweet time sleeping on the floor, pa," said oscar as they went down-stairs. "it will serve the little fool right," returned nahum sprague grimly. chapter xxxi. the mining stock is sold. "but i understood that you were poor," said mr. rockwell, surprised at mark's statement. "that we are so is because mr. talbot as executor has concealed from my mother the existence of the stock as a part of grandfather's estate." "how long since you grandfather died?" "nearly two years." "and the stock is only now to be sold?" "yes; my uncle had advices that it would be well to wait, as it was likely to go up." "and your mother's share is half--say, two hundred shares?" "yes, sir." "then she will be comfortable for life. at the price i am thinking of paying, this will amount to over fifty thousand dollars. now can you give me any information about the mine?" "yes, sir; i made it my business to inquire. it is confidently expected to go considerably higher. it is growing richer every day." "i shall rely upon your statements and buy the stock. after it is sold i advise you to take immediate steps to secure your share. have you consulted a lawyer?" "yes; a young man." "in a matter of this importance an older and more experienced lawyer will be better, i will give you a note to my own lawyer." "thank you, sir." "i am now going to the office of crane & lawton where i shall meet your uncle, and conclude the business. come here in less than two hours and i may be able to tell you the result." "i will do so." solon talbot was much elated when informed by crane & lawton that they had found a purchaser for his mining stock in the person of luther rockwell, the well-known banker. "do you think he would stand a higher price?" asked talbot. "it would not be wise to ask it." "he is very rich. he could afford to pay more." "true; but he became rich through prudence and shrewdness. sell to him and you won't have to wait for your money." "no doubt you are right. i will be guided by your advice." when solon talbot was introduced to mr. rockwell he made a deferential bow. "i am honored in making your acquaintance, mr. rockwell," he said. "thank you, sir." the banker would have been more cordial but for what he had heard from mark. "how long have you owned this stock, mr. talbot?" inquired mr. rockwell. "three years." "it is not held in your name." "no; it belongs to the estate of my late father-in-law, elisha doane." "i take it that you are the executor of the estate." "yes, sir." solon talbot would not have been so communicative if he had supposed that the banker was a friend to mark. he had forgotten mark's agency in protecting mr. rockwell from the dynamite fiend. "the stock was probably purchased at a very low figure." "i presume so, though i do not know what was paid for it. indeed i never heard of it until i came to examine the items of my father-in-law's estate. he didn't have much else." "it is fortunate for his heirs." "yes," answered talbot rather nervously. he was afraid mr. rockwell might inquire who were the other heirs. had he done so, he would have evaded the question or boldly declared that there was no other heirs except himself. after half an hour's conversation the purchase was made, and a check for one hundred and four thousand dollars was handed to mr. talbot. "i hope you will not have occasion to regret your purchase, mr. rockwell," said solon. "i think i shall not from advices i have received about increasing richness." at the time appointed mark called at mr. rockwell's office. "well, mark," said the lawyer, "i made the purchase." "at two hundred and sixty?" "yes. i congratulate you." "that is, if i succeed in getting our share from my uncle." "i will give you a letter to my lawyer, mr. gerrish. obtain a letter from him, as your counsel, and call to-morrow upon your uncle with a formal demand for your mother's share of the proceeds of the mining stock." chapter xxxii. conclusion. solon talbot went home in high spirits. it was only recently that he had become aware of the great value of the golden hope shares. it had come to him as an agreeable surprise. "with what i was worth before," he soliloquized, "i may now rate myself at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. that is very good--for a beginning. i can afford to buy the house in forty-seventh street, for i shall still have a hundred thousand dollars over, and in five years i mean to make it half a million." he paced up and down his library in a state of joyous excitement. no thought of giving his sister-in-law her rightful due entered his mind. "how can she find out?" he reflected. "old mr. doane never told any of us of his mining shares. i presume he looked upon them as rather a risky investment. it has proved to be a splendid speculation, but it was rather a lucky accident than a shrewd purchase." it was after breakfast on the morning succeeding the sale of stock. mr. talbot was preparing to go over to the house which he proposed to purchase for a last examination before making up his mind, when the servant entered the library. "there is a boy down-stairs wishes to see you, mr. talbot," he said. "perhaps a boy from crane & lawton," he reflected. "show him up." directly afterwards mark mason entered the room. "mark!" exclaimed talbot. "what brings you here!" "a matter of business, uncle solon." "then you will have to wait, for i am just going out." "the business is important," said mark significantly. "well, what is it?" "i understand you sold yesterday the shares in the golden hope mine belonging to grandfather's estate." "what!" exclaimed solon talbot, his face showing his surprise and dismay. "there were four hundred shares, and they were sold to luther rockwell, the banker." "who told you this? have you had any communication from crane & lawton?" "no; though i know the sale was made through them." solon talbot paused long enough to pull himself together. it would never do to surrender at discretion. he would brazen it out to the last. "your information is partly true," he said. "i did sell some shares of mining stock, but they belonged to me. you have nothing to do with them." "uncle solon," said mark composedly, "it is useless to try to deceive me. the four hundred shares were bought by my grandfather, and belonged to his estate. half of the proceeds rightfully belongs to my mother." spots of perspiration stood on solon talbot's brow. should he allow fifty thousand dollars to slip from his grasp? "you audacious boy!" he exclaimed. "how dare you make such an assertion?" "because i happen to know that the four hundred shares stood in the name of my grandfather, elisha doane." "that is a lie. may i ask where you got this information?" "from the purchaser of the stock, luther rockwell." "what do you know of luther rockwell?" demanded solon talbot, incredulous. "he is one of my best friends. before buying the shares of the golden hope mine he asked my advice." "do you expect me to believe such ridiculous stuff? what could you know about the mine?" "i have recently returned from california. on the way i stopped in nevada, and i have in my pocket a statement signed by the secretary of the company, that four hundred shares of the stock stood in the name of my grandfather." it was a series of surprises. solon talbot walked up and down the library in a state of nervous agitation. "what do you expect me to do?" he added finally. "this letter will inform you, uncle solon." "from whom is it?" "from my lawyer, george gerrish." mr. gerrish, as mr. talbot knew, was one of the leaders of the bar. he opened it with trembling hands, and read the following: "mr. solon talbot: "dear sir: "my client, mark mason, authorizes me to demand of you an accounting of the sums received by you as executor of the estate of his late grandfather, elisha doane, to the end that his mother, co-heiress with your wife, may receive her proper shares of the estate. an early answer will oblige, "yours respectfully, "george gerrish." "do you know mr. gerrish well, too?" asked talbot. "no, sir, but mr. rockwell gave me a note to him. i have had an interview with him." "say to him that he will hear from me." mark bowed and withdrew. within a week solon talbot had agreed to make over to his sister-in-law, mrs. mason, a sum of over fifty thousand dollars, representing her share of her father's estate. he reconsidered his purpose of buying the house in west forty-seventh street, and decided to remain in the flat which he then occupied. mrs. mason and mark took a handsome flat up town, and henceforth were able to live as well as their pretentious relatives. mark was advised by mr. rockwell as to the investment of his mother's money, and it has already increased considerably. he is himself taking a mercantile course at a commercial college, and will eventually enter the establishment of mr. gilbert, with whom he is as great a favorite as ever. it never rains but it pours. one morning mrs. mack, the aged miser, was found dead in bed. she left a letter directing mark to call on her lawyer. to his surprise he found that he was left sole heir to the old lady's property, amounting to about five thousand dollars. "what shall i do with it, mother?" he asked. "i have no rightful claim to it. she only left it to me that her nephew might not get it." "keep it till he gets out of prison, and then help him judiciously if he deserves it. meanwhile invest it and give the income to charity." mark was glad that he was able to follow this advice. jack minton is still in jail, and it is to be feared that his prison life will not reform him, but mark means to give him a chance when he is released. through mark's influence, his old friend, tom trotter, has been taken into a mercantile establishment where his natural sharpness is likely to help him to speedy promotion. mark has agreed to pay his mother's rent for the next three years, and has given tom a present of two hundred dollars besides. he is not one of those who in prosperity forget their humble friends. and now after some years of privation and narrow means mrs. mason and mark seem in a fair way to see life on its sunny side. i hope my readers will agree that they merit their good fortune. on the other hand, mr. talbot has lost a part of his money by injudicious speculation, and his once despised sister-in-law is now the richer of the two. edgar has got rid of his snobbishness and through mark's friendship is likely to grow up an estimable member of society. the end. by captain alan douglas scoutmaster the victory boy scouts stories from the pen of a writer who possesses a thorough knowledge of his subject. in addition to the stories there is an addenda in which useful boy scout nature lore is given, all illustrated. there are the following twelve titles in the series: 1. _the campfires of the wolf patrol._ 2. _woodcraft; or, how a patrol leader made good._ 3. _pathfinder; or, the missing tenderfoot._ 4. _great hike; or, the pride of khaki troop._ 5. _endurance test; or, how clear grit won the day._ 6. _under canvas; or, the search for the carteret ghost._ 7. _storm-bound; or, a vacation among the snow-drifts._ 8. _afloat; or, adventures on watery trails._ 9. _tenderfoot squad; or, camping at raccoon lodge._ 10. _boy scout electricians; or, the hidden dynamo._ 11. _boy scouts in open plains; or, the round-up not ordered._ 12. _boy scouts in an airplane; or, the warning from the sky._ through swamp and glade [illustration: a great sheet of flame leaped from the roadside.] through swamp and glade _a tale of the seminole war_ by kirk munroe author of "the white conquerors," "at war with pontiac," etc., etc. _illustrated by victor perard_ new york charles scribner's sons 1896 copyright, 1896, by charles scribner's sons norwood press j.s. cushing & co.--berwick & smith. norwood mass. u.s.a. to my readers the principal incidents in the story of coacoochee, as related in the following pages, are historically true. the seminole war, the most protracted struggle with indians in which the united states ever engaged, lasted from 1835 to 1842. at its conclusion, though most of the tribe had been removed to the indian territory in the far west, there still remained three hundred and one souls uncaptured and unsubdued. this remnant had fled to the almost inaccessible islands of the big cypress swamp, in the extreme southern part of florida. rather than undertake the task of hunting them out, general worth made a _verbal_ treaty with them, by which it was agreed that they should retain that section of country unmolested, so long as they committed no aggressions. from that time they have kept their part of that agreement to the letter, living industrious, peaceful lives, and avoiding all unnecessary contact with the whites. they now number something over five hundred souls, but the tide of white immigration is already lapping over the ill-defined boundaries of their reservation, while white land-grabbers, penetrating the swamps, are seizing their fertile islands and bidding them begone. they stand aghast at this brutal order. where can they go? what is to become of them? is there nothing left but to fight and die? it would seem not. kirk munroe. biscayne bay, florida, 1896. table of contents chapter page i. a bit of the florida wilderness 1 ii. mr. troup jeffers plots mischief 9 iii. the slave-catchers at work 17 iv. capture and escape of nita pacheco 26 v. a forest betrothal 34 vi. cruel death of ul-we, the staghound 43 vii. coacoochee in the clutches of white ruffians 52 viii. ralph boyd the englishman 60 ix. mysterious disappearance of a sentinel 67 x. fontaine salano's treachery and its reward 74 xi. "the seminole must go" 82 xii. chen-o-wah is stolen by the slave-catchers 88 xiii. "wiley thompson, where is my wife?" 96 xiv. osceola signs the treaty 102 xv. louis pacheco bides his time 111 xvi. osceola's revenge 119 xvii. on the verge of the wahoo swamp 126 xviii. coacoochee's first battle 133 xix. ralph boyd and the slave-catcher 141 xx. an alligator and his mysterious assailant 148 xxi. battle of the withlacoochee 156 xxii. the young chief makes a timely discovery 165 xxiii. shakespeare in the forest 171 xxiv. bogus indians and the real article 181 xxv. a swamp stronghold of the seminoles 190 xxvi. two spies and their fate 200 xxvii. anstice saves the life of a captive 211 xxviii. the mark of the wildcat 222 xxix. treacherous capture of coacoochee and osceola 233 xxx. in the dungeons of the ancient fortress 245 xxxi. a daring escape 255 xxxii. nita hears that coacoochee is dead 264 xxxiii. told by the magnolia spring 274 xxxiv. following a mysterious trail 285 xxxv. fate of the slave-catchers 296 xxxvi. peace is again proposed 306 xxvii. coacoochee is again made prisoner 316 xxxviii. douglass fulfils his mission 326 xxxix. the bravest girl in florida 336 xl. a double wedding and the setting sun 346 list of illustrations facing page a great sheet of flame leaped from the roadside _frontispiece_ then with a vicious hiss the raw-hide swept down with the full force of the arm that wielded it 58 it sunk deep into the wood of the table and stood quivering as though with rage 100 "to leab behine de onliest fedderbed she done got" 174 the girl stepped close to the young chief and spoke a few words 216 hadjo lost his hold of the rope and came tumbling down the whole distance 260 nita sat by her favorite spring 276 "all is lost and the war is about to break forth with greater fury than ever" 324 through swamp and glade chapter i a bit of the florida wilderness the scene is laid in florida, that beautiful land of the far south, in which ponce de leon located the fabled spring of eternal youth. it is a land of song and story, of poetry and romance; but one also of bitter memories and shameful deeds. its very attractiveness has proved its greatest curse, and for weary years its native dwellers, who loved its soil as dearly as they loved their own lives, fought desperately to repel the invaders who sought to drive them from its sunny shores. although winter is hardly known in florida, still there, as elsewhere, spring is the fairest and most joyous season of the year, and it is with the evening of a perfect april day that this story opens. the warm air was pleasantly stirred by a breeze that whispered of the boundless sea, and the glowing sun would shortly sink to rest in the placid bosom of the mexican gulf. from the forest came sweet scents of yellow jasmine, wild grape, and flowering plumes of the palmetto mingled with richer perfumes from orange blossoms, magnolias, and sweet bays. gorgeous butterflies hovered on the edge of the hammock and sought resting-places for the night amid the orange leaves. humming-birds, like living jewels, darted from flower to flower; bees golden with pollen and freighted with honey winged their flight to distant combs. from a ti-ti thicket came the joyous notes of a mocking-bird, who thus unwittingly disclosed the secret of his hidden nest. a bevy of parakeets in green and gold flashed from branch to branch and chattered of their own affairs; while far overhead, flocks of snowy ibis and white curlew streamed along like fleecy clouds from feeding-grounds on the salt marshes of the distant coast to rookeries in the cypress swamps of the crooked ocklawaha. some of these drifting bird-clouds were tinted or edged with an exquisite pink, denoting the presence of roseate spoonbills, and the effect of their rapid movement against the deep blue of the heavens, in the flash of the setting sun was indescribably beautiful. amid this lavish display of nature's daintiest handiwork and in all the widespread landscape of hammock and savanna, trackless pine forest that had never known the woodman's axe, and dimpled lakes of which a score might be counted from a slight elevation, but one human being was visible. a youth just emerged from boyhood stood alone on the edge of a forest where the ground sloped abruptly down to a lakelet of crystal water. he was clad in a loose-fitting tunic or hunting-frock of doeskin girded about the waist by a sash of crimson silk. in this was thrust a knife with a silver-mounted buckhorn handle and encased in a sheath of snakeskin. his hair, black and glossy as the wing of a raven, was bound by a silken kerchief of the same rich color as his sash. the snow-white plume of an egret twined in his hair denoted him to be of rank among his own people. he wore fringed leggings of smoke-tanned deerskin, and moccasins of the same material. the lad's features were handsome and clear cut, but his expression was gentle and thoughtful as might become a student rather than a mere forest rover. and so the lad was a student, though of nature, and a dreamer not yet awakened to the stern realities of life; but that the mysteries of books were unknown to him might be inferred from a glance at his skin. it was of a clear copper color, resembling new bronze; for coacoochee (little wild cat) belonged to the most southern tribe of north american indians, the seminoles of florida. indian though he was, he was of noble birth and descended from a long line of chieftains; for he was the eldest son of philip emathla (philip the leader), or "king philip," as the whites termed him, and would some day be a leader of his tribe. now, as the lad stood leaning on a light rifle and gazing abstractedly at the glistening clouds of home-returning birds that flecked the glowing sky, his face bore a far-away look as though his thoughts had outstripped his vision. this was not surprising; for to all men coacoochee was known as a dreamer who beguiled the hours of many an evening by the camp-fire with the telling of his dreams or of the folklore tales of his people. not only was he a dreamer of dreams and a narrator of strange tales; but he was a seer of visions, as had been proved very recently when death robbed him of his dearly loved twin sister allala. at the time coacoochee was many miles away from his father's village, on a hunting-trip with his younger brother otulke. one night as they slept the elder brother started from his bed of palmetto leaves with the voice of allala ringing in his ears. all was silent about him, and otulke lay undisturbed by his side. as the lad wondered and was about to again lie down, his own name was uttered softly but plainly, and in the voice of allala, while at the same moment her actual presence seemed to be beside him. it was a summons that he dared not disobey; so, without rousing otulke, the young hunter sprang on the back of his pony and sped away through the moonlight. at sunrise he stood beside the dead form of the dear sister whose fleeting spirit had called him. since then he had often heard allala's voice in the winds whispering through tall grasses of the glades, or among nodding flags on the river banks; in waters that sang and rippled on the lake shore; from shadowy depths of the hammocks, and amid the soft sighings of cypress swamps. fus-chatte the red-bird sang of her, and pet-che the wood dove mourned that she was gone. to coacoochee, she seemed ever near him, and he longed for the time when he might join her. but he knew that he must be patient and await the presence of the great spirit, for he believed that the hour of his own death had been named at that of his birth. he also knew that until the appointed time he would escape all dangers unharmed. he felt certain that allala watched over him and would warn him of either death or great danger. being thus convinced, the lad was absolutely without fear of dangers visible or unseen; and, dreamer that he was, often amazed his companions by deeds of what seemed to them the most reckless daring. at the moment of his introduction to the reader coacoochee, bathed in the full glory of the setting sun, wondered if the place to which allala had gone could be fairer or more beautiful than that in which he lingered. although he was without human companionship he was not alone; for beside him lay ul-we (the tall one), a great shaggy staghound that the young indian had rescued three years before from the wreck of an english ship that was cast away on the lonely coast more than one hundred miles from the nearest settlement. coacoochee with several companions was searching for turtle-eggs on the beach, and when they boarded the stranded vessel, a wretched puppy very nearly dead from starvation was the only living creature they found. the indian boy took the little animal for his own, restored it to life through persistent effort, nursed it through the ills of puppyhood, and was finally rewarded by having the waif thus rescued develop into the superb hound that now lay beside him, and whose equal for strength and intelligence had never been known in florida. the love of the great dog for his young master was touching to behold, while the affection of coacoochee for him was only excelled by that felt for his dearest human friend. this friend was a lad of his own age named louis pacheco, who was neither an indian nor wholly a paleface. he was the son of a spanish indigo planter and a beautiful octoroon who had been given her freedom before the birth of her boy. the señor pacheco, whose plantation lay near the village of king philip, had always maintained the most friendly relations with his indian neighbors; and, louis having one sister, as had coacoochee, these four were united in closest intimacy from their childhood. at the death of the indigo planter his family removed to a small estate owned by the mother, on the tomoka river, some fifty miles from their old home; but this removal in nowise weakened their friendship with the red-skinned dwellers by the lake. frequent visits were exchanged between the younger members of the two families, and when allala was taken to the spirit land, none mourned her loss longer or more sincerely than louis and nita pacheco. louis, being well educated by his father, taught coacoochee to speak fluently both english and spanish in exchange for lessons in forest lore and woodcraft. the young creole was as proud of his lineage as was the son of philip emathla, and bore himself as became one born to a position of freedom and independence. it was some months since he and coacoochee had last met, and at the moment of his introduction to us the latter was thinking of his friend and meditating a visit to him. it would seem as though these thoughts must have been induced by some subtle indication of a near-by presence; for the youth was hardly conscious of them ere ul-we sprang to his feet with an ominous growl and dashed into the thicket behind them. at the same moment the young indian heard his own name pronounced in a faint voice, and wheeling quickly, caught sight of a white, wild-eyed face that he instantly recognized. ul-we had but time to utter one joyful bark before his young master stood beside him and was supporting the fainting form of nita pacheco in his arms. chapter ii mr. troup jeffers plots mischief for a full understanding of this startling interruption of the young indian's meditations it is necessary to make a brief excursion among the dark shadows of a history which, though now ancient and well-nigh forgotten, was then fresh and of vital interest to those whose fortunes we are about to follow. florida had only recently been purchased by the united states from spain for five millions of dollars, and its vast territory thrown open to settlement. being the most nearly tropical of our possessions, it offered possibilities found in no other part of the country, and settlers flocked to it from all directions. as the spaniards had only occupied a few places near the coast, the interior had been left to the undisturbed possession of the seminoles and their negro allies. the ancestors of these negroes escaping from slavery had sought and found a safe refuge in this beautiful wilderness. by spanish law they became free at the moment of crossing the frontier boundary line, and here their descendants dwelt for generations in peace and happiness. with the change of owners came a sad change of fortunes to the native inhabitants of this sunny land. the swarming settlers cast envious glances at the fertile fields of the seminoles, and determined to possess them. they longed also to enslave the negro friends and allies of the indians, whom they discovered to be enjoying a degree of freedom and prosperity entirely contrary to their notions of what was right and fitting. slavery was a legally recognized institution of the country. the incoming settlers had been taught and believed that men of black skins were created to be slaves and laborers for the benefit of the whites. therefore to see these little communities of black men dwelling in a state of freedom and working only for themselves, their wives, and children was intolerable. slaves were wanted to clear forests and cultivate fields, and here were hundreds, possibly thousands, of them to be had for the taking. the villages of these negroes and those of their indian allies were also affording places of refuge for other blacks who were constantly escaping from the plantations of neighboring states, and seeking that liberty guaranteed by the constitution of the united states to all men. this condition of affairs could not be borne. both the indians and the free negroes of florida must be taught a lesson. general andrew jackson was the man chosen to teach this lesson, and he entered upon the congenial task with a hearty relish. marching an army into florida, he killed all the indians whom he encountered, killed or captured all the negroes whom he could find, burned villages, destroyed crops, and finally retired from the devastated country with a vast quantity of plunder, consisting principally of slaves and cattle. to impress this lesson more fully upon the indians, general jackson compelled an american vessel lying in appalachicola bay to hoist british colors in the hope of enticing some of them on board. two seminole chiefs, deceived by this cowardly ruse, did venture to visit the supposed british ship. when they were safely on board, his majesty's ensign was hauled down, that of the united states was run up, and beneath its folds the too confiding visitors were hanged to the yard-arms without trial or delay. after this general jackson summoned the indians to come in and make a treaty; but they were fearful of further treachery, and hesitated. finally some thirty warriors out of the entire tribe were bribed to lay aside their fears and meet the commissioners. these signed a treaty by which the seminoles were required to abandon their homes, villages, fields, and hunting-grounds, in the northern part of the territory, and retire to the distant southern wilderness, where they would be at liberty to clear new lands and make new homes. the tribe was also bound by the treaty to prevent the passage, through their country, of any fugitive slave, and to deliver all such seeking refuge among them to any persons claiming to be their owners. the united states on its part promised to compensate the indians for such improvements as they were compelled to abandon, to allow them five thousand dollars annually in goods and money for twenty years, to feed them for one year, and to furnish them with schools. with the signing of this alleged treaty the trials and sufferings of the seminoles began in earnest. they were literally driven from their old homes, so eager were the whites to possess their fertile lands. most of their promised rations of food was withheld, that they might be induced by starvation the more speedily to clear and cultivate new fields in the south. the goods issued to them were of such wretched quality that they were contemptuously rejected or thrown away; and on one pretext or another nearly the whole of their cash annuity was declared forfeited. the most common excuse for thus defrauding the indians was that they did not display sufficient activity in capturing the negroes who had sought refuge in their country. any white man desirous of procuring a slave had but to describe some negro whom he knew to be living among the seminoles and file a claim to him with the indian agent. the latter then notified the indians that they were expected to capture and deliver up the person thus described, or else forfeit his value from their annuity. thus these liberty-loving savages soon discovered that, under the white man's interpretation of their treaty, they had bound themselves to deliver into slavery every man, woman, and child found within their territory, in whose veins flowed one drop of negro blood, including in some cases their own wives and children, which crime they very naturally refused to commit. although philip emathla had thus far avoided an open rupture with the whites, an event of recent occurrence caused him grave anxiety. on the occasion of his last expedition to st. augustine to receive that portion of the annuity due his band he had been persuaded by coacoochee and louis pacheco, who happened to be visiting his friend at that time, to allow them to accompany him. the indians camped at some distance from the town, but were permitted to wander freely about its streets during the daytime--a permission of which the two lads took fullest advantage. thus on the very day of their arrival they set forth on their exploration of the ancient city, and louis, who had been there before with his father, kindly explained its many wonders to his less travelled companion. the massive gray walls of fort san marco, with their lofty watch towers, and black cannon grinning from the deep embrasures, possessed a peculiar fascination for coacoochee, and it seemed as though he would never tire of gazing on them. from the gloomy interior, however, he shrank with horror, refusing even to glance into the cells and dungeons, to which louis desired to direct his attention. "no," he cried. "in these i could not breathe. they hold the air of a prison, and to a son of the forest that is the air of death. let us then hasten from this place of ill omen, lest they close the gates, and we be forced to leap from the walls for our freedom." so the wildcat hastily dragged his friend from that grim place, nor did he draw a full breath until they were once more in the sunny fields outside. he was infinitely more pleased with the interior of the equally ancient cathedral, and lingered long before the mystic paintings of its decoration. its music and the glowing candles of its richly decked altar affected him so strangely, that even after they had emerged from the building and stood in the open plaza, listening to its chiming bells, he was for a long time silent. louis, too, was occupied with his own thoughts; and as the lads stood thus, they failed to notice the curiosity with which they were regarded by two men who passed and repassed them several times. one of these men, troup jeffers by name, was a slave-trader, who was keenly alive to the possibility of making a good thing out of the present embarrassment of the seminoles. the other man, who was known as ross ruffin, though that was not supposed to be his real name, was one of those depraved characters found on every frontier, who are always ready to perform a dirty job for pay, and who so closely resembled the filthiest beasts of prey that they are generally spoken of as "human jackals." with this particular jackal mr. troup jeffers had already dealt on more than one occasion, and found him peculiarly well adapted to the requirements of his despicable trade. "likely looking youngsters," remarked the slave-dealer, nodding towards the two lads upon first noticing them. "pity they're injuns. more pity that injuns don't come under the head of property. can't see any difference myself between them and niggers. now them two in the right market ought to fetch--" here the trader paused to inspect the lads more closely that he might make a careful estimate of their probable money value. "by gad!" he exclaimed under his breath, "i'm dashed if i believe one of 'em is an injun!" "no," replied his companion; "one of 'em is a nigger. leastways, his mother is." "you don't say so?" remarked mr. troup jeffers, his eye lighting with the gleam of a man-hunter on catching sight of his prey. "who owns him?" "no one just now. leastways, he claims to be free. he lives with his mother and sister in the injun country. i've been calculating chances on 'em myself for some time." "tell me all you know about 'em," commanded the trader, in a voice husky with excitement, while the evil gleam in his eyes grew more pronounced. when ross ruffin had related the history and present circumstances of the pachecos to the best of his knowledge, the other exclaimed: "i'll go yer! and we couldn't want a better thing. agent's in town now. i'll make out a description and file a claim this very evening. we'll claim all three. jump this young buck before he has a chance to get away. it'll make the other job more simple too. get all three up the coast, easy as rolling off a log. 'quick sales and big profits'--that's my motto. i'll divvy with you. on the square. is it a go? shake." thus within five minutes, and while the unsuspecting lads still listened in silence to the tinkling chimes of the old cathedral bells, there was hatched against them a plot more villainous than either of them had ever conceived possible. not only that, but the first link was forged of a chain of circumstances that was to alter the whole course of their lives and entwine them in its cruel coils for many bitter years to come. chapter iii the slave-catchers at work the following day was also passed by coacoochee and louis in pleasant wanderings about the quaint little city whose every sight and sound was to them so full of novel interest. at length in the early dusk of evening they set forth on their return to philip emathla's camp, conversing eagerly as they walked concerning what they had seen. so occupied were they that they paid little heed to their immediate surroundings, and as they gained the outskirts of the town were startled at being commanded to halt by a man who had approached them unobserved. it was troup jeffers, the slave-catcher, who had been watching the lads for some time and awaiting just such an opportunity as the present for carrying out his evil designs. "what's your name?" he demanded, placing himself squarely in front of the young creole. "louis pacheco." "just so. son of old pacheco and a nigger woman. nigger yourself. my nigger, sold to me by your dad just afore he died. hain't wanted you up to this time. now want you to come along with me." "i'll do nothing of the kind!" cried the lad, hotly. "when you say that i am your slave, or the slave of any one else, _you lie_. my mother was a free woman, and i was born free. to that i can take my oath, and so can my friend here. so stand aside, sir, and let me pass." "ho, ho! my black fighting cock," answered the trader, savagely; "you'll pay sweetly for those words afore i'm through with ye. and you'll set up a nigger's oath and an injun's oath agin that of a white man, will ye? why, you crumbly piece of yellar gingerbread, don't you know that when a white man swears to a thing, his word will be taken agin that of all the niggers and injuns in the country? cattle of that kind can't testify in united states courts, as you'll find out in a hurry if you ever try it on. now you're my property, and the sooner you realize it, the better it will be for you. i've filed my sworn claim with the agent, and it's been allowed. here's his order for the injuns to deliver you up. so i'd advise you to go along peaceably with me if you don't want to get yourself into a heap of trouble. grab him, ross!" mr. troup jeffers had only talked to detain the lads until the arrival of his burly confederate, who was following at a short distance behind him. as the moment for action arrived, he seized louis by one arm, while ross ruffin grasped the other. coacoochee, knowing little of the ways of the whites, had not realized what was taking place until this moment; but with the seizure of his friend the horrid truth was made clear to him. he was called a dreamer, but no one witnessing the promptness of his action at this crisis would have supposed him to be such. ross ruffin was nearest him, and at the very moment of his laying hands on louis there came a flash of steel. the next instant coacoochee's keen-bladed hunting-knife was sunk deep into the man's arm just below the shoulder. with a yell of pain and terror, the "jackal" let go his hold. louis tore himself free from the grasp of his other assailant, and in a twinkling the two lads were running with the speed of startled deer in the direction of their own camp, while an ineffective pistol shot rang out spitefully behind them. a few minutes later they had gained the camp, secured their rifles, told king philip of what had just taken place, crossed the san sebastian, and were lost to sight in the dark shadows of the forest on its further side. they had hardly disappeared before st. augustine was in an uproar. an indian had dared draw his knife on a white man who was only exercising his legal rights and claiming his lawful property. an indian had actually aided in the escape of a slave, when by solemn treaty he was bound to use every effort to deliver such persons to their masters. the act was an intolerable outrage and must be promptly punished. within an hour, therefore, an angry mob of armed citizens headed by troup jeffers had surrounded philip emathla's encampment. they were confronted by his handful of sturdy warriors, ready to fight with the fury of tigers brought to bay, and but for the determined interference of the indian agent, who had hastened to the scene of disturbance, a bloody battle would have ensued then and there. this officer begged the whites to leave the affair with him, assuring them that the indians should be made to afford ample satisfaction for the outrage, and taught a lesson that would prevent its repetition. at first the citizens would not listen to him; but the cupidity of the slave-catcher being aroused by the promise of a handsome pecuniary compensation for his loss, he joined his voice to that of the agent, and finally succeeded in persuading the mob to retire. two thousand dollars of government money due king philip's band was in that agent's hands and should have been paid over on the following day. now that official gave the aged chieftain his choice of delivering coacoochee up for punishment, and louis pacheco to the man who claimed him as his property, or of relinquishing this money and signing for it a receipt in full. the alternative thus presented was a bitter one. the loss of their money would involve philip emathla and his band in new difficulties with the whites, to whom they were in debt for goods that were to be paid for on the receipt of their annuity. the old man knew that his creditors would have no mercy upon him, but would seize whatever of his possessions they could attach. nor could mercy be expected for his son and louis pacheco should they be delivered into the hands of their enemies. long did the perplexed chieftain sit silent and with bowed head, considering the situation. his warriors, grouped at a short distance, watched him with respectful curiosity. at length he submitted the case to them and asked their advice. with one accord, and without hesitation, they answered: "let the iste-hatke (white man) keep his money. we can live without it; but if one hair of coacoochee's head should be harmed, our hearts would be heavy with a sadness that could never be lifted." so philip emathla affixed his mark to the paper that the agent had prepared for him, and was allowed to depart in peace the next day. of the money thus obtained from the indians two hundred dollars served to salve the wound in ross ruffin's arm, and eight hundred satisfied for the time being the claim of mr. troup jeffers, the slave-trader. what became of the balance is unknown, for the agent's books contain no record of the transaction. coacoochee and louis had halted within friendly shadows on the edge of the forest, and there held themselves in readiness to fly to the assistance of their friends, should sounds of strife proclaim an attack upon the encampment. here they remained during the night, and only rejoined philip emathla on his homeward march the following day. when they learned from him the particulars of the transaction by which their liberty had been assured, both of them were bitterly indignant at the injustice thus perpetrated. the indignation of the young creole was supplemented by a profound gratitude, and he swore that if the time ever came when it should lie in his power to repay the debt thus incurred, he would do so with interest many times compounded. now, feeling secure in the freedom for which so great a price had been paid, he returned to his home on the tomoka, where for several months he devoted himself assiduously to labor on the little plantation that afforded the sole support of his mother, his sister, and himself. during this time of diligent toil, though he found no opportunity for communicating with his indian friends of the lake region, they were often in his thoughts, and his heart warmed toward them with an ever-increasing gratitude as he reflected upon the awful fate from which they had saved him. while the busy home life of the family on the tomoka flowed on thus peacefully and happily, there came one evening a timid knock at the closed door of their house, and a weak voice, speaking in negro dialect, begged for admittance. louis, holding a candle, opened the door, and as he did so, was struck a blow on the head that stretched him senseless across the threshold. as nita, who was the only other occupant of the house at that moment, witnessed this dastardly act, she uttered a piercing scream and was about to fling herself on her brother's body, but was roughly pushed back by two white men, who entered the room, and dragging louis back from the door, closed it behind them. one of the men, who were those precious villains troup jeffers and ross ruffin, bound the wrists of the unconscious youth behind him, while the other ordered nita to bring them food, threatening to kill her brother before her eyes in case she refused. the terrified girl hastened to obey; but, as with trembling hands she prepared the table with all that the house afforded in the way of provisions, her mind was filled with wild schemes of escape and rescue. her mother was absent, having gone to sit with the dying child of their only near neighbors, a negro family living a short distance down the river. while the girl thus planned, and strove to conceal her agony of thought beneath an appearance of bustling activity, the slave-catchers dashed water in her brother's face and used other means to restore him to consciousness. in this they were finally successful. the moment that he was sufficiently recovered to realize his situation and recognize the men who had treated him so shamefully, he demanded to be set at liberty, claiming that he was free by birth, and that even if he were not, the price of his freedom had been paid several times over by the annuity that philip emathla had relinquished on his account. "oh no, you're not free, my lad, as you'll soon discover," replied mr. troup jeffers, with a grin. "you're property, you are. you was born property, and you'll always be property. just now you're my property, and will be till i can get you to a market where your value will be appreciated. as for the cash handed over by that old fool of an injun, it warn't more than enough to pay for the cut that young catamount give my friend here, and for my injured feelings. it warn't never intended to pay for you. so shut your mouth and come along quietly with us, or we'll make it mighty oncomfortable for ye. d'ye hear?" "but my father was a white man, my mother was a free woman, and i was born--" "shut up! i tell ye!" shouted the trader, angrily. determined to be heard, the youth again opened his mouth to speak, when, with a snarl of rage, the brute sprang forward and dealt him several savage kicks with a heavy cowhide boot that proved effective in procuring the required silence. while the attention of both men was thus engaged, nita managed to slip unobserved from a back door of the house. with the swiftness of despair she fled along the shadowy forest trail that led to the neighbor's cabin, a quarter of a mile away. there she hoped to obtain help for her brother's rescue. when she reached it, she found to her dismay that it was dark and empty. its door stood wide open, and the poor girl received no answer to her terrified callings. chapter iv capture and escape of nita pacheco for a minute nita, trembling with excitement and terror, stood irresolute. then, noticing that a few embers still smouldered on the hearth, she found a sliver of fat pine and thrust it among them. as it flared up with a bright blaze, its light disclosed a scene that filled the girl with despair and told the whole sad story--the child with whom her mother was to watch that night lay dead on the only bed in the room. the rest of the scanty furniture was overturned and broken; while the whole appearance of the place denoted that it had been the scene of a fierce struggle. in vain did nita seek for any trace of her mother. it was only too evident that the slave-catchers had been here, made captives of all the living inmates, and removed them to a place of safe keeping before visiting the pacheco house. sick at heart and undecided as to her course of action, the poor girl left the cabin. as she emerged from its shattered doorway, she was rudely clasped in a pair of strong arms, and with a hoarse chuckle of satisfaction a voice, that she recognized as belonging to one of the men she had left with louis, exclaimed: "so, gal, ye thought ye was gwine to give us the slip, eh? and maybe bring help to your brother? we uns is up to them games though, and ye've got to be oncommon spry to git ahead of us. i suspicioned whar ye'd gone the minit i found ye'd lit out without so much as saying by your leave, and i was on to yer trail in less'n no time. now ye might as well give in and go along quiet with us. we'll find ye a nice easy place whar ye won't hev much to do, and whar ye kin live happier than ye ever could in this here forsaken wilderness." while thus talking, the man, with a firm grasp of the girl's arm, was leading her back along the trail they had come. she had not spoken since uttering a cry of terror when he first seized her, and she now walked beside him so quietly and unresistingly that he imagined her spirit to be broken beyond further thought of escape. the darkness of the hammock was intense, and being unaccustomed to the narrow path, ruffin found difficulty in following it. all at once, as he swerved slightly from the trail, his foot caught in a loose root, and he pitched headlong to the ground, releasing the girl's arm as he fell. in an instant she was gone. her light footfall gave back no sound to indicate the direction she had taken, and only the mocking forest echoes answered the man's bitter curses which were coupled with commands that she return to him. time was precious with the slave-catchers, and to pursue the girl would be a hopeless task. ross ruffin realized this, and so, baffled and raging, he made his way to that point on the river where, in a small boat, with louis still bound and helpless, troup jeffers impatiently awaited his coming. the latter upbraided his confederate in unmeasured terms for allowing the girl to escape, and so fierce was their quarrel that it seemed about to result in bloodshed. finally their interests, rather than their inclinations, led them to control their anger and to reflect that with the captives already secured, including louis, his mother, and the family of their negro neighbors, the venture promised to be very profitable, after all. so they pulled down the dark river and out to a small schooner that, in charge of two other white men, lay off its mouth, awaiting them. louis had listened eagerly to ruffin's report of his sister's flight, and thus assured of her escape, he became more reconciled to the fate in store for himself. as the boat in which he lay glided from the river's mouth, there came to him the sound of a dear voice that in all probability he would never hear again. it was a passionate cry of farewell from the sister whom he loved better than all the world beside. with a mighty effort the captive raised himself to a sitting posture. "good-bye, nita!" he shouted; "god bless--" then he was silenced and struck down by a blow in the face. at the same instant a flash of fire leaped from the boat, and a rifle bullet sped angrily through the forest in the direction from which nita's voice had come. it did not harm her, but she dared not call again. nor did she dare remain longer in that vicinity. returning to her deserted home, the poor girl hastily gathered a slender store of provisions and then set forth, fearfully and with a breaking heart, to thread the shadowy trails leading to the only place of refuge that she knew,--the village of philip emathla the seminole. for two days she travelled, guided by instinct rather than by a knowledge of the way, and at the end of the second she came to the place where coacoochee was standing. as her presence was betrayed by ul-we, and the young indian sprang to her side, the girl sank into his arms, faint and speechless from exhaustion. her dress hung in rags, her feet were bare and bleeding, and her tender skin was torn by innumerable thorns. filled with wonder and a premonition of evil tidings by this appearance of his friend's sister so far from her home and in so sad a plight, coacoochee bore her to the open space in which he had stood, and laid her gently down at the base of a great oak. then, realizing that all his strength would not suffice to carry her over the mile or more lying between that place and his father's village, he bade the great staghound stand guard over the fainting girl, and started off at a speed that he alone of all his tribe possessed, to seek assistance. the peaceful village was startled by his appearance as he dashed breathlessly into it a few minutes later, and some of the men instinctively grasped their weapons. with a few words, coacoochee assured them that there was no immediate cause for alarm, and then ordering three stalwart young warriors to follow him, he again entered the forest and hastened back to where he had left the exhausted girl. a little later nita pacheco was borne into the village and given over to the skilful ministrations of the women belonging to king philip's household. under their kindly care the strength of the fugitive was so restored that within an hour after her arrival she was able to relate her sad story to the aged chief, who bent over her and listened to her words with breathless attention. when she finished, and philip emathla was possessed of all the facts she had to communicate, he drew himself to his full height and stood for a moment silent, while his whole frame trembled with anger. at length he said: "it is well, my daughter. i have heard thy words, and they have caused my heart to bleed. from this hour thou shalt be to philip emathla as the child of his old age, and thy sorrows shall be his. sleep now and regain thy strength while he takes counsel concerning this matter with his wise men, and in the morning he will speak further with thee." when the old chief repeated nita pacheco's story to his warriors assembled about the council fire that night, his words were received in silence, but with fierce scowls; clinched hands, and twitching fingers. at its conclusion the silence was only broken by angry mutterings, but none knew what to advise. at length king philip addressed coacoochee, who, youngest of all present, had been allowed a seat at this council for the first time. calling him by name, the old chief said: "my son, on account of thy friendship with louis pacheco, thy interest in this matter is greater than that of any other among my councillors. what, then, is thy opinion concerning this tale of wrong and outrage?" standing bravely forth in the full glow of firelight, with his athletic form and proud profile clearly outlined against it, the lad spoke vehemently and from a full heart as he replied: "the words of my father have made the hearts of his children heavy. they tell us of the wickedness of the white man. that is nothing new. we have heard of it many times before. so many that we are weary with listening. but now this wickedness has fallen on those who have the right to call upon us for vengeance. they are not of our blood, but they lived among us and trusted us to protect them. louis pacheco is my friend and brother. this maiden is as a daughter to my father. they were not born slaves. the great spirit created them free as the birds of the air or the deer of the forest. of this freedom, the gift of the great spirit, the white man seeks to rob them. are we dogs that we should suffer this thing? no; the seminoles are men and warriors. let the chief send a message to the white man, demanding that these our friends be set free and restored to us. let him also send out those who will discover whither they have been taken. if they be dead or carried away so far that he cannot find them, then let him lead his warriors to battle with the pale-faced dogs, that the fate of our friends may be avenged. coacoochee has spoken, and to philip emathla has he made answer." this brave speech, delivered with all the fire and enthusiasm of youth as well as with the eloquent gestures that coacoochee knew so well how to use, was received with murmurs of satisfaction by the younger warriors, whose eyes gleamed with a fierce joy at the thought of battle. the breast of the young orator swelled with pride as, reseating himself in his appointed place, he glanced about him and noted the effect of his maiden effort at public speech-making. his whole soul was enlisted in the cause of those oppressed ones for whom he had just pleaded so earnestly, and he longed with the earnestness of honorable, high-strung, and fearless youth to strike a telling blow in their behalf. while he with the younger members of the band were thus animated by a spirit of resistance to injustice at any cost, the older warriors shook their heads. they could not but reflect upon their own weakness when they considered the power of the white man and the number of his soldiers. the old chief who had called forth this manifestation of feeling noted shrewdly the varied expressions of those about him and then dismissed the council, saying that after sleeping he would announce his decision. chapter v a forest betrothal philip emathla was an old man and a wise one. he had visited the great white father at washington, and had thus gained a very different idea of the power and number of the palefaces from that generally held by his tribe. he loved his land and his people. he was determined not to submit to injustice if he could help it, but he shrank from plunging the seminoles into a war with the powerful and arrogant invaders of their country. he knew that such a war could only result in the utter defeat of the red man, no matter how long or how bravely he might fight. thus coacoochee's fiery speech at the council was a source of great anxiety to the old man and caused him to pass a sleepless night. by morning, however, he had decided upon a course of action, and again summoning his councillors, he unfolded it to them. as the money value of louis pacheco and his mother had already been doubly paid by the indians through the relinquishment of their annuity, philip emathla would himself go to the agent at fort king, claim them as his slaves, and demand their return to him as such. at the same time he would send scouts to st. augustine to discover if the captives were in that city and what chance there was of rescuing them in case the agent should refuse to recognize his claim. until these things were done there must be no thought or mention of war. it could only be considered after all else had failed. as coacoochee listened to these words, his face assumed a look of resolve, and he eagerly awaited an opportunity to speak. he was no longer content to be considered a dreamer, but was anxious to prove himself the worthy son of a great chief and entitled to the proud rank of warrior. when, therefore, his father finished what he had to say and signified that any who chose might speak, the lad, after waiting for a few minutes out of deference to his elders, rose with a modest but manly bearing and requested that two favors might be granted him. one was that he might be allowed to go alone on the scout to st. augustine and there learn the fate of his friend. the other, asked with that confusion of manner which all youths, savage as well as civilized, manifest on such occasions, was that he might have his father's permission to make nita pacheco a daughter of the tribe, in fact as well as in name, by taking her to be his wife. after regarding the lad fixedly and in silence for nearly a minute, the old chief made reply as follows: "my son, although thou hast attained the stature of a man, and it has been permitted thee to speak in council, thou art still but a boy in knowledge as well as in years. that thou may speedily prove thyself worthy the name of warrior is my hope and desire. therefore that thou may not lack opportunity for gaining distinction, i hereby grant the first of thy requests on condition that six of my well-tried braves shall go with thee. they may be left in concealment outside the city, and thou may enter it alone; but it is well to have friends at hand in case of need. it is also well that a young warrior should be guided by the counsel of those who are older and wiser. "thy second request will i also grant upon conditions. gladly will i accept the maiden whom thou hast named, as a daughter in truth as well as in name; but it seems to have escaped thy mind that no son of the seminoles may take to himself a wife until he has won the title of warrior and proved himself capable of her support. again, there is but one time for the taking of wives, which may only be done at the great green corn dance of thy people. if it pleases the maiden to plight thee her troth, to that i will give consent, provided the ceremony shall take place ere the setting of this day's sun. then when thou art gone on thy mission to discover the fate of her mother and her brother, she will be doubly entitled to the love and protection of thy people. let, then, a solemn betrothal satisfy thee for the present, and at some future time will the question of thy marriage be considered. thus speaks philip emathla." coacoochee had loved the sister of his friend longer than he could remember, and believed that nita entertained a similar feeling toward him, though no words of love had ever passed between them. now they were to exchange a promise of marriage! the mere thought gave him a more manly and dignified bearing. and then he was to be immediately separated from her. how hard it would be to leave her! doubly hard, now that she was in sorrow, and suffering the keenest anxiety. still, if he could only bring back tidings of the safety of her dear ones, or perhaps even return them to her, how happy it would make her! how proud she would be of him! to nita the proposition that she should participate in a ceremony of betrothal to coacoochee, which among the seminoles is even more solemn and important than that of marriage itself, was startling but not unwelcome. she loved the handsome youth. in her own mind that had long ago been settled. now she was homeless and alone. where could she find a braver or more gallant protector than coacoochee? besides, was he not going into danger for her sake, and the sake of those most dear to her? yes, she would give him her promise in the presence of all his people freely and gladly. again the sun was near his setting, and all nature was flooded with the golden glory that waited on his departure. the cluster of palmetto-thatched huts nestled beneath tall trees on the shore of blue ahpopka lake wore an expectant air, and their dusky inhabitants, gathered in little groups, seemed to anticipate some event of importance. at length there came the sound of singing from a leafy bower on the outskirts of the village, and then appeared a bevy of young girls wreathed and garlanded with flowers. in their midst walked one whose face, fairer than theirs, still bore traces of recent suffering. she was clad in a robe of fawnskin, creamy white and soft as velvet. exquisitely embroidered, it was fit for the wear of a princess, and had indeed been prepared for the gentle allala, king philip's only daughter, shortly before her death. now, worn for the first time, it formed the betrothal dress of nita pacheco. in the tresses of her rippling hair was twined a slender spray of snow-white star jasmine. she wore no other ornament, but none was needed for a beauty so radiant as hers. so, at least, thought coacoochee, as, escorted by a picked body of young warriors, gaudy in paint and feathers, he entered the village at this moment, but from its opposite side, and caught a glimpse of her. both groups advanced to the centre of the village and halted, facing each other, before the chief's lodge. there for some moments they stood amid an impressive silence that was only broken by the glad songs of birds in the leafy coverts above them. at length the curtain screening the entrance was drawn aside, and philip emathla, followed by two of his most trusted councillors, stepped forth. the head of the aged chieftain was unadorned save by a single roseate feather plucked from the wing of a flamingo. this from time immemorial had been the badge of highest authority among the indians of florida, and was adopted as such by the latest native occupants of the flowery land. the chief's massive form was set off to fine advantage by a simple tunic and leggings of buckskin. depending from his neck by a slender chain was a large gold medallion of washington, while across his breast he wore several other decorations in gold and silver. standing in the presence of his people, and facing the setting sun, the chieftain called upon the group of flower-decked maidens to deliver up their sister, and as nita stepped shyly forth, he took her by the hand. next he called upon the group of young warriors to deliver up their brother, whereupon their ranks opened, and coacoochee walked proudly to where his father stood. taking him also by the hand, the old chief asked of his son, in a voice that all could plainly hear, if he had carefully considered the obligation he was about to assume. "do you promise for the sake of this maiden to strive with all your powers to attain the rank of a warrior? do you promise, when that time comes, to take her to your lodge to be your squaw? to protect her with your life from harm? to hunt game for her? to see that she suffers not from hunger? to love her and bear with her until the great spirit shall call you to dwell with him in the happy hunting-grounds?" "un-cah (yes)," answered coacoochee so clearly as to be heard of all. "i do promise." turning to nita, the chieftain asked: "my daughter, are you also willing to make promise to this youth that when the time comes for him to call thee to his lodge, you will go to him? are you willing to promise that from then until the sun shall no longer shine for thee, till thine eyes are closed in the long sleep, and till the music of birds no longer fill thy ears, coacoochee shall be thy man, and thou shall know no other? are you willing to promise that from that time his lodge shall be thy lodge, his friends thy friends, and his enemies thy enemies? are you willing to promise that from the day you enter his lodge you will love him and care for him, make his word thy law, and follow him even to captivity and death? consider well, my daughter, before answering; for thy pledged word may not be lightly broken." lifting her head, and smiling as she looked the old man full in the face, nita answered, in low but distinct tones: "un-cah. i am willing to promise." with this the chieftain placed the girl's hand in that of coacoochee, and turning to the spectators, who stood silent and attentive, said: "in thy sight, and in hearing of all men, this my son and this my daughter have given to each other the promise that may not be broken. therefore i, philip emathla, make it known that whenever coacoochee, after gaining a warrior's rank, shall call this maiden to his lodge, she shall go to him. from that time forth he shall be her warrior, and she shall be his squaw. it is spoken; let it be remembered." with these words the ceremony of betrothal was concluded, and at once the spectators broke forth in a tumult of rejoicing. guns were discharged, drums were beaten, great fires were lighted, there was dancing and feasting, and in every way they could devise did these simple-minded dwellers in the forest express their joy over the event that promised so much of happiness to the well-loved son of their chief. in these rejoicings coacoochee did not take part, glad as he would have been to do so. he had a duty to perform that might no longer be delayed. the fate of his friend, who was now become almost his brother, must be learned, and it rested with him to discover it. so on conclusion of the betrothal ceremony he led nita into his father's lodge, bade her a tender farewell, and promising a speedy return, slipped away almost unobserved. followed only by ul-we, the great staghound, he entered the dark shadows of the forest behind the village, and was immediately lost to view. chapter vi cruel death of ul-we the staghound when coacoochee left the indian village on the night of his betrothal and set forth on his journey to st. augustine, he fully realized that the act marked a crisis in his life, and that from this hour his irresponsible boyhood was a thing of the past. for a moment he was staggered by the thought of what he was undertaking, together with an overpowering sense of his own weakness and lack of worldly knowledge. how could he, a mere lad, educated in nothing save forest craft, hope to compete with the strength, wisdom, and subtlety of the all-powerful white man? his heart sank at the prospect, there came a faltering in his springy stride, he feared to advance, and dreaded to retreat. as he wavered he became conscious of a presence beside him, and to his ear came the voice of allala. in tender but reproachful accents it said: "my brother, to thee are the eyes of our people turning. philip emathla is chief of a band; through long strife, bitter trial, and deepest sorrow, coacoochee shall become leader of a nation. remember, my brother, that to strive and succeed is glorious; to strive and yield is still honorable; but to yield without striving is contemptible." the voice ceased, and the young indian felt that he was again alone, but he was no longer undecided. his veins thrilled with a new life, and his heart was filled with a courage ready to dare anything. in an instant his determination was taken. he would strive for victories, he would learn to bear defeat, but it should never be said of coacoochee that he was contemptible. filled with such thoughts, the youth sprang forward and again urged his way along the dim forest trail. he had gone but a short distance when he came to a group of dark figures evidently awaiting him. they were the six warriors chosen by his father to accompany him on his dangerous mission. as he joined them, a few words of greeting were exchanged, and one of them handed him his rifle, powder-horn, and bullet-pouch. here he took the lead, with ul-we close at his heels. the others followed in single file and with long, gliding strides that maintained with slight apparent effort yet bore them over the ground with surprising rapidity. the night was lighted by a young moon, and such of its rays as were sifted down through the leafy canopy served to guide their steps as truly as though it had been day. when the moon set, the little band halted on the edge of an open glade, and each man cut a few great leaves of the cabbage palmetto, which he thrust stem first into the ground to serve as protection against the drenching night dew. then, flinging themselves down in the long grass, they almost instantly fell asleep, leaving only ul-we to stand guard. a brace of wild turkey, shot at daylight a short distance from where they slept, furnished a breakfast, and at sunrise they were once more on their way. that morning they crossed the st. john's river in a canoe that had been skilfully concealed beneath a bank from all but them, and soon after sunset they made their second camp within a few miles of st. augustine. up to this time they had seen no white man, but now they might expect to see many; for they were near a travelled road recently opened for the government westward into the far interior, by a man named bellamy; thus it was called the "bellamy road,"--a name that it bears to this day. over it coacoochee, accompanied only by ul-we, walked boldly the next morning until he came to the city. he did not carry his rifle with him, as he knew that indians off their reservation were apt to have all firearms seized and taken from them. moreover, he anticipated no danger. these were times of peace, in which indians as well as whites were protected by treaty. so, cautioning his warriors to remain concealed until his return, the young leader went in search of the information he had been detailed to obtain. during his journey he had carefully considered the steps to be taken when he should reach its end. he might easily have slipped into the town under cover of darkness, and, with little chance of being observed, communicated with certain negroes of the place, who would have told him what he desired to know. he might have remained concealed in the outskirts until some of them passed that way. several other plans suggested themselves, but all were rejected in favor of the one now adopted. honest and straightforward himself, coacoochee was disinclined to use methods that might lie open to suspicion. he knew of no reason why he, a free man, should not visit any portion of the land that his people still claimed as their own, and consequently he entered the town boldly and in broad daylight. the sight of an indian in the streets of st. augustine was at that time too common to attract unusual attention. still, the bearing of the young chief was so noble, and his appearance so striking, that more than one person turned to gaze after him as he passed. the great dog that followed close at his heels also excited universal admiration, and several men offered to buy him from the youth as he passed them. to these he deigned no reply, for it was part of the indian policy at that time, as it is now, to feign an ignorance of any language but their own. within a few hours coacoochee had learned all that was to be known concerning the recent expedition of jeffers and ruffin. if they were successful in their undertaking, they were to proceed directly to charleston, south carolina, and there dispose of their captives. as they had now been absent from st. augustine for more than a week, this is what they were supposed to have done. once during his hurried interviews with those who were able to give him information, but were fearful of being discovered in his company, the young indian was vaguely warned that some new laws relating to his people had just been passed, and that if he were not careful, he might get into trouble through them. several times during the morning one or more of the street dogs of the town ran snarling after ul-we; but, in each case, one of his deep growls and a display of his formidable teeth caused them to slink away and leave him unmolested. having finished his business, coacoochee set out on a return to the camp where his warriors awaited him. his heart was heavy with the news that he had just received, and as he walked, he thought bitterly of the fate of the friend who had been dragged into slavery far beyond his reach or power of rescue. thus thinking, and paying but slight attention to his surroundings, he reached the edge of the town. he was passing its last building, a low groggery, on the porch of which were collected a group of men, most of them more or less under the influence of liquor. one of the group was a swarthy-faced fellow named salano, who had for some unknown reason conceived a bitter hatred against all indians, and often boasted that he would no more hesitate to shoot one than he would a wolf or a rattlesnake. beside this man lay his dog, a mongrel cur with a sneaking expression, that had gained some notoriety as a fighter. as coacoochee passed this group, though without paying any attention to them, salano called out to him in an insulting tone: "hello, injun! whar did you steal that dog?" if the young chief heard this question, he did not indicate by any sign that he had done so; but continued calmly on his way. again salano shouted after him. "i say whar did you steal that dog, injun?" then, with an oath, he added: "bring him here; i want to look at him." still there was no reply. in the meantime the cur at salano's feet was growling and showing his teeth as he gazed after the retreating form of ul-we. at this juncture his master stopped, and pointing in the direction of the staghound, said, "go, bite him, sir!" the cur darted forward, and made a vicious snap at ul-we's hind legs, inflicting a painful wound. the temper of the big dog was tried beyond endurance. he turned, and with a couple of leaps overtook the cur, already in yelping retreat. ul-we seized him by the back in his powerful jaws. there was a wild yell, a momentary struggle, a crunching of bones, and the cur lay lifeless in the dust. at the same moment the report of a rifle rang out, and the superb staghound sank slowly across the body of his late enemy, shot through the heart. all this happened in so short a space of time that the double tragedy was complete almost before coacoochee realized what was taking place. the moment he did so, he sprang to his faithful companion, and kneeling in the dust beside him, raised the creature's head in his arms. the great, loving eyes opened slowly and gazed pleadingly into the face of the young indian; with a last effort the dog feebly licked his hand, and then all was over. ul-we, the tall one, the noblest dog ever owned and loved by a seminole, was dead. over this pathetic scene the group about the groggery made merry with shouts of laughter and taunting remarks. as coacoochee, satisfied that his dog was really dead, slowly rose to his feet, salano jeeringly called out, "what'll you take for your pup now, injun?" the next moment the man staggered back with an exclamation of terror as the young indian sprang to where he stood, and with a face distorted by rage hissed between his teeth: "from thy body shall thy heart be torn for this act! coacoochee has sworn it." even as he spoke, a pistol held in salano's hand was levelled at his head, and his face was burned by the explosion that instantly followed, though the bullet intended for him whistled harmlessly over his head. a young man who had but that moment appeared on the scene had struck up the murderer's arm at the instant of pulling the trigger, exclaiming as he did so: "are you mad, salano!" then to coacoochee he said: "go now before further mischief is done. the man is crazy with drink, and not responsible for his actions. i will see that no further harm comes to you." without a word, but with one penetrating look at the face of the speaker, as though to fix it indelibly on his memory, the young indian turned and walked rapidly away. he had not gone more than a mile from town, and was walking slowly with downcast head and filled with bitter thoughts, when he was roused from his unhappy reverie by the sound of galloping hoofs behind him. turning, he saw two horsemen rapidly approaching the place where he stood. at the same time he became aware that two others, who had made a wide circuit under cover of the dense palmetto scrub on either side of the road, and thus obtained a position in front of him, were closing in so as to prevent his escape in that direction. he could have darted into the scrub, and thus have eluded his pursuers for a few minutes; and had he been possessed of his trusty rifle, he would certainly have done so. but unarmed as he was, and as his enemies knew him to be, they could easily hunt him out and shoot him down without taking any risk themselves, if they were so inclined. so coacoochee walked steadily forward as though unconscious of being the object toward which the four horsemen were directing their course. he wished he were near enough to the hiding-place of his warriors to call them to him, but they were still a couple of miles away, and even his voice could not be heard at that distance. so, apparently unaware of, or indifferent to, the danger closing in on him, the young indian resolutely pursued his way until he was almost run down by the horsemen who were approaching him from behind. as they reined sharply up, one of them ordered him to halt. coacoochee did as commanded, and turning, found himself again face to face with fontaine salano, the man who but a short time before had attempted to take his life. chapter vii coacoochee in the clutches of white ruffians as the young chief, obeying the stern command to halt, faced about, he found himself covered by a rifle in the hands of his most vindictive enemy. he knew in a moment that a crisis in their intercourse had been reached, and almost expected to be shot down where he stood, so malignant was the expression of the white man's face. still, with the wonderful self-control in times of danger that forms part of the indian character, he betrayed no emotion nor trace of fear. he only asked: "why should coacoochee halt at the command of a white man?" "because, coacoochee, if such is your outlandish name, the white man chooses to make you do so, and because he wants to see your pass," replied salano, sneeringly. in the meantime the other riders had come up, and two of them, dismounting, now stood on either side of the young indian. in obedience to an almost imperceptible nod from their leader, these two seized him, and in a moment had pinioned his arms behind him. coacoochee could have flung them from him and made a dash for liberty even now. he did make one convulsive movement in that direction; but like a flash the thought came to him that this was precisely what his enemies desired him to do, that they might thus have an excuse for killing him. so he remained motionless, and quietly allowed himself to be bound. at this a shade of disappointment swept over salano's face, and he muttered an oath. the truth was that, terrified by coacoochee's recent threat to have his life in exchange for that of ul-we, which he had so cruelly taken, the bully had determined to get rid of this dangerous youth without delay, and had hit upon the present plan for so doing. he had calculated that his victim would attempt to escape, or at least offer some resistance. in either case he would have shot him down without compunction, and afterwards if called to account for the act, would justify himself on the ground that the indian was transgressing a law recently passed by the legislature of florida, which he, in his character of justice of the peace, was attempting to enforce. still, his plan had not wholly failed, and he now proceeded to carry it to an extremity. "so you acknowledge that you hain't got no pass, do you, injun? and are roaming about the country, threatening white folks' lives, and doing lord knows what other deviltry on your own responsibility," he said. "now, then, listen to this." drawing a paper from his pocket as he spoke, the man read as follows: "_an act to prevent indians from roaming at large throughout the territory_: be it enacted by the governor and legislative council of the territory, that from and after the passing of this act, if any indian, of the years of discretion, venture to roam or ramble beyond the boundary lines of the reservations which have been assigned to the tribe or nation to which said indian belongs, it shall and may be lawful for any person or persons to apprehend, seize, and take said indian, and carry him before some justice of the peace, who is hereby authorized, empowered, and required to direct (if said indian have not a written permission from the agent to do some specific act) that there shall be inflicted not exceeding thirty-nine (39) stripes, at the discretion of the justice, on the bare back of said indian, and, moreover, to cause the gun of said indian, if he have any, to be taken away from him and deposited with the colonel of the county or captain of the district in which said indian may be taken, subject to the order of the superintendent of indian affairs." "now, mr. injun, what have you got to say to that?" demanded salano, as he folded the paper and restored it to his pocket. although coacoochee had not understood all that had just been read to him, he comprehended that by a white man's law, an indian might be whipped like a slave or a dog, and his blood boiled hotly at the mere thought of such an outrage. still he replied to salano's last question with dignity and a forced composure. "the iste-chatte has not been told of this law. it is a new one to him, and he has had no time to learn it. it was not put into the treaty. coacoochee is the son of a chief. if you lift a hand against him, you lift it against the whole seminole nation. if you strike him, the land will run red with white men's blood. if you kill him, his spirit will cry for vengeance, and no place can hide you from the fury of his warriors. they will not eat nor drink nor sleep till they have found you out, and torn the cowardly heart from your body." "oh come!" interrupted salano, with an oath, "that will do. we don't want to hear any more from you. this injun is evidently a dangerous character, gentlemen, and as a justice of the peace i shall deal with him according to the law. we'll whip him first, and if that isn't enough, we'll hang him afterwards." the three men who accompanied salano were his boon companions, and were equally ready with himself to perform any deed of cruelty or wickedness. they regarded an indian as fair game, to be hunted and even killed wherever found. nothing would please them better than a declaration of war against the seminoles, and they were determined to leave nothing undone to hasten so desirable an event. to whip an indian under cover of the law was rare sport, and the prospect of hanging him afterwards filled them with a brutal joy. so they readily obeyed the commands of their leader, and after fastening their horses by the roadside, they threw a slip-noose over coacoochee's head, and drawing it close about his neck, led him a short distance within a grove of trees, to one of which they made fast the loose end of the rope. he was thus allowed to step a couple of paces in each direction. ripping his tunic from the neck downward with a knife, they stripped it from his back, and all was in readiness for their devilish deed. their rifles had been left hanging to their saddles, but each man had brought a raw-hide riding-whip with him, and these they now proposed to apply to the bare back of their silent and unresisting victim. "ten cuts apiece, gentlemen!" cried salano, with a ferocious laugh. "that'll make the thirty-nine allowed by law, and one over for good measure. i take great credit to myself for the idea of making the prisoner fast by the neck only, and that with a slip-noose. he's got plenty of room to dance, and if he looses his footing and hangs himself, why, that'll be his lookout and not ours. at any rate, it will be a good riddance of the varmint, and will relieve us from further responsibility in the matter. i claim the first cut at him; so stand back and give me room." as the others moved back a few paces, the chief ruffian stepped up to the young indian, and laying the raw hide across the bared shoulders as though to measure the width of the blow he was about to inflict, he lifted it high above his head, saying as he did so: "you'll cut my heart out, will you, injun? we'll see now who is going to do the cutting." then with a vicious hiss, the raw hide swept down with the full force of the arm that wielded it. there was no outcry and no movement on the part of the indian, only his flesh shrunk and quivered beneath the cruel blow, which left a livid stripe across his shoulders. that blow was to be paid for with hundreds of innocent lives, and millions of dollars. it was to be felt throughout the length and breadth of the land, and was to be atoned by rivers of blood. in a single instant its fearful magic transformed the young indian who received it, from a quiet, peace-loving youth, with a generous, affectionate nature, into a savage warrior, relentless and pitiless. it gave to the seminoles a leader whose very name should become a terror to their enemies, and it precipitated one of the cruellest and most stubbornly contested indian wars ever waged on american soil. again was the whip uplifted, but before it could descend for a second blow, the wretch who wielded it was dashed to the ground, and a white man with blazing eyes stood over his prostrate figure. the newcomer presented a cocked rifle at the startled spectators of the proceedings, who had been too intent upon the perpetration of their crime to take notice of his approach. "cowards!" he cried, in ringing tones. "does it take four of you to whip one indian? is this the way you continue a private quarrel and gratify your devilish instincts? bah! such wretches as you are a disgrace to manhood! you make me ashamed of my color, since it is the same as your own. did you not hear me give my word to this youth that he should go in safety? how dared you then even contemplate this outrage? perhaps you thought that the word of an englishman might be defied with impunity. from this moment you will know better; for if any one of you ever dares cross my path again, i will shoot him in his tracks as i would any other noxious beast that curses the earth. now get you gone from this spot ere my forbearance is tempted beyond its strength. go back to the town, and there proclaim your iniquity, if you dare. you will find few sympathizers in your attempt to precipitate an indian war, and deluge this fair land with blood. go, and go on foot. your horses have already taken the road. go, and if you even dare to look back until out of my sight, a bullet from this rifle shall spur your lagging pace. and you, fontaine salano, you brute of brutes, you pariah dog, do you go with them. away out of my sight, i say, lest i cause this indian to flay your bare back with the lashes you intended for him." [illustration: then with a vicious hiss the rawhide swept down with the full force of the arm that wielded it.] whether the four men imagined that they were confronted by one bereft of his senses, or whether they were indeed the cowards he called them, it is impossible to say. certain it is that they received the young man's scathing words in silence, and, when ordered to leave, they took their departure with a precipitate haste that would have been comical under less tragic circumstances. the stranger followed them to the edge of the wood, and watched them until they disappeared in the direction of the town. then he returned to where coacoochee, who had not yet seen the face of his deliverer, still remained bound to the tree. as with a keen-edged knife he cut the thongs confining the young indian's arms, and the rope about his neck, thus allowing the latter to face him, coacoochee gave a start of surprise. his new friend was the same who, but an hour or so before, had saved him from fontaine salano's pistol in the streets of st. augustine. chapter viii ralph boyd the englishman the man who had thus so opportunely come to the rescue of coacoochee twice in one day was a remarkable character even in that land of adventurers. descended from a wealthy english family, well educated and accomplished, he had sought a life of adventure, and after spending some years in out-of-the-way corners of the world, had finally settled down on a large plantation in florida left to him by an uncle whom he had never seen. here he now lived with his only sister anstice, who had recently come out to join him. filled with a love for freedom and always ready to quarrel with injustice in any form, he had, before even seeing his property, freed his slaves and ordered his attorneys to discharge an oppressive overseer who had mismanaged the plantation for some years. this man, whom ralph boyd did not even know by sight, was no other than our slave-catching acquaintance mr. troup jeffers. in that slave-holding community a man who chose to work his plantation with free labor became immediately unpopular, and some of his neighbors sought quarrels with him, in the hope of driving him from the country. but they had reckoned without their host. ralph boyd was not to be driven, as the result of several duels into which they forced him plainly proved. he was a good shot, an expert swordsman, a capital horseman, and was apparently without fear. therefore it was quickly discovered that to meddle with the young englishman was to meddle with danger, and that his friendship was infinitely preferable to his enmity. he was of such a sunny disposition that it was difficult to rouse him to anger on his own behalf, but he never permitted a wrong to be perpetrated on the weak or helpless that lay within his powers of redress. thus a case of cowardly brutality like the present, and one of which the possible consequences were so terrible to contemplate, filled him with a righteous and well-nigh uncontrollable rage. the boyd plantation lay some forty miles from st. augustine, and boyd had ridden into town that day on a matter of business. he had reached it just in time to witness salano's shooting of ul-we. filled with indignation at the deed, and admiring the manner with which coacoochee confronted his tormentors, boyd at once took the young indian's part and probably saved his life. then he went about his own business. some time afterwards he learned by the merest accident of the departure of salano and his evil associates on the track of the young chief. fearing that they meditated mischief toward one to whom he had given the promise of his protection, he procured a fresh horse and started in hot pursuit. finding the four horses hitched by the roadside, and noting that each man had left his rifle hanging to the saddle, boyd took the precaution of putting these safely out of the way, by the simple expedient of cutting the horses loose and starting them on the back track before entering the grove. then, following the sound of voices, he made his way noiselessly among the trees to the disgraceful scene of the whipping. he had not anticipated anything so bad as this, and the sight filled him with an instant fury. springing forward, rifle in hand, he stretched salano on the ground with a single blow, and then confronted the others. they all knew him, and would rather have encountered any other two men. his very presence, in moments of wrath, inspired terror, and when he gave them permission to go, they slunk from him like whipped curs. if coacoochee was startled at sight of his deliverer, boyd was no less so at the frightful change in the face of the young indian. it was no longer that into which he had gazed an hour before. that was the mobile face of a youth reflecting each passing emotion, and though it was even then clouded by sorrow and anger, a little time would have restored its sunshine. now its features were rigid, and stamped with a look that expressed at once intolerable shame and undying hate. the eyes were those of a wild beast brought to bay and prepared for a death struggle. the once fearless gaze now fell before that of the white man. coacoochee, proudest of seminoles, hung his head. this man had witnessed his shame and had at the same time placed him under an obligation. the young indian could not face him, and could not kill him, so he stood motionless and silent, with his eyes fixed on the ground. ralph boyd appreciated the situation, and understood the other's feelings as though they were his own, as in a way they were. they would be the feelings of any free-born, high-spirited youth under similar circumstances. "my poor fellow," said boyd, holding out his hand as he spoke, "i think i know how you feel, and i sympathize with you from the bottom of my heart. you will surely allow me to be your friend, though, seeing that i have just made four enemies on your account. won't you shake hands with me in token of friendship?" "i cannot," answered coacoochee, in a choked voice. "you are a white man. i have been whipped by a white man. not until the mark of his blow has been washed away with his blood can i take the hand of any white man in friendship." "well, i don't know but what i should feel just as you do," replied boyd, musingly. "i have never before met any of your people, but have been told that you were a treacherous race, without any notions of honor or true bravery. now it seems to me that your feelings in this matter are very much what mine would be if i were in your place. still, i hope you are not going to lay up any bitterness against me on account of what was done by another, even though we are, unfortunately, both of the same color. i am curious to know something of you indians, and would much rather have you for a friend than an enemy." "coacoochee will always be your friend," answered the other, earnestly. "some day he will shake hands with you. not now. with his life will he serve you. a seminole never forgives an injury, and he never forgets a kindness. now i must go." "hold on, coacoochee; you must not go half naked and with that mark on your back," exclaimed boyd. "here, i have on two shirts, and i insist that you take one of them. with your permission i will take in exchange this buckskin affair of yours that those villains cut so recklessly, and will keep it as a souvenir of this occasion." as he spoke, the young englishman divested himself of his outer garment, a tastefully made hunting-tunic of dark green cloth, and handed it to coacoochee. without hesitation the indian accepted this gift, and put on the garment, which fitted him perfectly. then the two young men left the little grove in which events of such grave import to both had just taken place, and walked to where boyd had left his horse. upon coacoochee saying that he should go but a little further on the road, the other declared an intention to accompany him, and so, leading his horse, walked on beside the shame-faced indian. the more boyd talked with coacoochee, the more he was pleased with him. he found him to be intelligent and modest, but high-spirited and imbued to an exaggerated degree with savage notions of right and wrong, honor and dishonor. to avenge a wrong and repay a kindness, to deal honorably with the honorable and treacherously with the treacherous, to serve a friend and injure an enemy, was his creed, and by it was his life moulded. at length they came to the place where the young indian said he must leave the road. as they paused to exchange farewells, the querulous note of a hawk sounded from the palmetto scrub close beside them. coacoochee raised his hand, and as though by magic six stalwart warriors leaped into the road and surrounded them. boyd made an instinctive movement toward his rifle, but it was checked by the sight of a faint smile on his companion's face. at the same time the latter said quietly: "fear nothing; they are my friends, and my friends are thy friends." to the indians he said in their own tongue, "note well this man. he is my friend and that of all seminoles. from them no harm must ever come to him." then he waved his hand, and the six warriors disappeared so instantly and so utterly that the white man rubbed his eyes and looked about him in amazement. turning, to express his surprise to coacoochee, he discovered that the young chief had also disappeared, and that he alone occupied the road. chapter ix mysterious disappearance of a sentinel for a full minute ralph boyd stood bewildered in the middle of the road. in vain did he look for some sign and listen for some sound that would betray the whereabouts of those who, but a moment before, had stood with him. the tall grasses waved and the flowers nodded before a gentle breeze, but it was not strong enough to move the stiff leaves of the palmetto scrub, nor was there any motion that might be traced to the passing of human beings among their hidden stalks. from the feathery tips of the cabbage palms came a steady fluttering that rose or fell with the breathings of the wind, and in far-away thickets could be heard the cooing of wood doves, and the occasional cheery note of a quail, but no other sound broke the all-pervading silence. all at once from a hammock growing at a considerable distance from where the young man stood there came to his ears the thrilling sound of a seminole war-cry: "yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee-che!" it was followed by another and another, until the listener counted seven of the ominous cries in as many distinct voices, and knew that they were uttered by the seven indians who had stood with him in the road. unaccustomed to the ways of red men, boyd could not understand how they had glided so noiselessly and swiftly away from him. "it is like magic," he muttered, "and gives one a creepy feeling. what a terrible thing a war with such as they would be in this country, where everything is so favorable to them and so unfavorable to the movements of troops. and yet war is the very thing toward which the reckless course of politicians, slave-hunters, and land-grabbers is hurrying the government. well, i shan't take part in it, that's certain, though my present duty as a white man is plainly to ride back to st. augustine and give the colonel information of this present band of indians. i wouldn't think of doing so, only for fear that, smarting under the insult to that fine young fellow coacoochee, they will seek revenge and visit the sins of the guilty upon innocent heads. if coacoochee has only followed my advice and gone directly back to the reservation, and to his own place, there won't be any trouble; but if he is going to hang around here, trying to lift a few scalps, as i am afraid he is, he may get himself into a fix from which i can't help him." it must not be supposed that ralph boyd had been standing in the middle of the road all this time. he was in the saddle even before the sound of the indian war-cries informed him of the direction they had taken and where they were. directly afterwards he put spurs to his horse, and during the latter part of his soliloquy was galloping rapidly back over the road he had just come. although boyd knew salano to be a bitter and unscrupulous enemy, he had no hesitation in returning to st. augustine on his account, or for fear of the others with whose cruel sport he had so summarily interfered. he did not believe they would dare publish what they had done, or care to acknowledge that they had been driven off and compelled to forego their intentions by a single man. to satisfy himself on this point, he made a few inquiries on reaching the city, and finding that nothing was known of the recent adventure, he went to the colonel commanding the small garrison stationed in the city and informed him of the presence near it of an armed band of seven indian warriors. he also expressed his fear that they intended mischief to some of the plantations along the st. john's. the colonel listened attentively to all that he had to say and thanked him for the information. darkness had fallen by this time, and it was too late to do anything that night, but the officer promised to send out a scouting party of twenty troopers at daylight. in the meantime he begged that boyd would remain as his guest over night, and in the morning consent to guide the troops to the place where he had seen the indians, which the latter readily agreed to do. he did this the more willingly because he had learned that the scouting party was to be commanded by irwin douglass, a young lieutenant with whom he had formed a pleasant acquaintance, and who had already visited him at the plantation. when, after an early and hurried cup of coffee with the colonel and douglass the following morning, boyd joined the soldiers, to whom for a short distance he was to act as guide, he was amazed to find that fontaine salano had applied for and received permission to accompany them. he wondered at this as the troop clattered noisily with jingling sabres and bit-chains out of the quiet old town. was salano's hatred of the young indian whom he had so cruelly wronged so bitter that he was determined to seize every opportunity for killing him? boyd could think of no other reason why the man, naturally so indolent, should undertake this forced march with all the discomforts that must necessarily attend it. the spring morning was just cool enough to be exhilarating. the fresh air was laden with the perfume of orange groves, and from their green coverts innumerable birds poured forth their choicest melody. the cavalry horses, in high spirits from long idleness, pranced gaily along the narrow streets and were with difficulty reined to a decorous trot. once free from the town and out in the broad plain of sand and chaparral that lay beyond, the pace was quickened, and for several miles the troop swung cheerily along at a hand gallop, with polished weapons and accoutrements flashing brightly in the rays of the newly risen sun. a halt was called at the place where boyd had encountered the indians, and scouts were sent in search of signs. these easily found the camp from which coacoochee had started on his visit to town the morning before, and finally discovered a fresh trail leading to the west or toward the st. john's. it was not easy for the troops, inexperienced in indian warfare, to follow this on horseback, and they soon lost it completely. this did not greatly disturb lieutenant douglass; for, being satisfied that the plantations along the river were the objective points of those whom he was pursuing, he determined to push on toward them without losing any time in attempting to rediscover the trail. that evening they reached the great river and encamped near it without having discovered any further indian sign, or finding that the few widely scattered settlers had been given any cause to suspect the presence of an enemy. during that night, however, two startling incidents occurred. the first of these was the complete and mysterious disappearance of one of the sentinels who guarded the camp. he had been stationed not far from the edge of the forest, but within easy hail of his sleeping comrades. the sergeant had given him particular cautions regarding the dangers of his post, and warned him to be keenly alert to every sound, even the slightest. he had answered with a laugh, that his ears were too long to permit anything human to get within a rod of him without giving him warning, and he declared his intention of firing in the direction of any suspicious sound. so they left him, and an hour later the corporal of the guard, visiting the post, found it vacant. in the darkness it was useless to hunt for the missing sentry, and so, without giving a general alarm, the corporal detailed another sentinel to the place of the missing man, and remained with him on the post until morning. they neither saw nor heard anything to arouse their suspicions, but as soon as daylight revealed surrounding objects, they could readily note signs of a struggle at one end of the beat paced by their unfortunate predecessor. there were no traces of blood, nor in the trail of moccasined feet leading away from the spot could any imprint of the heavy cavalry boots worn by the missing soldier be found. the trail led to a small creek that emptied into the river just above the camp, but there it ended. both banks of this creek were carefully examined for a mile up and down, but they revealed no sign to denote that they had ever been trodden by human feet. there was nothing more to be done. the man was reported as missing, and a riderless horse was led by one of the troopers on that day's march,--but this mysterious disappearance and unknown fate of their comrade served to open the eyes of the soldiers to the dreadful possibilities of indian warfare. chapter x fontaine salano's treachery and its reward another mysterious happening of that first night out was well calculated to exercise a depressing effect on the men and to transform the contempt they had hitherto felt for indians into a profound respect not unmixed with fear. fontaine salano slept rolled in his blanket not far from the lieutenant in command of the party, and within the full light of a camp-fire. toward morning, however, this fire had burned so low that it shed but little light, and the place where salano lay was buried in shadow. when he awoke at the first peep of dawn, he was puzzled by the appearance of a number of strange objects that rose from the ground close by his head. he examined them curiously, but his curiosity was in an instant changed to horror when he discovered them to be seven blood-stained indian arrows thrust into the ground, three on each side of where his head had lain and one at the upper end of his couch. this one bore impaled on its shaft the bloody heart of a recently killed deer, the significance of which was so plain that no one could fail to understand it. the mere fact that the indians had thus been able to penetrate undetected to the very centre of a guarded camp invested them in the eyes of the men with supernatural powers. the effect on salano was precisely what coacoochee had intended it should be. to feel that he had been completely within the power of one who had sworn to have his life and had only been spared as a cat spares a mouse, that she may prolong its torture for her own pleasure, filled the wretch with a terror pitiful to behold. he begged lieutenant douglass to return at once to st. augustine or at least to send him back under escort. the officer politely regretted his inability to comply with either of these requests, saying that it would be contrary to his duty to retire from that part of the country until satisfied that the indians had left it, and that he dared not weaken his little force by detailing any men for escort duty. the man displayed such abject cowardice that finally, more out of disgust than pity, ralph boyd offered to accompany him back to the city, and to his surprise, salano accepted the offer eagerly. as they were both volunteers, douglass had no authority for detaining them, though he protested against the undertaking, and tried to persuade them of its dangers. ralph boyd only laughed, and even salano intimated a belief that the indians would devote themselves to watching the movements of the scouting party, so that to remain with them would be to remain in the vicinity of greatest danger. the lieutenant said that he should remove his command only a short distance, to a better and more secure camping-ground that he knew of not very far from boyd's plantation, over which he promised to keep especial watch. he intended to remain at that place until he learned something definite regarding the movements of the indians, and there boyd promised to rejoin him on the following day. camp was broken, and the clear bugle notes of "boots and saddles" were ringing on the still morning air as boyd and salano rode away from the camp on the return trail to st. augustine. they rode in silence; for one entertained too great a contempt for the other to care to talk with him, and salano was perfecting a plan for obtaining one portion of the revenge upon which his mind was intent. they had not proceeded thus more than two miles, when they came to a narrow gully through which they were obliged to ride in single file, and here salano, with an exaggerated show of politeness, dropped behind, allowing boyd to take the lead. the latter rode unsuspectingly ahead for a few rods, and then, not hearing the sound of the other's horse behind him, turned to see if he were not coming. the sight that met his eyes was so unexpected and terrible that for an instant it rendered him incapable of thought or action. salano, dismounted from his horse, was slowly raising a rifle and taking deliberate aim at him. he could see the cruelly triumphant expression on the swarthy face. in that instant of time he also saw a flashing figure with uplifted arm leap from the underbrush behind salano. then all became a blank. when next ralph boyd was able to take an interest in the affairs of this world, he was lying in the shade of a tree, two horses were cropping the grass near him, and a strange, wild-looking figure was dashing water in his face. "what does this mean? what has happened?" boyd inquired faintly. "wal, cap'n," answered the stranger, in unmistakable english, pausing in his occupation and drawing a long breath. "i'm almighty glad you ain't dead. the injun said you warn't, but i wouldn't be sure of it myself till this very minute. as to what's happened, i'm a leetle mixed myself, but it's something like this: some red villians was about to do for me when you come along and stopped 'em. then a white villian was about to do for you, when one of the red villians stopped him, or at any rate he stopped the worst of it; then the red villian did for the white villian, and did it almighty thorough too." at this juncture boyd again closed his eyes and seemed about to lapse once more into unconsciousness, whereupon the stranger began again to dash water vigorously in his face. there was a stinging sensation and a loud buzzing in the young man's head. salano's murderous aim had been slightly disconcerted, at the moment of firing, by a fierce yell in his very ear. at the instant of pulling the trigger coacoochee's terrible knife had been buried to the hilt in his body. the would-be murderer sank dead without a groan, while his intended victim escaped with a scalp wound which, though not dangerous, was sufficient to deprive him of his senses for some time. when he had sufficiently recovered his strength to be able to sit up, and after he had listened to these details of his own narrow escape, he looked curiously at his companion and asked him who he was. it is no wonder that he did not recognize the strange figure; for though the man wore a pair of army trousers, he had indian moccasins on his feet, was bare-headed, and naked to the waist. half his face as well as half of his body was painted red and the other half black. in this manner did the seminoles prepare their bodies for death, and to those who understood its meaning, this combination of the two colors had a very grim significance. fortunately for the man's peace of mind, he had not understood why this form of decoration was applied to him, though his fears that his life was in danger had been very fully aroused. in answer to ralph boyd's questions, he told his story as follows: "i'm not surprised that you don't recognize me, cap'n; for i'm not quite sure that i'd recognize myself. still, whatever i may be to-day, yesterday i was private hugh belcher of company b, second regiment united states dragoons." "what!" exclaimed boyd, "are you the sentry who disappeared last night?" "that's who i am, sir," replied the other, "much as my present appearance would seem to point again its being true. how the reds crept upon me without me hearing a sound of their coming is more than i can tell, for i've always bragged that my ears were as sharp as the next man's. however, they did it, and the first i knew of their presence was when a blanket was flung over my head and i was tripped up. i don't know how many of 'em had me, but there was enough, anyway, to hold me fast, and tie me and get a gag into my mouth, so that i couldn't make a sound. then they pulled off my boots, put moccasins on my feet, and made me go along with them. "after awhile we came to this place, and here, as soon as it got light, they stripped me and painted me and tied me to a tree, and was just getting ready to give me a thrashing with a lot of switches they'd cut, though lord knows i hadn't done nothing to rile 'em, when all of a sudden you and mr. salano hove in sight. "i was faced that way and see mr. salano when he dropped off his horse and drawed a bead on you. i'd a hollered, but the gag was still in my mouth, so i couldn't. when the head injun see what was taking place though, he gave one spring out of the brush, and landed on mr. salano's back like a wildcat. at the same time he let loose a yell fit to raise the dead. the gun went off just as he yelled, and you tumbled out of the saddle like you was killed. "when the head injun saw that, he run up to you first and dragged you to this place. then he run back to mr. salano and stooped over him like he was feeling of his heart to see if he was dead. when he riz up again, he fetched another yell and called out something in his own lingo about ul-we. then the rest crowded around him, and he talked to them for about a minute. "after that they come back and cut me loose, and the head injun, pointing to you, said in english, 'you are free. care for him. he is not dead. tell him coacoochee's heart is no longer heavy. he will go to his own people. if the soldiers want him, let them seek him in the swamps of the okeefenokee.' then, without another word, they all disappeared, and i set to work to bring you to." thus was the death of ul-we, the tall one, atoned for in heart's blood, and thus was the stripe on coacoochee's back washed out with the blood of him who had so wantonly inflicted it. thus, also, did coacoochee save the life of his friend and punish the would-be assassin who had so planned his cowardly revenge upon ralph boyd that the act would be credited to the indians. with the accomplishment of this deed of just retribution, coacoochee and his warriors disappeared from that part of the country, nor were they again seen there for many months. chapter xi the seminole must go the seminoles must be removed. the clamor of the land-speculator, the slave-hunter, and a host of others interested in driving the indian from his home had at length been listened to at washington, and the fiat had gone forth. the seminoles must be removed to the distant west--peaceably if possible, but forcibly if they will not go otherwise. a new treaty had been made by which the indians agreed to remove to the new home selected for them, provided a delegation of chiefs appointed to visit the western land reported favorably concerning it. these went, saw the place, and upon their return reported it to be a cold country where seminoles would be very unhappy. upon hearing this, the indians said that they would prefer to remain where they were. thereupon the united states government said through its commissioners that it made no difference whether they wanted to go or not; they must go. in the meantime, outrages of every kind were perpetrated upon the indians. the whipping of those discovered off the reservation, that was begun with coacoochee, was continued. several indians were thus whipped to death by the white brutes into whose cowardly hands they fell. the system of withholding annuities and supplies was continued, and the helpless indians were recklessly plundered right and left. general andrew jackson, who was now president, had no love for indians. he had in former years wronged them too cruelly for that, while teaching them lessons of the white man's power. he therefore appointed general wiley thompson of georgia, as the seminole agent, and ordered him to compel their removal to the far west without further delay. he also sent troops to florida, and these began to gather at fort brooke and tampa bay under command of general clinch. it was evident that the seminoles must either submit to leave the sunny land of their birth, their homes, and the graves of their fathers, or they must fight in its defence, and for their rights as free men. if they consented to go west to the land that those chiefs who had seen it described as cold and unproductive, they would find already established there their old and powerful enemies, the creeks, who were eagerly awaiting their coming, with a view to seizing their negro allies and selling them into slavery. it was evident that a fight for his very existence was to be forced upon the seminole in either case, and it only remained for him to choose whether he would fight in his own land, of which he knew every swamp, hammock, and glade, and of which his enemy was ignorant, or whether he should go to a distant country, of which he knew nothing, and fight against an enemy already well acquainted with it. this was the alternative presented to the warriors of philip emathla's village assembled about their council fire on a summer's evening a few weeks after that with which this history opens. on coacoochee, now sitting in the place of honor at the right hand of the chief his father and earnestly regarding the speaker who laid this state of affairs before them, the weeks just passed had borne with the weight of so many years. during their short space he had passed from youth to manhood. having directed the search for himself that followed the death of salano, toward the okeefenokee, while his village lay in exactly the opposite direction, he had escaped all intercourse with the whites from that time to the present. but from that experience he had returned so much wiser and graver that his advice was now sought by warriors much older than he, while by those of his own age and younger he was regarded as a leader. thus, though still a youth in years, and though he still reverenced and obeyed his father, he was to all intents the chief of philip emathla's powerful band. it was in this capacity that the speaker, to hear whom this council was gathered, evidently regarded him, and it was to coacoochee that his remarks were especially directed. this speaker was a member of a band of seminoles known as the baton rouge or red sticks, who occupied a territory at some distance from that of king philip. his father, whom he had never known, was a white man, but his mother was the daughter of a native chieftain, and though he spoke english fluently, he had passed all of his twenty-eight years among the seminoles, and they were his people. although not a chief, nor yet regarded as a prominent leader, he was possessed of such force of character and such a commanding presence that he had acquired a great influence over all the indians with whom he was thrown in contact. his name was ah-ha-se-ho-la (black drink), generally pronounced osceola by the whites, who also called him by his father's name of powell. this dauntless warrior was bitterly opposed to the emigration of his tribe, and was anxious to declare war against the whites rather than submit to it. he believed that the seminoles, roaming over a vast extent of territory abounding in natural hiding-places, might defend themselves against any army of white soldiers that should undertake to subdue them for at least three years. could the conflict be sustained for that length of time without the whites gaining any decided advantages, he declared they would then give up the struggle and allow the indians to retain their present lands unmolested. osceola was now visiting the different bands of the tribe, preaching this crusade of resistance to tyranny. as he stood before philip emathla and his warriors, with his noble figure and fine face fully displayed in the bright firelight, they were thrilled by his eloquence. with bated breath they listened to his summing up of their grievances, and when he declared that he would rather die fighting for this land than live in any other, they greeted his words with a murmur of approving assent. never had coacoochee been so powerfully affected. the sting of the white man's whip across his shoulders was still felt, and he was choked with the sense of outrage and injustice inflicted upon his people. his fingers clutched nervously at the hilt of his knife and he longed for the time to come when he might fight madly for all that a man holds most dear. as his gaze wandered for a moment from the face of the speaker, it fell on a group just visible within the circle of firelight. there sat the beautiful girl to whom he had so recently plighted his troth, and beside her chen-o-wah, the daughter of a creek chief and his quadroon squaw. she was the wife of osceola, and the one being in all the world whom the fierce forest warrior loved. for a moment coacoochee's determination wavered as he reflected what these and others equally helpless would suffer in a time of war. there came a memory of the manner in which nita's mother and brother had been consigned to slavery by the white man. no word had come from them, but he could imagine their fate. might not the same fate overtake her most dear to him and hundreds of others with her? would it not be better for them to incur the dangers and sufferings of war rather than those of slavery? yes, a thousand times yes. and then, perhaps the whites were not so very powerful, after all. their soldiers, so far as he had seen them, were but few in number, and moved slowly from place to place. he and his warriors could travel twenty miles to their five. besides, there were the vast watery fastnesses of the everglades and the big cypress in the far south, to which the indians could always retreat and into which no white man would ever dare follow them. yes, his voice should be raised for war, no matter how long it might last, nor how bloody it might be, and the sooner it could be begun, the better. but he must listen, for philip emathla was about to speak. chapter xii chen-o-wah is stolen by the slave-catchers the aged chieftain rose slowly and for a moment gazed lovingly and in silence at those gathered about him; then he said: "my children, we have listened to the words of ah-ha-se-ho-la, and we know them to be true. but he has spoken with the voice of a young man. he sees with young eyes. my eyes are old, but they can look back over many seasons that a young man cannot see. they can also look forward further than his, and see many things. i have seen the great council of the white man, and his warriors. i have seen his villages. his lodges are more numerous than the trees of the forest, and his numbers are those of the leaves of countless trees. to fight with him would be like fighting the waves of the great salt waters that reach to the sky. if we should kill one, ten would spring up to take his place. for a hundred who may fall, a thousand will stand. he is strong, and we are weak. let us then live at peace with him while we may. let us meet him in council and tell him how little it is that we ask. there is a land beyond okeechobee, the great sweet water, that the white man can never want, but where the red man could dwell in peace and plenty. let him leave this to us, and we will ask no more. "if he will not do this, then let us fight. never will philip emathla consent to go to the strange and distant land of the setting sun. if it is a better land than this, as the white man tells us, why does he not go there himself and leave us alone? it is a cold country. my people would die there. it is better to die here and die fighting. "the white chief at fort king calls us together for one more talk with him. philip is old. he cannot travel so far, but coacoochee shall go in his place. he will speak wisely, and if peace can be had, he will find it. if there is no peace, if the seminole must fight, then who will fight harder or more bravely than coacoochee? at his name the white man will tremble, and his squaws will hide their faces in fear. the enemies of coacoochee will fall before him as ripe fruit falls before the breath of hu-la-lah (the wind). he will kill till he is weary of killing. his footsteps will be marked with blood. rivers of blood shall flow where he passes. i am old and feeble, but coacoochee is young and strong. from this day shall he be a war-chief of the seminoles. philip emathla has spoken." at this announcement there came a great shout of rejoicing, and as the council broke up, the warriors crowded about coacoochee to tell him how proud they would be to have him lead them in battle. after the tumult had somewhat subsided, osceola, who had not hitherto spoken directly to coacoochee, stepped up to him. the two young men grasped each other's hands, and gazed earnestly in each other's face. finally osceola, apparently satisfied with what he saw, broke the silence, and said: "we are brothers?" "we are brothers," answered the young war-chief, and thus was made a compact between the two that was only to be broken by death. the following morning, coacoochee, with a small escort of warriors, set forth, in company with osceola and chen-o-wah, to travel to the village of micanopy, head chief of the seminoles, there to hold another council before going to fort king for a talk with the agent. in micanopy's village they found assembled a large number of seminole warriors, and many of the sub-chiefs of the tribe. this council was a grave and momentous affair. it was to decide the fate of a nation, and its deliberations were prolonged over two days. micanopy, the head chief, was old, corpulent, and fond of his ease. he loved his land and hated the thought of war. he was greatly disinclined to remove to the west, but it was not until urged and almost compelled by the younger men, especially coacoochee and osceola, that he finally declared positively that he would not do so. his utterance decided the majority of the council. they would fight before submitting to removal, but on one pretext and another they would gain all possible time in which to prepare for war. it was also announced at this council that any seminole who should openly advocate removal, and should make preparations for emigrating, should be put to death. in all the council there was but one dissenting voice. it was that of a sub-chief named charlo, who had been raised to the head of a small band by the agent, in place of an able warrior who was an uncompromising enemy of the whites. this petty chief spoke in favor of removal, and ridiculed the suggestion that the tribe could hold out for any length of time against the overwhelming power of the white man. he was listened to with impatience, and many dark glances were cast at him as he resumed his seat. three days later some fourteen chiefs, accompanied by a large number of their people, were encamped near fort king, and active preparations were going forward for the great talk that was to be held that afternoon. on the morning of that day, a thick-set, evil-looking man, whom the reader would at once recognize as his old acquaintance mr. troup jeffers the slave-trader, sat in the agent's office engaged in earnest conversation with general wiley thompson. "thar ain't no doubt about it, gineral," he was saying. "she's easy enough identified, and i'll take my affidavy right here that she's the gal jess who run away from old miss cooke's place two year ago. you've got a list of all them niggers and their description, as well as the order from washington for their capture and deliverin' up. you know you have, and when i tell you what this gal looks like, you see if she don't answer the description exactly." "yes, sir, i've no doubt," answered the agent, wearily, for of the many trials of his difficult position, the importunities of the slave-hunters who besieged him at all hours were the greatest. "i don't doubt what you say, and i'll give you an order for the girl which you can present to the chiefs. if they give her up, well and good; but if they won't, why they won't, that's all, and matters are too critical just now for us to attempt to force them." "all right, gineral," replied mr. jeffers, with a triumphant glitter in his cruel little eyes. "the order is all i want, and i'll get the gal without putting you or anybody else to a mite of trouble." thus saying, the trader took the slip of paper handed him by the agent, and left the office. like a vulture scenting the carnage from afar, the slave-trader hearing that the seminoles and their negro allies were about to be removed, had hastened to the scene of action, determined in some way to secure a share of the peculiar property in which he dealt, before it should be placed beyond his reach. in the indian camp he had seen several good-looking young women in whose veins he was convinced flowed negro blood, and he decided that his purpose would be served by securing one or more of these. going to the agent with the trumped-up story of having thus discovered a runaway slave girl, he obtained the coveted order for her restoration to her lawful owner. armed with this, he proceeded to carry out his wicked design. his plan was very simple, and to put it into operation, he repaired to the store of the post trader. it was located in a grove of live oaks, some distance beyond the stockade, and was hidden from view of those in or near the fort. to it, groups of indians, men, women, and children, found their way at all times for the purchase of such supplies as they needed and could afford. rogers, the storekeeper, whose conscience from a long dealing with and cheating of indians was as calloused and hardened as that of mr. jeffers himself, was not above turning what he called an honest penny by any means that came in his way. therefore when the slave-trader explained his business, showed the agent's order, and offered rogers ten dollars to assist him in recapturing his alleged property, the latter readily consented to do so. troup jeffers was almost certain that one or more of the young women whom he had noticed in the indian camp would visit the store at some time during the day, and so he waited patiently the advent of a victim. at length, late in the afternoon, when most of the indians were attracted to the scene of the council, then in session, a squaw was seen to approach the store. she was one of those whom mr. jeffers had selected as suitable for the slave market, and the instant he observed her he exclaimed to the storekeeper: "here comes the very gal i'm after--old miss cooke's jess. i'll just step into the back room, and if you can persuade her to come in there to look at something or other, we'll have her as slick as a whistle." "all right," responded rogers, who a minute later was waiting on his customer with infinitely more politeness than he usually vouchsafed to an indian. she desired to purchase some coffee and sugar with which to surprise and please her husband when he returned to his lodge after the council should be ended, and the storekeeper easily persuaded her to enter the other room, where he said his best goods were kept. as the unsuspecting woman bent over a sugar barrel, she was seized from behind, and her head was enveloped in a shawl, by which her cries were completely stifled. a few minutes later, bound and helpless, she was lifted into a light wagon and driven rapidly away. half an hour afterwards, a boy who worked for the storekeeper remarked to his employer: "i should think you would be afraid of powell." "what for?" asked rogers. "why, for letting that man carry off his wife," was the reply. thus did the storekeeper receive his first intimation that the alleged runaway slave girl was chen-o-wah, the adored wife of osceola. chapter xiii "wiley thompson, where is my wife?" while the wife of osceola was thus being kidnapped and consigned to slavery, he, ignorant of the blow in store for him, was participating in a far different scene. just outside the gateway of the fort, in an open space of level sward, the great council upon which so much depended was assembled. at one side of a long table sat general clinch, commanding the army in florida, with the officers of his staff standing behind him. beside him sat general wiley thompson, the agent, red-faced and pompous, lieutenant harris, the united states disbursing agent, who was to conduct the indians to their western homes, and several commissioners. all the officers were in full uniform, and presented a brave appearance. behind them were two companies of infantry, resting at ease on their loaded muskets, but ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. just inside the gateway of the fort the guns of its light battery were charged to the muzzle with grape and canister, ready for instant service. this was one side of the picture. on the opposite side of the table from the whites sat or stood a group of indian chiefs, sullen, determined, and watchful. too many times already had the white man cheated them. they would take care that he should not do so again. they had learned by bitter experience how lightly he regarded such treaties as conflicted with his interests. they knew the value of his false promises and fair words. a little in front of the others sat micanopy, head chief of the tribe, and close behind him, so that they could whisper in his ear, stood coacoochee and osceola. grouped about them were otee the jumper, tiger tail, allapatta tustenugge, the fighting alligator, arpeika, or sam jones, black dirt, ya ha hadjo, the mad wolf, coa hadjo, halatoochee, abram, the negro chief, passac micco, and many others. behind them stood one hundred warriors, tall, clean-built fellows, lithe and sinewy, their bare legs as hard and smooth as those of bronze statues. concealed in a hammock, but a short distance away, was another body of warriors held in reserve by coacoochee, who had thought it best not to display the full strength of his force at once. the old men, women, and children had been left in camp not far from the trader's store. here everything was prepared for instant flight in case the council should terminate in an outbreak. the proceedings were opened by general thompson, who stated that he had thus called the indians together that they might decide upon a day when they would fulfil their promise contained in the treaty of payne's landing, and set forth for their new home in the west. he had prepared a paper setting forth the conditions of removal, which he now wished all the chiefs to sign. then otee the jumper, who was one of the most fluent speakers of the tribe, arose and calmly but firmly stated that his people did not consider themselves as bound by that treaty to remove from their country, and had decided in solemn council not to do so. at this point the seminole speaker was rudely interrupted by general thompson, who, flushed and furious, sprang to his feet and demanded by what right the indians interpreted the treaty differently from the whites by whom it was drawn up. he accused them of treachery and double-dealing, and ended by declaring that it made no difference whether they were willing to remove or not, for they would be made to go, alive or dead, and he for one did not care which. this speech drew forth angry replies from the chiefs, and to these the agent retorted with such bitterness that general clinch was finally obliged to interpose his authority to calm both sides. he told the indians how useless it would be for them to struggle against the power of the united states, and how greatly he would prefer that they should remove peaceably rather than oblige him to remove them by force. at this the indians smiled grimly and exchanged contemptuous glances. they knew that there were only seven hundred soldiers in all florida, and the idea of compelling them to do anything they did not choose, with a little army like that, was too absurd. it almost made them laugh, but their native dignity prevented such a breach of decorum. general clinch talked long and earnestly and was listened to with respect and close attention. the agent regarded his arguments as so unanswerable that at their conclusion he called on the chiefs by name to step forward and sign the paper he had prepared. "micanopy, you are head chief. come up and sign first at the head of the list." "no, micanopy will never sign." "then coacoochee may sign first. he comes, i believe, as representative of the wise and brave king philip." "no, coacoochee will not sign either for his father or himself." "jumper, then; and when he signs, i will make him head chief." "no." "alligator?" "no." "sam jones?" "no." "abram?" "by golly. no." at these repeated refusals to comply with his request, and the evident contempt with which his offers of promotion were regarded, the fat agent became so angry as to entirely lose his self-control. "if you will not sign," he shouted, "you are no longer fit to hold your positions. i therefore declare that micanopy, coacoochee, jumper, alligator, sam jones, and abram, shall cease from this minute to be chiefs of the seminole nation, and their names shall be struck from the roll of chiefs." at this an angry murmur ran through the ranks of the indians, who considered that a grievous insult had thus been offered them. those chiefs who had been sitting sprang to their feet and fell back a few paces. the warriors behind them moved up closer, and coacoochee, slipping unnoticed through the throng, hurried back to the hammock to direct the flight of the women and children, and bring up his reserve force of warriors. in the meantime an indian who had come from the camp was talking with low, hurried words to osceola, who listened to him like one in a dream or who does not fully comprehend what he hears. suddenly he sprang forward, his face livid with passion, and crying in a loud voice, "i will sign! i, osceola the baton rouge, will sign this paper of the white man." [illustration: it sunk deep into the wood of the table and stood quivering as though with rage.] then stepping up to the table, while both whites and indians watched him with breathless interest, the fierce warrior plucked the scalping-knife from his girdle and drove it with furious energy through the outspread paper. it sunk deep into the wood of the table, and stood quivering as though with rage. "there is my signature, general wiley thompson," he cried in a voice that trembled with the intensity of his emotion. "there is the signature of osceola, and i would that it were inscribed on your cowardly heart. where is my wife? what have you done with her? give her back to me, i say, and as safe as when i left her in yonder grove. if you do not, i swear by the white man's god, and by the great spirit of my people, that not only your own vile life, but that of every white man who comes within reach of osceola's vengeance, shall be forfeited. as you have shown no mercy, so shall you receive none. the word shall be unknown to the seminole tongue. you taunt me with being a half-blood. i am one; but i am yet a man, and not a slave. with my white blood i defy you, and with my indian blood i despise you. wiley thompson, where is my wife?" chapter xiv osceola signs the treaty the group of white men on the opposite side of the table had left their seats before osceola stepped toward it. general clinch exchanged a few words with the agent and gave an order to the officer in command of the troops. these were moved forward a few paces, though, blinded by the intensity of his feelings, the half-breed failed to notice their change of position. now, in obedience to a signal from the agent, they sprang forward with fixed bayonets, and in an instant osceola, cut off from his friends, was hedged in by a wall of glittering steel. at the same moment a sharp rattle of drums was heard within the fort, and the light battery, dashing out from the gateway in a cloud of dust, was wheeled into position with its murderous muzzles trained full on the startled indians. with one forward movement the pitiless storm of death would have swept through their crowded ranks. they knew this and stepped backward instead. within two minutes after the council was so summarily dissolved, not an indian was to be seen. within five minutes osceola, heavily ironed, was thrust into the strongest cell of the guard-house and the door locked behind him. by this time, also, the troops had retired, and general thompson was inquiring in every direction what the crazy half-breed meant by demanding a wife from him. he knew nothing about the fellow's wife. did not even know he had a wife, and was inclined to think that osceola was drunk, or else had trumped up this demand for the purpose of exciting the indians to resistance. finally, however, through rogers, the trader, he discovered the real facts of the case. then he realized the awkward position in which his careless giving of an order for the recovery of a runaway slave had placed not only himself, but all the whites in that part of the country. he visited the prisoner in his cell, and tried to quiet him by explaining that it was all a mistake, and by assuring him that every effort should be made to recover chen-o-wah and bring her back; but all to no purpose. osceola replied that his wife alone had been seized of all those who visited the trader's store. moreover, she had been seized upon a written order from himself, for the paper had been read aloud in the presence of several persons. no, there was no mistake, and as for the agent's promise to restore chen-o-wah to him, he would believe it when he saw her, but not before. for six days the forest warrior who had been struck this deadly blow paced hopelessly up and down his narrow cell, dragging his clanking chains behind him. during this time he hardly touched food nor would he speak to a human being. no one save himself knew the bitterness of his heart, or the terrible thoughts that seethed in his mind during those six days. he appeared like one consumed by an inward fire, and it even seemed as though his haughty spirit was about to escape from the imprisoned body. at length he sent for general thompson, and expressed a willingness to sign the paper that should commit him to emigration. "my spirit is broken," he said; "your irons have entered my soul. i can hold out no longer. by these chains i am disgraced in the eyes of my people, and my influence over them is gone. it is better that i should go away and die in a strange land. bring me your paper; i will sign it." but that was not sufficient. the paper must be signed in the presence of other seminoles, that they might be witnesses to the act, and spread the great news abroad throughout the nation. even to this humiliation osceola consented, and a messenger was despatched to bring in the first band of indians he should meet. this messenger was given a token by osceola, and thus provided, he had no difficulty in persuading coacoochee and some forty warriors, thirty of whom belonged to the captive's own band, to again visit the fort. although they came to the fort, coacoochee's caution would not allow them to pass within its gates, and so the ceremony of signing was of necessity performed outside. general clinch and his staff had returned to tampa, but there still remained enough of officers at fort king to escort the agent and lend an imposing effect to the ceremony. osceola was led to the place of signing, under guard and with the irons still upon his ankles. he approached the table with downcast eyes, apparently unmindful of the presence of either friends or foes. as he took the pen preparatory to signing, the agent asked: "powell, do you acknowledge in the presence of these witnesses, that you are about to sign this paper of your own free will, without fear or compulsion?" the half-breed regarded his questioner with a curious expression for a moment, and then answered: "i have no fear. no one could compel me. i sign because it pleases me to do so." thus saying, he affixed his signature to the hated paper, with a steady hand. immediately afterwards his irons were struck off, and he was once more a free man. the agent now asked coacoochee if he would not also sign, but that wily young indian refused to do so at that time. "when i have spoken with ah-ha-se-ho-la, and learned his reasons for signing, perhaps i may also touch the white man's talking stick," he said. when osceola had retired with his friends to their camp, general thompson turned to one of his companions, and rubbing his hands complacently, remarked: "that is a capital stroke of business. i have been all along regretting the unfortunate affair of that fellow's wife. now, though, i begin to think it was one of the best things that could have happened for us. it has brought him to terms as i don't believe anything else would, and though he is not a chief, his influence is the most powerful in the tribe." "you may be right," replied lieutenant smith, the young army officer to whom this remark was addressed, "but it was an outrageous thing, all the same, to steal the poor chap's wife. it makes me feel ashamed to be mixed up in this wretched business, and if i were not dependent on my profession for a living, and so forced to obey the orders of my superiors who have sent me here, i'd have nothing more to do with it. the idea of stealing a man's wife and selling her into slavery! i don't wonder it drove him so nearly crazy that he was willing to sign or do anything else. under the circumstances i wouldn't give a fig for his signature." "nonsense!" replied the agent; "you don't know these people as i do. he is only an indian in spite of his mixture of white blood, and they don't feel about such things as we do. i'll guarantee that in less than a month he will have forgotten all about this wife and will have taken another or maybe two of them, in her place." at this same time coacoochee and osceola were walking apart from the other indians and talking earnestly. "was there no way for my brother to save his life but by signing the white man's paper?" inquired the former. at this osceola broke into a hard and bitter laugh. "does my brother regard me so meanly as to think that to save my life alone, or to save a thousand lives such as mine, i would have signed?" he asked. "no. it was not to save life that osceola put pen to paper, but to take it. it was that he might be revenged on those who have wronged him far deeper than by killing him, that he did it. when his vengeance is accomplished, then will he gladly die; but he will never go to the western land." "listen," he continued, noting the other's look of bewilderment at these words: "once the indian fought with bows and arrows, while the white man fought with guns. did he continue to do this when he found that his weapons were no match for those of the white man? no; he threw away his bows and arrows, and got guns in their place. once osceola was honest, his tongue was straight, he would not tell a lie. are the white men so? no, their tongues are crooked; they say one thing and mean another; they have cheated the indian and lied to him from the first day that they set foot on his land. they have laughed at his honesty and said, 'the indian is a fool who knows no better.' now ah-ha-se-ho-la is fighting them with their own weapons. for them his tongue is no longer straight. it is as crooked as their own. does my brother now understand why i signed?" this style of reasoning was new to coacoochee, and he pondered over it for a minute before replying. "it is true," he thought, "that the white man gains many advantages over the indian by cheating and lying to him. if they do those things, why should not the indian do them as well? in the present instance how could osceola have gained his liberty by any other means? yes, it must be right to fight the white man with his own weapons." so coacoochee acknowledged that osceola was justified in the course he had pursued, and congratulated him on his escape from the white man's prison. he was also rejoiced to learn that his friend was to remain and aid them in the coming war rather than to leave them and go to the far-off western land. thus answered coacoochee. at the same time deep down in his heart the young war-chief hoped that he might never find it necessary to fight any enemy with so dangerous a weapon as a crooked tongue. now the two young men laid their plans for the future. they agreed that as much time as possible should be gained before open hostilities were declared, in order that the indians might make all possible preparations for war. with this end in view, osceola was to remain near the fort, and while still expressing a willingness to emigrate whenever the others of his tribe should come in, was to procure such supplies as he could, especially ammunition, that might be stored for the coming struggle. coacoochee was to visit the scattered bands and induce them to provide safe hiding-places for their women and children, that the warriors might be free to fight. while confined in the fort, osceola had learned that the chief charlo, who styled himself "charlo emathla," was disposing of his cattle preparatory to emigrating, and now the young men agreed that in his case it was necessary to show both whites and indians the earnestness of their purpose by carrying out the decisions of the chiefs and putting him to death. this, osceola undertook to do, and coacoochee was glad to be relieved of the unpleasant duty. thus matters being arranged, the friends separated; and while coacoochee with his ten warriors took their departure, osceola with his thirty followers remained near the fort, to carry out his plan for averting war as long as possible, and to watch for the revenge against those who had robbed him of his wife, that had now become the object of his most intense desire. thus matters stood for several months. at the end of that time, the agent becoming suspicious of the indians on account of their purchasing such quantities of powder, peremptorily forbade the further sale of ammunition to them. thereupon osceola sent out runners to carry the news to every seminole band from the okeefenokee to the everglades, and from the atlantic to the gulf, that the time for action had arrived, and that the first blow of the war was about to be struck. chapter xv louis pacheco bides his time tampa bay was filled with transports waiting to carry the seminoles to new orleans on their way to the indian territory. on shore, the soldiers' encampment beneath the grand old live-oaks of fort brooke swarmed with troops, newly arrived from the north, and hoping that the indians would at least make a show of resistance. of course, no one wanted a prolonged war; but a brisk campaign with plenty of fighting, that would last through the winter, would be a most pleasing diversion from the ordinary monotony of military life. it was not supposed, however, that the seminoles would fight. major francis dade was so certain of this, that he volunteered to march across the indian country with only a corporal's guard at his back. among those who prayed most earnestly for a taste of fighting, in which they might prove the metal of which they were made, were several lieutenants recently emancipated from west point and ordered to duty on this far southern frontier. a few days before christmas, 1835, a jovial party of three young officers was assembled in the hospitable house of a planter, a few miles from fort brooke. they were to dine there, and at the dinner table the sole topic of conversation was the impending war. the indians had been given until the end of december to make their preparations for emigration, and to assemble at the appointed places of rendezvous. on the first day of january, 1836, their reservation was to be thrown open to the throngs of speculators already on hand, and with difficulty restrained from rushing in and seizing the coveted lands without waiting for the indians to vacate them. general clinch had decided to send major dade, not, indeed, with a corporal's guard, but with two companies of troops, to reinforce the garrison at fort king. from that post, which was well within the reservation, he was to move against the indians and compel them to move promptly on january 1, if they showed a disinclination to do so of their own accord. several of the young officers assembled about the planter's dinner table were to accompany this expedition, and their anticipations of the pleasures of the campaign were only equalled by the regrets of those who were to be left behind. some one suggested that there might be some fighting before the troops returned, and that their march might be attended with a certain amount of danger. "danger?" cried lieutenant mudge, the gayest spirit of the party, and the most popular man at the post. "let us hope there will be some danger. what would a soldier's life be without it? a weary round of drill. hurrah, then, for danger! say i. louis, fill the glasses. now, gentlemen, i give you the toast of 'a short campaign and a merry one, with plenty of hard fighting, plenty of danger, and speedy promotion to all good fellows.'" the toast was hailed with acclamation and drunk with a cheer; while after it the calls for louis grew louder, more frequent, and more peremptory than ever. it was "here, louis!" "here, you nigger!" "step lively now!" from all sides, and the bewildering orders were so promptly obeyed by the deft-handed, intelligent-appearing young mulatto, who answered to the name of louis, that he was unanimously declared to be a treasure. those of the officers who were to remain at fort brooke, envied the planter such a capital servant, and those who were to accompany the expedition to fort king, wished they might take him with them to wait on their mess. "well, i don't know but that can be arranged," remarked the planter, thoughtfully. "major dade was asking me to-day where he could obtain a reliable guide, and louis, who overheard him, has since told me that he is intimately acquainted with the country between here and fort king. isn't that so, boy?" "yes, sir," replied the mulatto; "i was born and brought up in this country, and i know every foot of the way from here to fort king like i know the do-yard of my ole mammy's cabin." this answer was delivered so quietly, and with such an apparent air of indifference, that no one looking at the man would have suspected the wild tumult of thought seething within his breast at that moment. for months he had waited, planned, hoped, and endured, for such an opportunity as this. at last it had come. he was almost unnerved by conflicting emotions, and to conceal them, he flew about the table more actively than ever, anticipating every want of his master's guests, and waiting on them with an assiduity that went far to confirm the good impression already formed of him. once, lieutenant mudge, happening to glance up at an instant when louis was intently regarding him, was startled by a fleeting expression that swept across the man's face. for a second his eyes glared like those of a famished tiger, and his lips seemed to be slightly drawn back from the clinched white teeth. although the devilish look vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only the respectful expression of a well-trained servant in its place, it gave the young soldier a shock, and filled him with a vague uneasiness that he found hard to shake off. he spoke of it afterwards to his host, but the latter only laughed and said: "nonsense, my dear boy! it must have been the champagne. i have had that nigger for nearly a year now, and a more honest, faithful, intelligent, and thoroughly reliable servant i never owned. if dade will pay a fair price for him, i will let him go for a few months, and thus you will secure a reliable guide and a capital table servant, both in one." in answer to some further inquiries concerning louis, he said: "i'd no idea he was born in this part of the country or knew anything about it, but as he says he does, it must be so, for i have never known him to tell a lie. he knows it would not be safe to lie to me. i got him from a trader in charleston last spring, and only brought him down here a couple of months ago, when i came to look after this plantation. but you can depend on louis. he don't dare deceive me, for he knows if he did i'd kill him. i make it a rule to have none but thoroughly honest servants about me, and they all know it." the reader has doubtless surmised ere this that the servant whom his master praised so highly was no other than louis pacheco, friend of coacoochee, the free dweller beside the tomoka, whom the slave-catchers had kidnapped and carried off. inheriting the refinement of his spanish father, well educated, and accomplished, louis would have killed himself rather than submit to the degradation of the lot imposed upon him, but for one thing--the same spirit that actuated osceola during his imprisonment restrained louis from any act against his own life. he lived that he might obtain revenge. so bitter was his hatred of the whole white race, that at times he could scarcely restrain its open expression. he managed, however, to control himself and devoted his entire energies to winning the confidence, not only of the man who had bought him, but of all the other whites with whom he was thrown in contact. thus did he prepare the more readily to carry out his plans when the time came. he saw his aged mother die from overwork in the cotton-fields, without betraying the added bitterness of his feelings, and was even laughingly chided by his master for not displaying greater filial affection. he planned a negro insurrection, but could not carry it out. then he conceived the project of inducing a great number of negroes to run away with him, and join his friends the seminoles, but this scheme also came to naught. he was planning to escape alone and make his way to florida, where he hoped to find some trace of the dearly loved sister from whom he had been so cruelly separated, when chance favored him, and his master brought him to the very place where he most desired to be. in tampa, he quickly learned of the condition of affairs between the indians and whites, and he looked eagerly about for some means of aiding his friends in their approaching struggle. the proposed expedition of major dade, for the relief and reinforcement of fort king, was kept a secret so far as possible, for fear lest it should delay the coming in of numbers of indians, who were supposed to be on their way to the several designated points of assembly. it was, however, freely discussed in the presence of louis pacheco, for he was supposed to be so well content with his present position, and to have so little knowledge of indian affairs, that it could make no difference whether he knew of it or not. so louis listened, and treasured all the stray bits of information thus obtained, and put them together until he was possessed of a very clear idea of the existing state of affairs, and of what the whites intended doing. through the field hands of the plantation he opened communication with the free negroes who dwelt among the indians. thus he soon learned that his friend coacoochee was now a war-chief and an influential leader among the seminoles. now the hour of his triumph, the time of his revenge, had surely come. if he could only obtain the position of guide to major dade's little army, what would be easier than to deliver them into the hands of coacoochee? what a bitter blow that would be to the whites, and how it would strengthen the seminole cause! how far it would go toward repaying him for the death of his mother, the loss of his beautiful sister, his own weary slavery, and the destruction of their happy home on the tomoka! yes, it must be done. the day after that of the dinner party his master concluded arrangements with major dade, by which louis was engaged as guide to the expedition and steward of the officers' mess. so the slave was ordered to hold himself in readiness to start on christmas day. chapter xvi osceola's revenge in the meantime, osceola had carried out his part of the arrangement with coacoochee in regard to the traitor, charlo emathla. although warned of the fate in store for him in case he persisted in disregarding the wishes of his people and the commands of the other chiefs, this indian, dazzled by sight of the white man's gold, flattered by his praise, and assured of his protection, persisted in his course. osceola waited until certain that he had accepted a considerable sum of money from the agent, and then prepared an ambush beside a trail along which the doomed man must return to his camp. it was completely successful; the victim fell at the first fire, and covering his face with his hands, received the fatal blow without a word. tied up in his handkerchief was a quantity of gold and silver. this, osceola declared was the price of red men's blood, and, sternly forbidding his followers to touch it, he flung it broadcast in every direction. when news of this summary punishment of a renegade was received at fort king, it created a serious feeling of anxiety and alarm for the future. this was shared by all except the agent, who declared, in his pompous manner, that he knew the indians too well to fear them. they might murder one of their own kind here and there, but they would never muster up courage to attack a white man. oh no! the rascals were too well aware of the consequences of such an act. another report that reached the fort about the same time increased the uneasiness of its inmates. it was of six indians who had been brutally and wantonly set upon by a party of white land-grabbers. the indians were in camp, quietly engaged in cooking their supper, when the whites rode up, made them prisoners, took away their rifles, and examined their packs, appropriating to their own use whatever they fancied, and destroying the rest. then they tied the indians to trees and began whipping them. while they were thus engaged, four other indians appeared on the scene and opened an ineffective fire upon the aggressors. the whites answered with a volley from their rifles that killed one indian and wounded another. both parties then withdrew from the field, the whites carrying with them the rifles and baggage that they had stolen. this outrage was termed an indian encroachment, and a company of militia was at once ordered out to chastise the indians and protect citizens. by such acts as these the land-grabbers hoped to hasten the movements of the seminoles and compel them to evacuate the coveted territory the more rapidly. it was with gloomy forebodings that the little garrison of fort king, who, from long experience, had gained some knowledge of the indian character, heard of these and similar brutalities. they knew that such things would drive the savage warriors to acts of retaliation, and precipitate the crisis that now appeared so imminent. their fears were heightened by the fact that early in december the indians ceased visiting the fort, and it was reported that all their villages in that part of the country were abandoned. so the month dragged slowly away. christmas day was passed quietly and without the usual festivities of the season. the anxiety of the garrison would have been still further increased had they known that on that very day osceola and a band of picked warriors took up a position in a dense hammock from which they could watch every movement in and about the fort. osceola's object was the killing of the agent, whom he believed to be directly implicated in the abduction of chen-o-wah. so determined was he to accomplish this, that he had decided if no better opportunity offered to venture an attack against the fort itself, desperate as he knew this measure to be. coacoochee at this time was gathering the warriors of the tribe and preparing them for battle in the depths of the great wahoo swamp, the hidden mysteries of which no white man had ever explored. it lay a day's journey from fort king, and to it were hastening many chiefs with their followers. on the morning of christmas day a negro runner, well-nigh exhausted with the speed at which he had travelled, reached the swamp encampment and asked to be led at once to coacoochee, the war-chief. the moment he had delivered his message the young warrior, trembling with excitement, sought the other chiefs and made known to them the wonderful news he had just received. "this very day," he said, "the white soldiers have left tampa to march through the seminole country. at the end of four days they hope to reach fort king. they are guided by one whom i thought dead, but who sends word that he is alive. he is my friend and may be trusted. he will bring them by this road. shall we allow them to pass by us and join their friends? or shall we meet them in battle and prove to them that our words were not empty boastings, when we said the seminole would fight for his land? the white man laughs at us and whips us as though we were dogs. he takes from us that which pleases him, and gives us nothing but blows in return. the indian and the wolf together are marks for his rifle. let us show him that we are men and warriors. let us strike a blow that he will never forget. it may be that when he finds the seminole ready to fight, he will let us alone to dwell peaceably in our own land. are the words of coacoochee good in the ears of the tribe? are his warriors glad when they hear them?" a long discussion followed; but when it was ended, the counsel of the young war-chief had been accepted. then through the dim forest aisles echoed the hollow booming of the kasi-lalki, or great war-drum. fleet runners were despatched in all directions, some to hasten the incoming bands, and some to watch the movements of the advancing troops. one was sent to bear the great news to osceola, and bid him hasten if he would take part in the first battle of the war. when this messenger reached those secreted in the hammock near fort king, and delivered his tidings, osceola bade him return and tell coacoochee that if at the end of one more day his purpose had not been accomplished, he would abandon it for the present and hasten to join him. on the following afternoon two figures were seen by the eager watchers to leave the fort and stroll toward the trader's store a mile away. osceola's keen eye was the first to recognize them, and he knew that the hour of his vengeance had arrived. the two who strolled thus carelessly, apparently unconscious of danger, were the agent, general wiley thompson, and his friend, lieutenant constantine smith. they were smoking their after-dinner cigars and talking earnestly. their subject was the rights and wrongs of the indian. as they reached the crest of a slight eminence, these words, uttered in wiley thompson's most emphatic tone, reached the ears of osceola, who, with flashing eyes and compressed lips, peered at the speaker from a thicket not ten yards away. "i tell you, sir, the indian is no better than any other savage beast, and deserves no better treatment at our hands." they were the last words he ever spoke; for at that instant there burst from the thicket a blinding flash and the crashing report of thirty rifles, discharged simultaneously. both men were instantly killed, and with yells of triumph the indians rushed from their hiding-place, each intent upon procuring a scalp or some other trophy of the first event of the contest so long anticipated and now so sadly begun. but osceola's vengeance did not rest here. there were others within reach who had aided in the stealing of his wife, and he bade his warriors follow him to the store of the trader. a few minutes later rogers and his two clerks had been added to the list of victims. after helping themselves to all the goods they could carry, the indians set fire to the store and started toward the wahoo swamp, where they hoped to join coacoochee in time to participate in the battle of which he had sent them notice. the little garrison of fifty men at fort king heard the firing and the war-cries, and saw the smoke from the blazing store rise above the hammock. they knew only too well what these things meant; but supposing the indians to be in force and about to attack the post, they dared not venture beyond its limits. they waited anxiously for the coming of the promised reinforcements from tampa, but weary days passed, and no word came from them. chapter xvii on the verge of the wahoo swamp on the afternoon of christmas day, major dade's little command of two companies of troops, numbering one hundred and ten souls, marched gaily out from fort brooke on tampa bay and started for fort king, one hundred miles away, near where the city of ocala now stands. both officers and men were in the highest spirits, and regarded their present expedition as a pleasant relief from the monotony of garrison life. it was not at all likely they would be called upon to do any fighting; for, although the indians had been acting suspiciously for some time, nobody believed they would dare come into open conflict with the whites. and what if they did! was not one white man equal to five indians at any time? to be sure, the soldiers were unfamiliar with the country, but then they had a guide who knew every foot of it. louis pacheco was one of the most popular members of the expedition. he was not only a good guide, but he was polite, obliging, and attentive to the wants of the officers. he certainly was a treasure, and they were fortunate to have secured his services. so the lieutenants said to one another. for two days the command moved steadily forward, its one piece of light artillery and its one baggage wagon bumping heavily over the log-like roots of the saw-palmetto, and threatening to break down with each mile, but never doing so. they experienced no difficulty in crossing the dark, forest-shaded withlacoochee; for louis led them to the best ford on the whole river, and the officers agreed that they were making much better progress than could have been expected. on the third night they had skirted the great wahoo swamp and were camped near its northern end. as this place was known to be a favorite indian resort, the sentinels of that night were cautioned to be unusually vigilant. the corporal of the guard was instructed to inspect every post at least once an hour, and oftener than that towards morning, when an attack was supposed to be most imminent. as the officer of the day was equally on the alert, and visited the sentries many times during the night, the camp was deemed securely guarded. all that day louis, the guide, had been unusually silent. more than once he was observed to direct long, penetrating glances toward the dense forest growth of the great swamp, as though it held some peculiar fascination for him. it seemed as though he were conscious of the keen eyes, that, peering from its dark depths, watched so exultingly the march of the troops. it seemed as though he must see the lithe figures that, gliding silently from thicket to thicket, or from one mossy covert to another, so easily kept pace with the slow-moving column. in waiting on the officers' mess that evening, louis was so absent-minded that he made innumerable blunders, and drew forth more than one angry rebuke from those whom he served. at last one of these remarked that, if the nigger was not more attentive to his duties, he would be apt to make an acquaintance with the whipping-post before long. then there flashed into the man's face for an instant the same look that lieutenant mudge had detected once before, and from that moment his demeanor changed. he was no longer absent-minded. he was no longer undecided. the time of his irresolution was passed. that night he slept apart from any other occupant of the camp, beyond the line of tents and on the side nearest the swamp hammock. for hours after rolling himself in his blanket the man lay open-eyed and thinking. this was either the last night of his life or the last of his slavery, he knew not which. on the morrow he would be either dead or free. on the morrow, if he lived, he would learn the fate of the dear sister from whom he had heard no word since that terrible night on the tomoka. on the morrow would be struck a blow for liberty that should be felt throughout the length and breadth of the land, and on the morrow his score against the white man would be wiped out. the account would be settled. louis had expected the attack to be made that day, and from each hammock or clump of timber they passed, had dreaded, and hoped to hear, the shrill war-whoop mingled with the crack of rifles. now, he thought it might be made during the night or just at dawn. at all events, it must be made, if made at all, before the following sunset, for at that hour the command expected to reach fort king. as he lay thinking of these things, the querulous cry of a hawk suddenly broke the stillness of the night. it came from the swamp. again it sounded, and this time with a slight difference of tone. the weary sentinels wondered for a moment at the strangeness of such a cry at that hour, and then dismissed it from their minds. not so with louis pacheco. the second cry had confirmed the suspicion aroused by the first. it was long since he had heard the signal of coacoochee; but he recognized and answered it. the gentle, quavering cry of a little screech owl, though coming from the camp, alarmed no one. it went straight to the ears of coacoochee, however, as he lay hidden in the saw-palmettoes, only a few rods beyond the tents, and he was content to wait patiently, knowing that his friend had heard and understood his signal. all the old forest instincts, long suppressed and almost forgotten, were instantly aroused in louis. no indian could have crept more cautiously or silently toward the line of sentries than he, and none could have slipped past them more deftly. a few minutes later the owl's note was sounded at the edge of the hammock and immediately answered from a spot but a short distance away. then there came a rustle beside the motionless figure and a whispered: "louis, my brother?" "coacoochee, is it you?" for a few minutes they whispered only of their own affairs, and louis learned of nita's escape from the slave-catchers, of her flight to philip emathla's village, and of her betrothal to coacoochee, all in a breath. he longed to fly to her at that very moment; but a weary journey lay between them, and before he could undertake it a stern and terrible duty remained to be performed. he must return to the camp of soldiers and remain with them to the bitter end. otherwise the plan for their destruction might yet miscarry. coacoochee told him the reason why the attack had not already been made was that the indians had awaited the arrival of osceola and micanopy. the latter had come in that evening, and it was decided to wait no longer, but to begin the fight at daylight. louis opposed this plan, saying that major dade expected an attack to be made at daylight, if made at all, and would be particularly on guard at that time. he also seemed to feel that if he were attacked, it would be from that swamp. therefore, the mulatto advised that the attack be made at a point some miles beyond the swamp, where nothing of the kind would be anticipated. coacoochee acknowledged the soundness of this advice, and agreeing to follow it, the two separated, one to lead his warriors to the appointed place and prepare them for battle, the other to work his way with infinite caution back into the camp of sleeping soldiers. fortunately for him the night was intensely dark, and though at one time a sentry passed so close that he could have touched him, by lying flat and almost holding his breath he escaped discovery. he had barely reached his sleeping-place and rolled himself again in his blanket, when an officer came along, and stumbling over his prostrate form, exclaimed: "hello, louis! is that you?" upon receiving an affirmative answer, he continued: "well, i must confess that it is a great relief to find you. i missed you, and have been searching for you. i really began to think you had deserted and left us to find our own way out of this wilderness. where have you been?" "the major's horse got loose, sir, and came very near stepping on me," replied louis. "and i just took him over to the cart, where i tied him up again. sorry to have caused you any anxiety, sir." "oh, that's all right," answered the officer. "i'm glad your excuse is such a good one, for these are times when we can't be too careful, you know." with this he walked away to visit the line of sentries, while louis, bathed in a profuse perspiration in spite of the chill of the night, shuddered as he realized the narrowness of his escape. chapter xviii coacoochee's first battle the next morning's sun ushered in one of the fairest of floridian days; the air was clear, cool, and bracing. it was filled with the aromatic odors of pines and vibrant with the songs of birds. all was life and activity in the camp of soldiers, who were preparing for an early start on the long day's march that they hoped would bring them to their destination that same evening. "we are past all the bad places now, boys," cried major dade, cheerily, as he rode to the head of the column. "this swamp is our last danger point, and beyond this there is nothing to apprehend. the cowardly redskins have let a good chance slip by, and it will be long before they will be given another." then the bugles sounded merrily, and with light hearts the command resumed its march. but the indians had moved earlier than they. at daylight that morning one hundred and eighty warriors glided like shadows out from the dark recesses of the swamp, and, following the lead of coacoochee, advanced some four miles beyond it. where they finally halted in the open pine woods there was a thick growth of scrub or saw-palmetto. a pond bounded the road on the east at this point, and the entire body of indians took positions on the opposite or western side. each warrior selected his own tree or clump of palmetto, and sank out of sight behind it. three minutes after their arrival nothing was to be seen nor heard save the solemn pines and the sighing of the wind through their branches. there was so little to arouse suspicion that a small herd of deer fleeing before the advancing troops and coming down the wind dashed in among the indians before discovering their presence. even then the hidden warriors made no sign, and the terrified animals pursued their flight unmolested. besides coacoochee, the chiefs in command of the seminole force were micanopy, jumper, and alligator. it had been determined that micanopy, as head chief, should fire the first shot of the contest, and as the old man was timid and undecided, coacoochee stood beside him to strengthen his courage. at length about nine o'clock the troops appeared in view. they marched easily in open order, the bright sunlight glinted bravely on their polished weapons, and many were the shouts of light-hearted merriment that rose from their ranks. louis, the guide, was not to be seen, as on some trifling pretext he had dropped behind the column. the advanced guard reached the pond and passed it unmolested. it was not until the main body was directly abreast the indian centre that the wild war-whoop of otee the jumper rang through the forest. the next instant micanopy's trembling fingers, guided by coacoochee's unflinching hand, pulled the trigger of the first rifle. with its flash a great sheet of flame leaped from the roadside, and half of major dade's command lay dead, without having known from where or by whom the fatal blow was struck. the survivors, confused and demoralized by the suddenness and unexpectedness of this attack from an unseen foe, still made a brave effort to rally and return the pitiless fire that seemed to leap from every tree of the forest. their one field-piece, a six-pounder, was brought up and discharged several times, but its gunners presented an attractive target to the hidden riflemen, and it was speedily silenced. a small company of soldiers managed to fell a few trees in the form of a triangular barricade. behind this they took shelter, and from it maintained a stout fire for some hours; but early in the afternoon their last gun was silenced, and only the shadows of death brooded over the terrible scene. during the fight the indians had kept up an incessant yelling, but now they appeared stunned at the completeness of their success and contemplated their victory in silence. with louis pacheco, who had joined the indians immediately after the first fire, coacoochee walked slowly and thoughtfully over the battle-field. he sternly forbade his warriors to mutilate or rob the dead, and speedily withdrew them to their encampment in the great swamp, from which they had emerged with such mingled hopes and apprehensions that morning. soon after their departure a band of fifty negroes, who had been summoned from a distance to take part in the battle, rode up to the scene of slaughter. disappointed at having arrived too late to participate in it, they made an eager search among the heaps of slain, for any who should still show signs of life. if such were discovered, they were immediately put to death, while even the dead bodies were mutilated and stripped. after thus gratifying their bloodthirsty instincts, these, too, laden with scalps and plunder of every description, followed their indian allies to the swamp, and on the blood-soaked field an awful stillness succeeded the wild tumult of battle. as darkness shrouded the pitiful scene, two human figures, the only living survivors of "dade's massacre," slowly disengaged themselves from the dead bodies by which they were surrounded. they were wounded, and faint from the loss of blood, but they dragged themselves painfully away and were lost in the night shadows of the forest. five days later they reached fort brooke and there gave the first notice of the terrible blow by which the despised seminole had defied the power of the united states. the indian loss in this battle was three killed and five wounded. that same night, osceola and his warriors, laden with trophies and plunder, reached the encampment in the wahoo swamp. they had much to tell as well as much to hear, and the whole night was devoted to feasting, dancing, drinking, and every species of savage rejoicing over their successes. coacoochee, though filled with a sense of exultation, took no part in these excesses. he preferred talking with louis and several of the graver chiefs regarding the future conduct of the war, and the chances for its speedy termination. all were agreed that there would be no further fighting for some time, and as both the young men were most anxious to visit philip emathla's village, they determined to do so at once. at daylight, therefore, they left the swamp and started on their journey. by noon they were threading an open forest many miles from their point of departure. they were proceeding in silence, with louis following coacoochee, and stepping exactly in his tracks. this precaution was taken as a matter of habit, rather than from any idea that there was an enemy within many miles of them. suddenly coacoochee stopped, held up his hand in warning, and listened intently, with his head inclined slightly forward. "does my brother hear anything?" he asked. no; louis heard nothing save the sound of wind among the tree-tops. his ears were not so sharp as those of coacoochee, nor, for the matter of that, was any other pair in the whole seminole nation. so marvellously keen was the young war-chief's sense of hearing, that his companions deemed it unsafe to utter a word not intended for his ears within sight of where he stood. they believed him to be able to hear ordinary conversation as far as he could see. although this was undoubtedly an exaggeration, his powers in this respect were certainly remarkable, and excited astonishment in all who were acquainted with them. now, after standing and listening for a moment with bent head, he threw himself to the ground, and placing one ear in direct contact with the earth, covered the other with his hand. he also closed his eyes, the better to concentrate all his powers into the one effort of hearing. he lay thus for several minutes, and then slowly regained his feet. there was now an anxious expression on his face. louis could no longer restrain his curiosity. "what is it, coacoochee? what do you think you hear?" the asking of this question would have at once betrayed louis to be of other than indian blood; for no seminole would have exhibited the slightest curiosity until the other was ready to disclose his secret of his own accord. so coacoochee smiled slightly at his comrade's impatience as he answered: "i hear more white men coming from that way"--here he pointed to the north; "they are many. some of them are soldiers, and some are not. they travel slowly, for they have much baggage. they fear no danger and are careless. they have no cannon, but they have many horses. they know nothing of yesterday's battle. let us go and look at them, where my brother will see that coacoochee has heard truly." louis gazed at his companion, in amazement. "how is it possible for you to hear these things when i can hear nothing at all?" he asked. "i am not deaf. my ears are as good as those of most men, but they detect no sound. you must be making game of me. is it not so?" for answer coacoochee persuaded him to lay his ear to the ground and listen as he had done a moment before. when louis rose, he said: "i do indeed hear something in the ground, but it is only a confused murmur. i cannot tell what it is or where it comes from." coacoochee smiled, and said: "my brother's ears are good. he has heard more than would most men; but coacoochee's are better. no sound is withheld from them. he can hear the grass grow and the flowers unfold. the murmur that my brother hears is the sound of an army marching. they are white men because they tread so heavily. some of them are soldiers because they blow bugles and because they keep step in their marching. more of them are not, for they walk as they please, and many of them ride on horses. they have much baggage, for i hear the sound of many wagons. they fear no danger and are careless, for they run races with their horses and fire pistols. they have not learned of yesterday's battle, or they would be sorrowful and quiet. now they laugh and are merry." half an hour later, as coacoochee and louis occupied positions among the spreading, moss-enveloped limbs of a large tree, the eyesight of the latter confirmed all that his comrade's marvellous hearing had already told them. from their perch they could overlook a broad savanna, across which slowly moved a small army of white men. they counted nearly one thousand, two hundred of whom were regular troops; the rest were ununiformed militia, many of them mounted and exhibiting but little discipline. these rode hither and thither, as they pleased, ran races, fired their pistols at stray birds, and shouted loudly. they were a cruel, rough set, and the heart of coacoochee grew heavy with the thought of such a powerful and merciless invasion of the seminole country. chapter xix ralph boyd and the slave-catcher the army so unexpectedly discovered by coacoochee was under the immediate command of general clinch, and was largely composed of florida volunteers. most of these were land-hunters, slave-hunters, or other reckless adventurers, who had taken advantage of this opportunity for gaining a safe entrance into the indian country and examining its best lands before it should be thrown open to general occupation. the majority of them had no idea that the indians would dare resist this occupation by the whites, or that they would be called upon to do any fighting. at the same time they expressed a cheerful willingness to kill any number of redskins, and loudly declared their belief in the policy of extermination. this motley throng of freebooters, together with four companies of regular troops, having been collected at fort drane, some twenty-five miles from fort king, general clinch decided to march them into and through the indian country for the purpose of hastening the movements of the seminoles, and show them how powerful a force he could bring against them. even he had no idea that any armed resistance would be offered to his progress. while coacoochee and louis watched in breathless silence the passing of this army of invaders, whose openly declared object was to rob them of their homes, they were startled by the sound of voices immediately beneath their tree. looking down, they saw two men who had straggled from the main body and sought relief from the noontide heat of the sun, in the tempting shade. at first our friends did not recognize the newcomers; but all at once a familiar tone came to the ears of louis pacheco; then he knew that the man whom he hated most on earth, the man who had sold him and his mother into slavery, the dealer, troup jeffers, had once more crossed his path. the two men had not ridden up to the tree in company, but had approached it from different divisions of the passing column, though evidently animated by a common impulse. it was quickly apparent that they did not even know each other; for mr. troup jeffers, who reached the tree first, greeted the other with: "good-day, stranger. light down and enjoy the shade. hit's powerful refreshing after the heat out yonder." as the other dismounted from his horse, and, still retaining a hold on the bridle, flung himself at full length on the scanty grass at the foot of the tree, jeffers continued: "this appears to be a fine bit of country." "yes." "but they tell me it ain't a circumstance to the injun lands on the far side of the withlacoochee." "no?" "no. them is said to be the best lands in floridy. i reckin you're land-hunting. ain't ye, now?" "no." "must be niggers, then?" "no sir. i am after neither land nor negroes; i have come merely to see the country." "wal, that seems kinder curious," remarked jeffers, reflectively. "strange that a man like you should take all this trouble and risk his life--not that i suppose there's a mite of danger--just to look at a country that he don't kalkilate to make nothing out of." "yet some people have the poor taste to enjoy travel for travel's sake," replied the other. "but i suppose you have come on business?" "you bet i have," answered mr. jeffers. "i've come after niggers, and i don't care who knows it. hit's a lawful business, and as good as another, if i do say it. you see, thar's lots of 'em among the injuns, and they're all described and claimed. now i've bought a lot of these claims cheap, and the gineral has promised that jest as soon as the injuns is corralled for emigration, all the claimed niggers shall be sorted out, and restored to their lawful owners. owing to my claims, i'm the biggest lawful owner there is. so i thought i'd jest come along with the first crowd, and be on hand early to see that i wasn't cheated." "a most wise precaution," remarked the stranger, sarcastically. "yes," continued jeffers, unmindful of his companion's tone; "you see there is niggers and niggers. while some of them is worth their weight in silver as property, i wouldn't have some of the others as a gift. there's injun niggers, for instance--half-bloods, you know; they're so wild that you have to kill 'em to tame 'em. why, i lost more'n a hundred dollars in cash, besides what i reckoned to make, on a half-blood that i got up to fort king a few months ago. she was wild as a hawk, and fretted, and wouldn't eat nothing, and finally died on my hands afore i got a chance to sell her." "certainly a most inconsiderate thing to do," remarked the stranger. "wasn't it, now? the only kind i want to deal with is the full bloods or them as is mixed with white. the best haul i ever made from the injuns was about a year ago over on the east coast. he was wild and ugly as they make 'em when i first got him, but i soon tamed him down and sold him for one thousand dollars. i've heard that he hain't never showed a mite of spirit since i broke him in, and he makes one of the best all-round servants you ever see. louis is his name, and i'd like to get hold of a dozen more just like him. what! you ain't going to start along so soon, be ye?" from the moment that louis recognized this man and realized that his cruellest enemy was at last completely within his power, it had been difficult to refrain from sending a rifle bullet through the brute's cowardly heart. it is doubtful if he could have withheld his hand had it not been for a warning look from coacoochee and a gentle pressure of his hand. the young indian himself was visibly affected as he listened to the cold-blooded tone with which the ruffian told of the death of chen-o-wah, the beautiful wife of osceola, and his hand twitched nervously as he fingered the handle of his scalping-knife; but he was able to restrain his own inclinations, even as he had restrained those of his companion. he knew that he had a duty to perform vastly more important than the punishment of the slave-catcher, and that for its sake even this enemy must be allowed to escape for the present. in reply to mr. jeffers' exclamation of surprise at his sudden departure from the cool shade in which they rested, the stranger answered: "yes, mr. slave-catcher, i am going; for i have no desire to cultivate the further acquaintance of a scoundrel. you are therefore warned to keep your distance from me so long as we both accompany this expedition." with this, the speaker sprang into his saddle, and as his horse started, he took off his hat with a profound bow of mock courtesy, saying: "i am very sorry to have met you, sir, and i hope i may never have the misfortune to do so again." as the young man dashed away, the slave-trader gazed after him in open-mouthed amazement. then he muttered, loud enough for coacoochee to hear: "wal, if that don't beat all! you're a nice, respectable, chummy sort of a chap, ain't you, now? jest a leetle too nice to live, and i shouldn't be surprised if you was to get hurt by some one besides injuns, if ever we have the luck to get into a scrimmage with the red cusses." these remarks were particularly interesting to coacoochee; for, as the stranger removed his hat on riding away, the mystery of his voice, which had haunted the young chief with a familiar sound, was explained. the face, as revealed by the lifting of the drooping sombrero, was that of his acquaintance and preserver, ralph boyd the englishman. it is more than likely that coacoochee would have seized the present opportunity for rendering mr. troup jeffers forever powerless to injure any man, white, red, or black, but for an interruption that came just as he was contemplating a sudden descent from the tree. it appeared in the form of a lieutenant of regulars, who commanded the rear guard of the little army, and whose duty it was to drive in all stragglers. so mr. troup jeffers rode away, utterly unconscious of the imminent danger he had just escaped. he was, however, full of an ugly hate against the man who a few minutes before had treated him with such scorn, and was determined to discover his identity at the first opportunity. as the rear guard of the army disappeared from the view of the two watchers, they slipped to the ground from their hiding-place, more than glad of an opportunity to stretch their cramped limbs. coacoochee was the first to speak, and he said: "they go to the withlacoochee, and will seek to cross at haney's ferry. they must be delayed until our warriors can be brought to meet them. we are two. one must return to the wahoo swamp, tell osceola of this thing, and bid him hasten with all his fighting men to the ford that is by the itto micco [magnolia tree]. this shall be your errand, louis my brother, and i pray you make what speed you may, for our time is short. i will hasten to reach the ferry before the soldiers, and in some way prevent their using the boat. then must they go to the ford, for there is no other place to cross." chapter xx an alligator and his mysterious assailant late that same evening the watchers of osceola's camp in the great swamp were startled by the sudden appearance of a human form almost within their lines. he was instantly surrounded and led to the camp-fire in front of the chieftain's lodge, that his character might be determined. the surprise of the indians upon discovering him to be louis pacheco, whom they supposed to be a long day's journey from that place, was forgotten in that caused by his tidings. it seemed incredible that, while they had just destroyed one army of white men, another should already be on the confines of their country and about to invade it. but louis had seen and counted them. coacoochee's plan was a wise one, and they would follow it. so the bustle of preparation was immediately begun. the fight of the day before had nearly exhausted their ammunition. bullets must be moulded, and powder-horns refilled from a keg brought from a distant, carefully hidden magazine, a supply of provisions must be prepared, for on the war-trail no fires could be lighted and no game could be hunted. when all was ready, osceola caused his men to take a few hours' sleep; but with the first flush of daylight they were on the march, swiftly but silently threading the dim and oftentimes submerged pathways of the swamp. there were two hundred and fifty in all, of whom the greater number were warriors under osceola, and the balance were negroes led by alligator. on the following morning they reached the appointed place, and concealed themselves in the forest growth lining the bank on the south side of the ford. as this was the only point along that part of the river at which it was possible to cross without boats, they were satisfied that the attempt to enter the indian country would be made here, and that here the expected battle must take place. still, the troops should have arrived by this time, and as yet there was no sign of them. neither had coacoochee appeared, though this was where he had promised to meet them. osceola had just decided to send a scouting party to the ferry to make sure that coacoochee had completed his self-imposed task, when a remarkable incident arrested his attention and caused him to withhold the order. a green bush was floating slowly down the river toward the ford, and several of the indians were commenting on a peculiarity of its motion. instead of floating straight down with the current of the stream, it was unmistakably moving diagonally across the river toward them. when first noticed it had been in the middle of the channel, but now it was decidedly nearer their side. the withlacoochee abounded in alligators that grew to immense size, and just at this time one of the largest of these seemed strangely attracted toward the floating bush. his black snout, and the protruding eyes, set back so far from it as to give proof of his great length, were all that he showed above the surface. these, however, were observed to be moving cautiously nearer and nearer to the bush, until finally they almost touched it. all at once the monster sprang convulsively forward, throwing half his length from the water. for a moment his huge tail lashed the waves into a foam that appeared tinged with red. at the same time, a hideous bellowing roar of mingled rage and pain woke the forest echoes. then, with a sullen plunge, the brute sank and was seen no more. the strangest thing of this whole remarkable performance was not the disappearance of the great reptile, but the sudden appearance close beside it, at the very height of the flurry, of a round black object that looked extremely like a human head. it was only seen for a second; then the sharp report of a rifle rang out from across the river, and the object instantly disappeared. with this, a white man, tall, gaunt, and clad in the uniform of a united states dragoon, stepped from the thick growth, and scanned intently the surface of the water as he carefully reloaded his rifle. he stood thus for several minutes, and then, apparently satisfied that his shot had been effective, he turned and vanished among the trees. it would have been an easy matter for the concealed warriors to kill him while he stood in plain view, and several guns were raised for the purpose, but osceola forbade the firing of a shot. the appearance of that one soldier satisfied him that the others would soon arrive, and he did not wish to give them the slightest intimation of his presence until they should begin crossing the river. suddenly he and those with him were startled by the cry of a hawk twice repeated in their immediate vicinity. they recognized it as the signal of coacoochee; but where was he? as they gazed inquiringly about them, there was a rustling among the flags and lily-pads growing at the river's edge. then, so quickly that he was exposed to view but a single instant, coacoochee, naked except for a thong of buckskin about his waist, sprang from the water to the shelter of the bushes on the bank and stood among them. the young war-chief had taken a long circuit around general clinch's army, and reached the ferry toward which they were evidently marching, well in advance of them, the evening before. he already knew that the ferryman, alarmed by the impending indian troubles, had abandoned his post and removed with his family to a place of safety. what he did not know, however, was that the great scow used as a ferryboat lay high and dry on the bank, where a recent fall in the waters of the river had left it. he had expected to find it afloat and to either set it adrift, or sink it in the middle of the stream. now he was at a loss what to do. he could not move the clumsy craft from its muddy resting-place. his time was limited, and he had no tools, not even a hatchet, with which to destroy it. there was but one thing left, and that was fire. as he looked at the massive, water-soaked timbers of the scow, coacoochee realized that to destroy it by fire would be a tedious undertaking. however, he set resolutely to work, and within an hour flames were leaping merrily about the stranded boat. he had torn all the dry woodwork that would yield to his efforts from the ferryman's log cabin which stood at some distance back from the river. he had gathered a quantity of lightwood from dead pine trees, and had built three great fires, one at each end of the scow and one in the middle. when all this was accomplished to his satisfaction, the youth became conscious that he was faint and weak from hunger, as he had eaten nothing that day. visiting the ferryman's deserted cabin, he finally discovered half a barrel of hard bread and a small quantity of uncooked provisions secreted in a dark corner of the little loft that had served the family as a storeroom. as he was selecting a few articles of food to carry away and eat at his leisure in some snug hiding-place from which he might also watch the operations of the expected troops, the young chief was alarmed by the sound of voices. the next moment several soldiers entered the cabin, calling loudly upon its supposed occupants, of whose recent departure they were evidently unaware. receiving no reply to their shouts, they ransacked the two lower rooms. one even climbed the rude ladder leading to the little loft and peered curiously about him. crouched in its darkest corner and hardly breathing, coacoochee escaped observation, and the trooper descended to report that no one was up there. "it's clear enough that the folks have lit out," he added. "there must be somebody around to start that smoke down by the river," said another voice. "well, i reckon we'd best go and see what's burning as well as who's there," was the reply. with this they left the house, and coacoochee heard some one order two of them to stay and look after the horses; while the others went to ascertain the cause of the fire. he determined to make a bold dash for liberty, and risk the shots that the two men would certainly fire at him; but when he was half-way down the ladder, the sound of fresh voices caused him hurriedly to regain his hiding-place. now there was much talking, and he knew that the main body of troops had arrived. as it was nearly sunset, the soldiers went into camp between the house and the river, and a number of them took possession of the house itself. fortunately the hot, stuffy little loft did not offer sufficient attractions to tempt any of them to occupy it, though several peered into its gloom from the ladder. as they did not discern the crouching form in the corner, the young indian began to fancy that he might remain there in safety so long as he chose. he was rejoiced to learn, from fragments of conversation that his fires had rendered the scow useless. he also learned to his dismay that an old canoe had been discovered, and was even then being patched up so that it would float. in it the troops would cross the river, a few at a time, on the following morning. coacoochee passed a weary night, not daring to sleep, lest he should make some movement that would betray his presence to those in the rooms below. occasionally he was forced by the pains in his cramped limbs to change his position, but he did this as seldom as possible and with the utmost caution. at length, just as daylight was breaking, and certain sounds indicated that the camp was waking up, one of these cautious movements dislodged a hard biscuit that lay on the floor beside him. slipping through a crevice in the rude flooring, it fell plump on the face of one of the sleepers below. the man thus suddenly wakened sprang up with a cry of alarm. he laughed when he discovered the cause of his fright, and exclaimed in ralph boyd's well-remembered voice: "hello! there's hard bread up-stairs, boys, and the rats are at work on it. i'm going to stop their fun, and secure my share." with this he started toward the ladder, and coacoochee nerved himself for the discovery that he knew was now unavoidable. chapter xxi battle of the withlacoochee the man who had been so rudely roused from his sleep slowly climbed the ladder leading to the loft, and began cautiously to feel his way across the uneven flooring. the place in which the indian crouched and awaited his coming was still shrouded in utter darkness; but by the uncertain light coming up from below, the approaching figure was faintly outlined. this man had proved himself coacoochee's friend, and the young chief had no intention of harming him. still, he could not allow himself to be captured, even by ralph boyd. he dared not trust himself in the hands of the whites after what had so recently happened. besides, it was now more than ever necessary that he should be at liberty to communicate with osceola and inform him of the proposed movements of the troops. these thoughts flashed through his mind during the few seconds occupied by boyd in groping his way toward the dark corner. suddenly from out of it a dim figure sprang upon the white man, with such irresistible force that he was hurled breathless to the floor. with one bound it reached the aperture through which the ladder protruded, and slid to the room below. the half-awakened men who occupied this, startled by the crash above them, were scrambling to their feet, and, as coacoochee dashed through them toward the open door, several hands were stretched forth to seize him. they failed to check his progress, and in another moment he was gone. with the swiftness of a bird he darted across the open space behind the house, and disappeared in the forest beyond. so sudden and unexpected was this entire performance that not a shot was fired after him, and the young indian could hardly realize the completeness of his escape as he found himself unharmed amid the friendly shadows of the trees. had he chosen to continue his flight directly away from the river, it would have been an easy matter to gain a position of absolute safety, so far as any pursuit was concerned. but he must reach the ford and those whom he supposed to be there awaiting him. therefore, after making a long detour through the forest, he again approached the withlacoochee, at a point several miles above where he had left it. in the meantime, the presence of an indian in the very heart of their camp had occasioned the greatest excitement throughout general clinch's army. he was the first they had encountered, and his boldness, together with the manner in which he had eluded them, invested him with an alarming air of mystery. it was the general opinion that there must be others on that side of the river in the immediate vicinity, and scouts were sent out in all directions to ascertain their whereabouts. at the same time the crossing of the withlacoochee by means of the single canoe was begun and prosecuted with all possible rapidity. coacoochee was greatly embarrassed in his attempt to gain the ford by the presence of the scouting parties, and was more than once on the eve of being discovered by them. even though he might reach the river without attracting their notice, he feared they would detect him in the act of crossing it. finally he hit upon an expedient that he believed might prove successful. cautiously gaining the bank at some distance above the ford, he hastily bound together four bits of dry wood in the form of a square by means of slender withes of the wild grape. for this purpose he choose green vines that were covered with leaves. he also cut a number of leafy twigs, and inserting their ends beneath the lashing of vines produced a fair imitation of a green bush. the deception was heightened as he carefully placed his rude structure in the water, where it floated most naturally. then concealing his rifle and clothing, and thrusting the trusty knife, which was now to be his only weapon, into the snakeskin sheath that depended from a buckskin thong about his waist, the youth slipped gently into the water and sank beneath its surface. when he rose, his head was inside the little square of sticks and completely screened from view by its leafy canopy. thus floating, and paddling gently with his hands, he caused the mass of foliage to move almost imperceptibly out from the shore, while at the same time he and it were borne downward with the sluggish current. coacoochee had no fear of alligators. he had been familiar with them ever since he could remember anything, and was well acquainted with their cowardly nature. thus when he had successfully passed the middle of the river, and was gently working his way toward its opposite bank, the near approach of one of these monsters did not cause him any uneasiness. he knew that he could frighten the great reptile away, or even kill it, though he feared that by so doing he might expose himself to a shot from those who still scouted along the bank he had so recently left. finally the monster approached so close that he was sickened by its musky breath, and it became evident that he was about to be attacked. drawing his long knife, the young indian allowed himself to sink without making a sound or a movement. a single stroke carried him directly beneath the huge beast, and a powerful upward thrust plunged the keen blade deep into its most vulnerable spot through the soft skin under one of the fore-shoulders. in spite of the danger from the creature's death flurry, coacoochee was compelled to rise for breath close beside it. this was the moment waited for by a white scout on the further bank, who had for some time been directing keenly suspicious glances at the mysterious movements of the floating bush. more than once his rifle had been raised for the purpose of sending an inquiring leaden messenger into the centre of that clump of foliage, but each time it had been lowered as its owner determined to watch and wait a little longer. now the bullet was sped, and only the great commotion of the water caused it to miss its mark by an inch. as the head at which he had fired immediately disappeared, and was seen no more, the rifleman fancied that his shot had taken effect, and that there was one indian less to be removed from the country. swimming under water with the desperation of one conscious that his life depends upon his efforts, coacoochee did not again come to the surface until he touched the stems of the great "bonnets," or leaves of the yellow cow-lily on the further side of the river, and could rise for a breath of the blessed air beneath their friendly screen. here he lay motionless for several minutes, recovering from his exhaustion. at length he ventured to give the hawk's call as a warning to his friends of his presence. then, gathering all his strength, he made the quiet rush for safety that carried him among them. it did not take many seconds to inform them that the enemy for whom they were watching so anxiously was even then crossing the river, unconscious of danger, a mile below that point. the report had hardly been made before the eager warriors who crowded about the speaker were in motion. coacoochee was quickly provided with clothing, a rifle, and ammunition, and fifteen minutes later the entire indian force was within hearing of the sounds made by the soldiers as they crossed the river. here a halt was made while osceola himself crept forward with the noiseless movement of a serpent to discover the enemy's exact location and disposition. to his dismay, he found that a force equal in number to his own had already crossed the river, with others constantly coming. there must not be a minute's delay if he would fight with the faintest hope of checking their advance. hastily the forest warriors chose their positions, and a crashing volley from their rifles was the first announcement given the soldiers of their presence. although staggered for a moment, the regulars quickly recovered, fixed their gleaming bayonets, and with a wild yell charged into the cloud of smoke. the indians fell back; but only long enough to reload their guns, when they advanced in turn, pouring such a deadly fire into the white ranks that their formation was broken, and the soldiers were driven back to the river's bank. here they were reformed by the general himself, and led to a second charge with results similar to the first. this time the indians did not give way so readily, nor fall back so far. under the frenzied leadership of alligator and osceola, who urged them with wild cries and frantic gestures to stand firm, they contested with knives, hatchets, and clubbed rifles each step of the way over which they were slowly forced. in order to shelter themselves against the indian fire, the soldiers adopted their plan of fighting, and each, selecting a tree, took his position behind it. here an exposure of the smallest portion of a body was certain to draw a shot, and the whites were soon made aware by their rapidly increasing number of wounded, that at this game they were no match for the indian marksmen. coacoochee and half a dozen warriors had concealed themselves on the river bank above the ferry, so that their rifles commanded it, and their fire so effectually dampened the ardor of the five hundred volunteers remaining on the other side that not one of them crossed or took part in the battle, except by firing a few scattering shots from their own side of the river. for more than an hour the battle raged. osceola was wounded, and the indian ammunition was giving out. they were becoming discouraged and were about to retire. all at once coacoochee, who, on hearing of osceola's wound, had left his little band of sharpshooters to guard the crossing, appeared among them. the effect of his presence and inspiring words was magical. loud and fierce rang out his battle cry: "yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee-chee!" with the last grains of powder in their rifles and led by their dauntless young chief, the entire body of warriors, yelling like demons, dashed madly through the forest toward the line of troops. "they must have been heavily reinforced," shouted the bewildered soldiers to each other. "there are thousands of them!" from every bunch of palmetto, from every tuft of grass, and from behind every tree, a yelling, half-naked, and death-dealing indian seemed to spring forth. a heavy but ill-aimed fire did not check them in the slightest. the soldiers began to fall back from one tree to another. some of them ran. the wounded were hurriedly removed to the river bank. perhaps some were overlooked. there was no time to search for those who were not in plain view. the dead were left where they had fallen. with the first sign of this yielding, the frenzied yelling of the indians increased, until the whole forest seemed alive with them. the retreat of the soldiers became a flight. a scattering volley from behind hastened their steps. the battle of the withlacoochee was ended. chapter xxii the young chief makes a timely discovery without ammunition the warriors of coacoochee could not be persuaded to remain on the field of battle, and the frightened soldiers had hardly reached the river bank before the indians were also in full retreat toward their strongholds in the great swamp. of this the soldiers knew nothing, nor did they stop to inquire why they were not pursued. they were thankful enough to be allowed to re-embark, a dozen at a time, in their one canoe and recross the river without molestation. they imagined the forest behind them to be swarming with indians, and they trembled beneath the supposed gaze of hundreds of gleaming eyes with which their fancy filled every thicket. late that afternoon general clinch and his terrified army were in full retreat toward fort drane, with their eyes widely opened to the danger and difficulty of invading an enemy's country, even though that enemy was but a band of despised indians. they carried with them fifty wounded men and left four dead behind them, besides several others reported as missing. they had killed three of the enemy and wounded five. when they reached the safe shelter of the fort, they reported that they had gained an important victory. upon the retreat of the seminoles, coacoochee and louis, who had rejoined him that day, remained behind to watch the troops and discover what they might of their plans for the future. they supposed, of course, that with the cessation of the indian fire, the soldiers would again advance, and finding no further opposition offered, would proceed with their invasion of the country. they could hardly believe their own eyes, therefore, when they saw that the troops were actually recrossing the river, as evidently in full retreat as were the seminole warriors in the opposite direction at that very moment. upon beholding this marvellous sight, louis was in favor of hastening after their friends and bringing them back to follow and harass general clinch's retreating army; but coacoochee said that without ammunition they could do nothing, and that it was better, under the circumstances, to let affairs remain as they were. at the same time, he desired louis to hasten up to the ford, cross the river at that point, and, coming cautiously down on the other side, discover if the soldiers were really in retreat, or if they still had their position near the ferryman's house. while the mulatto was thus engaged, he himself would remain where they were, to follow the troops, should they recover from their panic, and decide, after all, to continue their invasion of the indian country. after louis had been despatched on this mission, coacoochee, satisfied that the soldiers were too intent upon recrossing the river and gaining a place of safety to disturb him, ventured to revisit the battle-field, in the hope of finding a stray powder-flask or pouch of bullets. so successful was his search, that he not only found a number of these, but several rifles that had been flung away by the soldiers in their hurried flight. while busy collecting these prizes, the young chief was startled by hearing a faint groan. he looked about him. there was nobody in sight; but again he heard a groan. this time he located it as proceeding from a clump of palmettoes a few paces distant. approaching these, and cautiously parting their broad leaves, he discovered the body of a white man lying face downward. the man was evidently severely wounded, for he lay motionless in a pool of blood, but that he was also alive was shown by his occasional feeble groans. coacoochee's first impulse was to leave him where he lay. he would soon die there. at any rate, the wolves would make short work of him that night. it was contrary to the policy of the indians to take prisoners, and he certainly could not be burdened with one,--a wounded one, at that. his second impulse, which was urged by pity, of which even an indian's breast is not wholly void, was to put the wretch out of his misery by means of a mercifully aimed bullet. he knew that his savage companions would ridicule such an act. they would either leave the man to his fate, after making sure that he could not possibly recover, or they would revive him sufficiently to comprehend their purpose and then kill him. they would never be so weak as to kill an unconscious man merely to save him from suffering. still this was what coacoochee was about to do, and he felt a kindly warming of the heart, as one does who is about to perform a generous deed. slowly he raised his rifle and took a careful aim at the head of the motionless figure before him. his finger was on the trigger. an instant more and the deed would have been accomplished. but there is no report. the brown rifle is slowly lowered, and the young indian's gaze rests as though fascinated upon something that caught his eye as it sighted along the deadly tube. it is only a peculiar seam in the white man's buckskin hunting-tunic, but it runs down the middle of the back from collar to the bottom of the shirt. there are other noticeable features about that hunting-shirt. the little bunches of fringe at the shoulders are of a peculiar cut, and all of its stitching is in yellow silk. with a low cry of mingled horror and anticipation, coacoochee dropped his rifle, and springing forward, turned the unconscious man over so that his face was exposed. it was that of ralph boyd, the man who had twice saved his life; the man to whose noble scorn of one of the cruellest enemies of an oppressed race he had listened with such pleasure only two days before. indian and stern warrior though he was, coacoochee turned faint at the thought of how nearly he had taken this precious life, for the saving of which he would willingly risk his own. the hunting-shirt worn by boyd was the very one in which coacoochee had paid his last memorable visit to st. augustine. it was the one that had been slit from top to bottom by fontaine salano's knife, and stripped from him, in preparation for the whipping the brute proposed to administer. the thought of that shameful moment caused coacoochee's blood to boil again with rage. at the same time the sight of this noble-hearted stranger who had saved him from that bitter indignity moved him to greatest pity. kneeling beside the unconscious man, the young indian sought to discover the nature of his wound. to his amazement, it was caused by a bullet that had been fired from _behind_. how could such a thing be? none but white men were behind boyd during the battle. suddenly the muttered words of troup jeffers flashed into his mind. now all was clear. to gratify his own petty revenge the slave-catcher had committed this cowardly act. the young chief was busily engaged in stanching the flow of blood, and binding a poultice of healing leaves, mixed with the glutinous juice of a cabbage palm, on the wound, when louis returned and stood beside him. the whites were in full retreat from the scene of their recent discomfiture, and louis had returned in the very canoe they had used and abandoned. now he and coacoochee bore the wounded man tenderly to it, crossed the river, and carried him to the ferryman's cabin, where both he and the young chief had passed the previous night, unconscious of each other's presence. here they made him as comfortable as possible, and here for awhile we must leave them. chapter xxiii shakespeare in the forest like a fire sped by strong winds across a prairie of brown and sun-dried grasses, so did the flames of war sweep across the entire breadth of florida. for a year had the indians been preparing for it. now they were ready to gather in numbers, and fight armies, or scatter in small bands, to spread death and destruction in every direction. the seminole was about to make a desperate defence of his country, and to teach its invaders that they might not steal it from him with impunity. express riders carried news of the war in every direction. everywhere cabins, farms, and plantations were abandoned, while their owners flocked into forts and settlements for mutual protection and safety. one day, some two weeks after the events narrated in the preceding chapter, a novel procession was to be seen wending its slow, dusty way along one of the few roads of those times that led from the st. john's river to st. augustine. the procession presented a confused medley of horsemen, pedestrians, wheeled vehicles, and cattle, and might have reminded one of the migration of a band of asiatic nomads. it was indeed a migration, though one directed rather by force of circumstances than by choice. it was a white household, with its servants, cattle, and readily portable effects, fleeing from an abandoned plantation towards st. augustine for safety against the indians. none of the party had seen an indian as yet, but they were reported to be ravaging both banks of the river from mandarin to picolata. at first the young mistress of this particular estate had discredited the reports, for it was only rumored as yet that the seminoles had really declared war. her brother being absent from home, she for some time resolutely declined to abandon the house in which he had left her. the neighboring places on either side had been deserted for several days, and their occupants had entreated her to fly with them, but without avail. "no," she replied; "here ralph left me, and here i shall stay until he comes again, or until i am driven away by something more real than mere rumors." at length that "something" came. all night the southern sky was reddened by a dull glow occasionally heightened by jets of flame and columns of sparks. at daylight a frightened negro brought word that the indians were but a few miles away, and had burned the deserted buildings on three plantations during the night. now was indeed time to seek safety in flight, and "missy" anstice, as the servants called her, ordered a hurried departure. her own preparations were very simple. a small trunk of clothing and a few precious souvenirs were all that she proposed to take. with only herself, letty her maid, and these few things in the carriage that old primus would drive, and the servants in carts or on muleback, they ought to travel so speedily as to reach st. augustine some time that same night. but while anstice was quite ready to start, she found to her dismay that no one else was. confusion reigned in the quarters; there was a wild running hither and thither, a piling on the carts of rickety household furniture, bedding, and goods of every description; a loud squawking of fowls tied by the legs, and hung in mournful festoons from every projecting point, and a confused lowing, bleating, and grunting from flocks and herds. in vain did the young mistress command and plead. all the servants on that plantation were free. many of them owned the carts they were loading, and nothing short of the appearance of indians on the spot could have induced them to relinquish their precious household treasures. "lor, missy anstice!" one would say reproachfully, "yo wouldn' tink ob astin' a ole ooman to leab behine de onliest fedder bed she done got?" "but i am going to leave all mine, aunty." "yah, honey; but yo'se got a heap ob 'em, while i've ony got jes' dis one." and so it went. useless articles taken from overloaded carts, at anstice's earnest solicitation, were slyly added to others when she was not looking. her brother acted as his own overseer, so there were no whites on the plantation to aid her. she alone must order this exodus, and beneath its responsibilities she found herself well-nigh helpless. at length, in despair, and having wasted most of the morning in useless expostulations, she entered the heavy, old-fashioned coach, with letty the maid, and gave primus the order to set forth. as the carriage passed the quarters, there was a great cry of: "don' yo leab us, missy anstice! don' yo gway an' leab us to de injins! we'se a comin'." so primus was ordered to drive slowly, and under other circumstances the english girl would have been vastly amused at the motley procession that began to straggle along behind her; but the danger was too imminent and too great to admit of any thoughts save those of anxiety and fear. [illustration: "to leab behine de onliest fedder bed she done got."] an hour or more passed without incident. the sun beat down fiercely from an unclouded sky, and the shadows of the tall pines seemed to nestle close to the brown trunks in an effort to escape his scorching rays. a sound of locusts filled the air. the grateful sea-breeze that would steal inland an hour later was still afar off, and but for the urgency of their flight, the slow-moving cavalcade would have rested until it came. the tongues of the cattle hung from their mouths, and a cloud of dust enveloped them. the heads of horses and mules were stretched straight out, and their ears drooped. old primus nodded on the carriage seat. letty was fast asleep, and even her young mistress started from an occasional doze. unobserved by a single eye in all that weary throng, another cloud of dust, similar to that hanging above and about them, rose in their rear. it approached rapidly, until it was so close that the clouds mingled. then from out the gray canopy burst a whirlwind of yells, shots, galloping horses, and human forms with wildly waving arms. in an instant the fugitives were roused from their drowsiness to a state of bewildered terror. men shouted and beat their animals, women screamed, horses plunged, mules kicked, and carts were upset. the first intimation of this onset that reached the occupants of the carriage, was in the form of madly galloping cattle that, with loud bellowings, wild eyes, and streaming tails, began to dash past on either side. then their own horses took fright, and urged on by old primus, tore away down the road. all at once the terrified occupants of the flying vehicle looked up at the sound of a triumphant yell, only to behold fierce eyes glaring at them from hideously painted faces at either door. the muzzle of a rifle was thrust in at one of the open windows, and at sight of it anstice boyd hid her face in her hands, believing that her last moment had come. when she recovered from her terror sufficiently to look about her once more, letty was sobbing hysterically on the floor, but there was no motion to the carriage, and all was silent around them. primus was no longer on the box, and the carriage was not in the road. determined to discover their exact situation, anstice opened one of the doors, with a view to stepping out. at that moment a loud and significant "ugh!" coming from beneath the carriage, caused her to change her mind and hastily reclose the door, as though it were in some way a protection. a few moments later two mounted indians rode up to the carriage, and each leading one of its horses, it began to move slowly through the trackless pine forest. as it started, the indian who had been left to guard it sprang to the seat lately occupied by old primus. for hours the strange journey was continued, and it was after sunset when it finally ended near the great river at a place some miles below the plantation they had left that morning. now the wearied prisoners were allowed to leave their carriage, and were led to where several negro women were cooking supper over a small fire. anstice was provided with food, but she could not eat. terror and anxiety had robbed her of all appetite, and she could only sit and gaze at the strange scene about her, as it was disclosed by the fitful firelight. piles of plunder were scattered on all sides. a lowing of cattle, grunting of hogs, cackling and crowing of fowls, the spoils of many a ravaged barnyard, rose on the night air. there was much laughing and talking, both in a strange indian language that still seemed to contain a number of english words, and in the homely negro dialect. as the bewildered girl crouched at the foot of a tree, and recalling tale after tale of savage atrocities, trembled at the fate she believed to be in store for her, she started at the sound of a heavy footfall close at hand. "bress yo heart, honey! hit's ony me!" exclaimed the well-known voice of old primus, who, after a long search, had just discovered his young mistress. "hyar's a jug o' milk an' a hot pone, an' i'se come to 'splain dere hain't no reason fo' being scairt ob dese yeah red injuns. ole primus done fix it so's dey hain't gwine hut yo. dey's mighty frienly to de cullud folks, and say ef we gwine long wif 'em, we stay free same like we allers bin; but ef we go ter augustine, de white folks cotch us an' sell us fo pay in de oxpenses ob de wah. "same time i bin makin' 'rangement wif 'em dat ef we'se gwine long er dem, dey is boun ter let yo go safe to augustine, whar marse boyd'll be looking fer yo. yes'm, i'se bin councillin' wif 'em an' settle all dat ar." "but, primus, i thought you were scared to death of the indians, and didn't understand a word of their language," interrupted anstice. "who? me! sho, missy anstice, yo suttenly don't reckin i was scairt. no'm, i hain't scairt ob no red injin, now dat i onerstan'in deir langwidge an' deir 'tenshuns. why, missy, deir talk's mighty nigh de same as ourn when yo gits de hang ob hit. so, honey, yo want to chirk up and quit yo mo'nin', an' eat a bit, and den come to de theayter, foh it sholy will be fine." "what do you mean by the theatre?" asked the bewildered girl; whereupon primus explained that at one of the plantations raided by the indians a company of actors on their way to st. augustine had been discovered, captured, and brought along with all their properties. these people were at first informed that they were to be burned to death at the stake. afterwards it was decided that they should be given their lives and freedom if they would entertain their captors with an exhibition of their art that very evening. this contract stipulated that the performance should be as complete and detailed as though given before a white audience, and that any member of the company failing to act his part in a satisfactory manner would render himself liable to become a target for bullets and arrows. under the circumstances it is doubtful if a play was ever presented under more extraordinary conditions, greater difficulties, or by actors more anxious to perform creditably their respective parts, than was this one given in the depths of a florida wilderness. the stage was an open space, roofed by arching trees, and lighted by great fires of pine knots constantly replenished. the wings were two wagons drawn up on either side. the play selected for this important occasion was hamlet, and for awhile everything proceeded smoothly. then the audience began to grow impatient of the long soliloquies, and to the intense surprise of the captives, a gruff voice called out: "oh, cut it short an' git to fightin'!" "no, give us a dance," shouted another, "an' hyar's a chune to dance by." with this a pistol shot rang out, and a ball struck the ground close to horatio's feet. the frightened actor bounded into the air, and as he alighted, another shot, coupled with a fierce order to _dance_, assured him that his tormentors were in deadly earnest. so he danced, and the others were compelled to join him. to an accompaniment of roars of laughter from the delighted savages, the terrified actors, clad in all the bravery of tinsel armor and nodding plumes, were thus compelled to cut capers and perform strange antics until some of them fell to the ground from sheer exhaustion. the humor of the savages now took another turn, and with fierce oaths, mingled with threats of instant death if the players were ever seen in that country again, they drove them from camp and bade them make their way to st. augustine. as these fugitives disappeared in the surrounding darkness, a big, hideously painted savage who wore on his face the uncommon adornment of a bristling beard, advanced to anstice boyd, and in a jargon of broken english bade her follow them if she valued her life. as the frightened girl started to obey this mandate, old primus interfered and began to remonstrate with the savage, whereupon he was struck to the ground with so cruel a blow that blood gushed from his mouth. filled with horror at these happenings, and believing her life to be in peril if she lingered another minute, the fair english girl sprang away, and was quickly lost to sight in the black forest shadows. chapter xxiv bogus indians and the real article as anstice boyd fled blindly from the presence of the savage who had just struck down her faithful servant, she had no idea of the direction she was taking, nor of what haven she might hope to reach. she knew only that she was once more free to make her way to friends, if she could, and her greatest present fear was that the savages might repent their generosity, and seek to recapture her. so, as she ran, she listened fearfully for sounds of pursuit, and several times fancied that she heard soft footfalls close at hand, though hasty glances over her shoulder disclosed no cause for apprehension. at length, she came to the end of her strength, and sank wearily to the ground at the foot of a giant magnolia. almost as she did so, a low cry of despair came from her lips, for with noiseless step the slender form of a young indian stood like an apparition beside her. she had not then escaped, after all, but was still at the mercy of the savages whose cruelty she had so recently witnessed. this one had doubtless been sent to kill her. thus thinking, the trembling girl covered her face with her hands, and, praying that the fatal blow might be swift and sure, dumbly awaited its delivery. seconds passed, and it did not fall. the agony of suspense was intolerable. she was about to spring up as though in an effort to escape, and thus precipitate her fate, when, to her amazement, she became aware that the indian was speaking in a low tone, and in her own tongue. "my white sister must not be afraid," he said. "coacoochee has come far to find her and take her to a place of safety. ralph boyd is his friend, his only friend among all the millions of white men. he is wounded, and lies in a seminole lodge. after a little we will go to him. there is no time now to tell more. i have that to do which must be done quickly. let my sister rest here, and in one hour i will come again." as he concluded these words, which had been uttered hurriedly, and in a voice but little above a whisper, the indian turned and disappeared as noiselessly as he had come, seeming to melt away among the woodland shadows. the bewildered girl, thus again left alone, tried to collect her dazed senses and fix upon some plan of action. should she still attempt to escape, or should she trust the youth who had just announced himself to be coacoochee, the friend of her brother? of course, he must belong to the band that had recently held her captive, though she had not seen him among them. what should she do? which way should she turn? in her terror, anstice was unconsciously asking these questions aloud, though her only answers were the night sounds of the forest. suddenly there came to her ears the crash of rifles, accompanied by the blood-chilling seminole war-cry, and followed by fierce yells, shrieks of mortal agony, and the other horrid sounds of a death-struggle between man and man, that was evidently taking place but a short distance from her. the girl sprang to her feet, but, bound to the spot by the horror of those sounds, she listened breathlessly and with strained ears. had the savages been attacked by a party of whites? it might be. she knew that troops of both regulars and militia were abroad in every direction. had not she and her brother entertained one of these small war-parties hastening from st. augustine to join the western army only a short time before? it had been commanded by their friend, lieutenant irwin douglass, who had easily persuaded ralph boyd to accompany him as far as fort king, that he might learn for himself the true state of affairs in the indian country. might it not be that one of these detachments, even, possibly, that of douglass himself, had tracked this band of savages to their hiding-place, and were visiting upon them a terrible but well-merited punishment? in that case, to fly would be folly; for, with the indians defeated, as of course they must be, she would find safety among the victors. thus thinking, and filled with an eager desire to learn more of the tragedy being enacted so near her, the girl began to advance, fearfully and cautiously, in the direction of those appalling sounds. as she approached the scene of conflict, its noise gradually died away, until an occasional shout and a confused murmur of voices were borne to her on the night air. the short battle was ended, and one side or the other was victorious; which one, she must discover at all hazards. a gleam of firelight directed her steps, and she continued her cautious advance to a point of river bank, from which, though still concealed by dark shadows, she could command a full view of the beach below. there, by the light of the rising moon, aided by that of the fires, she beheld a scene so strange that for some minutes she could make nothing of it. two large flat-boats, such as were used by planters along the river for the transportation of produce to waiting vessels at its mouth, lay moored to the bank. one of them seemed to be piled high with plunder, while the other was filled with a dark mass of humanity, from which came a medley of voices speaking with the unmistakable accent of negroes. anstice could see that these had been captives, as, two at a time, they stepped ashore, where the ropes confining them were severed by flashing knives in the hands of dusky figures, apparently indians. a number of motionless forms lay on the beach, and some of the others seemed to be examining these, going from one to another, and spending but a few moments with each one. the girl gazed anxiously, but full of bewilderment and with a heavy heart, at these things. where were the whites she had so confidently expected to see? she could not discover one. all of those on the beach, dead as well as living, appeared to be either indians or negroes. what could it mean? did indian fight with indian? she had never heard of such a thing in florida. as she looked and wondered with ever-sinking heart, and filled with despairing thoughts, she was attracted by the voice of an indian who, near one of the fires, was evidently issuing an order to the others. she imagined him to be the one who had appeared to her a short time before, and called himself "coacoochee," but she could not be certain. in striving to obtain a better view of his face, she incautiously stepped forward to a projecting point of the bank. in another moment the treacherous soil had loosened beneath her weight, and with frantic but ineffective efforts to save herself, she slid down the sandy face of the bluff to its bottom. at her first appearance, the startled savages seized their guns, and nerved themselves for an attack; but, on discovering how little cause there was for alarm, they remained motionless, though staring with amazement at the unexpected intruder. poor anstice was not only filled with fresh terrors, but was covered with confusion at the absurdity of her situation. ere she could regain her feet, the indian who seemed to be in command sprang forward and assisted her to rise. "my white sister came too quickly," he said gravely; "she should have stayed in the shadow of the itto micco [magnolia] till the time for coming. it is not good for her to see such things." here the speaker swept his arm over the battle-ground. "since she has come," he continued, "coacoochee will deliver the words of ralph boyd--" at this moment he was interrupted by a joyful cry, a rush of footsteps, and letty, the maid, sobbing and laughing in a breath, came flying up the beach, to fling her arms about the neck of her beloved young mistress. she was followed by old primus, hobbling stiffly, and uttering pious ejaculations of thankfulness. behind him crowded the entire force of the plantation, men, women, and children, all shouting with joy at the sight of "missy anstice." the stern-faced warriors watched this scene with indulgent smiles, for they knew that the sunny-haired girl, looking all the fairer in contrast with the sable-hued throng about her, was the sister of the white man who had so befriended their young war-chief. "what does it all mean?" cried anstice, at length disengaging herself from letty's hysterical embrace. "what was the cause of the firing i heard but a short while since? who are those yonder?" here she pointed with a shudder at the motionless forms lying prone on the sands. "surely they must be indians, and yet, i knew not that the hand of the red man was lifted against his fellows." "they are not of the iste-chatte [red man], but belong to the iste-hatke [white man]," answered coacoochee, gravely. "dey's white debbils painted wif blackness," muttered old primus. "they are white men, miss anstice, disguised like injuns," explained letty, whose style of conversation, from long service as lady's maid, was superior to her station. "and oh, miss anstice! they were going to take us down the river to sell us into slavery. we wouldn't believe they could be white men, but the paint has been washed from the faces of some of them, and now we know it is so." gradually, by listening to one and another who volunteered information, anstice boyd learned that the supposed savages, whose prisoner she had been, were indeed a party of white slave-catchers, disguised in paint and feathers, so that their deeds of rascality might be laid to the seminoles. coacoochee, to relieve the anxiety of ralph boyd, who lay wounded and helpless in an indian village, had set forth with a small band of warriors to escort his friend's sister to a place of safety, among people of her own race. he found the plantation deserted, and, coming across the trail of the marauders who had captured its occupants, quickly discovered their true character by many unmistakable signs. when they encamped for the night, the vengeful eyes of his warriors were upon them; and when, for their own safety, they freed their white prisoners and drove them away to spread the report of this fresh _indian_ outrage, these were allowed to pass through the seminole line without molestation. coacoochee alone followed anstice boyd beyond ear-shot of the camp, to assure her of friendly aid and safety; then he returned to deal out to the white ruffians their well-deserved punishment. he would not fire on them while they and the blacks whom they proposed to turn into property were mingled together; but when the latter were bound and driven into the boats, he gave the terrible signal. more than half the painted band fell at the first fire; the remainder, with the exception of the leader and two others, who escaped in a canoe, were quickly despatched, and the deed of vengeance was completed. in view of these occurrences, and with the certainty that troops would be sent in pursuit of coacoochee's band, to which all the recent aggressions would of course be credited, the young chief no longer deemed it prudent to attempt to escort his friend's sister to the vicinity of any white settlement. he proposed instead to carry her to her brother. the girl accepted this plan, provided she might be accompanied by her maid letty, a condition to which the young indian readily agreed. during the few hours that remained of the night, anstice and her maid slept the sleep of utter weariness in the carriage that had brought them to that place, and with the earliest dawn were prepared to start toward the seminole stronghold, deep hidden among withlacoochee swamps. chapter xxv a swamp stronghold of the seminoles on the morning following that midnight tragedy of the wilderness, the indians made haste to retreat to that portion of the country which they still called their own. the flat-boats were used to carry themselves, their negro allies, and such of the plunder as could be readily transported to the opposite side of the river; the cattle and horses were made to swim across. such of the plunder collected by the white renegades as must be left behind was burned. among all the property thus acquired by the indians, none was more highly prized than the gorgeous costumes of the theatrical company. the unfortunate actors had been forced to abandon these in their hurried flight, and now coacoochee's grim-faced warriors wore them with startling effect. anstice boyd could not help smiling at the fantastic appearance thus presented by her escort, though feeling that the circumstances in which she was placed warranted anything rather than smiles or light-heartedness. was her brother really wounded, and was she being taken to him, or were those only plausible tales to lure her away beyond chance of rescue? "can we trust him, letty? has he told us the truth?" she asked of her maid, indicating coacoochee with a slight nod. "law, yes, miss anstice! you can always trust an injun to tell you the truth, for they hasn't learned how to lie; that is, them as has kept away from white folks hasn't. as for that young man, he has an honest face, and i believe every word he says. he'll take us straight to marse ralph, i know he will." comforted by this assurance, anstice crossed the river with a lighter heart than she had known for days. when, on the other side, and mounted on a spirited pony she was allowed to dash on in advance of the strange cavalcade that followed her, she began to experience an hitherto unknown thrill of delight in the wild freedom of the forest life unfolding before her. soon after leaving the river, the indians began to divide into small parties, each of which took a different direction, thus making a number of divergent trails well calculated to baffle pursuit. the negroes also separated into little companies, all of which were to be guided to a common rendezvous, where, under the leadership of old primus, they promised to remain until "marse" boyd should again return to the plantation and send for them. thus anstice and her maid finally found themselves escorted only by coacoochee and two other warriors. pushing forward with all speed, this little party reached, at noon of the second day, the bank of a dark stream that flowed sluggishly through an almost impenetrable cypress swamp. one of the indians remained here with the horses, while the rest of the party embarked in one of several canoes that had been carefully hidden at this point. urged on by the lusty paddles of coacoochee and his companion, this craft proceeded swiftly for nearly a mile up the shadowy stream. not even the noonday sun could penetrate the dense foliage that arched above them. festoons of vines depended like huge serpents from interlacing branches, and funereal streamers of gray moss hung motionless in the stagnant air. the black waters swarmed with great alligators, that showed little fear of the canoe, and gave it reluctant passage. strange birds, water-turkeys with snake-like necks, red-billed cormorants, purple galinules, and long-legged herons, startled from their meditations by the dip of paddles, flapped heavily up stream in advance of the oncoming craft, with discordant cries. upon such slender threads hang the fate of nations and communities as well as that of individuals, that, but for these brainless water-fowl, flying stupidly up the quiet river and spreading with harsh voices the news that something had frightened them, the whole course of the seminole war might have been changed. as it was, a single indian, who was cautiously making his way down stream in a small canoe, hugging the darkest shadows, and casting furtive glances on all sides, was quick to make use of the information thus furnished. as the squawking birds redoubled their cries at sight of him, he turned his canoe quickly and drove it deep in among the cypresses at one side, so that it was completely hidden from the view of any who might pass up or down the river. this indian, who was known as chitta-lustee (the black snake), had hardly gained the hiding-place from which he peered out with eager eyes, before the craft containing coacoochee and his little party swept into view around a bend, and slipped swiftly past him. the keen eye of the young war-chief did not fail to note the floating bubbles left by the paddle of the spy, but attributed them to an alligator, or to some of the innumerable turtles that were constantly plumping into the water from half-submerged logs as the canoe approached. so he paid no attention to them, but a minute later guided his slender craft across the river, and into an opening so concealed by low-hanging branches, that one unfamiliar with its location might have searched for it in vain. this was what chitta-lustee had been doing, and for the discovery, made now by accident, he had been promised a fabulous reward in _whiskey_. there were renegades among the seminoles as well as among the whites, and of these the black snake was one. seduced from his allegiance to those of his own blood by an unquenchable thirst for the white man's fire-water, he had sold himself, body and soul, to the enemies of his race. general scott, who had succeeded to the command of the army in florida, was bending all his energies toward breaking up the indian strongholds amid the swampy labyrinths of the withlacoochee. of these, the most important was that of osceola. no white man had ever seen it, and but few seminoles outside of the band occupying it had penetrated its mysteries. therefore the entire force of renegades, _friendly indians_ the whites called them, some seventy in number, drawn from the band of that traitor chief who had been bribed to agree to removal, were now engaged in a search for these secluded camps, while liberal rewards had been promised for the discovery of any one of them. goods to the amount of one hundred dollars, and one of the chiefships from which general wiley thompson had deposed the rightful holders, would be given to him who should lead the troops to the stronghold of osceola. chitta-lustee cared little for the honor of chiefship, but dazzled by a vision of one hundred dollars' worth of fire-water, which was the only class of white man's goods for which he longed, he made up his mind to discover the hidden retreat of the baton rouge, or perish in the attempt. for many days had he skulked in the swamps, repeatedly passing the concealed entrance to which coacoochee had now unwittingly guided him, without seeing it. as he noted the marks by which it might be identified, he gloated over the prize that seemed at length within his grasp and awaited impatiently the evening shadows that should enable him to make further explorations. in the meantime, the canoe from which anstice boyd was casting shuddering glances at the sombre scenes about her, continued for a short distance up a serpentine creek, so narrow as to barely afford it passage, and was finally halted beside a huge, moss-grown log. this, half-buried in the ooze of the swamp, afforded a landing-place, at which the party disembarked. as they did so, coacoochee turned to the english girl, and said: "the eye of the iste-hatke has never looked upon this place. ralph boyd knows it not, for he was brought here in darkness. will my sister keep its secret hidden deep in her own bosom, where no enemy of the iste-chatte shall ever find it?" to this query anstice replied: "coacoochee, as you deal with me, so will i deal by you. take me in safety to my brother, and your secret shall be safe with me forever." "un-cah! it is good," replied the young indian. "now let us go. step only where i step, and let the black girl step only where you step, for the trail is narrow." and narrow it proved. other logs, felled at right angles to the first, and sunk so deep in treacherous mud that their upper surface was often under water, formed a precarious pathway to a strip of firmer land. this natural causeway, to step from which was to be plunged in mud as black and soft as tar, besides being almost as tenacious, led for nearly half a mile to an island that rose abruptly from the surrounding swamp. this island was apparently completely covered with an impenetrable growth of timber and underbrush laced together by a myriad of thorny vines. the only trail by which the formidable barricade might be penetrated was not opposite the end of the causeway, but lay at some distance, to one side, where it was carefully concealed from all but those who would die rather than reveal its secret. even when it was once entered, its windings were not easy to trace. but its perplexities were short, and after a few rods the pathway ended abruptly in a scene so foreign to that from which it started, that it seemed to belong to another world. instead of the funereal gloom, the slime, the rank growth, and crowding horrors of the great swamp, here was a cleared space, acres in extent, bathed in sunlight, and alive with cheerful human activity. on the highest point of land, beneath a clump of stately trees, stood a cluster of palmetto-thatched huts, some open on all sides, and others enclosed; but all raised a foot or two from the ground, so as to allow of a free circulation of air beneath them. in and about these swarmed a happy, busy population. warriors, whose naked limbs exhibited the firm outlines of bronze statues, cleaned or mended their weapons. groups of laughing women, cleanly in person, attractive to look upon, and modestly clad, prepared food or engaged in other domestic duties; while rollicking bands of chubby children shouted shrilly over games that differed little from those of other children all over the world. stretching away from the village were broad fields of corn and cane, amid which yams, pumpkins, and melons grew with wonderful luxuriance. these fields were cared for by negroes, who dwelt in their own quarters, and worked the productive land on shares, that frequently brought larger returns to them than to the red-skinned proprietors of the soil. this was the swamp stronghold of osceola, to which coacoochee and louis had retreated after the battle of the withlacoochee, bringing with them the unconscious form of ralph boyd, the englishman friend of the enslaved and champion of the oppressed. in common with most of the whites, this young man had underrated both the numbers and courage of the seminoles, and had not believed they would dare fight, even for their homes, against united states troops. it was only upon penetrating their country with general clinch's army that ralph boyd realized how bitter was to be the struggle and that it was already begun. he had been shot down quite early in the battle at the river-crossing and lay on the field unnoticed until found by the one indian who was inclined to save his life rather than take it. when the wounded man next opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a couch of softest skins, amid surroundings so foreign to anything he had ever known that for awhile he was confident he was dreaming. then as the well-remembered form of coacoochee bent anxiously over him, a memory of recent events flashed into his mind. he realized that an indian war with all its attendant horrors was sweeping over the land, and recalled the fact that his sister anstice was alone and unprotected on the plantation by the st. john's. weakly he strove to rise, but fell back with a groan. "my brother must rest," said coacoochee, chidingly. "he is among friends, and there is no cause for uneasiness. here there is no white man to shoot him from behind." "i care not for myself," murmured the sufferer. "it is my sister, left without one to protect her or guide her to a place of safety. i must go to her." again he attempted to rise, but was gently restrained by the young indian, who said: "let not my brother be troubled. coacoochee will go in his place and guide the white maiden to a safe shelter." "will you, coacoochee? will you do this thing for me?" exclaimed boyd, a faint color flushing his pale cheeks. "un-cah," answered the young war-chief. "this very hour will i go, and when i come again i will bring a token from the white maiden who dwells by the great river." chapter xxvi two spies and their fate coacoochee had fulfilled his promise, and conducted the sister of his friend to a place of safety. as he entered the village followed closely by the first white girl that many of its inmates had ever seen, they gazed wonderingly and in silence at the unaccustomed spectacle. even the voices of the children were so suddenly hushed that ralph boyd, tossing wearily on his narrow couch in one of the enclosed huts, noted the quick cessation of sounds to which he had become wonted, and awaited its explanation with nervous impatience. the old indian woman who acted as his nurse stepped outside, and for the moment he was alone. filled with an intense desire to know what was taking place, the wounded man strove to rise, with the intention of crawling to the door of the hut; but ere he could carry out his design, the curtain of deerskins that closed it was thrust aside, and coacoochee stood before him. with a feeble shout of joy at sight of his friend, the sufferer exclaimed tremulously: "is she safe? have you brought a token from her?" "the white maiden is safe, and i have brought a token," answered the young indian, proudly. as he spoke, he moved aside, and in another moment anstice boyd, sobbing for joy, was kneeling beside her brother, with her arms about his neck. from that moment ralph boyd's recovery was sure and rapid, for there are no more certain cures for any wound than careful nursing and a relief from anxiety. within a week he was not only able to sit up, but to take short walks about the village, the strange life of which he studied with never-failing interest. so well ordered and peaceful was it, so filled with cheerful industry, that it was difficult to believe it a dwelling-place of those who were even then engaged in fighting for their homes and rights. but evidences that such was the case were visible on all sides. war-parties were constantly going and coming. osceola, now head chief of this particular band, and one of the leading spirits of the war, was away most of the time, hovering about the flanks of some army, cutting off their supplies, killing, burning, and destroying; here to-day, and far away to-morrow, spreading everywhere the terror of his name. coacoochee would fain have been engaged in similar service; but his own band of warriors under the temporary leadership of louis pacheco, was operating far to the eastward, between the st. john's and the coast, while he felt pledged to remain with his white friends until ralph boyd could be removed to a place of greater safety. he feared to leave them; for among the inmates of the camp were certain vindictive spirits who so hungered for white scalps that they made frequent threats of what would happen to the brother and sister, whom they regarded as captives, in case they had their way with them. so the young war-chief restrained his longings for more active service, and devoted himself to collecting great quantities of corn and other supplies, which he stored in this swamp stronghold for future use. when not waiting on her brother, anstice amused herself by observing the domestic life of the village and in cultivating an acquaintance among its women and children. the former were so shy that she made but little headway with them. in fact, her maid letty was far more popular among the indian women than she. with the children, however, anstice became an object for adoration almost from the moment of her appearance among them. so devoted were they to her that she could not walk abroad without an attendant throng of sturdy urchins or naked toddlers. one drowsy afternoon, leaving her brother asleep in a hammock woven of tough swamp grasses, anstice, accompanied by her usual escort of children and with a slim little maiden clinging to each hand, visited a dense thicket near the pathway leading out to the great swamp, in search of bead-like palmetto berries, which she proposed to string into necklaces. seating herself on the edge of the forest growth, she despatched several of the children in search of the coveted berries. diving under the bushes and threading their tangled mazes like so many quail, these quickly disappeared from view, though shouts of laughter plainly indicated their movements. suddenly a scream of childish terror was uttered close at hand, and a little lad, trembling with fright, came running back to where anstice was sitting. filled with a dread of wild beasts or deadly serpents, the girl sprang to her feet, and making use of the few seminole words she had acquired while in the village, called loudly: "at-tess-cha, che-paw-ne! at-tess-cha, mas-tchay!" (come here, boys! come here quickly!) the quality of terror in her voice rather than the words themselves must have attracted attention, for while there came no answer, the children's shouts were suddenly hushed. each embryo warrior dropped to the ground where he was, and like hunted rabbits, lay motionless, but keenly alert, until they should learn from which direction danger might be expected. those who had remained with anstice clung to her skirts, and the urchin who had given the alarm glanced fearfully behind him. as the girl stood irresolute, there came a movement in the bushes close at hand. then to her amazement, her name was called softly, but in a voice whose accents she would have recognized anywhere and under all circumstances. it needed not the parting of the leafy screen and a glimpse of the anxious face behind it, to tell her that irwin douglass, the lieutenant of dragoons, who had so often shared the hospitality of her brother's table, had, by some inconceivable means, penetrated the secrets of this indian stronghold and ventured within its deadly confines. "oh, mr. douglass!" she cried, in a voice trembling with apprehension. "how came you here? do you not realize your awful peril? you will be killed if you stay a minute longer! fly, then! fly, i beg of you, while there is yet time." "but, miss boyd! anstice! why are you here instead of safe in augustine as we thought? are you not in equal, or even in greater, peril? come with me, and i will gladly beat a retreat, but i cannot leave you to the mercy of the savages. this place is infested by an overwhelming force of troops, who only await my return to make an attack. the indians will surely kill you rather than allow you to be rescued." "no! no! i am in no peril!" replied the agitated girl. "i am here of my own free will, and shall be safe in any event. but you! if you value your life! if you love--" just then two grim warriors appeared as though they had dropped from the sky, one on either side of douglass, and in spite of a mighty struggle for freedom, made him their prisoner. one of the children had sped to the village. coacoochee, with several followers, had taken the trail, and closed in from two sides on anstice and the lieutenant, while they were too full of amazement at each other's presence in that place to note the stealthy approach. as two of the indians seized the young officer, the others sprang after a retreating form they had just discovered skulking through the forest. it was that of chitta-lustee, the spy, who had carried the news of his finding of this stronghold to fort king. from there he had guided a body of troops back to the log landing, whence he had been sent, in company with lieutenant douglass, to note the exact state of affairs in the village before an attack should be ordered. together they had crept undetected to a place from which they could command a fair view of the village, and estimate the force of its defenders, which at that moment did not number more than a dozen warriors. the spies were about to retire from their dangerous position when prevented by the approach of anstice and her retinue of children. one of these had chanced upon their hiding-place, and while douglass pleaded with the english girl to seize this opportunity for escape from what he imagined to be a terrible captivity, his companion was trying to secure his own safety by slowly and noiselessly creeping away. he had gained a fair distance, and was beginning to move more rapidly, when discovered by coacoochee, who, followed by the other warriors, immediately sprang in pursuit. down to the edge of the swamp and out on the narrow causeway fled the spy, and after him, like hound in full view of his quarry, leaped the avenger. it was a terrible race along that slender path, slippery with slime and water. chitta-lustee flung away his rifle, and, with breath coming in panting gasps, ran for his life. a few rods more, and he would be safe. coacoochee, reckless of consequences, and filled with a fierce determination to destroy, at all hazards, this most dangerous enemy of his people, only clenched his teeth more tightly, and leaped forward with an increase of speed, as he detected a glint of weapons directly ahead, and realized that the farther end of the causeway was already occupied by troops. he bore only a light spear that he had snatched up at the first alarm, and, with all his skill, he must be at least within twenty yards of a mark ere he could hurl it effectively. he was still one hundred yards away, and now he could distinguish the uniforms of those who were advancing to meet the panting fugitive. those who followed the young chief were halting doubtfully. to them it seemed that he was rushing toward certain destruction. they could not restrain him. to follow his example and throw their lives away uselessly would be worse than folly. so they stayed their steps, and watched the fearful race with fascinated gaze. only for a moment, and then all was over. chitta-lustee slipped and stumbled on one of the water-soaked logs at the end of the causeway. as he recovered himself, there came a flash of darting steel, and the keen blade of a hurtling spear, flung with the utmost of coacoochee's nervous strength, sunk deep between his shoulders. with a choking cry, and out-flung arms, the traitor pitched headlong into the black waters, and disappeared forever, while cries of horror came from the advancing soldiers whose protection he had so nearly gained. even as the young war-chief delivered his deadly blow, and without waiting to note its effect, he turned and fled toward his own people. a dozen angry rifles rang out behind him, and the whole swamp echoed with fierce yells from the enraged soldiers, but no bullet struck him, and no taunt served to stay his steps. the three indians fled swiftly as hunted deer, back along the treacherous trail, while the troops followed with what speed they might. it was so difficult a path, and so dangerous, and the heavy-booted soldiers slipped from its narrow verge so often, that those whom they pursued reached the island and disappeared among its thickets ere they had more than started. then back through the heavy air came mockingly and defiantly the seminole war-cry: "yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee-chee!" thus they knew that a surprise of the stronghold they had so labored to gain was no longer possible. still with a courage worthy of a nobler cause the troops pushed forward, unguided save by instinct and a burning desire to avenge the death of their well-loved lieutenant, whom they supposed the savages had already killed. with all their efforts it was a full half-hour ere the advance drew near to the wooded island that rose silent and mysterious before them, and they began to feel firmer ground beneath their feet. before they reached its encircling forest wall, flashes of flame began to leap from the dark thickets, and before the deadly fire of an unseen foe the advance was staggered and halted. it was only for a moment, and then they sprang forward with a cheer to charge the fatal barricade. a dozen troopers had fallen ere the indian fire was silenced, and as yet the soldiers had not caught a glimpse of their foe. in the thick-set undergrowth they were tripped and flung to the ground by snake-like roots, encircled and held fast by tough vines, clutched and drawn backward by stout thorns curved and sharp as a tiger's claws. no human being save a naked indian could thread that forest maze, and as the soldiers could discover no opening through it, they decided to make one. swords, axes, and knives were called into requisition. every now and then a rifle shot from the unseen foe proved the indians to be still watchful and defiant. it was not until another half-hour had been expended in this exhausting effort at road-cutting that the trail lying well to one side was discovered. wearied by their futile efforts, made furious by opposition, and galled by the fire from unseen rifles that had been steadily thinning their numbers ever since they reached the island, the troops rushed with fierce shouts to the opening, streamed through it, and gained the central, cleared space in which stood the seminole village. here, for a moment, the tumultuous advance was checked, and each man clutched his weapon with a closer grip, in expectation of an attack. but none was made. the peaceful village, all aglow with the light of a setting sun, was silent and deserted. no voices came from it, nor from the broad fields that lay clothed in luxuriant verdure beyond. there was no sound of busy workers, no laughter of children. a raven with glossy plumage, iridescent in the sunlight, croaked a hoarse challenge from a lofty tree-top, and a solitary buzzard circled overhead on motionless pinions, but no other signs of life were to be detected. after a minute of irresolution captain chase, the officer in command of the expedition, deployed his men as skirmishers, and was about to give the order "forward!" when this strange thing happened: from one of the thatched huts of the village three human beings emerged and advanced slowly toward the motionless line of soldiers. two were men, evidently white men, and one of these wore a uniform. between them walked a young girl whose shapely head was crowned with a mass of gold-red hair. as she drew near, a murmur of admiration at her beauty passed along the stern line of blue-coated troops. then an irrepressible tumult of cheers rent the air, for in one of the girl's companions the soldiers recognized their own beloved lieutenant, irwin douglass. but curiosity got the better of enthusiasm, and as the noise subsided, each trooper waited in breathless silence for an explanation of this strange encounter. chapter xxvii anstice boyd saves the life of a captive while coacoochee was engaged in his fierce pursuit of the traitor seminole across the black causeway, irwin douglass was led to the village, where he was securely bound to one of the great trees by which it was shaded. here his captors left him, and seizing their rifles hastened back to the edge of the swamp. the moment anstice realized that the young soldier, though a captive, was not doomed to instant death, she flew back to the hut occupied by her brother, whom she found still quietly sleeping in his grass-woven hammock. roused into a startled wakefulness by her abrupt entrance, the convalescent was for some moments at a loss to comprehend what she was saying or what had caused her excitement. "who do you say is captured? and what has happened, dear, to frighten you?" he asked, in a bewildered tone. "irwin douglass, and they are going to kill him, and the village is about to be attacked, and we shall all be murdered!" cried the terrified girl. "douglass captured and about to be killed? impossible!" exclaimed boyd, rising and starting toward the doorway. "but i will go and see. surely coacoochee would never murder a prisoner in cold blood. as for ourselves, you know we are safe so long as we are his guests. wait here, sister, and i will bring douglass back with me, if, as you say, he is in the village." but the frightened girl clung to him and would not be left. so they set forth together, and had hardly gained the outer air before a sound of firing from the causeway warned them that fighting of some sort was begun. the same sounds created vast excitement among the inmates of the village, and the crowd of negroes, who, at the first note of alarm, had come swarming up from the fields. these so occupied the entire foreground that the brother and sister could get no sight of him whom they sought. neither was their friend the young war-chief to be seen. they attempted to make way through the throng, but were impatiently pushed back, the crowd scowling and muttering at them angrily. one huge, coal-black negro even advanced upon them with a drawn knife and so ugly an expression, that ralph boyd instinctively thrust his sister behind him, and nerved himself to receive an attack. unarmed and weakened by illness as he was, the outcome of such a struggle could readily be foreseen, and the white man cast a despairing glance about him in search of some weapon. there was none, and the gleaming knife was already uplifted for a deadly stroke, when, with a shrill cry, a black woman sprang betwixt the two, snatched the knife from the negro's hand, and flourishing it in his face, poured out such a furious torrent of angry, scornful, and threatening words, that the brute slunk away from her, completely cowed. now, turning and almost pushing boyd and his sister before her, letty--for the black amazon was no other than anstice's own maid--succeeded in getting them back inside the hut before their assailant had time to rally from his discomfiture. then, still clutching the knife she had so adroitly captured, the black girl stood guard before the entrance, deaf alike to those of her own color, who taunted her with being a traitor to her race, and to the entreaties of her young mistress, that she should attempt a rescue of the prisoner about whom the crowd of indian women and negroes still swarmed. "cayn't do it, miss anstice," replied the black girl, firmly, but without turning her head. "i'se powerful sorry for marse douglass, but when it's him or you, i know which one i'se bound to look after." "but, letty, they will murder him!" "no, miss anstice, not till coacoochee says so. they das'n't kill him, not till the chief gives the word." "but supposing coacoochee does not come? he may be killed or captured himself, you know." "there ain't no use speculating on that, miss anstice, because he's come already. i can see him out there now, talking to the crowd. looks like he's in a powerful hurry, too, and i spec's the end of time has come for poor marse douglass. oh lord, miss anstice! stop up your ears, quick!" at these ominous words, the brave english girl, instead of complying, darted from the hut so swiftly, that ere letty could interfere to prevent her, she had gained the centre of the village. there she came upon a scene well calculated to freeze the blood in her veins. irwin douglass, bound to a tree, with his pale, resolute face turned toward the setting sun, gazed with unflinching calmness into the black muzzles of four levelled rifles, that in another moment would pour their deadly contents into his body. the pitiless warriors who held them, and only awaited a signal from their young chief to press the fatal triggers, scanned the face of their victim in vain for the faintest trace of fear. there was none; and they were filled with regrets that so brave a man could not be reserved for a more lingering and trying form of death. but there was no time to spare. the soldiers were even now upon them, and whatever was to be done must be done quickly. already murmurs of impatience could be heard among the spectators. as coacoochee was about to give the dread command, there came a quick rush, and the girlish figure of anstice boyd stood full in front of the cruel rifles, between them and their human mark. her wonderful hair, half loosed from its coil, glinted like spun gold in the red sunlight. her eyes were big with terror, and her face was bloodless, but her voice rang out clear and strong, as she cried: "coacoochee, you must not do this thing! you dare not!" "he is an enemy," answered the young chief, calmly; and without betraying his annoyance at this interruption. "if we should not kill him, he would kill us." "he might in battle or in fair fight, but he would never shoot down a helpless prisoner," replied the girl, in scornful tones. "set him free, place a weapon in his hands, and fight him man to man, if you dare." "gladly would i," answered the young seminole, "if there was time, but there is not. thy people have hunted us like wolves to our den, and even now are upon us. in another minute must we fly for our lives. our friends we can leave to their friends. our captive we cannot take, and dare not release. he is a spy. the white man puts a spy to death; why should not the indian? coacoochee has spoken. the spy must die. let my white sister stand aside." very stern was the young war-chief, and very determined. a murmur of approbation rose from the dusky throng about him as his words fell upon their ears. a wave of despair surged over anstice boyd. her face flushed, then became deadly pale. her voice was well-nigh choked as she answered: "then, oh, coacoochee, if you will not yield to the dictates of humanity, still listen to me. in the name of allala, thy spirit sister, in the name of her who still lives, and is most dear to thee, in the name of ralph boyd, who, by his deeds, has proved himself thy friend, i plead for this man's life. if this is not enough, i demand it for yet another reason." here, with face crimsoned like the rising sun, the girl stepped close to the young chief, and spoke a few words in a tone so low that none but he could catch their import. his stern face softened, and for a moment he looked curiously at her. then drawing his own silver-mounted knife from its sheath, he handed it to her, saying: "the words of the white maiden have sunk deep into the heart of coacoochee. let her lead him whom she has saved to the lodge of her brother. keep him there, close hidden from my people, so long as a voice is heard in this place. then, and not till then, will it be safe for the iste-hatke to venture forth. farewell, my sister! thank not the wild cat that his claws are sheathed. thank rather allala, nita, and ralph boyd. _hi-e-pas! hi-e-pas!_" [illustration: the girl stepped close to the young chief and spoke a few words.] the last two words were uttered in ringing tones of command to his own people, and, supplemented as they were by a crashing volley of musketry from the edge of the swamp, they produced an instant effect. although many glances of hate were flashed at the white girl and the prisoner, whom she freed from his bonds with two strokes of coacoochee's keen knife, they were allowed to pass unharmed to the hut occupied by ralph boyd. he walked with them; for, without his sister's knowledge, he had stood close by her side while she pleaded for the life of irwin douglass, ready to strike a blow in her defence, or to share her fate. the three entered the hut together, and as its curtain of deerskin was drawn so as to exclude all prying eyes, the overwrought girl fell into her brother's arms, weeping hysterically. the young soldier, who but a moment before stood within the shadow of death, gazed curiously and awkwardly for a second on this scene, and then turning away, sat down with his face buried in his hands. ralph boyd sought to calm his brave sister with loving words. so filled was each of the three with crowding emotions that they took no note of time nor of outside sounds, until at length the girl ceased her sobbing and gazed with a smile into her brother's face. then, with a weight lifted from his heart, he began to talk to her in a cheerful strain. "it was nobly done, sister mine," he said, "and as a special pleader i will name you before any barrister in the land. what argument, though, was it you used at the last? i failed to catch the words, but they must have been of powerful force." again a tide of crimson mantled the girl's fair cheeks, as she replied: "coacoochee knows, and i know; but let it suffice you, brother, that they were effective; for more than that i can never tell." at this juncture, the young soldier, looking as guilty as though he had been caught at eavesdropping, rose, drew aside the curtain at the entrance, and stepped outside. as he did so, he uttered an exclamation that quickly brought the others to his side. the village, recently so populous and filled with busy life, was deserted. not a soul was to be seen. even the pigs and chickens had disappeared. an unbroken silence, as of an impending doom, brooded over the place, and, as the three who were now its sole occupants walked among the vacant habitations, they felt impelled to lower their voices, as though in presence of the dead. they had gone but a short distance when their attention was attracted by the sound of many voices and the tramp of armed men. turning in that direction, they beheld a body of troops pouring from the pathway leading to the swamp, and toward these they at once directed their steps. as the three whose recent experiences had been so thrilling walked slowly down the grassy slope, douglass strove to find words with which to thank anstice boyd for the gift of his life; but the girl interrupted him at the outset, and begged him never to mention the subject again. "very well," he replied, "since that is your desire, i will strive to obey. i do so the more readily that mere words fail to express my feelings; but i shall live in hope of the time when by some service i may be able to indicate my gratitude." whatever else the grateful young soldier might have said was interrupted by cheers from the troops, who at that moment recognized the comrade whom they had mourned as lost to them forever. as quiet was restored, his brother officers crowded about him with a hearty welcome and an avalanche of questions. "that will do for the present, gentlemen," interposed captain chase. "excuse a soldier's abruptness, madam," he added, bowing to anstice, "but in this stern business of war, duty must precede even the ordinary courtesies of life. now, mr. douglass, since you are so happily restored to us, please tell me what to expect in yonder den of swamp devils? are we to be attacked? shall we charge. what force opposes us? what is the meaning of this ominous silence?" "i hardly know how to answer you, sir," replied the lieutenant, "for i am as ignorant concerning the enemy's movements as yourself. so far as i know, there is not a soul in yonder village, though but a few minutes ago it was swarming with life." "what has become of them, then?" demanded the officer, impatiently. "i do not know, sir." "you can at least tell in which direction they went." "no, sir, i cannot even do that; for i did not see them go, nor do i know when they departed." "upon my soul, this is a most extraordinary state of affairs!" exclaimed the officer, flushing angrily. "i must confess that i had not heretofore credited you with blindness. perhaps, sir, you can give us the desired information?" he added, turning to ralph boyd. upon the young englishman claiming an equal ignorance with the lieutenant, the irate captain said in a tone of suppressed anger: "this matter shall be investigated at a more convenient time, but at present it seems that we must make discoveries for ourselves. to your places, gentlemen. forward! double quick! march!" with this the line of blue-coated troops advanced swiftly up the slope and charged the empty huts of the deserted village. chapter xxviii the mark of the wildcat in vain did the soldiers ransack the empty huts of the village, and scour the island from end to end. not a single human being or evidence of life did they discover, nor were they fired upon from the belt of timber surrounding the cleared fields. the hundreds of men, women, and children, indians and negroes, who had been at home in this place less than an hour before, had vanished as mysteriously and completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed them. even the secret place of exit through the swamp, provided for just such an emergency as the present, had not been discovered when darkness put an end to the search, and the troops camped in and about the indian village for the night. the officer commanding the expedition was furious. he had expected to destroy or capture the entire force of the enemy gathered at this point. instead of so doing, he had not only failed to capture a single prisoner, but could not discover that his fire had resulted in the killing or even wounding of a single warrior. on the other hand, the dead of his own command numbered seven, while a score of others were more or less severely wounded. his anger was in nowise diminished by what he was pleased to term the culpable ignorance of lieutenant douglass concerning the strength and movements of the indians. when questioned on these points, the young officer, with a delicacy that forbade the part taken by anstice boyd in his rescue becoming common talk of the camp, would only say that, having been confined in a closed hut, he had no opportunity of knowing what was taking place outside. "were you bound, blind-folded, or in any other way deprived of the use of your faculties?" demanded the commander. "no, sir, i was not." "in that case it is incredible that you could not have found some opportunity for making observations of what was taking place about you; and that you failed to do so, must be regarded as a grave neglect of duty. the very fact that the savages, having you in their power, presented you with both life and liberty, would seem to argue a closer sympathy between you and them than is permissible between an officer of the united states army and the enemies of his government. therefore, sir, i shall take it upon myself to suspend you from duty, and shall prefer charges against you which you will be allowed to meet before a court martial. that is all, sir. you may go." "very good, sir," replied the younger officer, bowing, and retiring with a pale face, and a mind filled with bitter thoughts. that night the island seemed a very abode of malicious spirits. low-hanging clouds covered it with a veil of darkness so intense as to be oppressive. a strong wind moaned among the forest trees, and borne on it from the surrounding swamp came blood-chilling shrieks and yells, weird and foreboding, but whether produced by wild beasts or wild men, the shuddering listeners, gathered closely about flaring camp-fires, could not determine. so terrible were some of these wind-borne cries, that certain among those who listened declared them to be the despairing accents of lost souls; for which sentiment they were derided by the bolder of their comrades. but when the midnight relief went its round of the outposts, and found four of them guarded only by corpses, even the scoffers were willing to admit that in the rush of the night wind they had heard the wings of the angel of death. as, one after another, the dead sentinels were brought in to the firelight, they were found to be without wounds, unless a scratch of five fine lines on each pallid forehead could be called such. in each case the cause of death was a broken neck. from this and the scratches, that looked as though they might have been made by the brushing of a mighty paw, it was at first thought that the unfortunate soldiers might have been done to death by one of the more powerful beasts of the forest. this belief was, however, quickly upset by an old frontiersman who accompanied the troops as a scout. pointing out that all the scratches were located in the same place, and all had been made with equal lightness of touch, he declared them to be the mark of coacoochee the wildcat. already the terror of this name had spread so far, that when ralph boyd asserted that coacoochee was indeed leader of the band just driven from that stronghold, a great fear fell upon the soldiers, and to a man they refused to perform outpost duty beyond the limit of firelight. to enlarge this lighted circle, one hut after another was set on fire, until the whole village, including the great storehouses full of provisions and the granaries of corn, was one roaring, leaping mass of flame. the leafy crowns of the giant oaks that had shaded it, shrivelled, crackled, and burst into a myriad tongues of fire; while to render the destruction of the forest monarchs more certain, some of the soldiers seized axes and girdled their trunks. so bright was the circle of light in which the troops foolishly sought for safety, that had coacoochee been leader of one hundred warriors at that moment, he could have wiped out the entire force of invaders; but he was alone, and from the black recesses of a thicket he gazed upon the scene of destruction in impotent wrath. having seen the band intrusted to his care safely across the great swamp, and well on their way to another place of refuge, he had returned alone to watch the invasion of osceola's stronghold. with the noiseless movements of a gliding shadow he had skirted the camp of the soldiers, and four times had he left silent but terrible witnesses of his presence. with a heavy heart he now watched the burning of the great stores of food that he had gathered for the support of his people during months of fighting; for he knew that with this destruction a heavy blow had been dealt against the seminole cause. with the earliest coming of daylight, the troops, impatient to finish their task and leave that place of terror, began to destroy the growing crops beyond the village. safe hidden among the spreading branches of a live-oak, where he was screened by great clusters of pale-green mistletoe, coacoochee watched them tear up acres of tasselled corn, and laden vines, cut down scores of trees heavy with ripening fruit, and burn broad areas of waving cane. at length, the work of destruction was completed, all stragglers were called in by a blast of bugles, a parting volley was fired over the single long grave, in which a dozen dead soldiers lay buried; and, taking their wounded with them, the blue-coated column marched gladly away from the place they had so little reason to love. descending from his post of observation, the young indian followed them, until he had seen the last trooper disappear along the narrow causeway, amid the sombre cypresses of the great swamp. then slowly and thoughtfully he retraced his steps, walking now in the full glare of sunlight, until he stood again beneath the clump of dying trees that, but a few hours before, had shaded the peaceful village. as he gazed about him on charred embers, and smoking ruins, deserted fields, and prostrate orchards, the bold heart of the young war-chief sank like a leaden weight within him. "thus must it be to the end," he said half aloud, as though his brimming thoughts were struggling for expression. "ruin and destruction follow ever the tread of the iste-hatke. he is strong, and we are weak. he is many, and we are few. we may kill his hundreds, and he brings thousands to devour us. we may plant, but he will gather the fruit. the seminole may starve, and at the cry of his children for food the white man will make merry. my father was right when he said that to fight the white man was like fighting the waves of the great salt waters. what now shall be done? shall we continue to fight, and die fighting in our own land, or shall we again trust to the lying tongue of the iste-hatke, and go to the place in which he says we may dwell at peace with him? oh, allala! my sister, hear me, and come to me with thy words of wisdom." at that moment, as though in answer to his prayer, coacoochee caught sight of a figure advancing hesitatingly towards where he stood. it was that of a warrior, whom he recognized even at a distance as belonging to his own band. the newcomer cast troubled glances over the pitiful scene of ruin outspread on all sides. until now he had not noted the presence of his chief; but, when the latter uttered the cry of a hawk, which was the familiar signal of his band, the warrior quickened his steps, and came to where the young man stood. he proved to be a runner, sent out by louis pacheco, to notify coacoochee that philip emathla with all the people of his village had been captured and conveyed to st. augustine, whence it was proposed to remove them to the unknown land of the far west. the old chief had begged so earnestly for an interview with his eldest son, that the general in command had sent out a written safe-conduct for the latter to come and go again in safety. this the runner now delivered to coacoochee, assuring him at the same time that louis pacheco had looked at it and pronounced it good. the young chief took the paper, regarded it curiously, and thrust it into his girdle, then without delay, he set forth on his long journey to the eastern coast. the runner was able to inform him of the present location of osceola, and accordingly he first directed his steps to the camp of that fiery young chieftain to apprise him of the destruction of his swamp stronghold. here he found a delegation of cherokees, bearing an address from john ross, their head chief, to coacoochee and osceola, who were regarded as the most important leaders of the florida indians. this address prayed the seminoles to end their fruitless struggle against the all-powerful whites. it assured them that should they consent to removal, the promises made by the latter would be kept, and that the cherokees, as their nearest neighbors in the western land, would ever be their firm allies in resistance to further oppression. the conference was long and earnest. osceola, discouraged by the loss of his stronghold, and by the destruction of its great store of provisions, which he foresaw would entail much suffering among his people during the coming winter, was inclined to make peace, though still resolutely opposed to removal. coacoochee, filled with thoughts of his aged father and nita pacheco held captives by the whites, was even more anxious to make an honorable peace than was his brother chieftain. so it was finally decided that he should take advantage of his safe-conduct, to visit st. augustine, advise with philip emathla, talk with the general in command, so as to ascertain the exact views of the whites, and return to osceola with his report. thus, three days later the young war-chief, clad as befitted his rank, and bearing a superb calumet as a present from osceola, presented himself boldly before the gates of st. augustine, exhibited his safe-conduct, and demanded to be taken to the general. the manly beauty of his features, his haughty bearing, and gorgeous costume attracted universal admiration, as he strode proudly through the narrow streets of the quaint old city. before he reached the house in which the commandant was lodged, he was surrounded by a curious throng of citizens, through which the corporal's guard escorting him found some difficulty in clearing a passage. the general greeted the son of philip emathla with honeyed words, and caused him to be treated with the consideration due his rank and importance. his father was brought to welcome him, and the two were allowed to depart together to the encampment of the captives, which was in the plaza, or central square of the city, where it was surrounded by a cordon of soldiers. here, after a separation of many months, the young chief met her to whom he had plighted his troth by the blue ahpopka lake. in his eyes she appeared more lovely than ever, and he longed ardently for the time of peace that should enable him to make for her a home in which they might dwell together in safety. so much was there to tell and to hear, and so many grave questions to be discussed, that the night was spent in talking, and the dawn of another day found them still seated about the cold embers of a small fire in front of king philip's lodge. the old man advised earnestly for peace, even at the cost of removal, though at the same time declaring that with leaving his own land his heart would break, so that he should never live to reach the strange place set apart for his people. nita, happily content to sit close beside her lover, only leaving him now and then to replenish the fire, refill the pipes, or to bring from the lodge some dainty morsel of food, had little to say; but such words as she uttered were in favor of peace. thus was the mind of coacoochee the wildcat turned from thoughts of fighting and vengeance, to those of peace and happiness for his loved ones, his oppressed people, and himself. so convinced was he that the war must be ended, that he readily consented to go again to osceola, and persuade him to come in, with such other chiefs as could be gathered, to attend a solemn council, with a view to the speedy settlement of all existing troubles. on leaving the city, he was laden with presents, both for himself and osceola, and promising to return in ten days, he set forth with a lighter heart than he had known for more than a year. alas for human nature, that they who trust most should be most often deceived! by the swift turning of affairs that gave the army in florida a new commanding general every few months during the seminole war, general scott had been succeeded by general jesup. from him the commandant at st. augustine had recently received a despatch which, could coacoochee have known its contents, would have filled the young chief's heart with renewed bitterness, and turned his peaceful longings into a fierce resolve for a fight to the death. chapter xxix treacherous capture of coacoochee and osceola to the great satisfaction of the general of militia commanding at st. augustine, coacoochee, unsuspicious of evil, and intent only upon carrying out his avowed purpose of arranging for a new treaty of peace, returned to the city on the exact date he had named. with an honest pride at the success of his negotiations he announced that osceola, coa hadjo, talmus hadjo, and others would come in on the following day, and, camping a short distance outside the city, would there await the white commissioners. he also brought information that the cherokee peace delegation had gone to the westward for a conference with micanopy and other chiefs. the general, still treating the young chief with a lofty consideration, thanked him profusely for his services, and asked as a favor that he would guide a wagon-load of provisions, intended as a present for osceola and his people, to the place selected for their encampment. this, he said, was a small portion of the supply he was collecting for his indian friends; and, when he went to meet them on the morrow, he should take with him several other wagons laden with provisions, that they might have plenty to eat in case the negotiations were extended over a number of days. much pleased by this proof of the white man's thoughtful kindness, coacoochee willingly consented to act as guide to the first wagon, and then asked that he might visit philip emathla's camp while it was being got ready,--a request that was granted, though with evident reluctance. as the young indian turned away from the general's quarters, he almost ran into the arms of ralph boyd, who had come to st. augustine with his sister but two days before, intending to remain there until the end of the war should render it safe for them to return to their plantation. while coacoochee was delighted to thus encounter the only white man whom he could call friend, the young englishman was more than amazed to meet him amid such surroundings. "coacoochee!" he exclaimed. "how is this? why are you here? is it as a prisoner? or have you decided to join the winning side, and become an ally of the americans?" "i am here neither as a prisoner or a traitor," answered the other, proudly, "but to help in making a peace for my people while they are yet strong enough to insist upon honorable terms." "and do you trust the man whom you have just left?" asked boyd, indicating by a gesture the quarters of the general. "yes," replied coacoochee, slowly. "i trust him, for i must trust him. without trust on both sides there could be no treaty. without a treaty the seminole must be wiped out. my father and others of my people are even now held here as captives, and only through a treaty can their liberty be restored. i go now to see them. will my white brother go with me?" "with pleasure. i knew there were indian prisoners here, but had no idea that your father was among them, or i would have visited him ere this, to congratulate him on having so fine a son. ah! here is their camp now; but i say, coacoochee, who is that white girl sitting among the indian women? by jove! she is the most beautiful creature i ever saw." "her name is nita pacheco," answered the young chief, gazing fondly at the girl, who, intent on a bit of sewing, was as yet unaware of his presence. "not your nita! not the one that you-why, confound it, man! you never told me she was white. you said she was a--" "so she is," admitted coacoochee, very quietly. "she is one of the iste-lustee, as you were about to say. her mother was an octoroon, and of every sixteen drops in nita's veins, one is black. although she was born free as you or i, she has been claimed as a slave; and philip emathla was obliged to pay a large sum of money to establish her freedom. with the ending of this war she will become my chee-hi-wah, or what you would call wife." "in which case i don't wonder that you are so keen for peace. if i were in your place, i would have it at any price, and i only hope i may speedily have the pleasure of dancing at your wedding. won't anstice be pleased, though? ever since she discovered that you had a sweetheart, she has wished to meet her." "would the white maiden take the hand of her who is of the iste-lustee?" asked coacoochee, abruptly. "oh bother your iste-lustees! of course she would," cried boyd. "not only that, but she would love her dearly. why, the girl is as white as anstice herself, and even if she were not, do you suppose that would make any difference? don't you know that any one precious to you must also be dear to us, who owe you everything, including our lives. don't you know the meaning of the word 'gratitude'? and don't you suppose we know it, too, you confoundedly proud seminole, you?" ere he finished this speech the englishman was left alone; for, at the sound of his raised voice, nita looked up, and flushed so rosily at sight of her lover, that he was drawn to her side as irresistibly as needle to magnet. then, forgetful of all save each other, they strolled among the lodges of the little encampment. suddenly while they walked, coacoochee started as though he had been shot. in a whisper he bade the girl at his side return to her companions, and as without comment she obeyed him, he stood motionless, his face black with rage, and his whole frame quivering with excitement. the cause of this emotion was a voice coming from the opposite side of a tent that had been appropriated to the especial use of philip emathla. the voice was saying: "they tell me, old man, that you don't savey american; but i reckin you can understand enough to know what i mean when i say that if you've got any niggers to sell, i'm the man that'll buy them of you, of co'se at a reasonable figger. as things stand now, your travelling expenses are likely to be heavy, and there's two or three wenches in your camp that i'd be willing to stake you something handsome for. there ain't no drop of injun blood in ary one of them, and they are certain to be took from you, anyway. so you, might as well make something out of 'em while you've got the chance. one of 'em, that pacheco gal, is mine by rights, anyhow; but if--" at this point the speaker uttered a yell of terror, and instinctively reached for his pistol, as with a bound like that of a panther and blazing eyes, coacoochee leaped upon him. mr. troup jeffers was hurled, to the ground with such force that for a moment he lay stunned and motionless. as the wildcat glared about him for some weapon with which to complete his task, two of the guards rushed in and dragged the slave-trader beyond the lines of the camp. at the same time, boyd, who had witnessed the scene from a distance, came hurrying up from an opposite direction. "for heaven's sake coacoochee! what does this mean?" he cried; "you'll have a war on your hands right here if you don't look out." without answering him, the young indian turned to philip emathla, who was sitting before the tent, and uttered a few hurried words in his own tongue, the purport of which was, "look well on this man, my father; for he is my friend, whom you can trust as you would me. if he comes to thee for nita, let her go with him." then he and ralph boyd hurried away in the direction from which they had come. as they passed the group of women, coacoochee stopped to whisper in the ear of nita pacheco, who was also bidden to trust the white man now before her, and then they passed on. "that dog, whom i would i had killed," said the young indian, when they were safely beyond the camp, "is a catcher of slaves, who seeks to steal my promised wife. for this night, i cannot protect her, for i must meet ah-ha-se-ho-la. if i do not, he will not stay, and there will be no peace. before the setting of to-morrow's sun coacoochee will be free to protect his own. for this night, then, i would have you and the white maiden, thy sister, give to nita the shelter of thy lodge; or, if that be not possible, watch over her and see that she is not stolen away." "certainly, my dear fellow! of course we will look out for her as long as you like, and glad of the chance to thus repay some portion of our indebtedness," interrupted ralph boyd, heartily. "but who is the rascally beggar?" "his name i know not," replied the other; "but certain things concerning him i do know. he, more than any other, caused this war between the iste-chatte and the white man. he broke up the home of the pachecos and sold the mother and brother of nita into slavery, as he would now sell her. he stole and sold into slavery the wife of osceola." "the scoundrel!" exclaimed boyd. "when my white brother was shot down at the battle of the withlacoochee, the bullet came from behind, and from the rifle of this man." "what!" "when the home of my white brother was attacked by white men, painted to look like the iste-chatte, this man was leader of the band. he it was who took the white maiden, thy sister, captive and left her to perish in the forest." "good heavens, man! do you know what you are talking about? can all this be true?" "the tongue of coacoochee is straight. he would not lie to his white brother." "yes, but may you not be mistaken? i did not know i had an enemy in the world, who would thus injure me. who can it be?" "what i have said is true. does my brother remember talking with a man under a tree the day before the white soldiers reached the ferry of the withlacoochee, and speaking scornful words to him?" "yes, though i don't see how you could know of that. i inquired about him and found out his name, which proved to be the same as that of the last overseer on my plantation. i had heard bad accounts of the man, and had him discharged before taking possession." "this man is the same who talked with my brother under the tree." "well, whoever he is, you may be very certain that i shall look into this thing thoroughly, and if i find him to be guilty of half of these things, i will make him suffer sweetly. meantime, my lad, do you rest easy about your sweetheart. anstice shall go to her, and for your sake, if not for her own, her safety shall be guarded with our lives." by this time they had reached again the general's quarters, and the wagon that coacoochee was to guide stood in readiness. so, with a warm handclasp, the friends parted, one to go on a mission that he fondly hoped would bring a lasting peace to his people, and the other to take measures for the safety of nita pacheco. according to promise osceola, escorted by some seventy warriors, all mounted, and preceded by a white flag, in token of the peaceful nature of their mission, arrived promptly at the appointed place of encampment. there they were met by coacoochee with a welcome supply of provisions. long and earnestly did the two young chieftains talk together that night, in planning for the morrow, on which they believed the fate of their nation would be decided. on one point they were fully agreed. the negro allies, who had fought so bravely with them, and who were as free as themselves, must be considered as equal with them, and must, in any negotiations, be granted the same terms as themselves. if this should not be allowed, they would refuse to make peace, and would return under protection of their white flag, whence they came. at ten o'clock on the following morning a blare of trumpets announced the coming of the general. he was accompanied by a staff of uncommon gorgeousness, and escorted by one hundred mounted militiamen, all armed to the teeth. behind these rumbled several large, covered wagons similar in appearance to the one that had brought provisions the evening before. these were halted a short distance away, where they were partially hidden in the palmetto scrub. coacoochee, osceola, coa hadjo, and talmus, arrayed in such finery as befitted the occasion, stood forth to meet the newcomers, while their handful of warriors clustered close behind them. above their heads fluttered the white flag of truce. approaching to within a few yards of them, and utterly ignoring the formalities usual at such a time, and so dear to the heart of an indian, the general began abruptly to read a list of questions from a paper that he held in his hand. the first of these struck like a blow: "are you prepared to deliver up at once all negroes taken from citizens? "why have you not done this already? "where are the other chiefs, and why have they not surrendered?" there were other questions of a similar nature, and realizing from these, as well as from the tone of the speaker's voice, that the whites had not come there with any thought of discussing a treaty, osceola, with a quick glance about him, like a stag brought to bay, attempted to speak, but his voice choked and failed him. he looked appealingly at coacoochee, as though requesting him to frame an answer; but the son of philip emathla stood like one who is stunned. "you, powell," continued the general, harshly, "having signed the treaty of fort king, shall be made to abide by it. "as for you, wildcat, i have learned of your recent outrages in the withlacoochee swamp. never again shall you have a chance to murder white men, like the cowardly beast whose name you bear." thus saying, the speaker waved his arm, a loud command rang out, there came a rush through the palmettoes, a clash of weapons, and the too trusting seminoles found themselves hemmed in on all sides by a hedge of glittering bayonets. a strong body of infantry, brought in the supposed provision wagons, had gathered in a circle about the unsuspecting indians. thus, within ten minutes after the arrival of the troops, under the very shadow of a truce flag, was this most shameful deed of treachery accomplished. disarmed and bound like so many slaves, and guarded by double ranks of soldiers, the forest warriors were driven, like sheep, to the city and through the massive gateway of its frowning fortress. here coacoochee was separated forever from osceola, who was soon afterwards taken to fort moultrie in charleston harbor. there, a few weeks later, he died of a broken heart, far away from his friends and from the dear land for which he had fought so bravely. with only talmus hadjo for a companion, the wildcat was roughly thrust into one of those narrow dungeons from the deadly gloom of which he had shrunk with such horror on the occasion of his long-ago visit to the fort in company with louis pacheco. chapter xxx in the dungeons of the ancient fortress the capture of coacoochee and osceola created an extraordinary degree of excitement in st. augustine, where the news of this most important event was hailed with extravagant joy and openly expressed sorrow. those who rejoiced were of that class who wanted the war ended, and the seminoles removed by any means, fair or foul, they cared not which. to such persons an indian was only a species of noxious animal, for the trapping of which any deception was justifiable. on the other hand were many honorable men and women whose indignation, at the deed of treachery by which the fair name of the government had been smirched, knew no bounds. of all these, none was so filled with righteous wrath as were ralph and anstice boyd. "i was not wholly unprepared for some such rascality," said the former, "and i tried to convey my suspicions to coacoochee yesterday; though, knowing nothing definite, i dared not speak plainly. he, poor fellow, is so entirely honest and incapable of such a cowardly act himself, that he failed to comprehend what i was driving at. to his simple mind, a great chief must be an honorable man; otherwise he would not be a great chief, or, indeed, a chief of any degree. rather different from the idea prevailing in most white communities, is it not?" "i should say so, judging from what we have seen lately," cried anstice. "but i am too furious to talk about it. i am almost ashamed of being white. i only wish i were a man!" "what would you do in that case?" inquired her brother curiously. "do? i would fight, and devote my life to fighting just such outrageous wrongs as this. that's what i would do." "i don't doubt you would, you precious little spitfire, and a mighty plucky fight you'd put up. you'd lose, though, every time; for, besides pluck and pugnacity, it takes coolness and infinite patience to fight the battle of right against might. but, to return to practical matters, what is to become of our guest, now that coacoochee is no longer in a position to elope with her, or afford her other protection than that of his prayers?" "she is to stay with us, of course, for just as long as we can keep her. in the meantime, we must manage in some way to get him out of that terrible prison. poor fellow! how he must be suffering at this minute. i only hope he remembers that he still has some friends, and that there are still a few faint sparks of honor and gratitude glowing in the bosoms of the 'iste-hatke,' as he calls us. we must get irwin douglass to help us, and i only hope he will call to-day, so that we can begin to plan at once." "hold hard, sister! remember that the awkward situation douglass is already in is largely owing to us. if you take my advice, you will not mention to him our desire that coacoochee should escape, or disclose to him the identity of our guest. i agree with you, that we are bound to do whatever we can to aid our indian friend, and that the forest maiden shall make her home with us so long as she chooses to do so; but, for the present, i beg that no one else, not even irwin douglass, be admitted to our secret." "very well, mr. wise man, i will let you have your own way for a time; but don't try my patience too far, lest i do something desperate. red-headed girls aren't expected to be cool-headed as well, you know, and so when i have once set my heart on having a thing done, i want it done without delay." thus it happened that, when lieutenant douglass called on the boyds that evening, and was formally presented to a miss annette felipe, he did not, for a moment, doubt that she belonged to one of the old spanish-american families of the territory. she had a darkly beautiful face, was quietly but stylishly dressed, and was demurely silent. that she spoke so little was explained by anstice on the ground that spanish was her native tongue, and that she was visiting her in order to improve her english. as the lieutenant did not speak nor understand spanish, he was more than content to devote himself to miss anstice, leaving the stranger to be entertained by ralph boyd. douglass and the english girl discussed his present prospects, and wondered how long he would be obliged to wait in idleness before a court-martial could be convened to hear his case, and of course dismiss the absurd charges preferred against him. they talked of their recent exciting experiences, and finally anstice said: "by the way, mr. douglass, i wish you would take us to visit the prisoners in the old fort. i am so anxious to see that splendid osceola. besides, we want to do everything we can to make annette's visit pleasant, and there is so little to amuse one in this stupid place. i am sure she would be so interested in those indians. won't you please arrange it, like a dear man?" "certainly, i will if i can," replied the young officer. "at the same time, i am not at all sure that the general will regard with favor an application for a permit from one in my peculiar position." "oh, i fancy he will. at any rate, you manage it for us somehow, and make as early a date as possible; for annette may be compelled to leave us at any time, and i wouldn't have her miss seeing the interior of the fort. she has never seen anything like it, you know. we are going to take a walk to-morrow morning just to show her the outside of it, and you may come with us if you choose." so douglass promised to do what he could, and when he joined the walking party on the morrow, he announced that he had thought of a plan which he believed would work. "you see," he said, "mrs. canby, wife of canby of the rifles, has just arrived from the north, and as she has never seen any indians, of course she will be anxious to visit the fort. so i will get canby to secure the permit, and invite us all to join his party." while discussing this plan and deciding that it would be the very thing, they reached the ancient fortress, and as they skirted its frowning walls, miss felipe, who had hardly spoken since starting, and then only to anstice, became so visibly affected, that the english girl threw an arm protectingly about her, exclaiming, "annette is so tender-hearted that she can't bear the thought of captives being shut up in that gloomy place." "it is tough luck," agreed the young officer. "and there is not the slightest chance of their escaping either, for the only openings into the cells are those small embrasures through which even a boy would find it difficult to squeeze. they are some eighteen feet above the floor, too, so that it would be impossible to reach them without a ladder." a few days later, a permit for a party of six to visit the fort having been secured, mrs. canby, the boyds, their guest, and douglass set forth, mr. canby being detained by urgent duty, and excusing himself at the last moment. after passing the strong guard stationed at the gateway, the sightseers found themselves in a large, open space, where many of the captives were lounging or walking about. in these, the spanish girl showed not the slightest interest, but seemed inclined to hasten on. she carried a light shawl thrown over her arm, of which slight burden douglass had politely but in vain attempted to relieve her. "your friend seems very odd, and not at all like other girls," he confided to anstice boyd. "yes. isn't she?" replied the english girl, readily. "but then you must remember her bringing up. i wonder if osceola is among these indians?" "oh no, miss," answered the sergeant who had been detailed to act as guide. "the chiefs are only allowed out, one at a time, under guard, after the others have gone in. they are in their cells now." "well, take us to them, then," said anstice, "for they are the ones we care most to see. don't you think so, mrs. canby?" "yes, indeed," agreed that lady; "only i hope they will prove better looking and more interesting than these creatures out here." so the party was guided to the cell occupied by osceola, in front of which paced a sentry, and its massive door was swung back on creaking hinges. the haughty chieftain, still clad in his most splendid costume, was seated on a stool, gazing blankly at the opposite wall. he roused slightly as the sergeant said: "here's some ladies come to visit you, powell," and when mrs. canby and anstice expressed a wish to shake hands with him, he extended his hand to them mechanically. when, however, the lieutenant also offered to shake hands, a fierce flash of anger leaped into the eyes of the forest warrior, and he drew back haughtily, exclaiming as he did so: "no, sir! never again shall the hand of ah-ha-se-ho-la meet in friendship that of one wearing the disgraced livery of a united states officer." "horrid thing!" cried mrs. canby, as the party hurriedly withdrew from the cell. "the idea of a mere savage daring to speak so to an army officer! you did well, miss felipe, not to go near the wretch, and i only wish i hadn't. i certainly don't want to see any more of them." as the speaker absolutely refused to visit the remaining prisoners, which the others were still desirous of doing, douglass remained with her, leaving but three of the party to inspect the cell occupied by coacoochee and talmus hadjo. it, like the other, was guarded by a sentry, with whom the guide, after throwing open the door, stepped aside to speak. although the spanish girl had remained outside the other cell, she pushed eagerly forward into this one, while anstice and her brother stood in the doorway. talmus hadjo lay on a pile of forage-bags that served as a bed, while coacoochee, the very picture of despair, stood leaning, with folded arms, against one of the walls. he hardly noticed his visitor, until in a low, thrilling tone she pronounced his name. then, as though moved by an electric shock, he sprang forward, gasped the single word "nita!" and clasped the girl to his breast. a few murmured words passed between the two; then he released her, and, stooping, she slipped something from her shawl beneath one of the forage-bags lying on the floor. when the sergeant reappeared at the doorway a second later, the spanish girl, looking perfectly composed, was standing quietly at one side, talmus hadjo was regarding her with undisguised amazement, while coacoochee, with a new light shining in his face, was silently exchanging hand-clasps with ralph and anstice boyd. "rather a more decent and civil sort of a chap than the other," remarked the sergeant as he again locked the door, and the visitors turned away. "now there's only one more cell, and--" "i don't think we care to inspect any more cells to-day," interposed anstice, hastily; and so a few minutes later the reunited party were breathing once more the outer air of freedom, while mrs. canby expressed very freely her opinion of indians in general and of those whom they had just seen in particular. while the transformation of philip emathla's adopted daughter into miss annette felipe, clad in the costume of civilization, and guest of anstice boyd, may appear as surprising to the reader as it did to the captive war-chief whom she had just left filled with a new hope, it was all brought about very simply. on the evening that coacoochee confided her to the protection of ralph boyd, that gentleman, accompanied by his sister, strolled down to the indian encampment. first they received permission to speak with the aged chieftain, who was summoned to the lines for that purpose. a few minutes later their strolling carried them past the darkest corner of the camp, where they were joined by a slender figure that had slipped through the lines without attracting the attention of a guard. over this figure anstice threw a long cloak that she had carried on her arm, and thus disguised, nita pacheco accompanied her new friends to their home. her absence from the indian camp was not discovered until two days later, when mr. troup jeffers, claiming her as his escaped slave, and armed with an authority from the general for her recapture, visited the indian camp in search of her. the slave-catcher made a great outcry when he found that his prey had again eluded him, but he was speedily silenced by a very unexpected meeting with ralph boyd, who had been watching for the man who should make that very claim. at sight of him whom he had every reason to believe was long since dead, the scoundrel's face turned livid, and he staggered back like one who has received a knife-thrust. "drop this business, and leave town inside of an hour if you value your wretched life!" hissed boyd in his ear, and an hour later st. augustine was well rid of mr. troup jeffers. chapter xxxi a daring escape not until his prison door was again closed, and the footsteps of his visitors had died away in the distance, did coacoochee turn from listening, and stoop to see what it was that nita had brought him. from under the forage-bag he first drew a spanish hunting-knife, beautifully balanced, and with the keen edge of a razor. it was of dull blue toledo steel, and its shapely haft was exquisitely silver-mounted. at sight of it the young indian uttered an exclamation of joy, for it was his own well-tried weapon, endeared by long association, and his unfailing friend in many a combat with man and beast. it had been his father's before him, and with it anstice boyd had severed the bonds confining irwin douglass, when his life hung by a thread, in the swamp stronghold of osceola. she had kept it ever since, awaiting an opportunity to restore it to its owner, and had now done so, by the hand of nita pacheco. while coacoochee gloated over this treasure, his comrade in captivity pulled aside the bag beneath which it had been concealed, and disclosed another object of equal value with the precious knife. it was a coil of rope, slender and finely twisted, but of a proved strength, capable of supporting the weight of two men. "now, talmeco," cried coacoochee, in the indian tongue, "we have something to live for. already do i breathe again the free air of the forest, for want of which i had died ere many days. now will we show these dogs of the iste-hatke that their cunning is no match for that of the wildcat. again shall the war-cry of coacoochee ring through hammock and swamp, glade and savanna, and the iste-hatke shall tremble at its sound." "but," said talmus, "was it not one of the iste-hatke who brought us these things? has my brother won the heart of a pale-faced maiden?" "ho, ho!" laughed the young chief. "are the eyes of talmeco grown so dim from long gazing at stone walls that he did not see, through the dress of the white squaw, the form of nita pacheco, daughter of philip emathla, and the beloved of coacoochee? she it was, and no other, who found a way to this hole of rats, and brought the means of escape. let us hasten, then, to make use of them, that she may not be disappointed." "how can we?" queried talmus. "there is but one opening, and it is too small for the passage of a warrior. a boy could hardly make his way through it. besides, it is too high for us to reach, and, even if we got outside, would we not fall again into the hands of the soldiers?" "ho-le-wau-gus, talmeco!" exclaimed the other. "is thy man's heart turned by thy captivity into that of cho-fee [the rabbit], and art thou become one who trembles at the sight of his own shadow? listen, that thy heart may again become strong. the wildcat will climb to yonder opening, and show his brother the way. it is small, but we will make ourselves smaller. we will go when the great spirit has drawn his blanket over the face of the sky, so that no light may shine from it, and no man can see us. is it well?" "it is well, my brother. let coacoochee lead, and talmus hadjo will follow in his steps." for long hours during the weary days of captivity, had the young chief lain on his bed of bags, and gazed hopelessly at the single narrow opening in the wall far above him. he had believed that, if he could only reach it, he could so reduce his body as to pass through the aperture. now he saw a way to reach it. standing on his comrade's shoulders, and using his knife, he soon worked its point into a little crevice between the stones, just above his head. as talmus could not support his weight very long at a time, and as there came days of such frequent interruptions that they dared not work, it was several weeks before the crevice was so enlarged that it would receive the knife up to its hilt. then, by drawing himself up on it, coacoochee found to his delight that he could gain the narrow slit piercing the thick wall. to his dismay, it was barely wide enough to permit his head to pass through, but not his body. the prisoners at once decided to starve themselves, and reduce their flesh by taking medicine. this they did, until they became mere skeletons, and their keeper began to fear that they would die on his hands. in the meantime they cut up many of the bags on which they slept, into short lengths, which they bound closely, at intervals, about their slender rope, so as to afford a grasp for their hands. when all was in readiness, they were obliged to wait many days longer for a cloudless and moonless night. at length it came as dark as erebus, with squalls of rain, and a fierce wind that howled mournfully about the bastions and through the embrasures of the old fort. much to the disgust of the captives, one of the prison keepers was in an unusually sociable mood that night, and made repeated visits to their cell, talking and singing, until they feared they would be compelled to kill him, in order to get rid of his presence. finally they pretended to be asleep when he entered, and upon this he left them for good. the time for action had arrived; and, taking one end of the rope with him, coacoochee, stripped to the skin, save for a breech-cloth, mounted on his comrade's shoulders, felt for the deeply cut crevice, thrust his knife into it, and, in another minute, had gained the embrasure. here, after first regaining and securing his precious knife, he made the rope fast, by passing a loop about a projecting ledge, and leaving only enough inside for his comrade to climb up by, he passed the remainder through the opening, and let it drop, hoping that it might be long enough to reach ground at the bottom of the moat. with great difficulty, the young indian thrust his head through the narrow slit. then, with the sharp stones tearing the skin from his breast and back, he slowly and painfully forced his body through, being obliged to go down the rope head foremost, until his feet were clear of the opening. with each minute of this desperate struggle, it seemed as though his weakened powers of endurance must yield to the terrible strain, and that his grasp on the slender rope must relax; in which case he would have pitched headlong into the yawning depths below. but the indomitable will that had already aided him so often finally triumphed over physical weakness, and after a half-hour of struggle, the young war-chief slid in safety down the line that led to freedom, and lay panting on the ground, twenty-five feet below the aperture that had so nearly proved fatal. fortunately he lay in the deep angle of a bastion, where the shadows were blackest, for just then two men, evidently officers, passed close to him engaged in earnest conversation. he overheard one of them say that arrangements were perfected for removing all the prisoners on the morrow to charleston, south carolina, where they would be beyond a possibility of rescue or escape. so overjoyed was coacoochee at thus learning of the timeliness of his venture for liberty that he became filled with fresh vigor, and feeling a movement of the rope, that he still held in one hand, he instantly gave the signal that all was well, and the way clear for his comrade to descend. as he waited in breathless anxiety, he could plainly hear the struggle that was taking place far above him. at length it ceased, and in a low, despairing voice talmus informed him that having forced his head through the embrasure, he could get no further, nor could he even draw it back. "throw out thy breath, talmeco, and try again! throw out thy heart and soul, if needs be, and tear the flesh from thy body," urged the young chief, in a voice little above a whisper, but thrilling in its intensity. thus adjured, talmus hadjo made one last desperate effort, with such success that he not only forced his bleeding body through the aperture, but lost his hold of the rope and came tumbling down the whole distance. [illustration: hadjo lost his hold of the rope and came tumbling down the whole distance.] with a smothered cry of horror, coacoochee sprang to his side, and, feeling a faint heart-beat in the stunned and motionless form, dragged it to a near-by pool of water. this he dashed over the injured man with such effect that, in a few minutes, his consciousness returned. he was, however, so injured by his fall as to be unable to walk, and feebly begged coacoochee to save himself and leave him to his fate. for answer the young chief, with an astonishing display of strength, considering his condition, picked up his helpless friend, slung him across his back, and thus bore him nearly half a mile, to where the palmetto scrub afforded temporary concealment. daylight was now breaking, and some means must be devised for moving rapidly. so, depositing his burden on the ground, coacoochee turned back to an open field in which he had seen several mules. hastily twisting some shredded palmetto leaves into a rude bridle, he had the good fortune to capture one of the animals, on which he mounted both himself and his comrade. for several hours they rode through the trackless pine forest, and at length reached a travelled road, which it was necessary they should cross. before doing so coacoochee slipped from the mule to assure himself that no enemy was in sight. he had gone but a few paces, when the animal, with a loud bray, dashed into the open, and galloped madly towards a small party of mounted volunteers, who happened to be making their way towards the city. the sight of a single naked indian dashing toward them was too great a temptation to be resisted. a dozen rifles poured forth their deadly contents, both the mule and his helpless rider pitched headlong, and in the death struggle of the animal, the dead face of talmus hadjo was crushed beyond recognition. one of the white men, coolly and as neatly as though well accustomed to the operation, took the scalp of the fallen warrior. then the party rode merrily forward, exchanging coarse jests concerning the handsome manner in which the redskin had been potted. filled with rage and grief at this loss of his companion, coacoochee also hastened from the scene, plunging deep into the recesses of a near-by hammock and vowing a future but terrible vengeance upon the cowardly perpetrators of this cold-blooded murder. living on berries, roots, and the succulent buds of cabbage palmettoes, sleeping naked on the bare ground, and slinking from hammock to hammock like a wild beast who is hunted, the fugitive worked his way southward for three days. on the evening of the third day he walked into the camp of his own band on the headwaters of the tomoka river. by louis pacheco and his warriors the young chief was greeted as one raised from the dead. when, after they had fed and clothed him, they listened to his wonderful tale of treacherous capture, long imprisonment, timely escape, and the cruel death of talmus hadjo, they vowed themselves to a fiercer resistance than ever of the white oppressors. within an hour runners were despatched to several bands who were known to be contemplating surrender, urging them to abandon their intention and continue the fight to its bitter end. thus was the conflict which general jesup had just declared ended, renewed with a greater fury than ever, and coacoochee the wildcat became the acknowledged leader of his people. chapter xxxii nita hears that coacoochee is dead long and anxiously had the friends of coacoochee in st. augustine awaited the result of their effort to aid him in regaining his freedom. they dared not attempt to visit him again, lest by so doing they should arouse suspicion and injure his cause; for the two principal chiefs were so closely guarded that visitors were only admitted to them at long intervals and as a great favor. so nita was forced to endure a weary period of suspense and feverish anxiety, that caused her to droop like a transplanted forest lily. although ralph boyd sought daily for information concerning the prisoners, he could gain little, save that of a depressing nature, much of which he and anstice dared not share with their guest. he heard that coacoochee's strength was so weakened on confinement that it was believed he could not live much longer, and there was a rumor that he and osceola were to be hanged for their perversity in continuing the war. in the meantime, the number of indians held captive in st. augustine had been greatly increased by the bands of micanopy, cloud, tuskogee, and nocoosee, all of whom, urged to do so by the cherokee delegation, had accepted general jesup's invitation to meet him for a peace talk. again was the flag of truce violated, again was treachery substituted for honest fighting, and again were the too trusting savages seized, disarmed, and sent to st. augustine as prisoners of war. so many captives were now crowded into the ancient city, that, in order to secure them beyond all hope of escape, as well as to make room for others who, it was hoped, might be enticed to _make peace_ in a similar manner, it was deemed advisable to transfer them to charleston. there they could be detained in safety until the time came for their final removal to the west. preparations for this movement were made with great secrecy, that the indians might not learn of it until the last moment. transports were secured, and finally it was made known to the officers of the post only that an embarkation would be effected on the following day. rumors of the contemplated removal had reached the boyds, and had, of course, been communicated to nita. she declared that, if coacoochee did not succeed in escaping before it took place, she should resume her position as the adopted daughter of philip emathla, and so follow her lover into exile. in this determination, anstice warmly upheld her friend, but begged her to wait until the latest possible moment, before exchanging her present security for the uncertain fate of a captive. one evening, lieutenant douglass, who, having safely passed the ordeal of a court-martial, and, honorably acquitted, had been restored to duty, called on the boyds. in course of conversation with anstice he casually remarked, that the morrow would probably offer the last chance they would ever have of seeing their friend coacoochee. "what do you mean?" asked the startled girl. "i mean that the indians in st. augustine are to be embarked for charleston to-morrow morning; and coacoochee, poor fellow, is reported to be in such wretched health that it is not probable he can live long, especially in a climate so much colder than this." nita, who sat in another part of the room, listlessly engaged in a bit of fancy-work, glanced up quickly as she caught the name of her captive lover. she did not hear what else the young officer said, and waited eagerly for his going, that she might question her friend. anstice, on her part, was so impatient to communicate to nita the news she had just learned, and became so absent-minded in her conversation with douglass, that he suspected something had gone wrong, and so took his departure earlier than usual. long and earnestly did the two girls, who had grown to love each other like sisters, talk together that night. very early the next morning, escorted by ralph boyd, they left the house and turned in the direction of philip emathla's encampment. nita had resumed her indian dress, but over it she wore the same long cloak that had served to disguise her on a former occasion. its hood was drawn over her head and about her face, so that but little of her features could be distinguished. as they hastened through the narrow streets of the quaintly built city, their attention was attracted by a clatter of iron-shod hoofs, and a mounted officer in service uniform came dashing toward them. it was irwin douglass, and he reined up sharply at sight of his friends. as he lifted his cap to the ladies, he exclaimed: "well, you are early birds this morning! i suppose you have heard the great news and are come out to verify it?" "no, we haven't heard any news; what is it?" asked boyd. "coacoochee has escaped from the fort! got out somehow during the storm last night, and made off. the general is in a terrible temper over it. i am ordered out with a scouting party to see if we can pick up the trail. so i must hurry on. good-bye." in another minute the bearer of this startling bit of news was clattering away down the street, while the three who were left stood staring blankly at one another. nita was saying over and over to herself, "coacoochee has escaped, has escaped, and is free. oh! how happy i am! and that soldier is going to try and recapture him. oh, how i hate him! but he cannot. coacoochee is free, and will never let them take him again. oh, how happy i am!" as anstice boyd reflected upon the full meaning of what she had just heard, her heart was crying out: "coacoochee has escaped, and i aided him. now irwin has gone to find him. they will meet and kill each other. i know they will! oh! why did i do it? why did i do it?" ralph boyd expressed his feelings aloud by exclaiming: "that is one of the best bits of news i have heard in many a day. it will continue the war, no doubt, but i don't care if it does. serve the sneaks right who thought to end it by treachery. they will get some greatly needed lessons in honest fighting now." "you don't mean mr. douglass, brother?" "douglass? no! bless his honest soul! he's no sneak, but only an unfortunate victim of circumstances. but never you fear, sister. douglass won't catch coacoochee, even if he has to ride half around the territory to avoid him. he is too honorable a fellow to do a mean thing, or forget a debt of gratitude. if douglass is the only one sent after him, coacoochee is all right. i am afraid, though, there are others. i'll find out as soon as i get you two back to the house. what! not going back?" "not just yet, brother. nita wants to be the first to tell the great news to coacoochee's father, so as to give the old man courage to bear his exile and his sad journey. she wants to bid him good-bye too, for of course she will not go with him now." "of course not, and i suppose we must let her do as she wishes," agreed boyd, reluctantly. "i hope, though, she will be very careful not to be recognized." "i will see that she is careful, brother." so the three continued their way to the indian camp, which they found in a state of dire confusion on account of the order for removal just received. there were already many white persons in the camp; soldiers who were hastening the preparations, and mere curiosity-seekers who were retarding them by their useless presence. all of these, as well as the indians themselves, gazed curiously at the two ladies and the stalwart young englishman, who walked directly to the tent of philip emathla. the old man, who was sitting in a sort of a daze just outside, recognized ralph boyd at once, and when nita stooped and whispered in his ear, he immediately rose and followed her inside the canvas shelter. anstice also went inside, and the flap curtaining the entrance was dropped, leaving boyd outside on guard. as he gazed curiously on the novel scene about him, and even walked a few steps to one side the better to observe it, a white man of sinister aspect passed him twice, each time regarding him furtively but keenly. suddenly he darted to the tent, pulled aside the flap, and thrust his head inside. a startled cry from the interior attracted boyd's attention, and, ere the man had time for more than a glimpse, he was seized by the collar, and jerked violently backward. "what do you mean, scoundrel! by your rascally intrusion into other folk's privacy?" demanded the young englishman, hotly. "i've a mind to give you the kicking you deserve." "i didn't mean nothin', cap'n," whined the man, squirming in the other's fierce clutch. "i didn't know thar was any privacy in thar. i'm thought 'twas only injuns; and i'm got orders to take that tent down immejiate." "well, you won't take it down, not yet awhile; and you'll vanish from here as quick as possible. so get!" with the utterance of this expressive americanism the speaker released the man, and at the same time administered a hearty kick that caused its recipient to howl with anguish. ere he disappeared he turned a look of venomous hate at his assailant and muttered: "i'll git even with you for this, curse you! anyway, i saw what i wanted to see, and i know whar the gal's to be found." he was ross ruffin, mr. troup jeffers' human jackal, who, at the bidding of his master, had been hanging about the indian camp for weeks, watching for the reappearance of nita pacheco. his suspicions had just been aroused by the disappearance, into philip emathla's tent, of two ladies, and in the single glimpse caught by his bold manoeuvre they had been confirmed. he had seen nita, whose cloak having fallen to the ground, was fully revealed in her indian costume, standing with her hands on the old chieftain's shoulders and imparting to him the glorious news of coacoochee's escape from captivity. now all that he had to do was to discover whether the girl accompanied the indians to charleston or remained behind, and this information he had acquired ere nightfall. nita had not seen him, and it was anstice who uttered the cry that attracted her brother's attention. of course neither of them recognized the man, nor when, a little later, they returned to the house that nita had believed on leaving she should never see again, did they notice that he was stealthily following them at a distance. after that he watched the embarkation of the captives, to assure himself that nita pacheco did not accompany them. as the transports sailed, ross ruffin also left the city, and that night he held a conference with mr. troup jeffers. the inmates of the boyd house experienced mingled feelings of satisfaction at coacoochee's escape, apprehension lest he should be recaptured, and anxiety in behalf of their friend douglass. only nita was confident and light hearted. "he will not be caught," she said, "nor will he harm your friend; we shall hear from him very soon by some means." she was right; they did hear very soon, and when the news came, it was of such a terrible nature that the others would gladly have kept it from her. lieutenant douglass, returning at nightfall from his scout, went directly to the boyds' house; and, in answer to the eager queries that greeted his entrance, said: "yes; i found him, poor fellow! about a dozen miles from the city we met a squad of volunteer cavalry. in reply to my question if they had seen any sign of coacoochee, who had just escaped from the fort, one of them said: 'you bet we have, cap'n, and here's his scalp.' with that--" here the speaker was interrupted by a stifled cry and a heavy fall. nita pacheco lay unconscious on the floor. the two men bore her to a bed in an adjoining room, where they left her to the gentle care of anstice. when they returned to the outer room, douglass asked curiously: "what does it mean, boyd? what possible interest can your guest have in coacoochee?" "my dear fellow, i see now that we ought to have told you sooner, and so saved her this cruel blow. she is nita pacheco, spanish by descent, but indian by association and bringing up. she is the adopted daughter of philip emathla, and the betrothed of coacoochee." "good heavens!" cried douglass. "no wonder she fell when struck such a blow. what a brute she must think me." "don't blame yourself, old man," said boyd, soothingly; "the fault lies entirely with us. but are you certain that coacoochee is dead?" "the man who scalped him said he knew him well, and could swear to his identity. we went on to examine and bury the body, and it answered fully the description of coacoochee. oh yes, there is no doubt that he is dead, though his companion has thus far eluded all search. in one way, i suppose his death will be a good thing for the country; but i must confess, that for the sake of that poor girl, i would gladly restore him to life if i could, and take the consequences. well, good night. make the best apologies you can for me to miss anstice." chapter xxxiii told by the magnolia spring the reported death of coacoochee, which was generally believed, gave great satisfaction to the people of florida, and to the troops who had been for so long engaged in the thankless task of trying to subdue the seminoles. with many of their leading chiefs removed beyond hope of return, and with their most daring spirit dead, the indians must, of course, relinquish all hopes of successfully continuing the struggle. so the war was supposed to be ended, and many families of refugees now returned to their abandoned homes. among these were the boyds, who had no longer any reason for remaining in st. augustine, and who were particularly anxious to remove nita from the sorrowful associations surrounding her there. she was slow to recover from the shock caused by the news of her lover's death, but as soon as she was able to bear the journey, they took her with them to the plantation, which they begged her to consider her own home. ralph boyd began at once the energetic restoration of his property. a few of the old servants had already found their way back, and others, tired of dwelling amid the constant alarms of indian camps, began to arrive in small bands, as soon as they heard that the proprietor had returned, until nearly the whole of the original force of the plantation was restored to it. aided by these free and willing workmen, the young planter repaired the great house and numerous outbuildings, cleared and replanted the weed-grown fields, trimmed the luxuriant growth of climbing vines and shrubbery, and, within a few months, could gaze with honest pride over an estate unexcelled for beauty by any in florida. in these undertakings nita tried, for the sake of her friends, to exhibit an interest, and in their presence to appear cheerfully content. with all her efforts, however, she could not conceal the fact that she was pining for her old forest life, and would gladly exchange the luxuries of civilization for the rude camp of her warrior lover, could he but be restored to her. she spent much time, clad in her indian costume, and roaming the wilder portions of the plantation, mounted on one of those fleet-footed ponies for which florida was famous, and which were descendants of the old andalusian stock brought over by de soto. one of the girl's favorite haunts was the bank of a spring that boiled from a bed of snow-white sand, amid a clump of stately magnolias, about a mile from the great house. here she would sit for hours, plaiting sweet-scented grasses into graceful shapes, as she had learned to do among the maidens of king philip's village; but always thinking such sad thoughts that her work was often wet with scalding tears. at such times ko-ee, as she called her pony, circled about her in unrestrained liberty, nibbling at grasses or leaves, here and there, but always quick to come at her call, and behaving much like a well-trained watch-dog, fully aware of the responsibility of his position. one mild and hazy afternoon early in the new year, when the weather was of that degree of perfection that it so often attains just before the coming of a "norther," nita sat by her favorite spring, and ko-ee browsed near at hand. all at once the pony uttered a snort, pricked up his delicate ears, and began to move uneasily toward his mistress. as she glanced up from her work, she was filled with terror at the sight of a man standing but a few paces away, and regarding her earnestly. her first impulse was to fly, and her next was to fling herself into his arms; for in that instant she recognized the brother whom she had not seen since that night of cruel separation nearly four years before. "louis!" she cried. "louis, my brother! is it you? are you really alive? i thought you were dead, together with all whom i have ever loved. i knew you had escaped and joined our friends in fighting for their rights and our rights; but they told me you were killed, and i thought i was alone in the world." [illustration: nita sat by her favorite spring.] "even if i had been killed, dear, you would not be alone, so long as coacoochee is left; for he--" "louis! how dare you? he is dead!" "dead, sister! coacoochee dead, when he but now sent me here to find you; when but four days ago i fought by his side in the fiercest and most splendid battle of this war? he was wounded, to be sure, though not seriously; but as for his being dead, he is no more dead than you or i. what could have put such a belief into your mind?" for a moment the girl stared at her brother with unbelieving eyes and colorless face. "is it true?" she whispered at length. "can it be true? tell me, louis, that you are not saying this thing to tease me, as you used when we were children. tell me quick, brother, for i can bear the suspense no longer." as louis assured her that he had spoken only the truth, and that her lover still lived, the girl's over-strained feelings gave way, and she sank to the ground, sobbing, and panting for breath. louis pacheco, clad in the costume of a seminole warrior, battle worn, and travel stained, sat by his sister's side and soothed her into quietness. then he told her the story of the great fight on the shore of lake okeechobee. he told how coacoochee and three other chiefs, with less than five hundred warriors, fought for three hours in the saw-grass and tangled hammock growth, against eleven hundred white troops under general zachary taylor, and finally retired for want of ammunition, taking with them their thirteen dead and nineteen wounded. "the white soldiers were killed until they lay on the ground in heaps, and their wounded could not be counted. if we had only had plenty of powder, and as good guns as they, we would not have left one of them alive," concluded the narrator, fiercely. "oh, louis, it is awful!" cried the girl, with a shudder. "what is awful? that we left so many of them alive? yes; so it is, but--" "i do not mean that. i mean this terrible fighting." "yes, sister, the fighting is terrible, and so is the suffering; but neither is so terrible as tamely submitting to slavery, and injustice, and oppression, and the loss of everything you hold most dear on earth. those are the terrible things that the whites are trying to force upon us. but we will never submit. we will fight, and cheerfully die, if needs be, as free men, rather than live as slaves. as for the white man's word, i will never trust it. coacoochee trusted it, and it led him to a prison. osceola trusted it, and it led him to death. micanopy trusted it, and it led him into exile." "but, louis, some of the whites are honorable. the boyds have treated me like an own sister, and, but for them, coacoochee would not now be free." "yes," admitted louis, with softened voice. "coacoochee has told me of them, and with my life would i repay their kindness to you and to him. with them you are safe, and with them will i gladly leave my sister until such time as i can make a free home for her." "oh, louis! haven't you come for me? can't i go with you?" "not now, ista-chee [little one]. here is greatest safety for you; for to all the iste-chatte has word been sent that none may harm this place, nor come near it. the suffering of the women and children with us is very great, and i would not have you share it. now i must go; for i am sent to notify the northern bands of our victory, and bid them follow it up with fierce blows from all sides. in two days will i come to this place again, when, if you have any token or message for coacoochee, i will take it to him. soon he hopes to come for you himself, and until that time you must wait patiently." so saying, and after one more fond embrace of his sister, louis disappeared in the undergrowth, leaving nita radiant and filled with a new life. her brother had bound her to secrecy concerning his visit, at least until he had come and gone again, but she could not restrain the unwonted ring of happiness in her voice, nor banish the light from her face. both of these things were noted by anstice, as she met the girl on her return to the house. "why, nita! what has happened?" she exclaimed. "never have i seen you look so happy. one would think you had heard some glorious news. what is it, dear?" "please, anstice, don't ask me; for, much as i am longing to tell you, i can't; that is, not for a few days. then i will tell you everything. but i am happy. oh, i am so happy!" with this, the girl darted away to her own room, leaving anstice in a state of bewilderment not unmixed with vexation. "i'm sure she might have told me," she said to herself. "it can't be anything so very important, for there is no possible way of receiving news at this out-of-the-world place, unless it is brought by special messenger, and none could arrive without my knowledge. i do believe, though, that one is coming now." anstice was standing on the broad front verandah, over which was trained a superb lamarque rose, so as to form a complete screen from the evening sun. her ear had caught the sound of hoof-beats, and, as she parted the vines before her, she saw two horsemen coming up the long oleander avenue. both were in uniform, and it needed but a glance for the blushing girl to discover the identity of the foremost rider. it was irwin douglass, hot, dusty, and weary with long travel. he dismounted, tossed his bridle to the orderly, who rode back toward the stables with both horses, and slowly ascended the steps. as he gained the verandah, his bronzed face flushed with pleasure at sight of the daintily clad girl who was stepping forward with outstretched hand to greet him. "oh, miss anstice! if you could only realize how like a bit of heaven this seems!" he exclaimed. "you must indeed have undergone hardships to find your ideal of heaven in this stupid place," laughed the girl, at the same time gently disengaging her hand, which the young man seemed inclined to hold. "now sit down, and don't speak another word until i have ordered some refreshments, for you look too utterly weary to talk." "but i have so much to tell, and so short a time to tell it in," remonstrated the lieutenant. "i must be off again in an hour." "never mind; i won't listen to such a woe-begone individual. besides, ralph will want to hear your news as well." with this, anstice disappeared in the house, and douglass sank wearily into a great easy-chair. directly afterward ralph boyd appeared with a hearty greeting, and a demand to hear all the news at once. before his desire could be gratified, his sister returned with a basket of oranges, and followed by a maid bearing a tray of decanters, glasses, and a jug of cool spring water. "these will save you from immediate collapse," said the fair hostess, "and something more substantial will follow very shortly. now, sir, unfold your budget of news, for i am dying to hear it." "well," began douglass, "there has been the biggest fight of the war, away down south on the shore of lake okeechobee, and i was in it." "oh!" exclaimed anstice. "that, of course, is nothing wonderful," continued the young soldier, "but it is surprising that i came out of it without a scratch, for there were plenty who did not. on our side we left twenty-six dead on the field, and brought away one hundred and twenty severely wounded, besides a few score more suffering from minor injuries." "whew!" ejaculated ralph boyd. "who was in command?" "general taylor, on our side. and now for my most surprising bit of news." here the speaker hesitated and looked carefully about him. "i want to be cautious this time," he said. "but it was confidently asserted by scouts and prisoners that the indian commander was no other than our late lamented friend, the wildcat." "coacoochee! so that was nita's secret!" cried anstice. "i might have known that nothing else would make her look so radiant. oh! i am so glad!" "what do you mean?" demanded the astonished lieutenant. "how could she have heard anything about the battle, when i have just come from the field with despatches for st. augustine, and have ridden almost without stopping?" "i don't know, for she wouldn't tell me; but i am certain she did hear some time this afternoon. but oh! mr. douglass, we are so thankful that you escaped so splendidly. it must have been awful. of course you gained the victory, though?" "i don't quite know about that," replied the lieutenant, doubtfully. "we silenced their fire, and drove them from the field after a three-hours fight; but it is said that they had less than half our number of men, and we are in full retreat. officially, of course, we have won a victory; but it wouldn't take more than two or three such victories to use up the whole florida army." they discussed the exciting event for an hour longer, and then douglass was reluctantly forced to continue his journey. when he left, he promised to be back in three days' time, as his orders were to proceed from st. augustine to tampa. this promise was fulfilled; but when the lieutenant again drew rein before the hospitable plantation house, that seemed so much like a home to him, he found its inmates filled with anxiety and alarm. nita pacheco had disappeared under very mysterious circumstances the evening before, and no trace of her whereabouts or fate could be discovered. chapter xxxiv following a mysterious trail nita had not appeared during the lieutenant's former brief visit to the plantation, and when, on his departure, anstice sought her to charge her with having already learned that coacoochee still lived, the happy girl made no denial of her knowledge. at the same time she would not reveal the source of her information, though when anstice declared her belief that nita had seen the young chief himself, the latter denied that such was the case. "he is wounded," she added, "and could not come. besides," she continued proudly, "he is now head chief of the seminole nation, and has much to think of. but he remembered me, and sent me a message." "remembered you, indeed!" cried anstice. "i should think he ought to; but i am sorry to hear that he is wounded, for he is a splendid fellow. isn't it wonderful, though, that lieutenant douglass went through that same awful battle, and came out without injury. i can't understand it." "in a battle where coacoochee commands, no friend of ralph boyd can be struck, save by accident," replied nita, simply. "do you believe that? if i thought it were true, i should love your indian hero almost as much as you do, dear. i wonder, though, if that can be the secret of irwin's escape?" so the two girls talked and became drawn more closely to each other with their exchange of innocent confidences. on the following day, nita rode ko-ee as usual, though not in the direction of the magnolia spring; but on the one after, she haunted its banks for hours. she went to it in the morning, reluctantly returning to the house for lunch and to have ko-ee fed at noon, and made her way back to the place appointed for meeting her brother, as soon afterwards as she could frame a decent excuse for so doing. she was in the gayest of spirits as she rode away, and she laughingly called back to anstice, "to-morrow, dear, i am going to spend the whole day with you." "isn't it a pleasure to see her so happy?" asked anstice of her brother, as they watched the girl ride away. "and did you ever see such a change in so short a time? a few days ago she was listless and apparently indifferent whether she lived or not. now she is full of life, and interested in everything. then, i did not consider her even good-looking; while at this minute, she seems to me one of the most beautiful girls i ever saw." "yes," replied boyd, "i have noticed the change; but i wish, anstice, you would persuade her to give up these lonely rambles; though she has promised me not to go beyond the limits of the plantation, i can't help feeling uneasy. if i weren't so awfully busy, i would ride with her myself, since she insists on riding." "no you wouldn't, brother," laughed anstice. "i couldn't afford to have the jealousy of the savage lover aroused in that way. besides, it is absurd to regard nita as though she were a daughter of civilization, needing to have every step carefully guarded. in spite of her sweetness, and the readiness with which she has fallen into our ways, she is still so much of an indian as to be more at home in the trackless forest, than in the _chaco_ of the _iste-hatke_, as she is pleased to term the house of the white man. so let her alone, brother; for, if she is to be the wife of an indian, the more she retains of her indian habits, the better it will be for her." thus nita was allowed to go her own way. and when, at sunset, she had not returned, but little uneasiness was felt in the great house on her account, though anstice did sit with her gaze fixed on the long avenue up which she expected each moment to see the truant appear. a few minutes later her uneasiness was exchanged for alarm, as one of the stable boys came running to the house to report that ko-ee, the pony, had shortly before appeared at the stables, riderless and alone, though still saddled and bridled, and that miss nita was nowhere to be seen. filled with dismay at this report, ralph boyd and his sister hastened to the stables, and there were greeted by the further news that four of the best horses belonging to the plantation were missing. this had only been discovered when one of the stable boys went to the field into which all the horses not in use were turned during the daytime, to drive them up for the night. by this time a group of excited negroes was collected, and it seemed as though it had only needed the starting of disquieting reports to cause others to come pouring in. it now appeared that saddles and bridles had been stolen, that provisions had disappeared, that a boat was missing from the river bank, that unaccountable noises had been heard, and mysterious forms had been seen at night, in various parts of the plantation. when boyd sternly demanded why he had not been informed of these things before, the negroes replied that they had not dared offend their indian friends, whom they believed to be at the bottom of all the trouble. "if indians are prowling about here, the sooner we locate them and discover their intentions, the better," announced the proprietor, "and if miss nita has come to any grief from which we can extricate her, the sooner we do that, the better also." with this, he armed himself and a dozen or so of the more trusted negroes, provided a dozen more with torches, for the night had not grown very dark, let loose all the dogs of the place, wondering at the time why they had not given an alarm long before, and thus accompanied made a thorough examination of all nita's known haunts within the limits of the plantation. midnight had passed ere the fruitless search was ended, and the young man returned wearily to the great house. "it is my honest conviction," he declared to anstice, as she hovered about him with things to eat and to drink, "that nita has met some band of indians and gone off with them. i shouldn't be surprised to learn that coacoochee had sent for her, or even come for her himself." "i don't believe any such thing," said anstice, decidedly. "she would never have gone off without bidding us good-bye. nor do i believe that coacoochee would take, or allow to be taken, one pin's worth of property belonging to you. whatever has happened to nita, and i am afraid it is something dreadful, she has not left us in this state of suspense of her own free will." "well," replied the other, "i am too tired to discuss the question further to-night, and perhaps daylight will aid us in solving it." soon after sunrise the next morning, according to his promise of returning on the third day, lieutenant douglass, heading an escort of troopers, and accompanied by one of the most experienced scouts in florida, reached the plantation. while at breakfast he gathered all the known details of what had happened on the previous evening. then he asked which of nita's usual haunts she would have been most likely to visit the afternoon before. "the magnolia spring," replied anstice, without hesitation. "she was going in that direction when last seen." "let us take a look at the magnolia spring, then, and see if redmond, my scout, can discover any signs of her having been there." so they four, the boyds, douglass, and the scout, visited the bubbling spring beside which nita was known to have passed so much of her time. within two minutes the scout pointed out a place in a thicket but a short distance from the spring, where a struggle had taken place, and from which a plainly marked trail led through the undergrowth toward the river. "there were only two men," he said, "and they warn't injuns, for no redskin ever left such a trail as that. besides, injuns don't wear boots, which them as was here yesterday did. it's my belief that them men has made off with the girl. leastways, one of 'em carried something heavy; but they've been mighty careful not to let her make any footprints." the trail was followed to a place on the riverbank where a boat had been concealed, and from signs undistinguishable to untrained eyes, the scout described the craft so minutely, that ralph boyd knew it to be the one missing from his own little fleet. "but what have white men got to do with this business?" the latter asked, in perplexity, and unwilling to drop his indian theory. "dunno, cap'n," replied the scout; "but you can take my word for it, that white men have been, and injuns hasn't. yes, they have too!" he cried, as at that instant his eye lighted on another, almost illegible print, near where the boat had grounded. "here's a moccasin track, and it ain't that of any woman either. what i want now is to have a look on the other side." in compliance with this desire, a boat was procured, and the whole party crossed the river. then a short search located the point where the other boat had landed. it also disclosed a most puzzling trail, for here were the prints of _four_ pairs of booted feet instead of two, while no trace of moccasins was to be found. the trail led from the water's edge to a grove in which four horses had been tied to trees, and from there it bore away to the southwest. "they're headed for the tampa road," remarked the scout; "and i reckon tampa's where they're bound for." "then we'll have a chance to find out something more about them," said douglass; "for i must be a long way toward tampa before another nightfall." "by jove, old man! i'm going with you," declared ralph boyd; "i want to know something more of this affair myself." "if you go, ralph, i shall go too," announced anstice, firmly. "i'm not going to be left here alone again. besides, i am as anxious to find out what has become of poor nita as you are, and i have always wanted to visit tampa." as douglass assured his friends that nothing would afford him greater pleasure than to have them accompany him, and joined with anstice in her plea, ralph boyd reluctantly gave consent for his sister to form one of the party. thus, before they regained their own side of the river, all details of the proposed trip were arranged. while anstice was making her preparations for departure, her brother summoned the entire working force of the plantation, and telling them that he had reason to believe the recent thefts to have been committed by white men, asked if any of them could remember having seen any strange white man about the place within a week. all denied having done so, save one of the old field hands, who hesitatingly admitted that he had seen the ghost of a white man, on the night of the "norther." "where did you see it?" demanded boyd. "at de do' ob de chickun house." "what were you doing there?" "jes' projeckin' roun'." "how do you know it was a ghost, and not a live man?" "kase i seen him by de light ob de moon, an kase i uster know him when he war alive." "whose ghost do you think it was?" "marse troup jeffers, de ole oberseer." "the very man i ought to have thought of at first!" exclaimed the proprietor, turning to douglass. "he is not only so familiar with the place that he knows where to lay his hands on such things as he needs, and is friendly with the dogs, but he is so bitter against me for turning him off, that he has already attempted to take my life, as well as that of anstice. he is now a slave-trader, and, in company with other ruffians like himself, disguised as indians, he very nearly succeeded in running off all the hands on the plantation. he has already made several attempts to capture nita, for the purpose of selling her into slavery, and now i fear he has succeeded. i swear, douglass, if i ever get within striking distance of that scoundrel again, his death or mine will follow inside of two seconds. now, let us hasten to pick up the trail, and may god help nita pacheco, if she has fallen into the clutches of that human devil." the plantation being left in charge of old primus, the travellers set forth, and, a number of boats having been provided, they were speedily ferried across the river, towing their swimming horses behind them. on the farther side they resaddled and mounted, anstice riding nita's fleet-footed ko-ee. by hard riding they struck the tampa road before noon, and redmond immediately pointed out the trail of four shod horses, which he affirmed had been ridden at full speed, late the evening before. soon afterward, the scout discovered the place where the outlaws had camped. he declared that they had reached it long after dark, and had left it before sunrise that morning. "mighty little hope of our overtaking them this side of tampa, then," growled douglass. for two days longer did the pursuing party follow that trail. they found two other camping-places; but study the signs as they would, they could discover nothing to indicate the presence of a woman, nor of any save booted white men. "which is what beats me more than anything ever i run up against," remarked the puzzled scout. on the third day, by nightfall of which they expected to reach fort brooke on tampa bay, the plainly marked trail came to a sudden ending, amid a confusion of signs that redmond quickly interpreted. "they were jumped here by a war-party of reds," he said, "were captured without making a show of fight, and have been toted off to the northward. would you mind, sir, if i followed this new trail a few miles, not to exceed five? i might learn something of importance from it." "no," replied douglass. "we can afford to rest the horses here for an hour or two, and i will go with you." "so will i, if you have no objection," said boyd. the three went on foot swiftly and in silence for about three miles, then the guide suddenly stopped and held up his hand for caution. creeping noiselessly to his side, the others peered in the direction he was pointing, and there beheld a scene of horror that neither of them forgot so long as he lived. chapter xxxv fate of the slave-catchers for some time, boyd, douglass, and the scout had been aware of an odor, pungent and sickening; but neither of the two former had been able to determine its character. now, as they gazed into an opening in the pine forest, beside a small pond, its hideous cause was instantly apparent. although there was no sign of human life, there was ample evidence that human beings, engaged in the perpetration of an awful tragedy, had occupied the place but a few hours before. chiefest of this evidence were the charred remains of two human bodies, fastened and supported by chains to the blackened trunks of two young pine trees. at the foot of each tree a heap of ashes, and a few embers that still smouldered, told their story in language so plain that even the civilian and the soldier had no need of the scout's interpretation to enable them to comprehend instantly what had taken place. for a few minutes they remained in hiding while he cautiously circled about the recent encampment to discover if any of the indians still lurked in its vicinity. at length he reappeared on the opposite side of the opening, and entering it disturbed a number of buzzards that were only awaiting the cooling of the embers to begin their horrid feast. these rose on heavy wings, and lighting on neighboring branches, watched the intruders with dull eyes. "the injuns have gone," said the scout as he met his companions in the middle of the opening, "and taken the four horses with them. it was a small war-party, all on foot and without women or children; but what beats me is that there ain't no tracks of white men along with theirs. here are two accounted for, but what has become of the other two? they might have rid horseback, it's true; but then, it ain't injun way to let prisoners ride when they are afoot themselves." "is there any way of finding out who these poor devils were?" asked douglass, indicating the pitiful remnants of humanity before them. "no, sir, i can't say as there is," replied the scout, doubtfully. "all i know for certain is that they was human, most likely men, and more than likely white men. they must have done something to make the reds uncommon mad, too; for even injuns don't burn prisoners without some special reason, and never, in my experience of 'em, have i run across a case where they did it in such a hurry. generally when they've laid out to have a burning, they save it till they get back to their village, so as to let all hands share in the festivities. no, sir; this case is peculiar, and you can bet there was some mighty good reason for it." as it would have been useless to follow the indian trail any further, the scouting party turned back from this point. "if i could only be sure that one of those wretches was jeffers," said boyd to douglass as they made their way among the solemn pines, "i should feel that he had met with his just deserts. certainly no man ever earned a punishment of that kind more thoroughly than he. as the matter stands, i fear it will be long before this mystery is cleared, if, indeed, it ever is. under the circumstances, don't you think it will be just as well not to tell anstice what we have seen?" "certainly," replied douglass, "and i will instruct redmond not to mention our discovery to any one. of course, i shall be obliged to report it to the general, but beyond that it need not be known." so anstice was only told that the scouts had followed the indian trail as far as they deemed advisable, without discovering a living being, and she rode on toward tampa, happily unconscious of the hideous forest tragedy that had been enacted so near her. although she was still anxious concerning nita, she was not without hope that the girl had fallen into friendly hands, who would ultimately restore her to coacoochee. at tampa, which presented at that time a scene of the most interesting activity, the boyds formed many friends. a large military force was stationed here in fort brooke, a post charmingly located on a point of land projecting into the bay, and shaded by rows of live-oaks, vast in size, and draped in the cool green-gray of spanish moss. beneath these were the officers' quarters, and long lines of snowy tents. one of the married officers, whose wife had gone north, tendered the boyds the use of his rudely but comfortably furnished cottage until they should find an opportunity for returning safely to their own home. they gladly accepted this offer, and their cottage quickly became a centre of all the gayety and fun of the fort. just back of the post was a large encampment of indians, who had surrendered or been made prisoners at different points, and were now collected for shipment to new orleans, on their way to the distant west. although anstice, in her pity for these unfortunates about to be torn from the land of their birth, often visited them, and made friends with the mothers through the children, she did not realize their sorrow so keenly as she would had any of her own friends or acquaintances been among them. on the day before that fixed for their embarkation, colonel worth, of the 8th infantry, came in from a long and finally successful scout after halec tustenugge's band of indians. although the leader of this band, together with a few of his warriors, succeeded in eluding capture, a large number, including many women and children, had been brought in. these it was decided to start for new orleans in the morning with the captives already on hand. the colonel who had just concluded this arduous campaign was a fine specimen of the american soldier, as honest as he was brave; and a cordial friendship already existed between him and the boyds. as was natural, therefore, the morning following his arrival at fort brooke saw him seated at their cheerful breakfast table, where, of course, the conversation turned upon the existing war. "there is just one man in florida to-day, with whom i wish i had a personal acquaintance," remarked the colonel. "he alone could put a stop to this infernal business of hiding and sneaking and destroying cornfields, and running down women and children, if he only would. his name is coacoochee." "yes, i know him well, and believe what you say of him is true," responded boyd. "you know him! then you are just the man to aid me in meeting him. i am to be sent into his country in a few days, and am extremely anxious to have a talk with him. will you go with me, and exert your influence to induce him to come in?" "i am afraid my influence would prove of small avail, colonel. you see, coacoochee has been already caught by chaff and made to suffer dearly for his credulity." "yes, i know, and it was one of the most outrageous--but i have no business criticising my superior officers, so i can only say that--" just here came an interruption in shape of a lieutenant, who wished the colonel's instructions concerning an awkward situation. "you see, sir," he began, "we had just got the prisoners, whom you brought in yesterday, nicely started for the boats, when one of them, and a mighty good-looking one for a squaw, darted out from among the rest and ran like a deer towards the woods. two of the guards started after her, and several men ran so as to head her off. at this, and seeing no other chance of escape, she sprang to a small tree and climbed it like a kitten. once up, she drew a knife from some part of her clothing and declared in excellent english that she would kill any man who dared come after her and then kill herself. i have been talking to her and trying to persuade her of her foolishness. she only answers that she will never be taken from florida, and will do exactly what she threatens, in case we attempt her capture. she is terribly in earnest about it, and i am afraid means just what she says. now all the boats have left, save one that is only waiting for her, and i am in a quandary. i dare not order any man to go up after her. i can't have her shot. i can't shake her down, nor can i persuade her to come down, and the transports will have sailed long before she is weary or starved into submission." "it certainly is a most embarrassing situation," laughed the colonel, rising from the table as he spoke, "and one that would seem to demand my official presence. will you come with us, boyd?" "can't i go too, colonel?" broke in anstice. "perhaps i can persuade the poor thing to come down after all you men have failed." "certainly, miss anstice; we shall be delighted to have both your company and assistance." they found the situation to be precisely as described, except that, by this time, quite a crowd of soldiers, all laughing and shouting at the indian girl, were collected about the tree. these were silenced by the coming of their officers, and drew aside to make way for them. "this is a decidedly novel experience," began the colonel, as he caught sight of a slender figure perched up in the tree, and staring down with great, frightened eyes. at that moment, anstice boyd, who had just caught a glimpse of the girl's face, sprang forward with a little scream of recognition. "it is nita! my own darling nita!" she cried. "colonel, order these horrid men to go away at once, and you and the others please go away, too. she is my friend, and will come to me as soon as you are all out of sight. i will be responsible for her, and shall take her directly to the house, where you can see her after awhile, if you choose." two minutes later the men had disappeared, and the poor, brave girl, who had determined to die rather than leave the land in which her lover still fought for liberty, was sobbing as though her heart would break in anstice boyd's arms. the latter soothed and petted her as though she had been a little lost child, and finally led her away to her own temporary home. here she clad her in one of the two extra gowns she had managed to bring from the plantation, and so transformed her in appearance, that when, an hour later, the colonel called to inquire after his captive, he was more amazed than ever in his eventful career, to find her a very beautiful, shy, and stylishly dressed young lady, to whom it was necessary that he be formally presented. he had, in the meantime, learned her history from boyd; and, when made aware of the tender ties existing between her and the redoubtable young war-chief of the seminoles, had exclaimed: "ralph boyd, your coming here with your sister was a special leading of divine providence, as was the act of that brave girl in refusing to embark for new orleans this morning. now, with her aid, we will end this bloody war." proceeding to headquarters, he briefly explained the situation to general armistead, who had just succeeded general taylor in command of the army in florida, and obtained his permission for the transports to depart, leaving nita pacheco behind. upon meeting nita in anstice boyd's tiny sitting-room, the colonel chided her gently for not making herself known to him at the time of her capture with the others of halec tustenugge's village. to this she replied that she and her people had suffered so much at the hands of white men, and been so often deceived, that they no longer dared trust them. "that is so sadly true, my dear girl, that it seems incredible that a seminole should ever trust one of us again. still, i am going to ask you to do that very thing. i am going to ask you to trust me, and believe in the truth of every word i say to you as you would in that of coacoochee himself. if i deceive you in one word or in any particular, may that god who is ruler of us all repay me a thousand fold for my infamy." here followed a long conversation, in which the colonel outlined his plan for obtaining an interview with coacoochee, through the influence of nita, who he proposed should accompany his forthcoming expedition to the southern interior. at its conclusion, nita gave him a searching look that seemed to read his very soul. then, placing a small hand in his, she said: "i will go with you, i will do what i can, and i will trust you." "spoken like a brave girl, and one well worthy the bravest lover in all florida!" cried the colonel. "now can i see the end of this war. boyd, i of course count on you to go with us?" "and me?" interposed anstice. "don't you count on me too, colonel? because if you don't, neither of these people shall stir a single step with your old expedition." "my dear young lady," rejoined the colonel, gallantly, "the entire fate of the proposed expedition rests with you, and i made so certain that you would accompany us, that i have selected as my adjutant lieutenant irwin--" "that will do, sir. not another word," interrupted the blushing girl. "if you get into the habit of talking such nonsense i, for one, will never believe a word you say. i don't care, though, so long as it is settled that i am to go. now i want you both to listen while i tell you what nita has just told me of all that has happened to her since she disappeared so mysteriously from the plantation. nita dear, i am sure you don't want to hear it, so run up to my room, and have a good rest. i will come just as soon as i have got rid of these men." chapter xxxvi peace is again proposed after nita had left the room, anstice began her story as follows: "on the afternoon before that cold 'norther' we had about a month ago, nita was sitting, as she often did, by the magnolia spring. you must remember the place, colonel. there she received a most unexpected visit from her brother louis, whom she had not seen for years. he had been sent by coacoochee to carry the news of the battle of okeechobee to the northern bands, and also to bring a message to nita. after they had talked for awhile, he had to go on his way, but promised to be back in two days' time and take any message or token she might wish to send to her lover." "that's who it was then!" broke in ralph boyd. "well, i am glad to have that part of the mystery cleared up." "yes," continued anstice; "and of course, nita was awfully excited. when the second day came, she spent nearly the whole of it at the spring. finally, late in the afternoon, as before, she heard a voice calling to her by name, very softly. thinking, of course, that it was louis, who feared, for some reason, to advance into the open, she followed the direction of the voice unhesitatingly. then the first thing she knew, a cloth was flung over her head, she was seized in a pair of strong arms, and borne struggling away. "when, to save her from suffocating, the cloth was removed, she found herself in a boat, with two white men and her brother louis. the poor fellow's head was cut and bleeding, as though from a cruel blow, and he lay bound in the bottom of the boat. one of the white men was rowing, and the other sat watching them, with a pistol in his hand." "did she recognize the white men?" inquired ralph boyd. "yes, she says they were the very two who stole her mother, and afterwards stole the wife of osceola." "the scoundrels!" cried colonel worth. "in that case they were the prime instigators of this war, and ought to have been hanged long ago." "yes," answered boyd, "and one of them stole my sister, colonel, and turned her adrift in the forest, where but for coacoochee she must have perished. the same gentleman also shot me in the back at the battle of withlacoochee, and supposed he had killed me." "hanging would be altogether too good for the brute," declared the colonel, excitedly. "he deserves to be burned at the stake." "that is what the indians thought," replied boyd, significantly. "but go on, sister. did nita find out the name of the other man?" "yes, she learned while with them that it was ruffin,--ross ruffin." "i have heard of him, too, as being as great a scoundrel as jeffers himself, only more of a coward," muttered boyd. "they made both nita and louis put on boots before leaving the boat," continued the narrator, "and that accounts for our finding what we supposed were the footprints of four white men. when they reached the place where the horses were waiting, both the captives had their wrists bound together, and a rope was passed from each to the saddle of one of the white men. so they rode for two days, and nita says it was simply awful." "i should imagine it might have been," said the colonel. "just at dusk of the second day, a lot of ambushed indians surprised and captured them all without firing a shot. nita says, in spite of her fright, she thinks that was one of the happiest moments of her life. the indians knew louis, and, of course, released him and her at once, tying up the white men instead. that night they camped some miles from the road, and when louis told who the prisoners were, and of the many outrages they had committed, especially the stealing of poor chen-o-wah, the indians declared they should live no longer, and began at once to make preparations for killing them. nita says she isn't certain how they were killed, as she made louis take her a long way off, where she could neither see nor hear what was going on; but she thinks they were _burned_ to death." "and i know it," said ralph boyd, grimly. "douglass and i saw their charred remains the next day, and not knowing who they were, i expended a certain amount of sympathy on them, that i now feel to have been wholly wasted." "oh brother! and you never told me! i'm glad you didn't, though, for it is too horrible to even think of. well, when nita got to the indian village, they treated her just as nicely as they knew how, and promised to join coacoochee, of course taking her with them, as soon as their crops were planted. then you came along, colonel, and captured poor nita with the others, and brought her in here, and the rest you know. oh, i forgot! nita is feeling very badly about her brother louis, who was captured with her and brought here. she says he was taken off in one of the first boats this morning, and she is afraid she will never see him again." "he must have given an assumed name," remarked the colonel, thoughtfully. "under the circumstances, though, i am very glad that he did, and that he is well out of the country. i am afraid if it had been known a few hours sooner that major dade's guide was in the prisoners' camp, he would never have left it alive. in that case my course with coacoochee, which now appears so plain, would have been beset with serious, if not insurmountable, difficulties. as it is, i congratulate you, miss anstice, on having nita pacheco for a friend, and look forward to the happiest result arising from that friendship. within a week we shall be ready to start for the country of coacoochee, and i can assure you that i have never anticipated any expedition with greater pleasure than i do this one." the first of march, that loveliest month of the entire floridian year, found colonel worth's command camped in fort gardiner hammock, on the western bank of the kissimmee river. here, they were more than one hundred miles beyond the nearest white settlers, and in a country so abounding with game of all kinds, including deer and turkey, besides fish and turtles in wonderful abundance, that the troops were fed on these, until they begged for a return to bacon and hardtack as a pleasing change of diet. the heavily timbered bottom lands were in their fullest glory of spring green, fragrant with a wealth of yellow jasmine, and the glowing swamp azalea, as well as vocal with the notes of innumerable song birds. it was one of the most charming bits of the beautiful land that the seminole loved so well and fought so fiercely to retain. it was a typical home of the indian, and one from which the soldiers of the united states had thus far been unable to drive him. in the camp a large double tent, pitched next that of the commander, was set apart for the use of the boyds and nita. here anstice held regal court; for she was not only the first white woman to penetrate that wild region, but the first who had ever accompanied a command of the florida army on one of its "swamp campaigns." in her efforts at entertaining the officers who flocked about her, anstice was ably seconded by nita, who, though demure and shy, was not lacking in quick wit and a cheery mirth that had been wonderfully developed during this expedition into the haunts of her lover. from its outset she had refused to wear the garb of civilization, and appeared always dressed in the simple costume of an indian maiden such as the young seminole war-chief might recognize at a glance, and now he might be expected at any moment. the day on which he had promised to come in had arrived, and already was ralph boyd gone forth to meet him. oh, how slowly the time passed, and yet again, how swiftly! finally, unable to conceal her agitation, nita returned to the innermost recess of the tent, while anstice entertained several officers with gay talk and laughter outside. friendly indians, sent out long before with a white flag, on which were painted two clasped hands, in token of friendship, and with numerous presents, had found coacoochee, and informed him of colonel worth's desire for a talk; upon which the fierce young chief had laughed them to scorn. "tell the white chief," he said, "to come alone to the camp of coacoochee if he wishes to talk." "thy friend ralph boyd is in the camp of the soldiers, and sends word that the white chief is to be trusted." "tell my friend that i am through with trusting white chiefs. i have had a sadder experience with them than he." "nita pacheco is in the camp of the soldiers, and, being restrained from coming to thee, bids thee come to her. she also sends word that the white chief is to be trusted even as she is to be trusted." for a long time coacoochee sat silent, while the little smoke clouds from his calumet floated in blue spirals above his head; then he spoke again, saying: "tell the white chief that in five days coacoochee will come to him. tell ralph boyd that on the fifth day from now, two hours before the sleeping of the sun, if he comes alone, i will meet him at the palmetto hammock, one mile this side of the soldiers' camp. if he comes not, then shall i return to my own people, and the white chief shall never meet me save in battle. tell nita pacheco that at her bidding only, of all the world, do i trust myself again within the power of the iste-hatke. now go, and bear to her this token from coacoochee." with this the young chief detached from his turban a superb cluster of egret plumes fastened with a golden clasp, and handed it to the messenger. this token had been promptly delivered to nita, together with her lover's message, and now she awaited his coming. ralph boyd, riding out alone to meet his indian friend, felt almost depressed at the utter loneliness of his surroundings, in which no signs of human presence or animal life were to be discovered. he wondered curiously, as he rode, whether that fair country would ever be filled with the homes and tilled acres of civilization. as he approached the cluster of cabbage palms named as the place of meeting, he scanned it closely, but without detecting aught save an unbroken solitude. even as he pondered on how long he should wait for coacoochee to fulfil his engagement, he was startled by a low laugh, and the young chief, with outstretched hand, stood by his side. springing from his saddle, the englishman grasped the hand of his friend, and after a warm greeting confessed his amazement that any human being could have approached him so closely without warning. "i remembered the magic by which your warriors were made to appear and disappear on that former occasion long ago," he said, "and have watched so keenly this time that i did not believe even you could come within many yards of me without detection. even now i know not from where you came." for answer coacoochee uttered his own signal, the cry of a hawk. instantly, to boyd's infinite amazement, the two were surrounded by a cordon of warriors, all armed with rifles, and the furthest not more than three rods away. coacoochee smiled at the blank expression on his friend's face, and said: "from the camp of the soldiers to this place have my braves kept pace with thee; for, while i trust ralph boyd, i was not yet prepared to fully trust the war-chief of the iste-hatke nor place myself entirely in his power. now am i satisfied, and will go with you." thus saying, coacoochee waved his hand, and the indians, who had stood motionless about them, disappeared within the shadows of the hammock. at the same moment there came from it seven mounted warriors, one of whom led a superb horse fully equipped for the road. the young chief vaulted lightly into the saddle of this steed, and boyd mounting at the same time, the two friends, followed by their picturesque escort, dashed away toward the camp by the kissimmee. a few minutes later a blare of trumpets and a roll of drums heralded their arrival, and colonel worth, escorted by a group of officers in full uniform, stepped forward to greet the distinguished guest, from whose coming so much was hoped. as the two war-chiefs of different races, and yet both natives of one country, held each other's hand, and gazed into each other's face, each was impressed with the belief that he had met an honest man, a worthy foe, and one who might become a stanch friend. after the formalities of the occasion had been exchanged, and just as coacoochee's eyes were beginning to rove restlessly down the camp, anstice boyd stepped to his side, gave him the greeting of an old friend, and leading him to her own tent, bade him enter alone. thus there was no witness to the meeting of the forest lovers; but when, a few minutes later, they came from the tent together, there was a happiness in their faces that had not been there since that long-ago evening of betrothal in the village of philip emathla. chapter xxxvii coacoochee is again made prisoner although the seminoles had generally been victorious in their battles with the whites, they were struggling against a power so infinitely greater than theirs that the four years of war already elapsed had made very serious inroads upon both their strength and their resources. their entire force was in the field, and they had no reserves from which to draw fresh warriors. they must raise their own food supplies even while they fought. they could not manufacture powder nor arms, and could only gain infrequent supplies of these by successful battles or forays. the fresh, well-armed, and well-fed troops, operating against them, outnumbered them ten to one. their entire country was dotted with stockaded posts, called by courtesy "forts," garrisoned by troops who were continually driving the indians from hammock to hammock, destroying their fields, and burning their villages. one line of these posts extended across the territory, from fort brooke on tampa bay to st. augustine, cutting off the northern bands from those who had sought refuge amid the vast swamps of the south. another line extended down the west coast, and up the caloosahatchie to lake okeechobee; while a third line commanded the atlantic coast from st. augustine to the mouth of the miami river, where it empties into far-distant biscayne bay. of this last chain the principal posts were fort pierce, on the indian river opposite the inlet, fort jupiter at the mouth of the locohatchie, fort lauderdale on new river, and fort dallas on biscayne bay. the last named was most important of all, because of its size, its strength, nearly all of its buildings being so solidly constructed of stone that some of them are in a good state of preservation to this day, and on account of its situation, which commanded the everglades and the system of waterways connecting them with the coast. under these circumstances, it is no wonder that the indians were weary of the hopeless struggle against such overwhelming odds, and that colonel worth found coacoochee willing to talk peace. the two war-chiefs seemed drawn to each other, and to understand each other from the first. during the four days that coacoochee remained in the camp of the soldiers, they held many informal talks concerning the subject of greatest importance to them both. for a long time, coacoochee argued stoutly against the removal of his people to a distant country, and pleaded hard for a reservation in their own land. to this colonel worth replied that more than half the tribe were already removed, and could never be brought back. also that, with the great tide of white immigration setting steadily southward, no reservation in florida, worth the having, could be secured to the indians for more than a few years; at the end of which time the existing troubles would rise again with exaggerated violence. these arguments finally prevailed, and with a heavy heart the young chief admitted the necessity of leaving the land of his birth. he, however, made one stipulation. "there are among us," he said, "those of a darker skin than ours, but who are yet our brothers. many of them were born to freedom in the land of the iste-chatte. they have fought with us for our liberty, and have died by our side. they are with us as one people, and where we go they must also go. if coacoochee surrenders, and exerts his influence for the removal of his people, it is only on condition that those of the iste-lustee now dwelling with the seminoles shall go with them, and that no one of them shall ever be claimed by a white man as his slave. are the words of coacoochee good in the ears of the white war-chief?" "they are good," replied colonel worth, "and, were i in full command, your condition should be granted unhesitatingly. but there is another war-chief more powerful than i, who must be consulted. i believe he will gladly accept your terms. he is now at fort brooke. will you go with me and see him? if you will, no matter whether you come to an agreement or not, i pledge my sacred word, as a man and a soldier, that you shall return to your own people, free and without harm." for some minutes coacoochee meditated this proposition in silence. then he said slowly: "micco-hatke [white chief], in the hope of ending this war, and saving the lives of my people, i will do what i have said i never would do. i will trust myself again within the walls of a white man's fort. i will go with you to talk with this great white chief. first, i must return to my warriors, and tell them where i am going, that there may be no fighting while i am gone. i give you these ten sticks. with the rising of each sun throw one away. when all are gone, coacoochee will come again, and go with his white brother to the place of the great white chief." so the wildcat left the camp of the soldiers as free as he had entered it, journeyed far among the scattered bands of his people, and in ten days returned, prepared to accompany his white friends to the place from which they had set forth in search of him. at tampa, general armistead expressed himself as greatly impressed with the manliness and evident sincerity of the young chief. he readily consented to the condition imposed, and bade him bring in his people at once, that they might be embarked for emigration. to this coacoochee replied that, while he had become convinced of the necessity for removal to the west, it would take time to convince his followers, especially as the soldiers had so driven them that they were scattered in small bands all over the country. they would not be gathered together until at their great annual festival or green corn dance, which would be held in june. before that time he doubted if he should be able to accomplish very much. understanding this state of affairs perfectly, general armistead still desired coacoochee to go and collect his people as speedily as possible, designating fort pierce on the indian river as the place at which they should assemble. so the young war-chief having renewed his confidence in the words of the white man, departed cheerfully, and filled with a new hope for the future. he had received every mark of friendship and distinction from officers and soldiers, and had been given no cause to doubt for a moment the sincerity of these expressions. as colonel worth was about to leave for palatka, and the boyds were taking advantage of his escort to return to their own home, coacoochee decided to accompany them as far as the plantation on the st. john's, where nita was still to be left until his return from the great enterprise he had now undertaken. about this return much was said; for it would mean the beginning of the young chief's long journey to the west, and of course on that journey, from which there was to be no return, nita pacheco was to accompany him. anstice had set her heart on having what she termed the "royal wedding" take place at the plantation, and had so nearly gained coacoochee's consent to being married according to the way of the iste-hatke, that she already considered her pet scheme as good as adopted. the only officer accompanying the colonel to palatka was lieutenant douglass; and, on the evening of their arrival at the plantation, as he and anstice sat together on the verandah, while coacoochee was strolling with nita beneath the oaks, and ralph boyd was entertaining colonel worth inside the house, he startled the english girl by asking: "wouldn't it be just as easy, miss boyd, to have two weddings as one when coacoochee returns?" "why, yes. i suppose so. if there was any one else who wanted to get married just at that time." "well, there is. i do, for one." "and who is the other, pray?" "can't you guess, anstice? don't you know? won't you--?" here the young officer caught one of the girl's hands in both of his, and though he was obliged to release it a moment later, as the other men appeared on the verandah, the mere fact that she had not snatched it away filled him with unspeakable joy. it was a sufficient answer to his question, and he knew as well as though told in words, that he had won something better and sweeter far than rank, or honors, or position, or whatever else besides love the world holds most dear. during the weeks that followed this happy evening at the plantation, while colonel worth, with irwin douglass as his hard-worked adjutant was always in the field, giving the indians to understand that the vigilance of the troops was in no way to be relaxed, by the prospects of peace, coacoochee, in the far south, was using every effort to redeem his pledged word, and persuade his people to come in for removal. he often visited fort pierce, the appointed rendezvous, which was commanded by major chase, the same who as a captain had destroyed the swamp stronghold of osceola. this officer had long been conducting similar operations in the south, despatching small bodies of troops in all directions from his post, on the soldierly tasks of destroying fields, capturing women and children, and burning the rude roofs that had sheltered them. upon receipt of orders to stay his hand, and hold his troops in check, that coacoochee might be given an opportunity to collect his scattered warriors, major chase became impatient at the loss of his favorite occupation. so he sent word to the general commanding, that coacoochee was so dilatory in fulfilling his promises, that it was believed he meditated treachery. at this, general armistead, who was on the point of being relieved of his command, and ordered to washington, consummated his official career in florida by an act calculated to bring a blush of shame to the cheek of every american soldier. it was nothing more nor less than an issue of instructions to major chase to seize coacoochee, together with any who might accompany him, the very next time the young chief visited fort pierce, and hold them as prisoners of war. upon the retirement of this general, the man appointed to succeed him to the command in florida, was colonel worth, then at palatka, on the st. john's, which was headquarters of his regiment. the distance between that point and the boyds' plantation was so short, that the colonel, together with his adjutant, was in the habit of frequently visiting it and sharing its bountiful hospitality. here were often held discussions of the war, and of the efforts then being made by coacoochee toward securing peace. during these conversations, the colonel was apt to sigh for an extension of his powers, that he might be enabled to put some of his pet theories into practice. in these aspirations the plantation household heartily sympathized. it was only natural, then, that, on receiving his unexpected appointment as commander-in-chief, the honest soldier should hasten to impart the glad intelligence to his friends and bid them share his satisfaction. thus it came about that, a few evenings later, ralph boyd gave a dinner in celebration of the event, at which, among other guests present, were "general" worth, as he must now be called, and lieutenant douglass. the occasion was one of unrestrained happiness, for all believed that the tedious war must now come to a speedy close. frequent blushes were brought to the cheeks of both anstice and nita, by sly allusions to the rapid approach of a certain double wedding that now appeared among the probabilities of the immediate future. when the festivities were at their height, and all were in the gayest of spirits, there came a clatter of horses' hoofs, and a rattle of arms, from outside. the next moment a travel-stained courier entered, saluted, and handed the general a despatch marked "urgent." the commander tore it open, glanced with paling cheeks at its contents, and sprang to his feet, exclaiming: [illustration: "all is lost and the war is about to break forth with greater fury than ever."] "my god, gentlemen! all is lost, and the war is about to break forth with greater fury than ever! in violation of our plighted word, coacoochee and fifteen of his followers have been treacherously seized at fort pierce, sent in irons to tampa, and despatched in cruel haste to the west. a transport even now bears them toward new orleans. in this emergency there is, to my mind, but one thing to be done. coacoochee must be brought back. without his aid to end it, this wretched war will continue indefinitely. lieutenant douglass, within fifteen minutes i shall want you to start on an overland ride to new orleans. intercept coacoochee and bring him back to tampa. for so doing you shall have my written authority. boyd, pen and paper, if you please, and quickly." less than a quarter of an hour later, douglass, splendidly mounted, armed with all requisite authority, and followed by but two troopers, dashed away down the long avenue, fairly started on his momentous mission. as anstice bade him farewell, she whispered in his ear: "remember, irwin, a double wedding, or none." chapter xxxviii douglass fulfils his mission in spite of the undisguised treachery by which coacoochee had been made a prisoner and hurried from the country, the act was hailed with joy by unthinking people all over the territory. these cared not how their enemy was got rid of, so long as they were at liberty to seize his lands and enslave the negroes among his followers. there were many others who were making too good a thing out of the war to care to have it end. from these classes, therefore, arose a mighty clamor, when it became known that general worth was determined to bring back the young war-chief; and for a time there was no man in the country so bitterly abused and reviled as he. to the fearless soldier, strong in the rectitude of his convictions, and planning far ahead of the present, this storm of words, prompted by ignorance, malice, and selfish interests, was but as the idle whispering of a passing breeze. he cared not for it; and if he had, his attention was too immediately and fully occupied by matters of pressing importance to permit him to notice it. as the general had foreseen, the outrage perpetrated upon their most beloved chieftain caused the seminole warriors to spring to their arms with redoubled fury. even as a smouldering brush-heap is fanned into leaping flames by a sudden fitful gust, so the spirit of revenge, burning deep in indian hearts, was now allowed to blaze forth without restraint. small war-parties sallied forth from every swamp and hammock, burning and killing in all directions. nimbly eluding pursuit, these could neither be destroyed nor captured; and through their fierce acts of vengeance, the citizens of florida were given bitter cause to regret the taking away of coacoochee. such chiefs as remained, bound themselves by a solemn covenant to hold no further intercourse with the treacherous white man, but to fight him to the bitter end, and to put to death any messenger, red, black, or white, whom he might send to them under pretence of desiring peace. it was now summer, the season of heat, rain, fevers, and sickness. heretofore, during the summer months, the indians had rested quietly in their villages, and cultivated the crops that should furnish food for the campaign of the succeeding winter. heretofore, at this season, the soldiers had been withdrawn from the deadly interior, and allowed to recuperate in the health-giving sea-breezes of the coast. now all this was changed. while sympathizing with the wronged and outraged indians, general worth's loyalty to his government was too strong to permit his feelings to interfere in the slightest with the full performance of his duty. the time for an active summer campaign had arrived, and the new commander was the very man to conduct such a one with the utmost vigor. the indians who had taken to the war-path quickly found, to their sorrow, that the whites had done the same thing. from every post in florida detachments of troops scoured the neighboring territory, carrying desolation and dismay into every part of the country known, or supposed, to be occupied by the enemy. no hammock was so dense, and no swamp so trackless, that the white soldier did not penetrate it. during the month of june thirty-two cornfields of from five to twenty acres each were despoiled of their growing crops, and as many indian villages were destroyed. even the watery fastnesses of the widespread everglades were invaded by a boat expedition from fort dallas, which destroyed crops and orchards on many a fertile island that the indians had fondly believed no white man would ever discover. during this same month of june, more than three thousand men, stricken by fevers and kindred disease encountered in the swamps, were enrolled on the sick list of general worth's little army. by the end of the month nearly every indian in florida had been driven into the impenetrable recesses of the big cypress, a vast swamp bordering on the southwest coast, and most of the troops were recalled to their respective posts. now, if douglass had been successful in his mission, it was time for coacoochee to be expected at tampa, and the commander moved his headquarters from palatka to fort brooke, that he might be on hand to receive the exiled chief. with him went the boyds; for they had become too deeply interested in this game of war to remain at a distance from its most important moves. of course, nita accompanied them, alternately hopeful and despairing, longing for news from her lover, and yet fearing to receive it. their old cottage being again placed at their disposal, the boyds were at once as comfortably established as though they had never left it. on the third of july, a strange sail was reported beating slowly up the bay, and that same evening lieutenant irwin douglass, in speckless uniform, walked into the boyds' cottage, as quietly as though he had left it but an hour before. as he entered, anstice was the first to discover him, and sprang to his side. "irwin douglass!" she cried. "have you brought coacoochee back with you? tell me quick!" close behind her stood nita, silent and motionless, but with shining eyes that gained the coveted information from the young officer's face long before he could give it in words. "didn't you say it must be a double wedding or none?" he asked, laughingly. "yes. tell us quick!" "well, i didn't know of any one besides yourself who wished to get married, except nita." "you horrid man! why don't you tell us?" "and as i didn't suppose she would accept any other indian--" "you brought coacoochee back with you?" "i didn't say so." "but you have! you know you have; for you would never have dared come here if you hadn't." "well then, i have, and he is aboard the transport out there in the bay, alive, hearty, and filled with happiness at once more breathing his native air." "irwin douglass, you are a dear fellow, and i love you! which is more than i ever admitted before, except to coacoochee," cried anstice, throwing her arms about nita and hugging her in her excitement. "but why didn't you bring him ashore? didn't you suppose we wanted to see him? and didn't you know that poor nita was wearing her heart out with suspense?" "i feared so, but i couldn't help it. you see, when a man in the military business runs up against orders, he finds them mighty stubborn facts, and not lightly to be turned aside. so as i had orders to leave our friend under guard aboard ship, until he had been visited by the commanding general, i thought it better to obey them." "never mind, dear," said anstice, turning consolingly to nita. "we will have him ashore to-morrow, and his coming will be a fitting celebration of the fourth of july that the americans make so much fuss over." on the morrow, the general, accompanied by his staff, together with douglass and boyd, visited coacoochee on board the transport. as these gained the deck, they beheld the distinguished prisoner thin and haggard, with manacles on both wrists and ankles, but still standing straight and undaunted, with eyes gazing beyond them and fixed on the dear land that he had thought never to see again. stepping directly to him, general worth grasped his hand, saying: "coacoochee, i take you by the hand as a warrior and a brave man, who has fought long and with a strong heart for his country. you were not captured and sent away by my orders, but by the orders of the great chief who was then in command. now i am in command, and by my order have you been brought back to your own land that you may give it the peace you promised me. for nearly five years has there been war between the white man and the red man. now that war must end, and you are the man who must end it. you will not be allowed to go free until your whole band has come in, ready for removal to the west. you may send a talk to them by three, or even five, of your young men. you shall state the number of days required for your people to come in. if they are all here within the limit of time fixed, you shall be set at liberty, and allowed to go on shore to them. if they are not here by the last day appointed, then shall its setting sun see you, and those with you, hanging from the yards of this vessel with the irons still on your hands and feet. i do not tell you this to frighten you. you are too brave a man for that. i say it because i mean it, and shall do as i say. this war must end, and you must end it." for some minutes there was a dead silence, as the company reflected on the terrible words they had just heard, and coacoochee's breast heaved with emotion he struggled to control. at length he said: "micco-hatke, you are a great chief, and i believe you are an honest man. other white men have lied to me and cheated me. they could not overcome coacoochee in battle, so they captured him by their lying words. with you it is not so. i will trust you. let my young men go. if in thirty days the warriors of coacoochee have not obeyed his voice and come to him, then let him die. he will not care longer to live." after a conversation with his companions, to whom all this had been interpreted, coacoochee selected five of them, and with the earnest words of one placing his life and honor in their hands, charged them with a message to his people. then the irons were stricken from the limbs of those five, and they were allowed to pass over the side of the ship into a waiting boat. coacoochee shook hands with each one, and to the last he said: "if thou meet with her whom i love, tell her--no, tell her naught. already does she know the words that the heart of coacoochee would utter. give her this, and bid her wear it until i once more stand beside her or have gone from her life forever." with this he handed the messenger a silken kerchief of creamy white, that, in honor of the occasion, had been knotted about his head. among those who thronged the shore to witness the return of the boats, none watched them with such straining eyes and eager impatience as nita pacheco. she stood with anstice, a little apart from the rest, clad in the forest costume that she knew would be most pleasing to her lover. general worth had told no one of his plans, and so the girl did not doubt for a moment that coacoochee would be allowed to come ashore that day. she was the first to make certain that one of the boats contained a number of indians; and from that moment her eyes did not leave it. as it drew near to the shore, the happy light gradually faded from her face, and in its place there came a look of puzzled anxiety. "he is not there," she finally said to anstice, in a tone that betrayed the keenness of her disappointment. "let us go; there is nothing now to stay for." "no," objected anstice, "there must be a message from him. let us wait and learn what has happened." boyd and douglass came directly to where the girls awaited them; but ere either of them could enter into explanations, nita darted away toward the warriors, who had just landed. with these she engaged in rapid conversation for the next five minutes, during which she learned of all that had passed aboard the ship, and of her lover's imminent peril. when the girl rejoined her friends, her jetty hair was bound with the kerchief of creamy silk. she walked with a resolute step, and her eyes flashed with determination. speaking to anstice alone, without regard to those who stood near her, she said: "the micco-hatke will kill him if every member of his band is not here, ready to emigrate, within thirty days. the seminole chiefs have sworn to receive no proposals for peace. they will even shoot the messengers of coacoochee before they can be heard; but they will not kill a woman. it is for me, therefore, to go with those who bear the talk of coacoochee. if, at the end of the allotted time, every member of the band is not here, then i, too, shall be far away; but, as the sun sinks into the sea on that day, the spirit of nita pacheco will be forever joined with that of him to whom she plighted her troth. come, let us go and make ready." no persuasions nor suggestions of danger or hardship could alter the girl's determination, or cause her to waver from her fixed purpose. so she was allowed to have her way, and at daylight of the following morning she set forth, in company with the five warriors, on her perilous and fateful mission. they were amply provided with horses, provisions, and everything that could add to the success of their undertaking, and, as they rode away from the fort, every soul in it, from the general down, wished them a heart-felt "god speed." chapter xxxix the bravest girl in florida during the month that followed nita's departure there was in fort brooke but one all-absorbing topic of conversation and speculation. would the brave girl succeed in saving the life of her lover? or must he die like a dog, without ever again treading the soil of his native land? except for being kept a prisoner, the young war-chief was treated with distinguished consideration, and every want that he made known was gratified, so far as was consistent with safety. at the same time, he was still manacled, and his irons, together with those of his comrades, were carefully examined by a blacksmith, under supervision of an officer, every morning and evening. the guard on the transport was doubled, and at night a chain of sentinels was posted along such portions of the shore as lay adjacent to the ship. no boats were allowed to approach or leave the floating prison between sunset and sunrise, and no other precaution that human ingenuity could devise for the safe-keeping of the captives was neglected. ralph boyd, often accompanied by some officer from the post, made daily visits to cheer coacoochee with his belief that all was going well, and to carry him the very latest news. on the occasion of his first visit he took anstice, who claimed the privilege of telling the young chief what his sweetheart had undertaken in his behalf. as the stern warrior listened to the simple recital, his face became very tender, and a tear, hastily brushed away, glistened for an instant on his cheek. then he said: "now do i know that all will go well," and from that moment he was cheerfully confident of the final result. no word was received from the messengers for a week, at the end of which time one of them returned, bringing with him ten warriors and a number of women and children. the messenger reported that, but for nita, their mission, so far at least as this particular band was concerned, would have been fruitless. upon their approach, the warriors had sternly ordered them away, covering them with their rifles, and threatening to shoot if they dared speak of peace. upon that, nita, who had until then remained in the background, boldly advanced to the very muzzles of the brown rifles, resolutely pushed them aside, and then pleaded so effectively with the warriors who held them that, ere she finished, their hearts were softened, and they announced themselves as not only ready to surrender, but willing to follow their young chief wherever he might lead them. coacoochee had given general worth a bundle of small sticks which, by their number, represented the entire strength of his band. upon the arrival at the fort of these forerunners, the general counted them, and returned to coacoochee an equal number of his sticks. from day to day after this, other small parties of coacoochee's followers straggled in, and for every new arrival a stick was sent to the young chief, who gloated over his increasing pile as a miser over his hoard, or a politician over the incoming votes that promise to save him from defeat. in the meantime nita, with an incredible exhibition of endurance, was scouring the distant country lying about the headwaters of the st. john's and kissimmee. here in little groups, the widely scattered members of coacoochee's once numerous and formidable band had sought refuge amid the vast swamps and overflowed lands, which constitute that portion of florida. here, from swamp to swamp, from one tiny wooded island to another, or from hammock to hammock, the dauntless girl followed them. sometimes she was accompanied by a small escort; but more often she was alone. there were days on which she had food, but many others on which she went hungry. the howl of the wolf became her familiar lullaby, while the scaly alligator and venomous water-moccasin regarded her invasion of their haunts with angry eyes. she travelled on horseback, by canoe, and on foot, scorched by noontide suns, and drenched by heavy night-dews that fell like rain, but always the image of coacoochee was in her heart, as she bore his _talk_ from band to band of his scattered followers. as fast as they could be persuaded to go, she sent them to the far-away fort by the salt waters of the west, and bade them hasten or they would be too late. she, too, knew the number of coacoochee's warriors, and kept a close count of those who had gone, as well as of those who still remained to be persuaded. with jealous care she noted the passage of each day, and murmured that they should fly the more swiftly as the fatal date drew near. at length the last hiding-place was found, and the last sullen group of eight warriors, with their women and children, was persuaded to go in with her who was beloved of their young chief. by hard riding they could reach the fort on the twenty-ninth day, leaving but one to spare for safety. the brave girl, who had borne up so wonderfully during this month of suspense, was filled with joy at the success of her mission. at the same time, she was so utterly wearied that she often slept, even as she rode, and but for the quick support of willing hands, would have fallen from her saddle. but she would not pause. there would be plenty of time for resting afterwards. now, they must push on. on the evening of the last day but one of the month, the fort was only a score of miles away. they would keep on and reach it that night. so said nita pacheco. but there were enemies on whom she had not counted. halec tustenugge, with the fourteen miccosouky warriors who had escaped with him from their ravaged village, roamed that part of the country and infested that particular road like ravening beasts. they had sworn never to surrender themselves, nor allow others to do so if they could prevent them. now they confronted the little party from the eastern swamps, and bade them turn back or suffer the consequences. there was a moment of hesitation and consultation. then nita pacheco sprang to the front. "are the warriors trained by coacoochee to be told what they shall do, and what they shall not do, by a pack of miccosouky dogs?" she cried. "no! it cannot be! let them get out of our way, or we will trample them in the dust! yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee-chee!" as this war-cry of the wildcat rang out on the evening air, and nita's horse sprang from under the stinging lash, in the direction of those who blocked the road, the warriors of coacoochee, echoing madly the cry of their leader, plied whip and spur in an effort to charge by her side. the miccosoukies, though numbering nearly two to one, were on foot, while nita's followers were mounted. the former fired one point blank volley, and then fled precipitately from before the on-rushing horses. the battle had been fought and won, and the enemy dispersed in less than a single minute; but it was the victors who suffered the heaviest loss. one warrior killed outright, two more wounded, one horse so severely wounded that he had to be killed; and, what no one noticed at first, not even nita herself, a stream of blood spurting from an arm of the girl who had led the charge. so delayed was the little party by this fierce interruption, that the sun had climbed high above the eastern horizon, on the last day of the thirty allotted to coacoochee, ere the last of his followers, travel worn, staggering from wounds and weariness, but filled with pride at the feat they had just accomplished, and fully conscious of their own importance, filed slowly into fort brooke. for days their coming had been eagerly awaited. for hours they had been watched for with feverish anxiety. now the tale of sticks in general worth's possession was complete, for nita had insisted upon the living warriors bringing in him who was dead, that he might be counted with them. the soldiers of the garrison uttered cheer upon cheer at sight of these last comers. the friends who had preceded them thronged about them with eager questions and congratulations; and the news that coacoochee was saved, repeated from lip to lip, spread like wildfire throughout the post. ralph and anstice boyd, seated at a late breakfast, heard the glad shouting, and ran to the porch of their cottage to discover its cause. they were just in time to greet nita as she rode up, and to catch her as she slipped wearily from her saddle. her clothing was torn and stained, and her unbound hair streamed wildly about her head. her eyes were bright and shining, but her cheeks were hollow, and glowed with spots of dull red. coacoochee's silken kerchief that had confined her hair, was now bound tightly about her arm, and its whiteness was changed to the crimson of blood. "he still lives? i am in time?" she whispered huskily as anstice met her with a mingled cry of joy and terror. "yes, you dear, splendid, brave girl. he still lives, and you are in plenty of time. but, oh nita! if you have killed yourself, what will it all amount to? ralph, you must carry her in. she isn't able to walk." very tenderly they bore her into the house, and laid her on the tiny bed in her own room. then boyd hastened to find the surgeon, while anstice bathed the girl's face with cool water, and talked lovingly to her. ere an hour was past, the deadly fever of the swamps, that she had defied so long and so bravely, held her in its fierce clutches, and the girl, who by her own exertions had brought the war to a close, lay with staring eyes, but unconscious of her surroundings. to irwin douglass was assigned the congenial task of notifying coacoochee that he was free, and bringing him ashore. he hastened to execute it, and, on reaching the ship, at once ordered the hated irons to be struck from the limbs of the captive leader. as they fell clanging to the deck, the whole appearance of the young chief changed. he again lifted his head proudly, his form expanded, and he paced the deck with the stride of a free man. his first query was for nita, and when told of her triumphant return, leading the last remnant of his band, he smiled proudly, and said that she was indeed fitted to be the wife of a warrior. at that time douglass did not know of the girl's wound, nor of the illness that was even then developing its true character. consequently, coacoochee was allowed to go ashore filled with happy anticipations of meeting her whom he loved and to whom he owed so much. he arrayed himself in a striking costume for the occasion, and one that well became his rank. from his turban drooped three black ostrich plumes. his frock was of scarlet and yellow, exquisitely made. across his breast glittered many medals. in his silken sash was thrust the silver-hilted hunting-knife, by aid of which he had escaped from the fortress prison of st. augustine. his leggings were of scarlet cloth, elaborately fringed, and on his feet he wore beaded moccasins. a great throng of people, including every indian at the post, was assembled to greet him; and as the boat neared land, these raised a mighty shout of welcome. as he leaped ashore and trod again his native sands, the throng drew back. then with outstretched arms, and his form extended to its fullest height, coacoochee gave utterance to the ringing war-cry that had so often carried dismay to his foes, and thrilled his warriors to desperate deeds. "yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee-chee yo-ho-ee!" it was answered by a sound of hearty cheers from the assembled troops. then the throng parted to make way for him, and up the living lane the young war-chief walked proudly to headquarters, where he exchanged greetings with general worth as one with whom he was in every respect an equal. this formality concluded, he turned to the crowd of indians who had followed him, and addressed them briefly, but in ringing tones: "warriors: coacoochee stands before you a free man. he sent for you, and you have come. by that coming you have saved his life, and for it, he thanks you. the great spirit has spoken in our councils, and said: 'let there be no more war between my children.' the hatchet is buried so that there may be friendship between the iste-chatte and his white brother. i have given my word for you that you will not try to escape. for that i am free. see to it that the word of coacoochee is kept strong and true. i have spoken. by our council fire i will say more. now, away to your camp." as the throng melted away in obedience to this command, coacoochee turned to lieutenant douglass, and asked to be taken to nita. at the cottage in which she lay, he was met by the boyds, from whom he learned what she had undergone on his behalf; of her wound incurred in fighting his battle, and of her present dangerous illness. he insisted on seeing her; and, on being led to where she lay tossing and moaning in the delirium of fever, the proud warrior knelt by her side, and, hiding his face, wept like a little child. chapter xl a double wedding and the setting sun for days nita pacheco hovered between life and death. during this time, almost hourly bulletins of her condition were demanded, not only from the indian encampment, but from the garrison, every man of which had been won to admiration of the gentle girl by her recent heroism. as for coacoochee, he was as one who is bereft of reason. he would sit for hours on the porch of the boyd cottage, heedless of any who might speak to him, motionless and unconscious of his surroundings. then he would spring on his waiting horse and dash away to scour madly through miles of forest, before his return, which was generally made late at night or with the dawning of a new day. when food was offered him, he took it and ate mechanically; when it was withheld, he seemed unconscious of hunger. the mental condition of the young chief so alarmed his friends that, one morning when he returned from a night spent in the forest, in a cheerful frame of mind, gentle and perfectly rational, they were greatly relieved, and welcomed him as one who had come back from a long journey. "take me to her," he said. "she is watching for me. from this moment she will get well. i have seen allala, and she has said it." they had not noted any sign of a change for the better in the sick girl, and so it was with misgivings as to the result that they complied with his request. nita lay as they had left her; but, upon the entrance of her lover into the room, her eyes unclosed. she smiled at him, and feebly held his hand for a single moment. from that hour her improvement was steady and rapid, and from that time forth coacoochee was again the leader of his people, the firm ally of the whites, and unwearying in his efforts to persuade those of the seminoles who still remained out, to come in and submit to removal. during the two following months he spent his time as nita had done, in visiting distant bands of indians and explaining to them the folly of a further resistance. he possessed two great advantages over all others who had labored in the same direction. he had fought by their side, no one more bravely, and they trusted him. he had also crossed the salt waters and returned again in safety, so that, of his own experience, he could refute the assertion made by their prophet, that every indian taken to sea by the whites was thrown overboard and drowned. in this service the young chief often found himself in desperate situations, and he made frequent hair-breadth escapes from death at the hands of those indians who were either jealous of his power or distrustful for his honesty of purpose. in spite of discouragements and dangers, he persisted, and as the result of his convincing talks beside the red council fires of many a wild swamp retreat, band after band under well-known leaders and renowned fighters came into fort brooke, until only a scanty remnant still defied pursuit amid the impenetrable labyrinths of the big cypress. the indian encampment at tampa occupied a space two miles square, and the task of guarding this large area was so great that, early in october, general worth concluded to embark those already collected before they should become dissatisfied or rebellious and without waiting for more to come in. accordingly the transports were made ready and the day for departure was fixed. now ensued most active preparations. for three days and nights the monotonous sound of the great wooden pestles cracking corn for the journey was heard from all parts of the camp. vast quantities of fat pine knots were collected by the women, for they had heard that the country in which they were to live was destitute of wood. the entire area of the camp was illuminated at night by huge fires, so that there might be no cessation of the work. the crowning event of all, or, as the general termed it, "the peace contract that ended the seminole war," was the double wedding that took place in the open air, under the great live-oaks in front of headquarters, on the evening before the day of sailing. the scene was as remarkable as it was picturesque. on one side were gathered the hundreds of forest dwellers who acknowledged one of the bridegrooms as their leader. among these were proud chiefs, conspicuous in feathers and gaudy finery, stern warriors who had never known defeat in battle, plump matrons wearing many rows of beads and silver ornaments, slender maidens, and chubby children. on the other side were ranks of troops as motionless as though on parade, and groups of officers in glittering uniforms. a superb military band rendered its choicest selections of music, and the simple ceremony was performed by the post chaplain. nita, fully recovered from her illness, and having emerged from it more lovely than ever, like gold that is purified by fire, was clad in the fawnskin dress of a forest maid, though about her neck lay a chain of great pearls, presented by the commander and his officers in token of their devoted admiration of her who had ended the war. beside her stood the young war-chief who had fought so bravely, and accepted defeat so manfully, and with whose fate hers had been so closely entwined during all the long years of fighting. these two were married first, and after them came the beautiful english girl, whose heart had passed into keeping of the dashing american trooper, standing so proudly beside her. ralph boyd, after giving away both brides, declared that he could now appreciate the feelings of a parent bereft of his children. the moment the double ceremony was concluded, the band played its most brilliant march, the troops raised a mighty cheer, there came a salvo of artillery from a light battery stationed on the parade-ground, and the assembled indians gazed on the whole affair with curious interest. all that evening there was music and feasting and dancing; but on the morrow came the sorrowful partings, and, for hundreds of those about to become exiles forever, the heart-breaking departure from their native land. as coacoochee and nita stood together on the after-deck of the steamer that was bearing them down the bay, straining their eyes for a last glimpse of the stately pines that they loved so dearly, she murmured in his ear: "without your brave presence, my warrior, i could not bear it." and he answered: "without you, ista-chee, i would never have come." across the blue mexican gulf they steamed, and for one hundred miles up the tawny flood of the great river to new orleans. there the followers of coacoochee were so impressed by the numbers and evident strength of the white man, that they were filled with pride at having successfully resisted his soldiers so long as they had. at new orleans the exiles were transferred to one of the great river packets, that, with its glowing furnaces, and the hoarse coughing of its high-pressure exhaust, seemed to them by far the most wonderful creation of the all-powerful iste-hatke. being embarked in this mighty pith-lo-loot-ka (boat of fire), no stop was made until they came within a few miles of baton rouge, where, by special request of coacoochee, the packet was swung in toward the eastern bank. guided by one familiar with that country, the entire body of indians followed coacoochee to the land. he bore a great basket, very heavy, and covered with palmetto leaves. none save himself knew what it contained. a few rods from the shore the guide halted, and pointed to a lowly mound that was evidently a grave. standing silently beside this, and waiting until all his people were gathered about him, the young chief said, with a voice that trembled, but so clearly that all might hear: "under this grass lies a great chief of the seminole nation; one whom you knew and loved. he was an old man when the soldiers tore him from his home. his heart broke with its weight of sorrow, and he died on his way to that new land to which we are now going. he lies cold in this strange earth; but i have brought that which will warm him. with this soil from the land of his fathers, i now cover the grave of philip emathla." thus saying, coacoochee emptied the contents of his basket over the mound at his feet. at mention of philip emathla's name, a great cry of grief and loving reverence went up from the dusky throng, and they pressed tumultuously forward. they struggled to see, to feel, and even to taste the earth that now covered his grave. it was only coarse gray sand; but it was sand from florida, from the dear land they would never more see. through the magic of its shining particles they could hear again the whispering pines, the rustling palms, and the singing birds of florida. they could see its shadowy woodlands and white beaches. its myriad lakes and tortuous waterways lay outspread before them. the fragrance of its jasmine and palmetto was wafted to them. its glinting clouds of white-winged ibis circled before their eyes. the countless details mirrored indelibly on their hearts rose before them in all their alluring beauty. the warriors stood stern and silent; but the women tore their hair, with piteous cries. after a while coacoochee succeeded in restoring quiet, and, with many a backward, lingering glance at the lonely grave of philip emathla, the company was re-embarked, and the steamer continued on its way up the mighty river. turning from it into the arkansas, they continued up the muddy volume of that great tributary, across the whole state to which it gives a name, and on into that territory that the united states government had recently set apart for the occupation of its indian wards. here, at fort gibson, the journey by water ended, though they had still to traverse the country of their old-time neighbors and enemies, the creeks, ere they could reach the narrow tract reserved for them, in which they were to make their new homes. at fort gibson a joyful surprise awaited nita and coacoochee; for louis pacheco, long since established in the west, and previously notified of their coming, had travelled that far to meet them. for them he had brought saddle-horses, while for the others a long train of wagons had been provided. it was late on the day after their arrival before all was in readiness for the last stage of their journey; but they were now so anxious to press forward that coacoochee gave the order for a start. then, vaulting into his own saddle, and with nita and louis riding beside him, the young war-chief dashed away in the direction of the setting sun. as they gained a crest of the rolling prairie, he waved his rifle toward the infinite glories of the western sky, and, turning his face to those who followed him, thrilled their hearts with the ringing war-cry that had so often led the seminole to victory: "yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee yo-ho-ee-chee!" at agincourt by g. a. henty [illustration: guy aylmer saves the king's life at the battle of agincourt.] preface the long and bloody feud between the houses of orleans and burgundy--which for many years devastated france, caused a prodigious destruction of life and property, and was not even relaxed in the presence of a common enemy--is very fully recorded in the pages of monstrellet and other contemporary historians. i have here only attempted to relate the events of the early portion of the struggle--from its commencement up to the astonishing victory of agincourt, won by a handful of englishmen over the chivalry of france. here the two factions, with the exception of the duke of burgundy himself, laid aside their differences for the moment, only to renew them while france still lay prostrate at the feet of the english conqueror. at this distance of time, even with all the records at one's disposal, it is difficult to say which party was most to blame in this disastrous civil war, a war which did more to cripple the power of france than was ever accomplished by english arms. unquestionably burgundy was the first to enter upon the struggle, but the terrible vengeance taken by the armagnacs,--as the orleanists came to be called,--for the murders committed by the mob of paris in alliance with him, was of almost unexampled atrocity in civil war, and was mainly responsible for the terrible acts of cruelty afterwards perpetrated upon each other by both parties. i hope some day to devote another volume to the story of this desperate and unnatural struggle. g. a. henty. contents i. a feudal castle ii. troubles in france iii. a siege iv. a fatal accident v. hostages vi. in paris vii. in the streets of paris viii. a riot ix. a stout defence x. after the fray xi. danger threatened xii. in hiding xiii. the masters of paris xiv. planning massacre xv. a rescue xvi. the escape xvii. a long pause xviii. katarina xix. agincourt xx. penshurst illustrations guy aylmer saves the king's life at the battle of agincourt. guy has his head bound up after a bout at quarter-staff. "the two men who lit the alarm fires rode into the castle." "sir eustace gave a loud cry, for lying at the bottom of the stair was the form of his son." the lady margaret makes her obeisance to the duke of burgundy. guy and long tom come to the rescue of count charles. "tom's bow twanged, and the arrow struck the horseman under the arm-pit." "the king extended his hand to guy, who went on one knee to kiss it." "well, comrade," said simon, "i suppose you are the man i was told would come to-night?" "guy delivered a slashing blow on the butcher's cheek, and dashed past him." guy welcomes the count of montepone and his daughter to villeroy. "katarina swept a deep curtsey, and went off with a merry laugh." at agincourt chapter i -a feudal castle "and is it true that our lord and lady sail next week for their estate in france?" "ay, it is true enough, and more is the pity; it was a sad day for us all when the king gave the hand of his ward, our lady, to this baron of artois." "they say she was willing enough, peter." "ay, ay, all say she loved him, and, being a favourite with the queen, she got her to ask the king to accede to the knight's suit; and no wonder, he is as proper a man as eyes can want to look on--tall and stately, and they say brave. his father and grandfather both were edward's men, and held their castle for us; his father was a great friend of the black prince, and he, too, took a wife from england. since then things have not gone well with us in france, and they say that our lord has had difficulty in keeping clear of the quarrels that are always going on out there between the great french lords; and, seeing that we have but little power in artois, he has to hold himself discreetly, and to keep aloof as far as he can from the strife there, and bide his time until the king sends an army to win back his own again. but i doubt not that, although our lady's wishes and the queen's favour may have gone some way with him, the king thought more of the advantage of keeping this french noble,--whose fathers have always been faithful vassals of the crown, and who was himself english on his mother's side,--faithful to us, ready for the time when the royal banner will flutter in the wind again, and blood will flow as it did at cressy and poitiers. "the example of a good knight like sir eustace taking the field for us with his retainers might lead others to follow his example; besides, there were several suitors for our lady's hand, and, by giving her to this french baron, there would be less offence and heart-burning than if he had chosen one among her english suitors. and, indeed, i know not that we have suffered much from its being so; it is true that our lord and lady live much on their estates abroad, but at least they are here part of their time, and their castellan does not press us more heavily during their absence than does our lord when at home." "he is a goodly knight, is sir aylmer, a just man and kindly, and, being a cousin of our lady's, they do wisely and well in placing all things in his hands during their absence." "ay, we have nought to grumble at, for we might have done worse if we had had an english lord for our master, who might have called us into the field when he chose, and have pressed us to the utmost of his rights whenever he needed money." the speakers were a man and woman, who were standing looking on at a party of men practising at the butts on the village green at summerley, one of the hamlets on the estates of sir eustace de villeroy, in hampshire. "well shot!" the man exclaimed, as an archer pierced a white wand at a distance of eighty yards. "they are good shots all, and if our lord and lady have fears of troubles in france, they do right well in taking a band of rare archers with them. there are but five-and-twenty of them, but they are all of the best. when they offered prizes here a month since for the bowmen of hants and sussex and dorset, methought they had some good reason why they should give such high prizes as to bring hither the best men from all three counties, and we were all proud that four of our own men should have held their own so well in such company, and especially that tom, the miller's son, should have beaten the best of them. he is captain of the band, you know, but almost all the others shoot nigh as well; there is not one of them who cannot send an arrow straight into the face of a foe at a hundred and twenty yards. there were some others as good who would fain have been of the party, but our lady said she would take no married men, and she was right. they go for five years certain, and methinks a man fights all the better when he knows there is no one in england praying for his return, and that if he falls, there is no widow or children to bewail his loss. there are as many stout men-at-arms going too; so the castle of villeroy will be a hard nut for anyone to crack, for i hear they can put a hundred and fifty of their vassals there in the field." "we shall miss sir aylmer's son guy," the woman said; "he is ever down at the village green when there are sports going on. there is not one of his age who can send an arrow so straight to the mark, and not many of the men; and he can hold his own with a quarter-staff too." "ay, dame; he is a stout lad, and a hearty one. they say that at the castle he is ever practising with arms, and that though scarce sixteen he can wield a sword and heavy battle-axe as well as any man-at-arms there." "he is gentle too," the woman said. "since his mother's death he often comes down with wine and other goodies if anyone is ill, and he speaks as softly as a girl. there is not one on the estate but has a good word for him, nor doubts that he will grow up as worthy a knight as his father, though gentler perhaps in his manner, and less grave in face, for he was ever a merry lad. since the death of his lady mother two years ago he has gone about sadly, still of late he has gotten over his loss somewhat, and he can laugh heartily again. i wonder his father can bear to part with him." "sir eustace knows well enough that he cannot always keep the boy by his side, dame; and that if a falcon is to soar well, he must try his wings early. he goes as page, does he not?" "ay, but more, methinks, as companion to young henry, who has, they say, been sickly from a child, and, though better now, has scarce the making of a stalwart knight in him. his young brother charles is a sturdy little chap, and bids fair to take after his father; and little lady agnes, who comes between them, is full of fire and spirit. "yes; methinks guy will have a pleasant time of it out there; that is, if there are no fresh troubles. i doubt not that in two or three years he will be one of our lord's esquires, and if he has a chance of displaying his courage and skill, may be back among us a dubbed knight before many years have passed over our heads. france is a rare place for gaining honours, and so it may well be, for i see not that we gain much else by our king's possessions there." "there was plenty of spoil brought over, dame, after cressy and poitiers." "ay, but it soon goes; easy come, easy go, you know; and though they say that each man that fought there brought home a goodly share of spoil, i will warrant me the best part went down their throats ere many months had passed." "'tis ever so, dame; but i agree with you, and deem that it would be better for england if we did not hold a foot of ground in france, and if english kings and nobles were content to live quietly among their people. we have spent more money than ever we made in these wars, and even were our kings to become indeed, as they claim, kings of france as well as england, the ill would be much greater, as far as i can see, for us all. still there may be things, dame, that we country folks don't understand, and i suppose that it must be so, else parliament would not be so willing to vote money always when the kings want it for wars with france. the wars in france don't affect us as much as those with scotland and wales. when our kings go to france to fight they take with them only such as are willing to go, men-at-arms and archers; but when we have troubles such as took place but five or six years ago, when douglas and percy and the welsh all joined against us, then the lords call out their vassals and the sheriffs the militia of the county, and we have to go to fight willy-nilly. our lord had a hundred of us with him to fight for the king at shrewsbury. nigh thirty never came back again. that is worse than the french wars, dame." "don't i know it, for wasn't my second boy one of those who never came back. ay, ay, they had better be fighting in france, perhaps, for that lets out the hot blood that might otherwise bring on fighting at home." "that is so, dame, things are all for the best, though one does not always see it." a week later all the tenantry gathered in front of the castle to wish god-speed to their lord and lady, and to watch the following by which they were accompanied. first there passed half a dozen mounted men-at-arms, who were to accompany the party but half a day's march and then to return with sir aylmer. next to these rode sir eustace and lady margaret, still a beautiful woman, a worthy mate of her noble-looking husband. on her other side rode sir aylmer; then came john harpen, sir eustace's esquire; beside whom trotted agnes, a bright, merry-faced girl of twelve. guy rode with the two boys; then came twenty-four men-at-arms, many of whom had fought well and stoutly at shrewsbury; while tom, the miller's son, or, as he was generally called, long tom, strode along at the head of twenty-four bowmen, each of whom carried the long english bow and quiver full of cloth-yard arrows, and, in addition, a heavy axe at his leathern girdle. behind these were some servitors leading horses carrying provisions for the journey, and valises with the clothes of sir eustace, his wife, and children, and a heavy cart drawn by four strong horses with the bundles of extra garments for the men-at-arms and archers, and several large sheaves of spare arrows. the men-at-arms wore iron caps, as also breast and back pieces. on the shoulders and arms of their leathern jerkins iron rings were sewn thickly, forming a sort of chain armour, while permitting perfect freedom of the limbs. the archers also wore steel caps, which, like those of the men-at-arms, came low down on the neck and temples. they had on tough leathern frocks, girded in at the waist, and falling to the knee; some of them had also iron rings sewn on the shoulders. english archers were often clad in green cloth, but sir eustace had furnished the garments, and had chosen leather, both as being far more durable, and as offering a certain amount of defence. the frocks were sleeveless, and each man wore cloth sleeves of a colour according to his fancy. the band was in all respects a well-appointed one. as sir eustace wished to avoid exciting comment among his neighbours, he had abstained from taking a larger body of men; and it was partly for this reason that he had decided not to dress the archers in green. but every man had been carefully picked; the men-at-arms were all powerful fellows who had seen service; the archers were little inferior in physique, for strength as well as skill was required in archery, and in choosing the men sir eustace had, when there was no great difference in point of skill, selected the most powerful among those who were willing to take service with him. guy enjoyed the two days' ride to southampton greatly. it was the first time that he had been away from home, and his spirits were high at thus starting on a career that would, he hoped, bring him fame and honour. henry and his brother and sister were also in good glee, although the journey was no novelty to them, for they had made it twice previously. beyond liking change, as was natural at their age, they cared not whether they were at their english or at their french home, as they spoke both languages with equal fluency, and their life at one castle differed but little from that at the other. embarking at portsmouth in a ship that was carrying military stores to calais, they coasted along the shores of sussex and of kent as far as dungeness, and then made across to calais. it was early in april, the weather was exceptionally favourable, and they encountered no rough seas whatever. on the way sir eustace related to guy and his sons the events that had taken place in france, and had led up to the civil war that was raging so furiously there. "in 1392, the king of france being seized with madness, the dukes of burgundy and orleans in a very short time wrested the power of the state from the hands of his faithful councillors, the constable de clisson, la riviere, and others. de clisson retired to his estate and castle at montelhery, the two others were seized and thrown into prison. de clisson was prosecuted before parliament as a false and wicked traitor; but the king, acting on the advice of orleans, who had not then broken with the dukes of burgundy and berri, had, after la riviere and another had been in prison for a year, stopped the prosecution, and restored their estates to them. until 1402 the dukes of burgundy and berri were all-powerful, and in 1396 a great number of knights and nobles, led by john, count of nevers, the eldest son of the duke of burgundy, went to the assistance of the king of hungary, which country was being invaded by the turks. they were, however, on the 28th of september, utterly defeated. the greater portion of them were killed; nevers and the rest were ransomed and brought home. "in 1402 the king, influenced by his wife, isobel, and his brother, the duke of orleans, who were on terms of the closest alliance, placed the entire government in the hands of the latter, who at once began to abuse it to such an extent, by imposing enormous taxes upon the clergy and the people, that he paved the way for the return of his uncle of burgundy to power. on the 27th of april, 1404, philip the bold of burgundy died. he was undoubtedly ambitious, but he was also valiant and able, and he had the good of france at heart. he was succeeded by his son john, called the fearless, from the bravery that he had displayed in the unfortunate hungarian campaign. the change was disastrous for france. john was violent and utterly unscrupulous, and capable of any deed to gratify either his passions, jealousies, or hatreds. at first he cloaked his designs against orleans by an appearance of friendship, paid him a visit at his castle near vincennes, where he was at the time lying ill. when he recovered, the two princes went to mass together, dined at their uncle's, the duke of berri, and together entered paris; and the parisians fondly hoped that there was an end of the rivalry that had done so much harm. it was, however, but a very short time afterwards that, on the 23d of november, 1407, as the duke of orleans was returning from having dined with the queen, and was riding with only two esquires and four or five men on foot carrying torches, twenty armed men sprang out from behind a house and rushed upon him. "'i am the duke of orleans,' the prince cried; but they hurled him from his mule, and as he tried to rise to his feet one blow struck off the hand he raised to protect his head, other blows rained down upon him from axe and sword, and in less than a minute the duke lay dead. the duke of burgundy at first affected grief and indignation, but at the council the next day he boldly avowed that orleans had been killed by his orders. he at once took horse and rode to the frontier of flanders, which he reached safely, though hotly chased by a party of the duke of orleans' knights. the duke's widow, who was in the country at the time, hastened up to paris with her children, and appealed for justice to the king, who declared that he regarded the deed done to his brother as done to himself. the dukes of berri and bourbon, the constable and chancellor, all assured her that she should have justice; but there was no force that could hope to cope with that which burgundy could bring into the field, and when, two months later, burgundy entered paris at the head of a thousand men-at-arms, no attempt was made at resistance, and the murderer was received with acclamations by the fickle populace. "the king at the time was suffering from one of his terrible fits of insanity, but a great assembly was held, at which princes, councillors, lords, doctors of law, and prominent citizens were present. a monk of the cordeliers, named john petit, then spoke for five hours in justification of the duke, and the result was that the poor insane king was induced to sign letters cancelling the penalty of the crime. for four months the duke remained absolute master of paris, disposing of all posts and honours, and sparing no efforts to render himself popular with the burghers. a serious rebellion breaking out at liege, and the troops sent against the town being repulsed, he was obliged to leave paris to put down the revolt. as soon as he had left, the queen and the partisans of orleans prepared to take advantage of his absence, and two months later queen isobel marched with the dauphin, now some thirteen years old, from melun with three thousand men. "the parisians received her with applause, and as soon as she had taken up her quarters at the louvre, the dukes of berri, bourbon, and brittany, the constable, and all the great officers of the court rallied round her. two days later the duchess of orleans arrived with a long train of mourning coaches. a great assembly was held, and the king's advocate announced to them the intention of the king to confer the government upon the queen during his illness, and produced a document signed by the king to that effect. the duchess of orleans then came forward, and kneeling before the dauphin, begged for justice for the death of her husband, and that she might be granted an opportunity of refuting the calumnies that john petit had heaped on the memory of her husband. a week later another great assembly was held, and the justification of the duke was read, refuting all these imputations, and the duchess's advocate demanded that the duke should be forced to make public reparation, and then to be exiled for twenty years. the dauphin replied that he and all the princes of blood royal present held that the charges against the duke of orleans had been amply refuted, and that the demands with reference to the duke of burgundy should be provided for in course of justice. "scarcely had the assembly broken up when it became known that burgundy and his army was on the way back to paris. resistance was out of the question; therefore, taking the young dauphin with her, and accompanied by all the members of the royal family, the queen retired to tours. burgundy, unscrupulous as he was, finding that although he might remain master of paris, he could not hope to rule france, except when acting under the pretence of the king's authority, soon sent an embassy to tours to endeavour to arrange matters. he was able to effect this with the less difficulty, that the duchess of orleans had just died from grief at her husband's death, and at the hopelessness of obtaining vengeance on his murderer. the queen was won to the cause of burgundy by secret proposals submitted to her for a close league between them, and in march a treaty was concluded, and a meeting took place at chartres, at which the duke, the king, the queen, the royal princes, and the young duke of orleans and his adherents were present. "the king declared that he pardoned the duke, and the princes of orleans consented to obey his orders and to lay aside all hatred and thoughts of vengeance, and shortly afterwards paris welcomed with shouts of joy the return of the king and queen and the apparent reconciliation of all parties. but the truce was a brief one; for the princes and adherents of orleans might bend before circumstances at the moment, but their feelings were unchanged. "a head of the party was needed, and the young duke married the daughter of count bernard d'armagnac, one of the most powerful and ambitious nobles of the south of france, who at once,--in concert with the dukes of berri and brittany and other lords,--put himself at the head of the orleans party. on the 10th of july, 1411, the three princes of orleans sent a long letter to the king, complaining that no reparation whatever had been made for the murder of their father, and begging him that, as what was done at chartres was contrary to every principle of law, equity, reason, and justice, the case should be reopened again. they also made complaints against the duke of burgundy for his conduct and abuse of power. "as the king was surrounded by burgundy's creatures no favourable reply was returned, and a formal challenge or declaration of war was, on the 18th of july, sent by the princes to the duke of burgundy, and both parties began at once to make preparation for war. "now for my own view of this quarrel. king henry sent for me a year since, and asked for whom i should hold my castle if orleans and burgundy came to blows, adding that burgundy would be viewed by him with most favour. "'my father and grandfather ever fought faithfully in the service of england,' i said; 'but for years past now, the line betwixt your majesty's possessions and those of france has been drawn in, and my estates and castle of villeroy now lie beyond the line, and i am therefore a vassal of france as well as of your majesty. it being known to all men that even before i became lord of summerley, on my marriage with your majesty's ward, mistress margaret, i, like my father, held myself to be the liege man of the king of england. i am therefore viewed with much hostility by my neighbours, and right gladly would they seize upon any excuse to lay complaint against me before the king, in order that i might be deprived of my fief and castle. "'this i would fain hold always for your majesty; and, seeing how it is situated but a few miles across the frontier, it is, i would humbly submit to you, of importance to your majesty that it should be held by one faithful to you--since its possession in the hands of an enemy would greatly hinder any english army marching out from calais to the invasion of france. it is a place of some strength now; but were it in french hands it might be made very much stronger, and would cost much time and loss of men to besiege. at present your majesty is in alliance with burgundy, but none can say how the war will go, or what changes will take place; and should the orleanists gain the upper hand, they will be quick to take advantage of my having fought for burgundy, and would confiscate my estates and hand them over to one who might be hostile to england, and pledged to make the castle a stronghold that would greatly hinder and bar the advance of an english army upon paris. therefore, sire, i would, not for my own sake but for the sake of your majesty's self and your successors, pray you to let me for a while remain quietly at summerley until the course of events in france is determined.' "the king was pleased to see the force of what i urged. as far as i had inclinations in the case, they were towards the cause, not of burgundy himself, whose murder of orleans was alike treacherous and indefensible, but of his cause, seeing that flanders is wholly under his authority, and that in artois he is well-nigh paramount at present. on the other hand, amiens and ponthieu, which lie but a short distance to the south of me, are strongly orleanist, and i have therefore every motive for standing aloof. so far the fortune of war has been so changeable that one cannot say that the chances incline towards one faction more than the other. even the church has failed to bring about the end of the troubles. the orleanists have been formally placed under interdicts, and cursed by book, bell, and candle. the king's commands have been laid upon all to put aside their quarrels, but both the ban of the church and the king's commands have been ineffectual. i am as anxious as ever to abstain from taking any part in the trouble, the more so as the alliance between our king and burgundy has cooled somewhat. but i have received such urgent prayers from my vassals at villeroy to come among them, since they are now being plundered by both parties, that i feel it is time for me to take up my abode there. when the king stayed at winchester, a month since, i laid the matter before him. he was pleased to say that what i had urged a year ago had turned out to be as i foretold, and that he would give me leave to go over and establish myself at villeroy, and to hold myself aloof from both parties until the matter should further ripen. what will come of it i cannot say. the english king seemed to me to be ailing, and i fear that it may not be long before young henry comes to the throne. he is a wild young prince, but has already shown himself in the northern war to be full of spirit and courage, and methinks that when he comes to the throne he will not long observe the peaceful policy of his father, but that we shall see the royal standard once again spread to the winds of france." "but, sir eustace," guy said, when he had concluded, "how do these matters affect you? i thought that by the treaty the west part of artois was english." "ay, lad, it was so settled; but at that time the strength of france had been broken at poitiers, and the black prince and his army were so feared that his terms were willingly accepted in order to secure peace. much has happened since then: war has been constantly going on, sometimes hotly, sometimes sluggishly; france has had her own troubles, and as the english kings have been more pacific, and england has become weary of bearing the heavy expenses of the war, the treaty has become a dead letter. gascony, in which province armagnac is the greatest lord, is altogether lost to england, as is the greater part of guienne. a great proportion of the people there were always bitterly opposed to the change, and, as you know, even in the time of the black prince himself there were great rebellions and troubles; since then town after town and castle after castle has declared for france, and no real efforts have ever been made by the english to win them back again. i, who in england am an english baron, and--so long as things go on as at present--a french noble while in france, am in a perilous position between my two suzerains. were an english army to land, i should join them, for i still hold myself to be a vassal of the king of england, as we have been for three generations. as to the french disputes, i fear that sooner or later i shall have to declare in favour of one party or the other, for it will be difficult to stand altogether aloof from these conflicts, because all men, at least all men of condition, are well-nigh forced to take one side or the other. the plea that i am a baron of england will be of no avail, for both sides would turn against me and be glad of an excuse for pillaging and confiscating my estate. at present, then, i must regard myself solely as a french noble, for villeroy has passed into the hands of france, just as for a while it passed into the hands of england, and if this war goes on we shall have to take a side." "and to which side do your thoughts incline, sir eustace, if i may ask you?" "i love not either side, guy, and would fain, if it could be so, that my sword should remain in its sheath. i fear that i shall have to go with burgundy, for he is all-powerful in artois; but had i been altogether free to choose, i should have sided with orleans. in the first place, it is certain that the last duke was foully murdered by burgundy, who thereby laid the foundation for the present troubles. there were jealousies before, as there have always been between the great nobles, but that act forced almost all to take sides. the dukes of berri and brittany, who had been of the party of the late duke of burgundy, were driven by this foul act of his son to range themselves with orleans. armagnac is very powerful in the south, berri's dukedom is in the north, that of orleans to the north-east. burgundy's strength lies in his own dukedom,--which has ever been all but independent of france,--in flanders, in artois, and in paris; thus, generally, it is the north and east of france against the south and west. this is broadly the case, but in a civil war provinces and countships, neighbours, ay, and families, become split up into factions, as interest, or family ties, or the desire to increase an estate by annexing another next to it, may influence the minds of men. "so long as it is but a war between the great dukes and princes of france we smaller men may hope to hold aloof, but, as it goes on, and evil deeds are done on both sides, men's passions become heated, the spirit spreads until every man's hand is against his neighbour, and he who joins not against one or the other finds both ready to oppress and rob him. i should not have cared to bring out an english following with me had we been forced to march any distance through france; but as villeroy is but a few miles from the frontier, and of that distance well-nigh half is through my own estates, we can reach the castle almost unnoticed. once there, the fact that i have strengthened my garrison will keep me from attack, for either party would be chary in attacking one who can defend himself stoutly. i was minded to leave your lady and the two younger children in england, but in truth she begged so hard to accompany me that i could not say her nay." the castle of villeroy was somewhat larger than the one in which guy had been born and brought up. the plan, however, was very similar: there was the central keep, but, whereas at home this was the dwelling-house of the family, it was here used as a storehouse, and the apartments of the count and countess were in the range of buildings that formed an inner court round the keep. in point of luxury the french were in advance of the english, and they had already begun to combine comfort with strength in their buildings. the apartments struck guy as being wonderfully spacious in comparison to those with which he was accustomed. on the ground floor of one side of the square was the banqueting-hall. its walls were decorated with arms and armour, the joists that supported the floor above were carved, the windows large and spacious, for, looking as they did into the inner court, there was no occasion for their being mere loopholes. above the banqueting-hall was a room where lady margaret sat with her maids engaged in working at tapestry; here the priest gave such slight instruction as was then considered necessary to agnes and charles; henry had already passed out of his hands. next to this room was the knight's sleeping apartment, or closet as it was then called, a room which would now be considered of ridiculously straitened dimensions; and close to it were the still smaller closets of the children. beyond were a series of guest-chambers. another side of the court-yard contained the apartments of the castellan, jean bouvard, a sturdy soldier of long experience, and those of the other officers of the household; the other two sides were occupied by the chapel, the kitchens, and the offices of the servants and retainers. all these rooms were loopholed on the side looking into the outer court. this was considerably wider and more extensive than the one surrounding the keep. here were the stables, storehouses for grain and forage, and a building, just erected, for the lodging of the english garrison. all these buildings stood against the outer wall, so that they would afford no shelter to an enemy who had obtained possession of the first defences and was making an attack against the second line. the outer wall was twelve feet in thickness, and thirty feet above the court; outside the height was considerably greater, as there was a moat faced with stone fifteen feet deep entirely surrounding it, and containing seven or eight feet of water. walls ran half across the outer court, and, from the end of these, light wooden bridges formed a communication with the wall of the inner court, so that in the event of the outer wall being stormed or the gates being carried by assault, the defenders could retire to the inner defences. the ends of these bridges rested upon irons projecting from the wall, and so arranged that they could be instantly withdrawn when the last of the defenders had crossed over, when the bridges would at once fall into the court-yard below. the inner wall was twelve feet higher than the outer one, and, like it, was provided with a crenellated battlement four feet high; there were projecting turrets at each corner, and one in the middle of each side. the keep rose twenty feet higher than the wall of the inner court. the lower portions of the cross walls of the outer court were carried on as far as the inner wall, thereby dividing the space into four; strong gates gave communication from one to the other. into these could be driven the cattle of the tenantry, and one of them contained a number of huts in which the tenants themselves would be lodged. the court-yard facing the entrance was the largest of the areas into which the space between the outer and inner walls was divided, extending the whole width between the outer walls. here the military exercises were carried on. along the wall, at each side of the gate, were a range of stables for the use of the horses of guests, with rooms over them for the use of their retainers. there was a strong exterior work defending the approach to the drawbridge on the other side of the moat, and in all respects the castle was well appointed, and to guy it seemed almost impossible that it could be carried by assault, however numerous the foe. chapter ii -troubles in france as soon as it was heard that the lord and lady had returned, the vassals of villeroy came in to pay their respects, and presents of fowls, game, and provisions of all kinds poured in. the table in the banqueting-hall was bountifully spread, casks of wine broached, and all who came received entertainment. as french was still spoken a good deal at the english court and among the nobles and barons, and was considered part of the necessary education of all persons of gentle blood, guy, who had always used it in his conversation with his father, had no difficulty in performing his duty of seeing that the wants of all who came were well attended to. in a few days guests of higher degree came in, the knights and barons of that part of the province; a few of these expressed surprise at the height of the sturdy men-at-arms and archers loitering about the court-yard. sir eustace always answered any remarks made on the subject by saying, "yes, dame margaret and i thought that instead of keeping all our retainers doing nothing in our castle in england, where there is at present no use whatever for their services, we might as well bring a couple of score of them over here. i have no wish to take part in any of the troubles that seem likely to disturb france, but there is never any saying what may happen, and at any rate it costs no more to feed these men here than in england." the english archers and men-at-arms were well satisfied with their quarters and food, and were soon on good terms with their french associates. the garrison, before their arrival, had consisted of fifty men-at-arms, and although these had no means of communicating verbally with the new arrivals, they were not long in striking up such acquaintance as could be gained by friendly gestures and the clinking of wine-cups. their quarters were beside those of the english, and the whole of the men-at-arms daily performed their exercises in the court-yard together, under the command of the castellan, while the archers marched out across the drawbridge and practised shooting at some butts pitched there. to the french men-at-arms their performances appeared astounding. the french had never taken to archery, but the cross-bow was in use among them, and half of the french men-at-arms had been trained in the use of this weapon, which was considered more valuable in the case of sieges than of warfare in the field. while they were able to send their bolts as far as the bowmen could shoot their arrows, there was no comparison whatever in point of accuracy, and the archers could discharge a score of arrows while the cross-bowmen were winding up their weapons. "_pardieu_, master page," jean bouvard said one day as he stood with guy watching the shooting of the archers, "i no longer wonder at the way in which you english defeated us at cressy and poitiers. i have heard from my father, who fought at poitiers, how terrible was the rain of arrows that was poured upon our knights when they charged up the hill against the english, but i had never thought that men could shoot with such skill and strength. it was but yesterday that i set my men-at-arms to try and bend one of these english bows, and not one of them could draw an arrow anywhere near the head with all their efforts; while these men seem to do so with the greatest ease, and the speed with which they can shoot off arrow after arrow well-nigh passes belief. that tall fellow, who is their chief, but now sent twenty arrows into a space no greater than a hand's-breadth, at a hundred and twenty yards, and that so quickly that he scarce seemed to take time to aim at all, and the others are well-nigh as skilful. yesterday i put up a breastplate such as is worn by our men-at-arms and asked them to shoot at it at eighty yards. they fired a volley together at it. it was riddled like a colander; not one of the five-and-twenty arrows had failed to pierce it." "ay, at that distance, captain, an english archer of fair skill could not miss it, and it needs milan armour, and that of the best, to keep out their arrows." "by our lady," the captain remarked, "i should be sorry to attack a castle defended by them, and our lord has done well indeed to bring them over with him. your men-at-arms are stalwart fellows. my own men feel well-nigh abashed when they see how these men take up a stone that they themselves can with difficulty lift from the ground, and hurl it twenty yards away; and they whirl their heavy axes round their heads as if they were reeds." "they are all picked men," guy said with a laugh. "you must not take it that all englishmen are of equal strength, though no doubt sir eustace could have gathered five hundred as strong had he wished it." "if that be so," the captain said, "i can well believe that if france and england meet again on a field of battle france shall be beaten as she was before. however, there is one comfort, we shall not be among the defeated; for our lord, and his father and his grandfather before, him, have ever been with england, and sir eustace, having an english wife and mother, and being a vassal of the english crown for his estates in england, will assuredly take their part in case of a quarrel. of course, at present we hold ourselves to be neutrals, and though our lord's leanings towards england give some umbrage to his neighbours, their enmity finds no expression, since for years now there has been no righting to speak of between the two nations. how it will be if orleans and burgundy come to blows i know not; but if they do so, methinks our lord will have to declare for one or the other, or he may have both upon him. a man with broad estates, on which many cast covetous eyes, can scarce stand altogether aloof. however, if villeroy is attacked, methinks that with the following sir eustace has brought with him across the sea even burgundy himself will find that it would cost him so dearly to capture the castle that it were best left alone." "how about the vassals?" "they will fight for their lord," jean bouvard answered confidently. "you see their fathers and grandfathers fought under the black prince, and it is natural that their leanings should be on that side. then they know that there is no better lord in all artois than sir eustace, and his dame has made herself much beloved among them all. there is no fear that they will disobey our lord's orders whatever they be, and will fight as he bids them, for orleans or burgundy, england or france. he has never exercised to the full his rights of seigneur; he has never called upon them for their full quota of work; no man has even been hung on his estate for two generations save for crime committed; no vassal's daughter has ever been carried into the castle. i tell you there is not a man for over fifty miles round who does not envy the vassals of villeroy, and this would be a happy land indeed were all lords like ours. were we to hoist the flag on the keep and fire a gun, every man on the estate would muster here before sunset, and would march against the king of france himself did sir eustace order them to do so." "in that case what force could we put on the walls, captain?" "two hundred men besides the garrison, and we have provisions stored away in the keep sufficient for them and their women and children for a three months' siege. sir eustace gave me orders yesterday to procure wood of the kind used for arrows, and to lay in a great store of it; also to set the smiths to work to make arrow-heads. i asked him how many, and he said, 'let them go on at it until further orders. i should like a store sufficient at least for a hundred rounds for each of these english archers, and if we had double that it would be all the better. they can make their own arrows if they have suitable wood.' it seemed to me that two hundred rounds was beyond all necessity, but now when i see that these men can shoot nigh twenty rounds a minute, i can well understand that a great supply for them is needful." the time passed very pleasantly at villeroy. sometimes guy rode with his lord and lady when they went out hawking or paid visits to neighbouring castles. regularly every day they practised for two hours in arms, and although well instructed before, guy gained much additional skill from the teaching of jean bouvard, who was a famous swordsman. the latter was surprised at finding that the page was able to draw the english bows as well as the archers, and that, although inferior to long tom and three or four of the best shots, he was quite as good a marksman as the majority. moreover, though of gentle blood he would join with the men in their bouts of quarter-staff, and took no more heed of a broken head than they did. [illustration: guy has his head bound up after a bout at quarter-staff.] "_pardieu_, master page," he said one day when guy came in from the court-yard to have his head, which was streaming with blood, bound up, "our french pages would marvel indeed if they saw you. they all practise in arms as you do, save with the shooting; but they would consider it would demean them sorely to join in such rough sports with their inferiors, or to run the risk of getting their beauty spoiled by a rough blow. no wonder your knights strike so mightily in battle when they are accustomed to strike so heavily in sport. i saw one of your men-at-arms yesterday bury his axe to the very head in a block of oak; he wagered a stoup of wine that no two of my men-at-arms would get the axe out, and he won fairly, for indeed it took four of the knaves at the handle to tug it out, and then indeed it needed all their strength. no armour ever forged could have withstood such a blow; it-would have cracked both the casque and the skull inside like egg-shells. it seemed to me that a thousand such men, with as many archers, could march through france from end to end, if they kept well together, and were well supplied with meat and drink by the way--they would need that, for they are as good trenchermen as they are fighters, and indeed each man amongst them eats as much as three of my fellows." "yes, they want to be well fed," guy laughed, "and they are rarely pleased with the provision that you make for them; surely not one of them ever fed so well before." "food does not cost much," the captain said; "we have herds of our own which run half wild on the low ground near the river, which our lords always keep in hand for their own uses, and they multiply so fast that they are all the better for thinning; we sell a few occasionally, but they are so wild that it scarce pays the trouble of driving them to the nearest market, and we are always ready to grant permission to any of the vassals, whose cattle have not done as well as usual, to go out and kill one or two for meat." "i hear from the governor of calais," sir eustace said, when he returned from a visit to that town, "that a truce has been agreed upon between england and france for a year; it is france who asked for it, i suppose. both parties here wanted to be able to fight it out without interference. here, in artois, where the burgundians are most numerous, they will profit, as they will have no fear of england trying to regain some of her lost territory, while in the south it will leave armagnac and his friends equally free from english incursions from guienne." "and how will it affect us, eustace?" his wife asked. "that i have not been able fully to determine. at any rate they will have no excuse for attacking us upon the ground that we are partly english, and wholly so in feeling; but upon the other hand, if we are attacked either by burgundians or orleanists, we cannot hope, as we should have done before, for aid from calais, lying as we do some fifteen miles beyond the frontier. amiens has already declared for burgundy, in spite of the fact that a royal proclamation has been issued, and sent to every town and bailiwick through france, strictly commanding all persons whatsoever not to interfere, or in any manner to assist the dukes of orleans or burgundy in their quarrels with each other. i hear that the duke of burgundy has seized roye, nesle, and ham, and a number of other places, and that both parties are fortifying all their towns. they say, too, that there is news that the king has again been seized with one of his fits of madness. however, that matters little. he has of late been a tool in the hands of burgundy, and the royal signature has no weight one way or the other. however, now that hostilities have begun, we must lose no time, for at any moment one party or the other may make a sudden attack upon us. burgundy and orleans may quarrel, but it is not for love of one or the other that most of the nobles will join in the fray, but merely because it offers them an opportunity for pillaging and plundering, and for paying off old scores against neighbours. guy, bid john harpen come hither." when the esquire entered, sir eustace went on: "take two men-at-arms, john, and ride round to all the tenants. warn them that there are plundering bands about, and that either the burgundians or the orleanists may swoop down upon us any day. tell them that they had better send in here all their valuables, and at any rate the best of their cattle and horses, and to have everything prepared for bringing in their wives and families and the rest of their herds at a moment's notice. you can say that if they like they can at once send their wives and families in, with such store of grain and forage as they can transport; the more the better. if the plunderers come, so much the more is saved from destruction; if we are besieged, so much the more food have we here. those who do not send in their families would do well to keep a cart with two strong horses ready day and night, so that no time would be lost when they get the signal. we shall fire a gun, hoist the flag, and light a bonfire on the keep, so that they may see the smoke by day or the fire by night. tell jean bouvard to come to me." "there is trouble afoot, jean, and at any moment we may be attacked. place two men-at-arms on each of the roads to st. omer, st. pol, and bethune. post them yourself at the highest points you can find near our boundary. by each have a pile of faggots, well smeared with pitch, and have another pile ready on the keep, and a watch always stationed there. he is to light it at once when he sees smoke or fire from either of the three points. let the men at the outposts be relieved every four hours. they must, of course, be mounted. let one of the two remain by the faggots, and let the other ride three or four miles in advance, and so post himself as to see a long distance down the road. "if he sees a force advancing he must gallop back at full speed to his comrade, and light the fire. have a gun always loaded on the keep, and have a brazier burning hard by, with an iron in it, so that the piece may be fired the instant smoke is seen. it might be two or three minutes before the beacon would give out smoke enough to be noticed, and every minute may be of the greatest importance to the vassals. as soon as you return from setting the posts see that everything is in readiness here. i myself will make sure that the drawbridge works easily and the portcullis runs freely in its groove. i have already sent off john harpen to warn the tenants, and doubtless many of them will be in this afternoon. send pierre with four men, and tell them to drive up a number of the cattle from the marshes. they need not trouble to hunt them all up today. let them bring the principal herd, the others we will fetch in to-morrow, or let them range where they are until we have further news." in a few minutes the castle resounded with the din of preparations under the superintendence of sir eustace. the men-at-arms and archers carried up stones from the great pile that had been collected in the court-yard in readiness, to the various points on the walls that would be most exposed to assault. others were employed in fixing barricades in the court-yard at the rear for the reception of the herd of half-wild cattle. the water was turned from the little rivulet running down to the somme into the moat. two or three bullocks were killed to furnish food for the fugitives who might come in, and straw was laid down thickly in the sheds that would be occupied by them. machines for casting heavy stones were taken from the storehouse and carried up to the walls, and set up there. large stone troughs placed in the court-yard were filled with water, and before nightfall everything was in readiness. as sir eustace had anticipated, most of the vassals whose farms lay at a distance from the castle came in with their wives and families in the course of the afternoon, bringing carts laden with their household goods, and a considerable number of horses and cattle. lady margaret herself saw that they were established as comfortably as possible in the sheds, which were large enough to contain all the women and children on the estate. as for the men, no such provision was necessary, as at this time of the year they could sleep in the open air. guy was busy all day seeing that the orders of his lord were carried out, and especially watching the operations of putting the ballistas and catapults together on the walls. cannon, though now in use, had by no means superseded these machines, for they were cumbrous and clumsy, and could only be fired at considerable intervals, and their aim was by no means accurate or their range extensive, as the charge of powder that could be used in them was comparatively small, and the powder itself ill-made and defective in strength. guy was struck with the difference of demeanour between the men-at-arms and archers, especially among the english contingent, and that of the fugitives who poured in. what was a terrible blow to the latter was the cause of a scarce concealed gratification among the former. the two months that had been spent at the castle had, to the english, been a somewhat monotonous time, and the prospect of active service and of the giving and taking of blows made their blood course more rapidly through their veins. it was the prospect of fighting rather than of pay that had attracted them to the service of sir eustace. then, as for a century previous and until quite modern days, frenchmen were regarded as the natural foes of england, and however large a force an english king wished to collect for service in france, he had never any difficulty whatever in obtaining the number he asked for, and they were ready cheerfully to give battle whatever the odds against them. the english archer's confidence in himself and his skill was indeed supreme. before the shafts of his forefathers the flower of the french chivalry had gone down like rushes before a scythe, and from being a mere accessory to a battle the english archers had become the backbone of the force. their skill, in fact, had revolutionized warfare, had broken the power of cavalry, and had added to the dignity and value of infantry, who had become, as they have ever since continued to be, the prime factor in warfare. consequently the english archers and men-at-arms went about their work of preparation with a zest and cheerfulness that showed their satisfaction in it. "why, tom," guy said to the tall leader of the archers, "you look as pleased as if it were a feast rather than a fray for which you were preparing." "and so i feel, master guy. for what have i been practising with the bow since i was eight years old but that i might, when the time came, send an arrow straight through the bars of a french vizor? in faith, i began to think that i should never have an opportunity of exercising my skill on anything more worthy than a target or peeled wand. since our kings have given up leading armies across the sea, there was no way but to take service with our lord when i heard that he wanted a small company of archers for the defence of his castle over here, and since we have come it has seemed to us all that we were taking pay and food under false pretences, and that we might as well have stopped at home where, at least, we can compete in all honour and good temper against men as good as ourselves, and with the certainty of winning a few silver pennies, to say nothing of plaudits from the onlookers. 'tis with our people as with the knights of old; if they win in a tournament they take the armour of the vanquished, the prize from the queen of beauty, and many a glance of admiration from bright eyes. it is the same with us; for there is not an english maid but would choose an archer who stands straight and firm, and can carry off a prize when in good company, to a hind who thinks of naught but delving the soil and tending the herd." guy laughed. "i suppose it is the same, when you put it so, long tom; but there will be none of your english maids to watch your prowess here." "no, master guy; but here we shall fight for our own satisfaction, and prove to ourselves that we are as good men as our fathers were. i know naught of this quarrel. had sir eustace taken us into the field to fight for one or other of these factions concerning which we know nothing, we should doubtless have done our duty and fought manfully. but we are all glad that here we are doing what we came for; we are going to defend the castle against frenchmen of some sort or other who would do ill to our lord and lady, and we shall fight right heartily and joyfully, and should still do so were it the mad king of france himself who marched against us. besides, master, we should be less than men if we did not feel for the frightened women and children who, having done no wrong, and caring naught for these factions, are forced to flee from their homes for their lives; so we shall strike in just as we should strike in were we to come upon a band of robbers ill-treating a woman at home.... think you that they will come, master?" he added eagerly. "that i cannot say surely, tom; but sir eustace has news that the burgundians have already seized several towns and placed garrisons there, and that armed bands are traversing the country, burning and pillaging. whether they will feel strong enough to make an attack on this castle i know not, but belike they will do so, for sir eustace, belonging as he does, and as his fathers have done before him, to the english party, neither of the others will feel any good-will towards him, and some of his neighbours may well be glad to take advantage of this troubled time to endeavour to despoil him of his castle and possessions." "they will want to have good teeth to crack this nut, master guy--good teeth and strong; and methinks that those who come to pluck the feathers may well go back without their own. we have a rare store of shafts ready, and they will find that their cross-bowmen are of little use against picked english archers, even though there be but twenty-five of us in all." "you know very well, long tom, that you would have come over here whether there was any chance of your drawing your bow on a frenchman or not." "that is true enough, master guy. our lady wanted some bowmen, and i, who have been born and bred on the estate, was of course bound to go with her. then you see, master guy, haven't i taught you to use the bow and the quarter-staff, and carried you on my shoulder many a score of times when you were a little lad and i was a big boy? it would not have been natural for you to have gone out with a chance of getting into a fight without my being there to draw a shaft when you needed it. why, ruth gregory, whose sworn bachelor you know i am, would have cried shame on me if i had lingered behind. i told her that if i stayed it would be for her sake, and you should have seen how she flouted me, saying that she would have no tall lout hiding behind her petticoats, and that if i stayed, it should not be as her man. and now i must be off to my supper, or i shall find that there is not a morsel left for me." the gates of the castle were closed that night, but it was not considered necessary to lower the drawbridge. two sentries were posted at the work beyond the moat, and one above the gate, besides the watcher at the top of the keep. the next day things were got into better order. more barricades were erected for the separation of the cattle; a portion was set aside for horses. the provisions brought in from the farms were stored away in the magazines. the women and children began to settle down more comfortably in their sheds. the best of the horses and cattle were removed into the inner court-yard. the boys were set drawing water and filling the troughs, while some of the farm men were told off to carry the fodder to the animals, most of which, however, were for the time turned out to graze near the castle. many of the men who had come in had returned to their work on the farms. during the day waggons continued to arrive with stores of grain and forage; boys and girls drove in flocks of geese and turkeys and large numbers of ducks and hens, until the yard in which the sheds were was crowded with them. by nightfall every preparation was complete, and even jean bouvard himself could find nothing further to suggest. "if they are coming," he said to sir eustace, "the sooner they come the better, my lord; we have done all that we can do, and had best get it over without more ado." "i still hope that no one will come, bouvard, but i agree with you, that if it is to come the sooner the better. but there is no saying, it may be to-morrow, it may be months before we are disturbed. still, in a war like this, it is likely that all will try and get as much as they can as quickly as possible, for at any moment it may suit burgundy and orleans to patch up their quarrel again. burgundy is astute and cunning, and if he sees that the orleans princes with armagnac and the duke of bourbon are likely to get the best of it, he will use the king and queen to intervene and stop the fighting. seeing that this may be so, the rogues who have their eye on their neighbours' goods and possessions will, you may be sure, lose no time in stretching out their hands for them." a week later came the news that sir clugnet de brabant, who styled himself admiral of france, had gathered two thousand men from the orleanist garrisons and, with scaling-ladders and other warlike machines, had attacked the town of rethel. the inhabitants had, however, notice of their coming, and resisted so stoutly that the orleanists had been forced to retreat, and had then divided into two parties, each of whom had scoured the country, making prisoners all whom they met, firing the villages and driving off the cattle, and then returned to the town of ham and to the various garrisons from which they had been drawn. some of the tenants had returned to their farms, but when the news spread they again took refuge in the castle. it was probable that artois, where almost all the towns were held by the burgundian party, would be the next object of attack. the orleanists remained quiet for eight days only, then the news came that they had moved out again from ham eight thousand strong, and were marching west. two days later several fugitives from the country round arrived at the castle with news that the orleanists were advancing against bapaume, and the next morning they heard that they had, after a fierce fight, won their way to the gate of the town. the burgundian garrison had then sallied out and at first met with success, but had been obliged to retreat within the walls again. the orleanists, however, considering the place too strong to be captured without a long siege, which might be interrupted by a burgundian force from flanders, had drawn off from the place, but were still marching north burning and plundering. "it is likely enough that they will come this way," sir eustace said as he and jean bouvard talked the matter over. "assuredly arras will be too strong for them to attempt. the straight line would take them to st. pol, but the castle there is a very strong one also. they may sack and burn avesne and auvigni, and then, avoiding both st. pol and arras, march between them to pernes, which is large enough to give them much plunder, but has no force that could resist them. as pernes is but four miles away, their next call may be here." "but why should they attack us, sir eustace? for here, too, they might reckon upon more hard blows than plunder." "it will depend upon whom they have with them," sir eustace replied. "they say that our neighbour hugh de fruges went south ten days ago to join the duke of bourbon; his castle is but a small place, and as most of artois is burgundian he might be afraid he might be captured. he has never borne me good-will, and might well persuade the duke that were my castle and estates in his possession he might do good service to the cause; and that, moreover, standing as we do within twelve miles of the english frontier, its possession might be very valuable to him should the orleanists ever have occasion to call in the aid of england, or to oppose their advance should the burgundians take that step." "surely neither of these factions will do that, sir eustace." "why not, bouvard? every time that english armies have passed into france they have done it at the invitation of french nobles who have embroiled themselves with their kings. burgundy and orleans, bourbon and brittany, each fights for his own hand, and cares little for france as a whole. they may be vassals of the valois, but they regard themselves as being nearly, if not altogether, their equals, and are always ready to league themselves with each other, or if it needs be with the english, against the throne." at nine o'clock on the following evening sir eustace and his family were startled by the report of the gun on the keep, and, running out, saw the signal-fire beginning to blaze up. "above there!" sir eustace shouted, "where is the alarm?" "a fire has just blazed up on the road to st. pol," the warder replied. "blow your horn, then, loudly and urgently." the news that the orleanists were marching north from bapaume had caused the greater portion of the farmers to come in on the previous day, and in a short time those who were nearest to the castle, and who had consequently delayed as long as possible, began to arrive. the garrison were already under arms, and had taken the places assigned to them on the walls. all the tenants had brought their arms in with them, and were now drawn up in the court-yard, where a large bonfire, that had been for some days in readiness, was now blazing. the new-comers, after turning their horses into the inclosure with those already there, joined them. all had been acquainted with the share they were to bear should the place be besieged. they were to be divided into two parties, one of which was to be on duty on the walls with the garrison, the other to be held in reserve, and was--every six hours when matters were quiet--to relieve the party on the walls, or, when an attack took place, to be under arms and ready to hasten to any spot where its aid was required. the men were now inspected by sir eustace, additional arms were served out from the armoury to those whose equipment was insufficient, and they were then dismissed to join their wives and families until called to the walls. [illustration: "the two men who lit the alarm fires rode into the castle."] chapter iii -a siege the two men who had lit the alarm fires had already ridden in. they reported that they had, just as it became dark, seen flames rising from a village three miles from them, and that the man in advance had ridden forward until near enough to see that a great body of men were issuing from the village in the direction of the castle. ten of the english men-at-arms, and as many french, were now posted in the outwork at the head of the drawbridge under the command of jean bouvard. sir eustace placed himself with his squire on the wall above the gate, and four men were stationed at the chains of the drawbridge in readiness to hoist it should the order be given. the english archers were on the wall beside sir eustace, as their arrows commanded the ground beyond the outwork. half an hour after the first alarm was given the tale of the tenants was found to be complete, and the guards on the other two roads had also ridden in. guy, to his great satisfaction, had been ordered by sir eustace to don his armour and to take his place beside him. it was upwards of an hour before a body of horsemen could be heard approaching. they came at a leisurely pace, for the bonfire on the road and that on the keep had apprised them that their hope of taking the castle by surprise had been frustrated by the disobedience of some of their men, who, in defiance of the strictest orders to the contrary, had set fire to several houses in the village after having plundered them. sir eustace, accompanied by his esquire and guy, descended from the wall and crossed the drawbridge to the outwork. as soon as the horsemen came within bow-shot of the castle they lighted some torches, and three knights, preceded by a trooper carrying a white flag, and two others with torches, came towards the work. when within fifty yards of the postern they halted. "is sieur eustace de villeroy present?" "i am here," sir eustace replied, and at his order two men with torches took their place one on each side of him. "who are you that approach my castle in armed force?" "i am sir clugnet de brabant, admiral of france. these are sir manessier guieret and sir hugh de fruges, and we come in the name of the duke of orleans to summon you to admit a garrison of his highness's troops." "i am neither for orleans nor for burgundy," sir eustace replied. "i am a simple knight, holding my castle and estate as a vassal of the crown, and am ready to obey the orders of the king,--and of him only when he is in a condition of mind to give such orders. until then i shall hold my castle, and will admit no garrison whether of orleans or of burgundy." "we hold you to be but a false vassal of the crown, and we are told that at heart you are an enemy to france and devoted to england." "i am a vassal of england for the estates of my wife in that country," sir eustace said; "and as at present there is a truce between the two nations, i can serve here the king of france as faithfully as if, in england, i should serve the king of england." "nevertheless, sir eustace, you will have to receive a garrison of orleans. i have at my back eight thousand men, and if you compel me to storm this hold of yours i warn you that all within its walls will be put to the sword." "thanks for your warning, sir knight; and i on my part warn you that, eight thousand though you be, i shall resist you to the death, and that you will not carry eight thousand away. as for sir hugh de fruges, i give him my open defiance. i know it is to him that i owe this raid; and if he be man enough, i challenge him to meet me in the morning on fair ground outside this postern, with lance and battle-axe, to fight to the death. if he conquers, my castle shall be surrendered to him, upon promise of good treatment and a safe-conduct to depart where they will for all within it; but if i slay him, you must give me your knightly oath that you and your following will depart forthwith." "the conditions would be hardly fair, sir eustace," sir clugnet said; "and though i doubt not that sir hugh would gladly accept them, i cannot permit him to do so. i have brought some eight thousand men here to capture this castle, and hold it for the duke of orleans, and i see not why i should march away with them because you may perchance prove a better fighter than sir hugh. i am ready, however, to give a safe-conduct to all within the walls if you will surrender." "that will i not do, sir clugnet. i hold this castle neither for burgundy nor orleans, and am ready to give pledge that i will not draw sword for either of these princes; but if that will not content you, you must even take my castle if you can, and i give you fair warning that it will cost you dear." "then adieu, sir knight, until to-morrow morning, when we will talk in other fashion." "so be it," sir eustace replied, "you will not find me backward in returning any courtesies you may pay me." the knights turned away with their torch-bearers. "keep a close watch to-night, bouvard," sir eustace said. "mark you what the knight said,--adieu till the morning. had i to deal with a loyal gentleman i could have slept soundly, but with these adventurers it is different. it may be that he truly does not intend to attack till morning, but it is more likely that he used the words in order to throw us off our guard." "we will keep close ward, sir eustace. all the men-at-arms have their cross-bows, and though i say not that they can shoot like these english archers, they can shoot straight enough to do good work should those fellows attempt in force to cross the small moat and attack the gate. but if they come, methinks it will be but to try if we are wakeful; 'tis no light thing to attack even an outwork like this, with this loop from the moat surrounding it, without previous examination of the ground and reconnoitring of the castle." "they would not attempt to attack the fortress itself," sir eustace said; "but if they could seize this outwork by surprise it would mightily aid them in their attack on the fortress; at any rate i will send down five archers, and if any of the enemy crawl up to see how wide the water is here, and how the attempt had best be made, i warrant that they will not return if the archers can but get a sight of them. post half your men on the wall, and let the others sleep; change them every two hours--we want no sleepy heads in the morning." by this time the confused sound of a large number of men marching could be made out, and a quarter of an hour later three or four cottages, some five hundred yards away, were fired, and an angry murmur broke from the men as the flames shot up. after sending down the five archers, sir eustace returned to his post over the main gate. "get cressets and torches in readiness to light if they attack the postern," sir eustace said; "we must have light to see how things go, so that we may hoist the drawbridge as soon as our men are upon it, should the enemy get the better of them. be sure that one is not left behind; it were better that half a dozen of the enemy set foot on the drawbridge than that one of our brave fellows should be sacrificed." "i should think that there is no fear of their attacking until those flames have burnt down; we should see them against the light," john harpen said. "no, there is no fear of their attacking; but the fire would be of advantage if any men were crawling up to spy. of course they would not cross the slope in a line with the fire, but would work along on either side, reckoning, and with reason, that as our men would have the light in their eyes they would be all the less likely to make out objects crawling along in the shade by the side of the moat. plant half a dozen bowmen at intervals on the wall, tom, and tell them to keep a shrewd eye on the ground near the moat, and if they see aught moving there to try it with an arrow." there was shouting and noise up by the burning cottages, where the enemy were feasting on the spoils they had taken, and drinking from the wine-barrels that had been brought with them in carts from the last village that they had plundered. "i wish we were somewhat stronger, or they somewhat weaker," sir eustace said; "were it so, we would make a sally, and give the knaves a sharp lesson, but with only two hundred men against their eight thousand it would be madness to try it; we might slay a good many, but might lose a score before we were back in the castle, and it would be a heavy loss to us." "i was thinking that myself, sir eustace," his esquire said. "that is the worst of being on the defence; one sees such chances but cannot avail one's self of them." in the castle everything was quiet, and all those not on duty were already asleep. along the wall watchers stood at short intervals peering into the darkness, but the main body there were also stretched on the wall with their arms by their side until required to be up and doing. now that sir eustace was himself at the gate his esquire went round the walls at short intervals to be sure that the men on watch were vigilant. presently a loud cry was heard from the corner of the moat away to the right. "go and see what is doing, guy," sir eustace said, "and bring me news." guy ran along to the angle of the wall. here one of the archers was posted. "what is it, dickon?" "a man crept up to that corner opposite, master guy. i could not have sworn to him, it is so pesky dark, but i thought there was something moving there and shot almost at a venture, for i could scarce see the end of my arrow; but it hit there or thereabouts, for i heard him shout. a moment later he was on his feet and running. i could see him more plainly then, so i shot again, and over he went. i fancy that in the morning you will see my arrow sticking up somewhere between his shoulder-blades, though there is no saying precisely, for a nicety of shooting is not to be looked for in the dark." "you have done very well, dickon. keep your eyes open; we may be sure there are more than one of these fellows about." guy hurried back with the news. "that is good," said sir eustace, "and it was just as well that the archer did not kill him outright with his first arrow, the cry will show any of his comrades who may be about that they had best keep their distance from the walls." a minute's silence followed, and then long tom said, "there is another has had his lesson, sir eustace. i heard a bow twang across there, and as there was no cry you may be sure that the shaft sped straight, and that the man had no time to utter one." "he may have been missed altogether, tom." "missed altogether! no indeed, sir eustace, there is no fear of that. there is not one of the men on the wall who would miss a man whose figure he could make out at fifty yards' distance, and they would scarce see them until they were as close as that. no, my lord, i would wager a month's pay that when morning dawns there is a dead man lying somewhere in front of the outwork." "now, guy, you had best go up to your room and lie down until daylight," sir eustace said. "there will be naught doing to-night, and unless i am mistaken, we shall be busy from sunrise till sunset. i shall myself lie down for a couple of hours presently, and then send john harpen to rest till daylight. long tom, see that you yourself and all your men take a short sleep by turns; we shall need your eyes to be open above all others to-morrow." guy promptly obeyed the order. dame margaret was still up. "is everything quiet, guy?" she asked as she entered, "so quiet, my lady, that sir eustace has ordered me to bed, and he said that he himself should come down for a short sleep presently. two spies who crawled up have been slain by the archers. sir eustace is sure that no attack will be made before morning." then he went into his little room and threw himself onto his pallet. during the first few minutes he lifted his head several times fancying that he heard noises; then he fell into a sound sleep and did not awake until the day dawned. in a few minutes guy was on the wall. the night had passed quietly; so far as was known no fresh attempt at reconnoitring the works had been made, and as the moon had risen soon after he had gone to bed there was reason to believe that the fact that the two spies had not returned was so strong a proof of the vigilance of the garrison, that the enemy had been content to wait until morning. just as the sun rose the three knights who had summoned the castle on the preceding evening appeared on the brow of the opposite slope, accompanied by a body of men-at-arms, and rode slowly round the castle. from time to time they halted, and were evidently engaged in a discussion as to the point at which it could be best attacked. "shall i shoot, my lord?" long tom asked. "they are some two hundred and fifty yards away, but from this height methinks that i could reach them." "it would be useless," sir eustace said; "you could hit them, i doubt not, but you would not pierce their armour at this distance, and it is as well that they should not know how far our bows will carry until we are sure of doing execution when we shoot; besides i would rather that they began the fight. the quarrel is not one of my seeking, and i will leave it to them to open the ball. it is true that they did so last night by sending their spies here, but we have balanced that account. moreover, if they are to attack, the sooner the better. they may have gained news from sir hugh of the coming here of the english archers and the men-at-arms, but if they have not done so we shall have a rare surprise in store for them." after the knights had made a circuit of the castle they retired, and presently a dense mass of men appeared from behind the brow on which the cottages they had burned had stood. "they have bundles of faggots, sir eustace!" guy exclaimed. "so they have, guy! your eye is a good one. it seemed to me that the outline was a strange one, but doubtless it is as you say--that each man has a faggot on his shoulder. it is evident that they intend, in the first place, to assault the postern, and have brought the faggots to fill up the ditch." then he turned to the gunners at the cannon. "lay your pieces so as to bear on them when they come half-way down the hill," he said, "and shoot when they are fairly in the line of fire. take the same orders, guy, to the men working the ballistas and mangonels on the wall. tell them not to loose their machines until after the guns are fired. if the fellows take to flight, tell them not to waste their missiles; if they advance, let them be sure that they are well within range before they shoot." with loud shouts the enemy came down the slope. when they were half-way down the two guns roared out, and their shot ploughed two lanes in the crowded body. there was a movement of retreat, but the three knights and several others threw themselves in front, waving their swords and shouting, and the orleanists rallied and moved forward, but at a much slower pace than before. they had gone but a short distance when the arrows of the archers in the outwork and the bolts of the cross-bows worked by the men-at-arms there, began to fall among them. so true was the aim of the archers that scarce a shaft was wasted. at the distance at which they were shooting they did not aim at the knights, whose vizors and coats of mail could not have been pierced, but shot at the commonalty, whose faces and throats were for the most part unprotected. man after man fell, and the cross-bow bolts also told heavily upon the crowd. they had come down but a short distance farther when long tom, and the archers with him on the wall, began to send their arrows thick and fast, and the machines hurled heavy stones with tremendous force among them. a moment later the french broke and fled up the slope again, leaving some fifty of their number stretched on the ground. the knights followed more slowly. when they reached the crest a group of them gathered around sir clugnet de brabant. "by my faith," the latter said bitterly, "we have reckoned without our host, sir knights. we came to shear, but in good sooth we seem more likely to go back shorn. truly those knaves shoot marvellously; scarce an arrow went astray." "as i mentioned to you, sir clugnet," sir hugh de fruges said, "sir eustace brought with him from england five-and-twenty bowmen, and i heard tell from men who had seen them trying their skill at targets that they were in no wise inferior to those with whom we have before had to deal to our cost." "truly ye did so, sir hugh; but the matter made no impression upon my mind, except as a proof that the knight's inclinations were still with england, and that it were well that his castle were placed in better keeping; but in truth these fellows shoot marvellously, both for strength and trueness of aim. i marked as we came back that of the men we passed lying there, nigh all those who had been struck with arrows were hit in the face or throat, and yet the distance must have been over a hundred and fifty yards." "i can answer for the force," one of the others said, "for a shaft struck me fairly on the chest, and hurled me to the ground as if it had been the shock of a lance, and it is well my mail was of the best work of milan; but nevertheless the arrow broke two of the links; if the distance had been shorter, i doubt not that it would have slain me. well, what shall we do next, gentlemen? for very shame we cannot with eight thousand men march away having accomplished nothing. the question is, where shall our next attack be delivered?" "methinks," another knight said, "we delivered our attack too rashly. had i known that there were english archers there i should have advised waiting until nightfall, and i think that it would be best to do so now. if we take our fellows up while there is light they will suffer so much from the stings of these wasps that they will soon lose heart. the knaves shoot not only straight and strong, but they shoot so fast that though, as you say, there may be but twenty-five of them, the air seemed full of arrows, and had you told us that there were two hundred archers shooting, i should have thought the estimate a reasonable one." they stood for some time discussing the best method of attack, and as soon as they had settled upon it the men were told to scatter. some were to go to the farmhouses, and bring up any hides that might be stored there, and to fetch all the hurdles they could lay hands upon; a portion were to go to the woods and cut timber for making mantlets and cover, while two thousand were to remain under arms in case the garrison should make a sortie. within the castle all were in high spirits at the easy repulse of the first attack. "sir clugnet must have learned from sir hugh of my having english archers and men-at-arms here," sir eustace said to his lieutenant, "and yet he advanced as carelessly and confidently as if he had been attacking a place defended only by fat flemish burghers; however, he has had his lesson, and as it is said he is a good knight, he will doubtless profit by it, and we shall hear no more of him till after the sun has set. run up to the top of the keep, guy, and bring me back news what they are doing." in a few minutes the lad returned. "there are two or three thousand of them, my lord, drawn up in a body beyond the crest; the rest of them are scattering in various directions." "that is as i expected," sir eustace remarked; "they have gone to prepare materials for a regular attack. it may be delivered to-night, or may be delayed for a day or two; however, we shall be ready for them. jean bouvard, do you go round the walls and tell all, save a few as sentries, to retire until the watchman blows his horn to warn us if they seem to be gathering for an attack; and do you, long tom, give the same orders to your archers. there is no use wasting the men's strength till the work begins in earnest. if sir clugnet is wise he will march away at once. he would need heavy machines and cannon to make a breach in our walls, and even had he an abundance of them it would take him some time to do so. if he tries again, you may be sure that it will be the work of sir hugh de fruges, who has no doubt a lively interest in the matter. he is a clever fellow, and will no doubt do his best to work on the feelings of the other knights by representing that it would be disgraceful for so large a force to abandon the enterprise merely because a first hasty attack, delivered without preparation, had been repulsed. the fact that they have made so careful an examination of the castle would seem in itself to show that they intended to renew the attempt in another form if the first onset failed, and, moreover, the scattering of the force afterwards while the knights still remained with a large body here points in the same direction." guy on descending from the keep joined sir eustace and his wife in their apartments. "the lad has borne himself bravely," sir eustace said approvingly to his wife; "he was standing beside me when their shot was bringing down the dust round our ears, and he neither started nor flinched, though in truth it was far from pleasant, especially as we had nothing to do but to look on. it may be next time we shall have sterner fighting, and i doubt not that he will bear himself well." "could i not come up and carry your messages, father?" henry asked; "i am not strong like guy, but i could do that." "he is too young for it yet, eustace," dame margaret broke in. "nay, wife," the knight said gently, "the lad is not too young for such service. there will be little danger in it, for his head will not show over the battlements, and it is well that he should learn to hear without fear the whizz of an arrow or the shock of a great stone from a ballista, the clash of arms, and the shouting of men. as he says, he is not yet strong enough to bear arms, but he will learn to brace his nerves and show a bold front in danger; that is a lesson that cannot be learned too young. yes, henry, you shall be my messenger. if they try an assault to-night, you shall put on for the first time the steel cap and breastpiece i had made for you in england; there will be no danger of your being hit by crossbow bolt or arrow, but there may be splinters of stone flying when a missile hits the battlement. take no arms with you, only your dagger; they would be useless to you, and would hamper your movements in getting past the men on the wall, or in running up and down the steps leading to it. now you had better lie down; both guy and myself are going to do so. at sunset, if no alarm comes before, you will be called." "we must not coddle the boy, margaret," he said as guy and henry went off. "i know that he is not physically strong as yet, and sorry i am that it should be so, but he might exert himself more than he does, and he is apt to think too much of his ailments. i was glad when he volunteered to do something, for it is at least as well that he should be able to stand fire even if he cannot learn the use of arms; moreover, it may be that after once bearing a part in a fray he may incline more warmly to warlike exercises than he has hitherto done; it may rouse in him a spirit which has so far been wanting. i have often thought that it would have been better if agnes had been the boy and he the girl; she has far more courage and fire than he has. you remember when that savage bull chased them, how she saw him first over the stile and got tossed over after him for her pains?" dame margaret nodded. "i am not likely to forget it, eustace, seeing that her arm was broken and i had to nurse her for six weeks. do you know that she was up on the top of the keep while the fighting was going on? of course i was there myself, and she begged so hard to be allowed to remain with me that i had not the heart to say her nay." "was henry there too?" "oh, yes; and shouted with the best of them when the enemy fled over the hill. even charlie was there, and as excited as either of them. of course, i had to hold him up sometimes for him to be able to see what was going on; and he looked rather pale at first, when they opened fire, but he soon plucked up when he saw that their shot did no damage near us. you see he is a strong healthy boy; while henry has always been weak, although i do not think that he lacks courage." "he ought not, wife; he comes from a fighting stock on either side. but i fear that unless he changes greatly he is cut out rather for a monk than a man-at-arms. and now i will lie down, for you may be sure that i shall not close an eye to-night. did you note the banner of hugh de fruges with the others?" "yes, and i felt more uncomfortable after seeing it. he is a crafty man, eustace." "he is not a brave one," the knight said scornfully. "i challenged him to meet me outside in a fair field, and the craven did not answer me, and sir clugnet had to make speech for him and decline the offer." "you will need all your vigilance, eustace. i trust that every man within the walls is faithful to us; but if there be a traitor, be sure that sir hugh will endeavour to plot with him, nay, he may already have done so." "they would have no chance of making communication with him were there a dozen of them, wife. long tom and his comrades will take good care that none come near enough for speech." the day passed away in perfect quiet. from time to time word came down from the look-out that the scattered soldiers were returning laden with a great quantity of young trees, wattles, and doors. dame margaret kept watch in her room, and allowed no messengers to enter her husband's apartments. "if there be need, i will wake him," she said; "but he knows well enough what the french have gone for, and there is naught to do until they advance to the attack." guy slept but a short time, and as he frequently started up under the impression that the horn was sounding an alarm, in the afternoon he got up and went down into the courtyard. for some time he wandered about in the quarters occupied by the tenants. these had now settled down; the children were playing about as unconcernedly as if they had been on their fathers' farms; women were washing clothes or preparing the evening meal over little charcoal fires. a certain quantity of meat had been served out to each family, and they were therefore doing better than in their own houses, for meat was a luxury seldom touched by the french peasantry. almost all who had entered the castle had brought with them a supply of herbs and vegetables; these, with a handful or two of coarsely-ground meal boiled into broth, constituted their usual fare, and the addition of a portion of meat afforded them great satisfaction. some of the men were still asleep, in preparation for a long night's work; others were standing about talking in little groups; some were on the walls watching with gloomy faces the smoke wreaths that still rose from what had been their homes. ducks, geese, and hens walked about unconcernedly looking for any stray grains that had passed unnoticed when they had last been fed, and a chorus of dissatisfied grunting arose from the pigs that had a large pen in the yard next to the huts. these were still smarting under a sense of injury excited not only by their removal from their familiar haunts, but by the fact that most of them had been hastily marked by a clipping of some kind in the ear in order to enable their owners to distinguish them from the others. boys were carrying buckets of water from a well in the court-yard to the troughs for the cattle and horses, and the men-at-arms were cleaning their armour and polishing their steel caps. "well, tom, i hope we shall get on as well to-night as we did this morning," guy said to the leader of the archers. "i hope so, master guy, but i would rather fight by day than by night; it is random work when you can neither see your mark nor look straight along your arrow. if we had a moon we should do well enough, but on these dark nights skill does not go for much; still, i doubt not that we shall give a good account of ourselves, for at any rate we shall be able to make them out before they come to close work. the women have been making a great store of torches to-day, and that will help us a bit, though i would that they could be planted fifty yards beyond the moat instead of on the walls, for although they will be of some use to us they will be of even more to the enemy. what think you that their plan will be?" "i should say that they are intending to march forward covered by mantlets of wattles and hides. they will plant them near the edge of the moat, and throw up some earthworks to shelter them and their machines; no doubt they will use the doors they have fetched from all the farmhouses for the same purpose." "the doors will be more to the point, certainly," the bowman said. "as to their hides and wattles, at fifty yards i will warrant our arrows go through them as if they were paper; but i cannot say as much about stout oaken doors--that is a target that i have never shot against; i fear that the shock would shiver the shafts. the mantlets too would serve them to some purpose, for we should not know exactly where they were standing behind them. as for their machines, they cannot have many of them." "they had something like a score of waggons with them, tom; these would carry the beams for half a dozen big ballistas; besides, they have their cannon." "i don't make much account of the cannon," the archer said; "they take pretty nearly an hour to load and fire them, and at that rate, however hard a shot may hit, it would be some time before they wrought much damage on the walls. it is the sound more than the danger that makes men afraid of the things, and, for my part, i would not take the trouble of dragging them about. they are all very well on the walls of a castle, though i see not that even there they are of great advantage over the old machines. it is true that they shoot further, but that is of no great use. it is when the enemy come to attack that you want to kill them, and at fifty yards i would kill more men with my shafts in ten minutes than a cannon would do with a week's firing. i wonder they trouble to carry them about with them, save that folks are not accustomed to their noise yet, and might open their gates when they see them, while they would make a stout defence if they had only ballistas and mangonels to deal with. i suppose when they have got the shelters close to the moat they will bring up planks to throw across." "yes, no doubt they will try that, tom; but the moat is over wide for planks, and i think it more likely that they will have provided themselves with sacks, and filled them with earth, so as to make a passage across with them." "as to the planks not being long enough, master guy, they could get over that easy enough. they would only have to send three or four swimmers across the moat, then thrust long beams over for those who had crossed to fix firmly, and then lay short planks across them." "so they would, tom; i did not think of that. well, at any rate, i expect they will manage to get across the moat somehow and plant ladders against the wall." "and we shall chuck them down again," tom said. "they won't care much for that. but as long as they cannot knock a breach in the walls i warrant that we can hold them." chapter iv -a fatal accident as soon as the sun had set, the defenders gathered on the walls. fires had already been lighted there and cauldrons of water and pitch suspended over them, and sacks of quicklime placed in readiness to be emptied; great piles of stone were placed at short intervals. "as long as they attack at only one or two places," sir eustace said to his wife, "i am quite confident that we shall repulse them. if they attack at a dozen they may succeed, as we should only have a couple of archers and six or seven men-at-arms at each point, besides a score or so of the vassals. i have no doubt that these will fight stoutly, for the sight of their burning homes has roused them, and each man is longing to get a blow at those who have wrought them so much damage. still, thirty men are but a small party to beat back an assault by hundreds. however, if they carry the outside wall they will have the second to deal with, and there we shall stand much thicker together, and they cannot attack from many points, while if we are driven into the keep, we shall be stronger still. have you seen that the women and children are ready to retire into the keep as soon as the assault begins?" "i have been round myself and given orders," dame margaret said. "i have told them that the inner gate will be closed as soon as fighting begins, and that those who do not come in before that must remain outside, or else mount to the walls and cross the bridges, for that on no account will the gates be opened again." "that is well, margaret. i am now about to station two men-at-arms on the inner wall at the end of each of the three bridges, so that they may be ready on the instant to turn the catches and let the bridges fall behind our men as they rush across. the tenants have already driven as many more of their best horses and cattle into the inner court as can find standing room, so that their loss may be as small as possible. if the outer wall is carried, i have no great fear that the second wall will be taken; the plunderers who form the mass of sir clugnet's force will have had enough and more than enough of fighting by the time that they capture the outer one. whatever happens, do not show yourself on the walls to-night, and see that the children do not leave their beds; you can do naught, and will see but little in the dark. to-morrow morning, wife, i will leave you free to go among the soldiers and give them encouragement as may be needed, but for to-night, i pray you stir not out. i will send henry from time to time to let you know how matters go." rapidly the men gathered on the walls; each had had his post assigned to him, and when sir eustace made a tour of inspection he was glad to see how confidently each man bore himself, and how well prepared to give the enemy a warm reception. as soon as it became dark, the outwork on the other side of the moat was abandoned, the defenders called into the castle, and the drawbridge raised, for it was evident to sir eustace that although it might be maintained in daylight, by the aid of the archers on the wall, it could not resist an attack by overwhelming numbers when deprived of that assistance. sir eustace, after inspecting the men's arms, ordered all those on the walls, with the exception of a few who were to remain on watch, to sit down with their backs against the battlement, and to maintain an absolute silence. "it is by sound rather than sight that we shall be able to judge of their movements," he said. "all sitting down may sleep, if it so pleases them, till they are roused." the sentries were ten in number, and were all taken from among the archers. most of these men had been accustomed to the chase, were skilled in woodcraft, and accustomed to listen to the slightest noises that might tell of the movement of a stag and enable them to judge his position. sir eustace, for the present, posted himself in his old position over the gate. jean bouvard and guy were with him, while long tom moved round and round the walls to gather news from his sentries. sometimes guy accompanied him. "they are moving," tom the archer said as he stood listening intently on the wall at the rear of the castle. "it is an hour past sundown, and about the time the knaves will be mustering if they intend to make a regular attack on us. if it had been only an escalade there would have been no sound until nearly morning. i thought i heard them on the other side, but i am sure of it now." "i can hear singing up at their camp," guy said, "but i don't hear anything else." "they are keeping that up to deceive us, i expect. but besides the singing there is a sort of rustle. i don't think that they are coming this way at present, or we should hear it plainer. it seems to me that it is spreading all round." "i will go back and tell sir eustace what you think, tom." guy hurried back to the other side of the castle. "long tom thinks, sir eustace, that he can hear a stir all round." "we have noticed it too--at least, all round this side. tell him not to call the men to their feet until the enemy approaches more closely. i believe that it is the march of a large number of men, and that they are probably moving to the positions assigned to them, but it may be another hour or two before they close in." in a short time the sound became more distinct; from a rustle it rose to a deep confused murmur, then an occasional clink as of arms striking armour became audible. most of the men on the walls were now on their feet gazing into the darkness. presently the sound ceased, first on one side and then on another. "i fancy they are all at their stations now, jean bouvard; we shall soon hear more of them. do not let your archers shoot, tom, until they can make them out very distinctly. we may be sure that they will come up with their mantlets, and it would be a waste of arrows to loose at them until they are close to the moat; but of course if separate figures can be distinguished your men will draw on them." in a quarter of an hour messengers came from various points on the wall saying that there was something moving within sight, and to those at the post over the gate a dark confused mass like a shadow seemed to be slowly coming down towards their outwork. "touch off the guns, jean," sir eustace said; "we shall get no further chance of catching them in a body." the captain stooped, lit two touchfires at the lantern standing in readiness, gave one to a man-at-arms, and went with the other to a cannon. both the guns had been filled to the muzzle with bits of iron and nails, and had been laid to bear on the slope beyond the outwork. they were fired almost simultaneously, and the sound was followed by yells of pain and dismay. the besiegers, seeing that there was nothing further to gain by concealment, burst into a shout that ran all round the castle, and were answered by one of defiance from the walls. the sound was succeeded by loud orders from the leaders of the various assaulting parties, and the objects before but dimly seen, now approached the walls rapidly. jean bouvard hurried away to superintend the defence at other parts. "you may as well go the other way, guy, and let me know from time to time how things are getting on. henry, run down to your mother and tell her that the enemy are moving up to the moat, and that it will be some time before there is any hard fighting; then come back here again." it was easier to see from the side walls than it had been in front, for in front there was a glow in the sky from the number of fires burning beyond the crest of the slope, and guy was able to make out what seemed to him a wall extending some fifteen yards, near the edge of the moat. the archers and crossbow-men gathered opposite to it had just begun to shoot. behind this wall there were other dark masses irregularly placed, and extending back as far as he could see. an occasional cry told that the arrows were doing execution upon the unseen assailants behind the mantlets, and soon the blows of cross-bow bolts against the wall and the sharp tap of arrows told that the enemy had also betaken themselves to their arms. a number of giant torches had been prepared, consisting of sheafs of straw soaked with pitch, and one of these was now lighted and elevated on a pole some fifteen feet above the battlement. its light was sufficient to enable the scene beyond to be clearly made out. a row of mantlets some eight feet high had been placed by the moat, and others of the same height, and seven or eight feet long, elevated at short intervals behind these, were so placed as to afford shelter to the men coming down to the mantlets in front. they stood in two lines; they were some twenty feet apart, but those in one line alternated with those in the other. guy soon saw the object of this arrangement. men were darting to and fro across the interval some six feet wide between the two lines. thus they had but ten feet to run from the shelter on one side to that on the other, and exposed themselves but for an instant to the aim of the archers. some of the men carried great bundles of faggots, others had sacks on their shoulders. "do not heed the mantlets in front," said dickon, who was in command of the six archers near guy, "but pick off those fellows as they come down. shoot in turn; it is no use wasting two arrows on one man. don't loose your shaft until a man is within three mantlets from the end; then if one misses, the next can take him when he runs across next time. that is right, hal," he broke off, as an arrow sped and a man with a sack on his shoulder rolled over. "now, lads, we ought not to miss them by this light." eleven men fell, out of the next twelve who attempted to carry their burdens down. guy went back to sir eustace with the news of the manner in which the attack was being carried on, and of the effect of the archers' defence. "i have just heard the same from the other side; there is one attack on each side and two behind; jean bouvard has posted himself there. i am going round myself now; i do not think there will be any attack made in front. i have sent the archers here to the rear, where they will be more useful; the fellows in the outwork across there have enough to do to shelter themselves." this guy could well understand, for although the guns could not be depressed sufficiently to fire down into the _tãªte du pont_, the mangonels were hurling stones into it, and the men-at-arms shooting cross-bow quarrels whenever a man showed himself. the rear of the outwork was open and afforded no shelter to those who had taken possession of it, and already the greater portion had retired to the other side of the small moat surrounding it, where they lay sheltered by the outwork itself. it was not long before the assailants at the other points, finding that the plan they had formed was defeated by the skill of the archers, poured down in a mass between the two lines of mantlets, each man carrying his burden before him, thus sheltering him to a great extent. against this method of attack the archers could do little, and now confined themselves to shooting at the men who, having thrown down the fascines or sacks by the edge of the moat, stood for a moment and hesitated before running back to the shelter of the mantlets, and not one in three got off scot-free. guy on going round the wall found the same state of things at each of the other three points of assault. numbers of the enemy were falling, but great piles of materials were accumulating at the edge of the moat. after a time a number of knights and men-at-arms, fully protected by armour, came down and began to hurl the sacks and bags into the moat, their operations being covered as much as possible by a storm of missiles shot through holes in the mantlets. in a short time sir eustace ordered the archers to desist shooting, for they were obliged, in order to aim at those so much below them, to expose a considerable portion of their bodies, and three were killed by the enemy's missiles. "we can't prevent them from filling up the moat," he said, "and it is but throwing away life to try to do so." the archers were accordingly placed in the projecting turrets, where, without being themselves exposed, they could shoot through the loopholes at any point on the face of the walls. it was not long before the moat was bridged at all four points of attack. ladders were then brought down. this the assailants were able to accomplish without loss, as, instead of carrying them, they were pushed backwards and forwards by men stationed behind the mantlets, and were so zigzagged down to the moat without the defenders being able to offer any opposition. then rushes were made by parties of knights, the ladders were placed, and the fight began in earnest. in the great court-yard the leader of the english men-at-arms was placed with twelve of his men as a reserve. they were to be summoned by one, two, three, or four blasts of a horn to the point at which their services were most required. the assaults were obstinate, but the walls were as stoutly defended. sometimes the ladders were hurled back by poles with an iron fork at the end; buckets of boiling water and tar were poured over on to the assailants as they clambered up, and lime cast over on those waiting to take their turns to ascend; while with spear, axe, and mace the men-at-arms and tenants met the assailants as they endeavoured to get a footing on the wall. guy had placed himself with the party to which he had first gone, and, taking a pike from a fallen man, was fighting stoutly. the archers from their turrets kept up a constant flight of arrows on the crowd below. only once was the horn sounded for the aid of the reserve. sir eustace had taken the command at the rear, while jean bouvard headed the defence on the side opposite to that at which guy was fighting. the defenders under sir eustace had the hardest work to hold their own, being assaulted at two points. this was evidently the main place of attack, for here sir clugnet himself and several of his knights led the assault, and at one time succeeded in gaining a footing on the wall at one point, while sir eustace was at the other. then the knight blew his horn, and at the same time called the archers from the turret nearest to him, while some of the other party on the wall rushed to aid him of their own accord and, pressing through the tenants, opposed themselves to the knights and men-at-arms who had obtained a footing on the wall. their strength, and the power with which they wielded their heavy axes, so held the assailants in check that they could not gain space sufficient for others to join them, and when the reserve ran up, so fierce an attack was made upon the knights that several were beaten down and the rest forced to spring over the wall at the risk of life and limb. sir clugnet himself was the last to do this, and was carried away insensible. two or three of his companions were killed by the fall, but the rest, leaping far enough out to alight beyond the solid ground at the foot of the walls, had their fall broken by the yielding mass of materials by which they had crossed the moat. a loud shout of triumph rose from the defenders, and was re-echoed by shouts from the other walls. as soon as the news of the repulse at the rear reached the other parties, and that sir clugnet was badly hurt, while several of the knights were killed, the assault ceased at once, and the orleanists withdrew, followed by derisive cries from the defenders. "thanks be to the saints that it is all over," sir eustace said, as he opened his vizor; "it was a close thing here, and for a time i feared that the outer wall was lost. however, i think that there is an end of it now, and by the morning we shall find that they have moved off. they must have suffered very heavily; certainly three or four hundred must have fallen, for we must admit that they fought stoutly. you have all done well, my friends, and i thank you heartily. now, the first thing is to fetch the wounded down to the hall prepared for them. father gregory has all in readiness for them there. guy, go round and find who have fallen, and see them carried reverently down to the court-yard, send me a list of their names, and place two men-at-arms at each point where the assault took place. tom, do you similarly dispose eight of your archers so that should they send a spy up to see if we sleep, a message can be sent back in the shape of a cloth-yard shaft. bid all the tenants and retainers leave the wall; a horn will recall them should there be need. i will myself visit them shortly, and thank them for their stout defence. i will send round a cup of spiced wine to each man on the wall as soon as it can be prepared, to that all may slake their thirst after their efforts." sir eustace then made his way down from the wall to his apartments, where dame margaret was awaiting him. she hurried to meet him. "wait, wife, till i have removed my helmet, and even then you must be careful how you embrace me, for methinks there is more than one blood-stain on my armour, though happily not of mine own. all has gone well, love, and methinks that we shall hear no more of them; but they fought more stoutly than i had given them credit for, seeing that they were but a mixed rabble, with a small proportion of real men-at-arms among them. i suppose henry brought you my message to close the inner gates, as they had gained a footing on the walls." "no, i received no message since the one he brought me half an hour ago, saying that all was going well, and i thought that he was with you. where can he be, eustace?" she asked anxiously. "i know not indeed, margaret, but will search at once. while i do so will you go to the hall that you have prepared for the wounded, and give what aid you can there? do not fear for the boy; he turned and ran off when i spoke to him, and as his head reaches not to the top of the battlements no harm can have befallen him, though in truth i cannot think what can have delayed him." he called to two or three of the men below to take torches, and to accompany him at once, and sent others to the sheds to ask if he had been seen there, then went up to the top of the inner wall and crossed the bridge at the back. [illustration: "sir eustace gave a loud cry, for lying at the bottom of the stair was the form of his son."] "have any of you seen aught of my son henry?" he asked the men there. "no, my lord," one said in reply. "i marked him by our side just before the french got a footing at the other end of the wall, but i saw him not afterwards." "he ran towards the steps at the corner there," sir eustace said, "with a message from me that the inner doors were to be closed. come along, men," he said to those with torches, and going to the corner of the wall descended the steps, which were steep and narrow. he took a torch from one of the men and held it over his head. as he neared the bottom he gave a low cry and ran down the last few steps, where, lying at the bottom, was the form of his son. he was stretched at full length, and there was a terrible gash on his forehead. the knight knelt beside him and raised his head, from which the steel cap had fallen; there was a deep stain of blood on the pavement beneath. he placed his hand on the boy's heart and his ear to his lips, and the men with the torches stood silently round. it was but too evident what had happened. in his haste to carry the message henry's foot had slipped, and he had fallen headforemost down the steep steps, his head coming in contact with the edge of one of them. without a word sir eustace raised the boy gently in his arms. his face was sufficient to tell the men the news; their young lord was dead. sir eustace carried him through the inner gate and up to the boy's own room, and laid him down on his bed, then silently he went out again and crossed the court to the keep. dame margaret was seeing to the wounded being laid on the straw in the lower room, and did not notice him until he touched her. she turned sharply round, his face was sufficient to tell her the truth. she gave a low cry and stepped back a pace, and he moved forwards and drew her to him. "love," he said tenderly, "god has taken him. he was fitter for heaven than any of us; he was too gentle for this rough world of ours. we shall mourn for him, but with him it is well." dame margaret laid her head on his shoulder, and burst into a passion of tears. sir eustace let her weep for a time, then he whispered: "you must be brave, my love. there will be other mourners here for their dear ones who have died fighting for us; they will need your comfort. a villeroy could not die better than doing his duty. it was not by man's hand that he fell, but god took him. his foot slipped in running down the stair from the wall, and he must assuredly have died without a pang. take the priest with you; i will see to the wounded here. father gregory," he went on, raising his voice, "dame margaret has more need of you at the present moment than have these brave fellows. a grievous misfortune has befallen us. my son is dead; he fell while doing his duty. do you take her to his room; i give her to your charge for the present. i have my work to do, and will see that your patients are well cared for." there was a murmur of surprise and regret from the wounded and those who had brought them in. the poor lad had been a general favourite in the castle for his gentle and pleasant ways with all, though many a time the rough soldiers had said among themselves, "'tis a pity that he was not a girl, and the lady agnes a boy. he is more fit for a priest than for a baron in times like these, for assuredly he will never grow into a stout man-at-arms like his father." that a soldier should have been killed in such a fight was to be expected, but that a gentle boy like this should have fallen seemed strange and unnatural, and all sorrowed for him as well as for their lord and lady, and the men forgot for a time the smart of their wounds in their regret at his untimely death. sir eustace went about his work quietly and earnestly, bound up the soldiers' wounds, and saw as far as might be to their comfort. their number was not large, as it was only in the fight on the wall that aught save their heads had been exposed, and those struck by cross-bow bolts had for the most part fallen as they stood. the eight men brought in had without exception received wounds from the swords of the french knights, and though some of the gashes were broad and deep, none of them were likely to prove fatal. just as the knight had finished, guy entered. he had heard the news, which had spread like wildfire through the castle. the lad's eyes were red, for he had been greatly attached to henry, whose constant companion he had been whenever the family had been at their english home. "it is a strange fate, lad," sir eustace said, laying his hand upon guy's shoulder. "you who have exposed yourself freely--for i marked you in the fight--have come through scatheless, while henry, whom i thought to keep out of danger, has fallen. and what is your news?" "there have been seventeen killed, my lord, besides jean bouvard, who was struck in the face by one of the last crossbow bolts shot before they drew off." "this is bad news indeed. i wondered why he came not to me as soon as we had beaten them off, but i thought not of this. he was a good and trustworthy fellow, and i shall miss him sorely. seventeen, say you? it is too many; and yet there might have been more. who are they?" "four of our archers, sir eustace, one of our english men-at-arms, and six of your french men-at-arms. these were all killed by cross-bow bolts and arrows, two of your tenants, pierre leroix and jules beaune, and four of their men fell on the wall when the french gained a footing there; three were, i hear, unmarried men, the other has left a wife and three children." "they shall be my care," the knight said. "the wives of leroix and beaune shall hold their farms free of dues until their eldest sons come of age. does all seem quiet without?" "all is quiet, my lord; but as i left the wall but now a knight with a white flag and four torch-bearers was coming down the slope towards the outwork." "i will go there myself," sir eustace said; "'tis likely they do but come to ask for leave to carry off the dead and wounded, which we will gladly let them do, for it will save us much trouble to-morrow." it was as the knight had supposed, and he at once gave the permission asked for, and in a short time a great number of men with torches came down the slope and for the next two hours were occupied in carrying off their dead and wounded comrades. a close watch was maintained all night, though there was small fear of a renewal of the attack. at daybreak the rear-guard of the enemy could be seen retiring, and a party of men-at-arms, under sir eustace himself, on going out to reconnoitre, found that none had remained behind. a mound marked the place where their dead had been buried in one great grave. many of the mantlets had been removed, and they doubted not that these had been used as litters for the conveyance of the wounded. they afterwards heard that some four hundred and fifty men had been killed, and that over a hundred, too sorely wounded to be able to walk, had been carried away. in the afternoon henry was buried beneath the chapel in the castle, while the men-at-arms and others were laid in the inner court-yard. having learned that the orleanists, greatly disheartened at their heavy repulse, had marched away to the south, the gates of the castle were opened. a small number of the garrison were retained in the castle, and the rest were sent out to aid the tenants in felling trees and getting up temporary shelters near their former homes until these could be rebuilt as before. for the time their wives and families were to remain in the castle. all fear of another attack by the orleanists speedily passed away. artois was, upon the whole, strongly burgundian, and an army marching from flanders speedily brought the whole province over to that side. nothing was done towards commencing the work of rebuilding the farmhouses, for it was evident that the castle might at any moment be again beleaguered. two months passed quietly. sir eustace busied himself in seeing that the tenants were comfortably re-established in their temporary homes. the burgundians had again obtained several advantages, and as sir clugnet was known to have marched away with his following to the assistance of the orleanists, who had of late fared badly, there was no fear of any fresh attack being made upon the castle. one day a messenger rode in from the governor of calais, who was personally known to sir eustace. the letter that he carried was an important one. after the usual greeting it read:-_for the love i bear you, sir eustace, i write to let you know that there is a change in affairs. it seems that the duke of burgundy has but been playing with our king henry, and that the offer of a marriage was made only in order to obtain assistance and the countenance of the king. being now, as it would seem, powerful enough to hold his own against his enemies without such aid, the matter has fallen through. i have received a royal order, which has also been sent to the governors of other english towns, and it has been proclaimed everywhere by sound of trumpets, that none of henry's subjects of whatever rank should in any way interfere between the two factions in france, nor go into france to serve either of them by arms or otherwise under pain of death and confiscation of fortune. but i would tell you for your private ear, that i have news that our king is in correspondence with the dukes of berri, orleans, and bourbon, and that it is like that he will shortly declare for that party, being grievously offended at the treatment that he has received at the hands of the duke of burgundy after having given him loyal help and assistance which had, in no slight degree, assisted him in making good his cause against his enemies._ in a short time, indeed, the english from calais, and from other places held by them in france, began to make sorties and to carry off much plunder from the country round, and especially took by storm the castle of banelinghen near ardres, notwithstanding the truce that prevailed. the intentions of the king of england were made still more manifest by his writing a letter to the flemish towns, saying that, having heard that the duke of burgundy was gathering an army of flemings to march into aquitaine to wage war upon and destroy his subjects, and particularly his very dear and well-beloved cousins the dukes of berri, orleans, and bourbon, and the counts of alenã§on and armagnac, and the lord d'albreth, he therefore begged them to inform him whether they were willing to conform to the truce concluded between them and england without in any way assisting their lord in his wicked purpose. the flemish towns replied that they desired in no way to infringe the truce between the two countries, but that they would serve and assist the king of france, their sovereign lord, and their count the duke of burgundy, as heretofore, to the utmost of their power. in a short time, indeed, it became known that a solemn treaty had been concluded between the king of england and the orleanist nobles, they engaging to aid him to recover guienne and the parts of aquitaine he had lost, while he promised to put an army in the field to assist them. the position of sir eustace was now very difficult. it was uncertain when the english would move, and it was likely enough that if an army set sail it would land in guienne, and that calais would be able to render no assistance, so that he would be exposed to the attacks of the burgundians. nor was his position improved when he learned that on the 15th of july the two french factions, urged by the count of savoy, the grand master of rhodes, and many others, had agreed to terms of peace between them, and that the orleanists had formally renounced the english alliance. at the meeting of the leaders of the party, the duke of aquitaine, the king's son, presided. for a time all the differences were patched up. the news, however, came too late to arrest the embarkation of the english. eight thousand men landed at la hogue, under the duke of clarence, overran a wide extent of country, being reinforced by 800 gascons, who had, according to the agreement with the orleanists, been raised to join them. they advanced towards paris, declaring, however, that they would retire if the duke of berri and his party kept their engagement with them, and paid them the two hundred thousand crowns he had agreed to do. the duke had not, however, the means to pay this amount, and the english therefore continued to ravage the country, while a large force from calais, under the earl of warwick, captured the town of saumer-au-bois and the castle of ruissault. this, however, was scarcely an invasion, and sir eustace, being doubtful whether henry meditated operations upon a large scale now that he had no longer allies in france, took no part in the matter, but remained quietly in his castle. towards the end of march, 1413, a royal herald appeared before the gate. he was at once admitted, and was received with all honour in the great hall by sir eustace. "sir eustace de villeroy." he said, "i come to you in the name of the king of france, your lord and suzerain. he bids me to say that he has heard with satisfaction that you refused entry to your castle to those who demanded it altogether without authority from him; but that, seeing the importance of the castle in case of trouble with england, and that you are a vassal of england for estates in that country, he deems it necessary that its safety should be assured, and therefore calls upon you to send, in proof of your loyalty to and affection for him, your wife and children to paris, where they shall be cared for in all honour and as becomes their condition; or to receive a garrison of royal troops of such strength as to defend it from any fresh assault that may be made upon it, either on the part of those who before attacked it, or of england. he charges you on your fealty to accept one or other of these conditions, or to be deemed a false vassal, which he cannot believe you are, knowing you to be a brave and worthy knight. here is a document with the king's signature and seal to the effect which i have delivered to you." "his majesty's demands come upon me as a surprise," the knight said gravely, "and i pray you to abide with me till to-morrow, by which time i shall have had leisure to consider the alternative and be ready to give you answer." "your request is a reasonable one, sir eustace," the herald replied, "and i will await the answer for twenty-four hours." the herald was then conducted to the guest-chamber, and sir eustace went out into the court-yard and for some time busied himself with the usual affairs of his estate and talked to the tenants as to their plans; then he went up on to the wall and there paced moodily backwards and forwards thinking over the summons that he had received. he knew that margaret had been in the gallery in the hall and had heard the message the herald had delivered, and he wished to think it well over before seeing her. his position was, he felt, a perilous one. the last treaty of peace between france and england had drawn the frontier line more straitly in. after cressy was fought, but a few miles away, villeroy had stood within the english line as far as it now stood without it. that henry, who although now old and averse to war, must yet ere long again renew the war that had so long languished he had little doubt; but he had no hope of succour at present, and felt that though able to withstand any sudden attack like that he had recently repulsed, he could not hope to make a successful defence against a great force provided with battering machines. the message from the king was indeed but a message from burgundy, but if burgundy was all-powerful just at present it had the same effect as if it were the king and not he who had sent the summons. he could see no way of temporizing save that margaret and the children should go as hostages, and the idea of this was wholly repugnant to him. were he to admit a french garrison the castle would be virtually lost to him; for once powerless, he could easily be set aside in favour of one of burgundy's followers. the only alternative then seemed to be that he should altogether forsake the castle and estate so long held by his ancestors, and retire to england, until maybe some day henry might again place him in possession of it. he regretted now that he had not told margaret that she had best keep her chamber, for she then would have known nothing of the alternative that she should go as a hostage--an alternative, he foresaw, that she was likely to favour, as by so doing the necessity for making an absolute decision and choosing between france and england would be postponed. at length, still undecided in his mind, he descended from the wall and went up to his wife's apartments. chapter v -hostages margaret rose to meet her husband when he entered. she had looked pale in her dress of deep mourning before, but he thought that she looked paler now. she, too, had evidently been thinking over the summons that he had received, and there was an expression of firmness and resolution in her face that seemed to say that she had arrived at a more definite conclusion than he had done. "'tis a knotty question, wife," sir eustace said. "in the first place, it is clear we cannot hope to defend the castle successfully against an attack by burgundy. the last was but of the character of a raid, the next would be a serious siege by experienced soldiers provided with all proper means and appliances. before, it was certain that sir clugnet would, if he tarried here, be shortly attacked by the burgundians, whereas now there would be no prospect of assistance. there is no hope of help from england, for there is no force in calais that could contend with that which would probably be sent against me; therefore i take it that if attacked the castle must in the end fall, in which case probably its defenders would all be put to the sword. i myself should most likely be killed, the estates forfeited, and you and the children taken prisoners to paris. now it seems to me that that is not to be thought of. it remains to decide, therefore, whether we shall abandon the castle and journey to england, or whether we will admit a burgundian garrison, which will in fact, we may be sure, be the first step towards losing the castle and estate altogether. it seems to me that the first will be the best plan. i see no chance of it at present, but in time henry may invade france; and as we lie only some seven or eight miles from the frontier he would doubtless recapture villeroy, and we should again become its masters." "you have not mentioned the other alternative, eustace, namely, that i and the children should go to paris as hostages; and this, it seems to me, is the best of the three to follow. if there were indeed a chance of an english invasion i should not say so, but i think not that there is any such prospect. it is many years since england has done aught in earnest, and during all that time her power in france has been waning. i would not that our children should lose this fair estate when it can well be preserved by some slight sacrifice on my part. were i and the children to go to paris it would put an end to all doubts as to your loyalty, and you would hold the castle and estates. the peace now patched up between the parties will not last, and as soon as they are engaged with each other, and have no time to spare to think of attacking you here, i will endeavour to escape with the children and rejoin you. i shall assuredly have no cause for complaint. i shall, of course, have honourable treatment, and apartments fitting to our rank assigned to me. it would be no great hardship, and even were it so it would be worth enduring in order that our son charles should inherit his father's estate." "i could not part from you, love." "nay, eustace, as i have said, it cannot be for long; and you must remember that twice when the children were infants i remained in england with them while you were some months here. it would be no worse now. i would take guy with me; the lad has sense and courage, the children are both fond of him, and i myself could, if occasion arose, take counsel with him. then i could have two or three stout men-at-arms who might ride in my train in peaceful garb as retainers. as to a maid i can, if i need one, hire her in paris. surely, husband, it would be far better so than that we should lose castle and land. there could be little danger to one in paris at any time, still less to the wife of a vassal of the crown, least of all to a hostage. i shall be but staying at the court. if you peril life and limb, eustace, in defence of your castle, surely it is not much that i should put myself to the slight inconvenience of a stay in paris for a while." "i like it not," the knight said moodily. "i see well enough that what you say is true, and that you should be safe at charles's court, indeed safer than here. the citizens of paris are indeed turbulent, whether they shout for orleans or burgundy, but what if henry of england should again lead an army here?" "but why imagine what is not likely to happen? long ere henry comes i may have joined you again; should it be otherwise i might perhaps escape, or at the very worst of all they could but keep me in duress in my chamber. who ever heard of a woman being ill-treated for the disobedience of her lord? all that they could do would be to make you pay ransom for my return." "i would rather go as a hostage myself." "nay, husband, that could hardly be. who would then take care of your castle? it is not a hard thing that the king asks, merely that i and the children shall for a time live at his court as a proof that you, his vassal, hold your castle for him. even if the worst comes to the worst we can but lose castle and land, as we must lose it now if i do not go. nay, my dear lord, do not wrinkle your brow, we cannot strive against the might of france; and at present we must bow our heads and wait until the storm has passed, and hope for better times. there may be an english war; ere long henry may again extend his frontiers, and you might again become a vassal of england for these possessions of yours even as your fathers were." "i see that reason is on your side, margaret, and yet i cannot bring myself to like the plan." "nor do i like it, husband; yet i feel that it were a thousand times better that i should be separated from you for a time than that we should risk another siege. the last has cost us dear enough, another might take you from me." "well, well, dear, i suppose you must have your way; indeed i do not see that harm can possibly come to you, and it will at any rate ensure peace for a time and enable us to repair our tenants' losses. i shall send over a message at once to sir aylmer, and beg him to choose and send me another fifty archers--with that reinforcement i could make head against any attack save in the greatest force--for there is no saying how things may go. the five-and-twenty did wonders, and with thrice that force i should feel confident that villeroy could withstand any attack save by an army with an abundance of great machines. "well, margaret, since you have decided for me that you are to go--and indeed i myself plainly see that that alternative is really the best--let us talk over who you had best take with you. i quite approve of your choice of guy; he is a good lad, and will make a brave knight some day. i shall now make him one of my esquires, and as such he will always be in attendance on you; and assuredly agnes and charlie will, as well as yourself, benefit by his presence. he will be able to take them out and look after them, and as he talks french as well as english the lad will be useful to you in many ways. have you any preference as to the four men-at-arms?" "could you spare tom, the leader of the archers? i should like to have another englishman with me, and he is very good-tempered and obliging. he is shrewd too, and with his strength and courage i should feel that i could wholly rely upon him in any strait, though indeed i see not that there is any probability of such occurring." "certainly you can have him, margaret, and i shall be glad to know that he is with you. dickon, who is next under him, can act as captain of the archers while he is away. i have noticed that tom is picking up the language fast. he is always ready to do little kindnesses to the women and children, and i have often heard him talking with them. he will soon get to speak the language fairly. as to the others have you any choice?" "no, i think you had better choose them for me, eustace." "they had better be french," he said; "it would not do for you to surround yourself entirely by english, although of course it is natural enough that you should have an english squire and servant. i think that you could not do better than take jules varey and albert bongarde. they are both stout men-at-arms, prudent fellows, and not given to the wine-cup. as a fourth i would say jean picard's son; he is a stout fellow too, and i know that, but for his father's hopes that he will one day succeed him as butler, he would have taken service regularly as a man-at-arms. he fought stoutly when the french gained the wall, and i marked him exchanging blows with sir clugnet himself, and bearing himself as well as any man there. you could choose no better." "so be it," she said. "i think, eustace, that with four such defenders, to say nothing of young guy, you need not feel uneasy about us." "i don't think that i shall feel uneasy, margaret; but i know that i can ill spare you. you have ever been at my side since we were married, save when, after the birth of agnes and charles, you were forced to stay in england when i came over here. i felt it a dreary time then, and shall feel it so now; but i doubt not that all will go well with you, though it will be a very different life to that to which you have been accustomed." "i shall do well enough," margaret said cheerfully, "and maybe i shall get so fond of court that you will have to take me to that of henry when we return to england." "now you had best begin to make your preparations. i will speak to guy and the others myself." sir eustace went into the court-yard, where guy was superintending the issue of provisions for the women. "this can go on without you," he said; "gervaise will see to it. i would speak to you. you were at the meeting this morning, guy, and you heard what the herald of france said. the position is a hard one. i cannot hold the castle against the strength of france, while if we take a burgundian garrison i should cease to be its master, and it would doubtless soon pass into other hands. again, if i go to england, it would equally be lost to us. therefore my wife has resolved, in order to gain time until these disorders are over, to go to paris with the children as a hostage for me. in no case, as it seems to me, are dame margaret and the children likely to be in danger; nevertheless, i am greatly loth for them to go. however, seeing no other way out of the business, i have consented, and we have arranged that you shall accompany her. you will go as my esquire, and i shall install you as such this afternoon. you will take long tom, two of the men-at-arms, and robert picard, all good men and true; but at the same time the burden and responsibility must rest upon your shoulders. you are young yet for so grave a charge, and yet i feel that i can confide it to you. you will have to be the stay and support of your mistress, you will have to be the companion and friend of my children, and i shall charge the four men-at-arms to take orders from you as from me. tom will be a valuable fellow. in the first place, he is, i know, much attached to you, besides being shrewd, and a very giant in strength. the other three are all honest varlets, and you can rely upon them in any pinch." "i will do my best, my lord," guy said quietly; "and i am grateful to you indeed for the confidence that you show in me, and i shall, i hope, prove worthy of it, and of my father." the news soon spread through the castle that dame margaret was going to paris. the maids wept at the thought, as did many of the tenants' wives, for since the siege began, her kindness and the pains that she had taken to make them comfortable had endeared her greatly to them. on her previous visits they had seen comparatively little of her; she had been to them simply their lord's english wife, now they knew her as a friend. nevertheless, their regret at her leaving was softened by the thought that her going to be near the king insured peace for them, and that they would now be able to venture out to the houses that were fast rising on the ruins of their former homes, and to take up their life again as they had left it. early next morning the little cortege mustered in the court-yard in readiness for a start. sir eustace and his wife had said good-bye to each other in their chamber, and she looked calm and tranquil as she mounted her horse; for, having been accustomed from a child to ride with her father hunting and hawking, she could sit a horse well, and scorned to ride, as did so many ladies, on a pillion. guy rode by her side, with agnes on a pillion behind him. long tom, with charlie perched in front of him, followed them, and the three men-at-arms brought up the rear. charlie was in high spirits; he regarded the trip as a sort of holiday, and had been talking, ever since he got up, of the wonders that he should see in paris. agnes better understood the situation, and nothing but the feeling that she ought to emulate the calmness of her mother restrained her from bursting into tears when her father lifted her on to her seat. the herald led the way, followed by his two pursuivants. dame margaret checked her horse in the middle of the court-yard, and said in a loud clear voice to the tenants and men-at-arms round: "adieu, good friends; i trust that i shall not be long away from you. i go to stay for a time at the court in paris, and i leave you with the surety that you will have peace and rest until i return, and be able to repair the damages you suffered from the attack made upon us by men who regard not the law." she turned and waved her hand to sir eustace, who was standing immovable on the steps, and then, touching the horse with her heel, they moved on after the herald. "do not fear to speak, tom," dame margaret said, after they had left the castle behind them; "the journey is a long one, and it will go all the quicker for honest talk. what think you of this expedition to paris?" "i would as lief go there as anywhere else, my lady. indeed, men say that it is a fine city, and as i have never seen a bigger town than southampton, i doubt not that i shall find plenty to interest me at times when you may not require our services." "i see that you have brought your bow with you." "ay, my lady, i could not bring myself to part with it. sir eustace told me that i could not carry it, as its length would be a matter of remark, and point me out at once as being an englishman, seeing that the french archers carry no bows of such length; so i have, even as you see, wrapped it round with straw, and fastened it to the saddle beneath my leg. i have also put fourscore arrows among the valises on the pack-horses." "there is no chance of your needing them, tom." "i trust that it is so," the archer replied; "but, indeed, there is never any saying, and an archer without his bow is but a poor creature,--though, indeed, i trust that i can swing an axe as well as another." "and much better than most, tom; still, i hope that neither axe nor bow will be required." "to that i say amen also; for, although a fray may sometimes be to my taste, i have no desire to be mixed up in a mãªlã©e without some of my own stout comrades with me." "shall we get to paris to-night, lady mother?" charlie asked. "no, indeed; it will be five days, if not six, for i see by the way that we are travelling we are bearing east, and shall sleep at lille or may be at tournay; then, doubtless, we shall bear south, and may stop the next night at cambrai, and make to noyon on the following day, and thence to compiã¨gne or to senlis, and the next day will take us to paris. it all depends how far and how fast we ride each day. but these matters will be arranged by the herald. were we to go by the shortest route we should get there more quickly; but amiens is held by the party to whom the men who attacked our castle belong, and by the way we are travelling we shall keep for some time in artois, and so escape all risk of trouble on the road." "i don't care for trouble," charlie said stoutly; "we have got long tom and robert picard and the other two, and guy can fight also." "that would be all very well, my son," his mother said smiling, "if we were only attacked by half a dozen vagrants, but brave as they all are they could do naught if a large body surprised us; but be assured that there is no fear of that--by the way we are travelling we shall meet with none but friends." "i should like to be attacked by the vagrants, mother. the last time you made us stay with you when there was fighting going on, except just at the first, but here we should see it all." "well, i don't want to see it, charlie, and i am glad that we are not likely to do so; and you must remember that you and i and agnes would sorely hamper our friends." nevertheless whenever a party of peasants was met upon the road charlie looked out hopefully and heaved a sigh of disappointment when, after doffing their caps in respect, they passed on quietly. several times they encountered bodies of knights and men-at-arms, but the presence of the royal herald saved them from all question. at each halting-place dame margaret, her children and maid, were lodged in the house of one of the principal citizens, while guy and the men-at-arms lay at an inn. the troubled state of the times was only manifest by the number of men-at-arms in the streets, and the strict watch kept at the gates of the towns. many of these were kept shut, and were only opened once an hour to let people pass in and out. this, however, did not affect the travellers, for the gates were opened the moment the emblazonings on the surcoat of the herald could be made out. "we have assuredly nothing to complain of so far, guy," dame margaret said, as they set out on their last day's journey; "had we been the king's special guests we could not have been more honourably treated, and i have no doubt that although we shall be much less important personages at paris than as travellers under the royal protection, we shall yet be made comfortable enough, and shall have naught to grieve over save the separation from our lord." "i cannot doubt that it will be so, lady," guy replied; "and that at any rate there will be no trouble, unless the armagnacs lay siege to paris or there are riots in the city. i heard last night at the inn from some travellers who had just left it, that although the majority of the people there are in favour of burgundy, yet that much discontent exists on account of the harsh measures of the officers he has appointed, and especially of the conduct of the guild of butchers, who, as it seems, are high in favour with the duke, and rule the city as if it belonged to them." "it matters little to us, guy, though it seems strange that the nobles of france and the respectable citizens of paris should allow themselves to be ruled over by such a scum as that; but it was the same in flanders, where von artevelde, our ally, a great man and the chief among them, was murdered by the butchers who at the time held sway in ghent, and who were conspicuous for many years in all the tumults in the great towns there." "i hear, madam, that the king is ill, and can see no one." "yes, i have heard the same from the herald. it will be john of burgundy who will, for the time, be our master." "i could desire a better," guy said bluntly; "but we shall at any rate know that his fair words are not to be trusted. for my part, however, i wonder that after the (agreement with) the duke of orleans, with whom he had sworn a solemn peace, any man should hold converse with him." "unfortunately, guy, men's interests count for more than their feelings, and a great noble, who has it in his power to grant favours and dispense honours, will find adherents though he has waded through blood. burgundy, too, as i hear, has winning manners and a soft tongue, and can, when it pleases him, play the part of a frank and honest man. at least it must be owned that the title of 'fearless' does not misbecome him, for, had it been otherwise, he would have denied all part in the murder of orleans, instead of openly avowing that it was done by his orders." they had started at an earlier hour than usual that morning, as the herald had pointed out to dame margaret, that it were best to arrive in paris as early as possible, in order that the question of their lodging might be settled at once. accordingly, they had been up at daybreak, and arrived in paris at noon. "how long will it be, i wonder," dame margaret said, as they rode through the gates, "before we shall pass through here again?" "not very long i hope, my lady," guy said; "but be sure that if at any time you wish to leave we shall be able to procure disguises for you all, and to make our way out without difficulty." "nay, guy, you forget that it is only so long as we are here that villeroy is safe from attack. whatever happens, nothing, save the news that an english army has landed at calais, and is about to invade france, would leave me free to attempt an escape. if not released before that, i must then, at all hazards, try to escape, for sir eustace, knowing that i am here, would be placed in a sore strait indeed; both by his own inclinations and as a vassal of england, for he would want to join the english as soon as they advanced, and yet would be hindered by the knowledge that i was a hostage here. it would be for me to relieve him of that fear; and the same feeling that induced me to come hither would then take me back to villeroy." "then, madam, i fear that our stay here will be a long one, for henry has never pushed on the war with france vigorously, and though plenty of cause has been given by the capture of his castles in guienne, he has never drawn sword either to regain them or to avenge the insults put upon the english flag." "king henry is old, guy; and they say that his son is as full of spirit and as fiery as his father is peaceful and indisposed for war. when the king dies, my lord thinks that it will be but a short time before the english banner will be unfurled in france; and this is one of the reasons why he consented to my becoming an hostage, thinking that no long time is likely to elapse before he will have english backing, and will be able to disregard the threats of france." "how narrow and sombre are these streets!" guy said, after a pause, "one seems to draw one's very breath with difficulty." "they are well-nigh as narrow in london," his mistress replied; "but they are gay enough below. see how crowded they are, and how brilliant are some of the costumes!" "some of them indeed, madam, but more are poor and miserable; and as to the faces, they are so scowling and sombre, truly were we not on horseback i should keep my hand tight upon my pouch, though in truth there is nothing in it worth stealing." "ay, ay, master guy," long tom broke in, "methinks that there are a good many heads among these scowling knaves that i would gladly have a chance of cracking had i my quarter-staff in my hand and half a dozen stout fellows here with me. see how insolently they stare!" "hush, tom!" dame margaret said, turning round, "if you talk of cracking skulls i shall regret that i brought you with me." "i am not thinking of doing it, my lady," the archer said apologetically. "i did but say that i should like to do it, and between liking and doing there is often a long distance." "sometimes, tom, but one often leads to the other. you must remember that above all things it behoves us to act prudently here, and to avoid drawing the attention of our foes. we english are not loved in paris, and the less you open your mouth here the better; for when burgundians and armagnacs are ready to cut each other's throats over a name, fellow-countrymen though they be, neither would feel any compunction about killing an englishman." after riding for half an hour they entered the court-yard of a large building, where men-at-arms and varlets wearing the cognizance of burgundy were moving about, a group of nobles were standing on the steps, while some grooms were walking their horses round the court-yard. the herald made his way to the door, and here all alighted. "whom have we here, i wonder?" one of the young nobles said to another as they came up. "a royal herald and his pursuivants; a young dame and a very fair one; her daughter, i suppose, also fair; the lady's esquire; and a small boy." "hostages, i should say," the other replied, "for the good conduct of the lady's lord, whoever he may be. i know her not, and think that she cannot have been at court for the last ten years, for i could hardly have forgotten her face." dame margaret took the hands of her two children and followed the herald up the steps. she had made a motion of her head to guy to attend her, and he accordingly followed behind. "a haughty lady as well as a fair one," the young knight laughed. "she did not so much as glance at us, but held her head as high as if she were going in to rate burgundy himself. i think that she must be english by her looks, though what an english woman can be doing here in paris is beyond my understanding, unless it be that she is the wife of a knight of guienne; in that case she would more likely be with orleans than here." "yes, but you see the herald has brought her. it may be her lord's castle has been captured, and she has come under the safe-conduct of a herald to lay a complaint; but i think with you that she is english. the girl was fair too, though not so fair as her mother, and that curly-headed young esquire is of english stock too." "he is a stout-looking fellow, de maupas, and will make a powerful man; he looks as if he could strike a shrewd blow even now. let us question their knaves, one of whom, by the way, is a veritable giant in point of height." he beckoned to the four men, and robert picard came forward. "who is your lady, young man?" "dame margaret de villeroy, may it please you, sir. she is the wife of sir eustace de villeroy." "then we were right, de maupas, for de villeroy is, i know, a vassal of england for his wife's estates, and his people have always counted themselves english, because for over a hundred years their castle stood inside the english line." "he is a stout knight. we heard a month ago how bravely he held his castle against sir clugnet de brabant with 8000 orleanists, and beat him off with a loss of five knights and 400 men. sir clugnet himself was sorely wounded. we all ought to feel mightily obliged to him for the check, which sent them back post-haste out of artois, where they had already done damage enough, and might have done more had they not been so roughly handled. i wonder what the lady is here for?" "it may be that he would have fought the burgundians as stoutly as he fought the armagnacs," the other said, "and that the duke does not care about having so strong a castle held by so stout a knight within a few miles of the english line." the other shrugged his shoulders. "the english are sleeping dogs," he said; "there is no edward and no black prince to lead them now." "no, but you must remember that sleeping dogs wake up sometimes, and even try to bite when they do so; moreover we know of old that these particular dogs can bite hard." "the sooner they wake up the better, i say, de maupas. we have a long grudge to wipe off against them, and our men are not likely to repeat the mistakes that cost us so dearly before. besides, the english have had no real fighting for years, and it seems to me that they have altogether given up any hope of extending their possessions in france." "one can never tell, de revelle. for my part i own that i care not that they should again spread their banner on this side of the sea. there can be no doubt that they are stout fighting-men, and seeing how france is divided they might do sore damage did they throw their weight into one side of the scale." "methinks that there is no fear of that. the dukes both know well enough that their own followers would not fight side by side with the english; and though they might propose an alliance with the islanders, it would only be for the purpose of bringing the war to a close by uniting both parties against our old enemy." in the meantime dame margaret had followed her conductor to the great chamber, where john of burgundy held audience in almost royal state. several nobles were gathered round him, but at the entrance of the herald these fell back, leaving him standing by himself. an eminently politic man, the duke saw at once by the upright figure and the fearless air with which dame margaret entered the hall, that this was a case where courtesy and deference were far more likely to bring about the desired end of winning her husband over to his interests, than any menaces or rough speaking; he therefore advanced two or three steps to meet her. "my lord duke," the herald said, "this lady, dame margaret of villeroy, has journeyed hither with me in accordance with the wish expressed by his majesty the king." "as the king's representative in paris, lady," the duke said to margaret, "i thank you for your promptness in thus conceding to his wish." "his majesty's wish was naturally a command to me, sir duke," margaret said with quiet dignity. "we, my husband and i, understood that some enemy had been influencing his majesty's mind against my lord, and in order to assure him of my lord's loyalty as a faithful vassal for the land he holds, i have willingly journeyed here with my children, although in much grief for the loss of my eldest son, who died in the attack lately made upon our castle by a large body of men, of whom we knew naught, save that they did not come in the name of our lord the king." "i have heard of the attack, lady, and of the gallant and successful defence made by sir eustace, and the king was greatly pleased to hear of the heavy check thus inflicted upon the men who had raised the banner of revolt, and were harassing his majesty's faithful subjects." "that being so, my lord duke," margaret said, "'tis strange, after my lord had shown how ready and well prepared he was to protect his castle against ill-doers, that he should have been asked to admit a garrison of strangers to aid him to hold it. sir eustace has no desire to meddle with the troubles of the times; he holds his castle as a fief directly from the crown, as his ancestors have held it for two hundred years; he wishes only to dwell in peace and in loyal service to the king." [illustration: the lady margaret makes her obeisance to the duke of burgundy.] "such we have always understood, madam, and gladly would the king have seen sir eustace himself at his court. the king will, i trust, shortly be recovered from his malady; until he is so i have--for i was made acquainted with your coming by messenger sent forward by monjoie--arranged for you to be lodged in all honour at the house of master leroux, one of the most worshipful of the citizens of paris, and provost of the guild of silversmiths. my chamberlain will at once conduct you thither." "i thank you, my lord duke," margaret said with a stately reverence, "and trust that when i am received by my lord the king i shall be able to prove to him that sir eustace is his faithful vassal, and can be trusted to hold his castle for him against all comers." "i doubt it not, lady," the duke said courteously. "sir victor pierrepoint, i pray you to see this lady to the entrance. sir hugo will already be waiting her there." chapter vi -in paris "a bold dame and a fair one," john of burgundy said to the gentlemen round him when margaret left the chamber. "methinks that she would be able to hold villeroy even should sir eustace be away." "that would she," one of the knights said with a laugh. "i doubt not that she would buckle on armour if need were. but we must make some allowance for her heat; it is no pleasant thing to be taken away from her castle and brought hither as a hostage, to be held for how long a time she knows not." "it was the safest way of securing the castle," the duke said. "can one doubt that, with her by his side, her husband would open his gates to the english, should they appear before it? he himself is a vassal both of england and france, and should the balance be placed before him, there can be little doubt that her weight would incline him to england. how well these english women keep their youth! one might believe her to be but a few years past twenty, and yet she is the mother of that girl, who is well-nigh as tall as herself." "and who bids to be as fair, my lord duke." "and as english, de porcelet. she would be a difficult eaglet to tame, if i mistake not; and had she been the spokeswoman, methinks she would have answered as haughtily as did her mother. but it might be no bad plan to mate her to a frenchman. it is true that there is the boy, but the fief might well be bestowed upon her if so mated, on the ground that the boy would likely take after his father and mother and hold villeroy for england rather than for france. however, she is young yet; in a couple of years, de porcelet, it will be time for you to urge your suit, if so inclined." there was a general smile from the circle standing round, but the young knight said gravely, "when the time comes, my lord duke, i may remind you of what you have said. 'tis a fair young face, honest and good, though at present she must naturally feel with her mother at being thus haled away from her home." sir victor escorted margaret to the court-yard. as they appeared at the entrance a knight came up and saluted her. "i am intrusted by the duke with the honour of escorting you to your lodgings," he said; "i am hugo de chamfort, the duke's chamberlain." after assisting her into the saddle he mounted a horse which an attendant brought up and placed himself by her side. two men-at-arms with their surtouts embroidered with the cognizance of burgundy led the way, and the rest of the party followed in the same order in which they had come. the distance was short, and beyond a few questions by the knight as to the journey and how she had been cared for on the way, and margaret's replies, little was said until they reached the house of the provost of the silversmiths. as they rode up to the door maã®tre leroux himself came out from the house. "welcome, lady," he said, "to my abode. my wife will do all that she can to make you comfortable." "i am sorry indeed, good sir," margaret said, "to be thus forced upon your hospitality, and regret the trouble that my stay will impose upon you." "say not so, lady," he said, "we deem it an honour that his grace the duke of burgundy should have selected us for the honour of entertaining you. the house is large, and we have no family. chambers are already prepared for yourself, your daughter, and son, while there are others at your disposal for your following." "i would not trespass too much upon you," she said. "my daughter can sleep with me, and i am sure that my esquire here, master guy aylmer, will gladly share a room with my boy. i can obtain lodgings for my four followers without." "you will grieve me much if you propose it, lady. there is a large room upstairs unoccupied, and i will place pallets for them there; and as for their meals they can have them apart." by this time they had mounted a fine flight of stairs, at the top of which dame leroux was standing to receive her guests. she was a kindly-looking woman between thirty and forty years of age. "welcome, lady margaret," she said with a cordiality that made margaret feel at once that her visit was not regarded as an infliction. "we are quiet people, but will do our best to render your stay here a pleasant one." "thanks indeed, mistress!" margaret replied. "i feared much that my presence would be felt as a burden, and had hardly hoped for so kind a welcome. this is my daughter agnes, and my son charles." then she turned to sir hugo: "i pray you to give my thanks to his grace the duke of burgundy, and to thank him for having so well bestowed me. i thank you also for your courtesy for having conducted me here." "i will convey your message to the duke," he said, "who will, i am sure, be pleased to hear of your contentment." maã®tre leroux accompanied the knight downstairs again, and when he had mounted and ridden off he called two servitors, and bade one carry the luggage upstairs, and the other conduct the men to the stables he had taken for the horses. "after you have seen to their comfort," he said to robert picard, "you will return hither; you will find a meal prepared for you, and will be bestowed together in a chamber upstairs." in the meantime his wife had ushered dame margaret into a very handsomely furnished apartment. "this is at your entire service, lady margaret," she said. "the bedroom behind it is for yourself, the one next to it for your daughter, unless you would prefer that she should sleep with you." "i thank you. i was telling your husband that i should prefer that; and my son and esquire can therefore occupy the second room. but i fear greatly that i am disturbing yourself and your husband." "no, indeed; our sitting-room and bedroom are on the other side of the landing. these are our regular guest-chambers, and your being here will make no change whatever in our arrangements. i only regret that the apartments are not larger." "do not apologize, i beg of you, madam. i can assure you that the room is far handsomer than that to which i have been accustomed. you citizens of paris are far in advance of us in your ideas of comfort and luxury, and the apartments both at villeroy and in my english home cannot compare with these, except in point of size. i never dreamt that my prison would be so comfortable." "say not prison, i pray you, lady. i heard, indeed, that your visit to the court was not altogether one of your own choice; but, believe me, here at least you will be but a guest, and an honoured and welcome one. i will leave you now. if there is aught that you desire, i pray you to ring that bell on the table; refreshments will be quickly served. had i known the precise hour at which you would come we should have been in readiness for you, but i thought not that you would arrive till evening." "i hope that you will give me much of your company, mistress," margaret said warmly. "we know no one in this great city, and shall be glad indeed if, when you can spare time, you will sit with us." "well, children, what do you think of this?" she asked when their hostess had left the room. "it is lovely, mother," agnes said. "look at the inlaid cabinets, and the couches and tables, and this great warm rug that covers all the floor, how snug and comfortable it all is. why, mother, i never saw anything like this." "you might have seen something like it had you ever been in the house of one of our rich london traders, agnes; at least so i have heard, though in truth i have never myself been in so luxuriously furnished a room. i only hope that we may stay here for some time. the best of it is that these good people evidently do not regard us as a burden. no doubt they are pleased to oblige the duke of burgundy, but, beyond that, their welcome seemed really sincere. now let us see our bedroom. i suppose that is yours, charlie, through the door in the corner." the valises had already been brought to the rooms by another entrance, and margaret and her daughter were charmed with their bedroom. a large ewer and basin of silver stood on a table which was covered with a white cloth, snowy towels hung beside it; the hangings of the bed were of damask silk, and the floor was almost covered by an eastern carpet. an exquisitely carved wardrobe stood in one corner. "it is all lovely!" agnes said, clapping her hands. "you ought to have your room at home fitted up like this, mother." "it would take a large slice out of a year's revenue, agnes," her mother said with a smile, "to furnish a room in this fashion. that wardrobe alone is worth a knight's ransom, and the ewer and basin are fit for a king. i would that your father could see us here; it would ease his anxiety about us. i must ask how i can best despatch a messenger to him." when they returned to the other apartment they found the table already laid, and in a short time a dainty repast was served. to this guy sat down with them, for except when there were guests, when his place was behind his lord's chair, he had always been treated as one of the family, and as the son of sir aylmer rather than as a page. "well, master guy, what think you of affairs?" "they seem well to the eye, mistress, but i would not trust that duke of burgundy for an hour. with that long face of his and the hooked nose and his crafty look he resembles little a noble of france. he has an evil face, and one which accords well with the foul murder of the king's brother. however, as i see not that he has aught to gain by holding you here,--save that he thinks it will ensure our lord's keeping his castle for him,--there is no reason why he should not continue to treat you honourably and courteously. we have yet to learn whether master leroux is one of his party, or whether he is in favour of armagnac." "i should think that he cannot be for armagnac," she said, "or duke john would hardly have quartered us upon him. no doubt it was done under the semblance of goodwill, but most men would have considered it a heavy tax, even though, as i expect, we shall not remain here long. doubtless, however, the trader considers that his complaisance in the matter would be taken by the duke as a sign of his desire to show that at least he is not hostile to him." when they rose from the table guy, at his mistress's suggestion, went below and found the four men sitting in the great kitchen, where they had just finished an ample meal. "you have seen to the horses, robert?" "yes, master guy, they are comfortably bestowed, with an abundance of provender." "i am going out to see how matters stand in the town. our lady says that at all times two of you must remain here, as it may be necessary to send messages, or should she wish to go out, to escort her, but the other two can be out and about as they please, after first inquiring of me whether there is aught for them to do. you can arrange among yourselves which shall stay in, taking turns off duty. tom, you had better not go out till after dark. there is something in the cut of your garments which tells that you are not french. robert will go out with me now, and find a clothier, and bid him send garments here for you to choose from, or if he has none to fit, which may likely enough be, send him to measure you. it might lead to broils and troubles were any of the rabble to notice that you were a stranger." "that is right enough, master guy; and in sooth i have no desire to go out at present, for after riding for the last six days i am well content to sit quiet and take my ease here." guy then started with robert picard. except in the streets where the principal merchants dwelt, the town struck him as gloomy and sombre. the palaces of the nobles were veritable fortresses, the streets were ill-paved and evil-smelling, and the people in the poorer quarters had a sinister aspect. "i should not care to wander about in this district after nightfall, robert," guy said to the man-at-arms, who kept close to his elbow. "nor i," the man growled. "it is as much as i can do to keep my hands off my dagger now, for methinks that nine out of ten of the fellows loitering about would cut our throats willingly, if they thought that we had but a crown in our pockets." presently they found themselves on the quays, and, hailing a boat, rowed up the river a little beyond the walls. hearing the sound of music they landed, and on seeing a number of people gather round some booths they discharged the boat and went on. they found that it was a sort of fair. here were sword-players and mountebanks, pedlars who vended their wares at a lower price than those at which they were sold within the limits of the city, booths at which wine and refreshments could be obtained. here many soldiers were sitting drinking, watching the passers-by, and exchanging ribald jests with each other, and sometimes addressing observations to the wives and daughters of the citizens, amid fits of laughter at the looks of indignation on the part of their husbands or fathers. "it is evidently a holiday of some sort," guy remarked, as they found that the fair extended for a considerable distance, and that the crowd was everywhere large. they stopped for a minute or two in front of a booth of more pretensions than the generality. in front of it a man was beating a drum, and a negro walking up and down attired in showy garments. the drum ceased and the latter shouted: "those of you who wish to see my master, the famous elminestres, the most learned doctor in europe, who can read the stars, cast your horoscope, foretell your future, and cure your ailments, should not lose this opportunity." the curtains opened behind, and a man dressed in dark garments with a long black cloak spotted with silver stars came forward. "you have heard, good people, what my slave has said. he speaks with knowledge. i saved his life in the deserts of africa when he was all but dead with fever, by administering to him one of my wonderful potions; he at once recovered and devoted himself to my service. i have infallible remedies for every disease, therefore do you who are sick come to me and be cured; while for you who do not suffer i can do as much or more, by telling you of your future, what evils to avoid and what chances to grasp." he stood for a minute silent, his eyes wandering keenly over the spectators. "i see," he said, "one among you who loves a fair maiden standing beside him. at present her parents are unfavourable to his suit, but if he will take my advice he will be able to overcome their objections and to win the damsel. another i see who has come to paris with the intention of enlisting in the service of our good duke, and who, i foresee, will attain rank and honour and become a distinguished soldier if he does but act prudently at the critical moment, while if he takes a wrong turn misfortune and death will befall him. i see a youth of gentle blood who will become a brave knight, and will better his condition by marriage. he has many dangers to go through before that, and has at present a serious charge for one so young; but as he has circumspection as well as courage he may pass through them unharmed. to him too i could give advice that may be valuable, more especially as he is a stranger to the land, as are those of whom he is in charge." "it is wonderful, master guy!" robert picard whispered in guy's ear in a tone of astonished awe. "the knave doubtless saw us ride in this morning, and recognized me again. there is naught of magic in it, but the fellow must be shrewd, or he would not have so quickly drawn his conclusions. i will go in and speak to him presently, for though i believe not his prophecies one jot, a fellow of this sort may be useful. let us be moving on at present." they passed two monks, who were scowling angrily at the man, who was just exciting the laughter of the crowd by asserting that there was a holy man present who usually preferred a flask of good wine to saying his vespers. "rogues like this should be whipped and branded, brother anselmo." "ay, ay," the other agreed: "and yet," he added slyly, "it may be that he has not altogether missed his mark this time. we are not the only two monks here," he went on as the other turned upon him angrily, "and it may well be that among them is one who answers to the fellow's lewd description." on the outskirts of the fair were many people of higher degree. knights and ladies strolled on the turf exchanging greetings, looking for a minute or two at the gambols of a troupe of performing dogs, or at a bout of cudgel play--where two stout fellows belaboured each other heartily, and showed sufficient skill to earn from the crowd a shower of small pieces of money, when at last they ceased from pure exhaustion. half an hour later guy returned to the booth of the doctor, and went in by a side entrance, to which those who wished to consult the learned man had been directed by the negro. the latter was at the entrance, and, observing that guy's condition was above that of the majority of his master's clients, at once took him into an inner apartment divided from the rest of the tent by a hanging. over the top of this was stretched a black cloth spotted with silver stars, and similar hangings surrounded it; thus all light was cut off, and the room was dimly illuminated by two lamps. a table with a black cloth stood at the back. on this stood a number of phials and small boxes, together with several retorts and alembics. the doctor was seated on a tripod stool. he rose and was about to address guy in his usual style, when the latter said: "so you saw us ride in this morning, master doctor, and guessed shrewdly as to our condition and nationality. as to the latter, indeed, it needed no sorcery, for it must have been plain to the dullest that my mistress and her daughter were not of french blood, and though i am much less fair, it was a pretty safe guess to suppose that i also was of their country. i need not tell you that i have not come here either for charms or nostrums, but it seemed to me that being, as you said, strangers here, we might benefit by the advice of one who like yourself notes things quickly, and can form his own conclusions." the doctor removed his tall conical cap, and placed it on the table. "you guess rightly," he said with a smile. "i was in the crowd and marked you enter, and a soldier standing next to me observed to a comrade that he had heard that burgundy had sent the herald to demand the surrender of a castle held by one sir eustace, a knight who was known to have friendly leanings towards the english, being a vassal of their king for estates that had come to him with an english wife, and that doubtless this was the lady. when my eye fell on you in the crowd i said: here is a youth of shrewdness and parts, he is alone and is a foreigner, and maybe i can be of service to him; therefore i shot my shaft, and, as you see, with success. i said to myself: this youth, being a stranger, will know of no one to whom he can turn for information, and i can furnish him with almost any that he may require. i come in contact with the highest and the lowest, for the parisians are credulous, and after dark there are some of rank and station who come to my doors for filtres and nostrums, or to have their horoscope cast and their futures predicted. you will ask why one who has such clients should condescend to stand at a booth and talk to this rabble; but it has its purpose. were i known only as one whom men and women visit in secret, i should soon become suspected of black arts, the priests would raise an outcry against me, and one of these days i might be burned. here, however, i ostensibly earn my living as a mountebank vendor of drugs and nostrums, and therefore no one troubles his head about me." "there is one thing that you have not told me," guy said when he ceased speaking. "having, as you say, good clients besides your gains here, why should you trouble to interest yourself in our affairs?" "shrewdly put, young sir. i will be frank with you. i too am a stranger, and sooner or later i may fall into discredit, and the power of the church be too much for me. when i saw your mistress to-day i said to myself: here is an english lady of rank, with a castle and estate in england; should i have to fly--and i have one very dear to me, for whose sake i value my life--it might be well for me that i should have one friend in england who would act as protectress to her should aught befall me. your mistress is a stranger here, and in the hands of enemies. i may be of use to her. i know this population of paris, and can perhaps give her better information of what is going on both at the court and in the gutter than any other man, and may be able to render her assistance when she most needs it; and would ask but in payment that, should i come to england, she will extend her protection to my daughter until i can find a home and place her there. you see i am playing an open game with you." "i will reply as frankly," guy said. "when i came in here it was, as i told the man-at-arms my companion, with the thought that one who had noticed us so shrewdly, and had recognized me so quickly in the crowd, was no ordinary mountebank, but a keen, shrewd man who had some motive for thus addressing me, and i see that my view was a right one. as to your proposal i can say naught before i have laid it before my mistress, but for myself i may say at once that it recommends itself to me as excellent. we are, as you say, strangers here, and know of no one from whom we might obtain information as to what is going on. my mistress, if not an actual prisoner, is practically so, being held with her children as hostages for my lord's loyalty to france. she is the kindest of ladies, and should she authorize me to enter into further communication with you, you may be sure that she would execute to the full the undertaking you ask for on behalf of your daughter. where can i see you again? this is scarce a place i could often resort to without my visits being noticed, if, as is likely enough, the duke of burgundy may occasionally set spies to inform him as to what we are doing, and whether my mistress is in communication with any who are regarded as either doubtful or hostile to his faction." "if you will be in front of notre dame this evening at nine o'clock, i will meet you there and conduct you to my abode, where you can visit me free of any fear of observation." "what name shall i call you?" guy asked. "my name is montepone. i belong to a noble family of mantua, but mixing myself up with the factions there, i was on the losing side, and unfortunately it happened that in a fray i killed a noble connected with all the ruling families; sentence of death was passed upon me in my absence, my property was confiscated. nowhere in italy should i have been safe from the dagger of the assassin, therefore i fled to france, and for ten years have maintained myself by the two arts which so often go together, astrology and buffoonery. i had always been fond of knowledge, and had learned all that could be taught in the grand science of astrology, so that however much i may gull fools here, i have obtained the confidence of many powerful personages by the accuracy of my forecasts. had orleans but believed my solemn assurance he would not have ridden through the streets of paris to his death that night, and in other cases where i have been more trusted i have rendered valuable assistance." the belief in astrology had never gained much hold upon the mass of the english people, many as were the superstitions that prevailed among them. guy had never even given the matter a thought. montepone, however, evidently believed in his powers of foreseeing the future, and such powers did not in themselves seem altogether impossible to the lad; he therefore made no direct reply, but saying that he would not fail to be at the appointed place at nine that evening, took his leave. "truly, master guy, i began to be uneasy about you," robert picard said when he rejoined him, "and was meditating whether i had best enter the tent, and demand what had become of you. it was only the thought that there might have been others before you, and that you had to wait your turn before seeing him, that restrained me. you have not been taking his nostrums, i trust; for they say that some of those men sell powders by which a man can be changed into a wolf." guy laughed. "i have taken nothing, robert, and if i had i should have no fear of such a change happening to me. i have but talked to the man as to how he came to know me, and it is as i thought,--he saw us as we entered. he is a shrewd fellow, and may well be of some use to us." "i like not chaffering with men who have intercourse with the devil," picard said, shaking his head gravely; "nothing good comes of it. my mother knew a man who bought a powder that was to cure his wife of jealousy; and indeed it did, for it straightway killed her, and he was hung. i think that i can stand up against mortal man as well as another, but my blood ran cold when i saw you enter yon tent, and i fell into a sweat at your long absence." "the man is not of that kind, robert, so you can reassure yourself. i doubt not that the nostrums he sells are perfectly harmless, and that though they may not cure they will certainly not kill." they made their way back to the house of the provost of the silversmiths. "well, what do you think of paris, guy?" dame margaret asked when he entered. "it is a fine city, no doubt, lady, but in truth i would rather be in the country than in this wilderness of narrow streets. but indeed i have had somewhat of an adventure, and one which i think may prove of advantage;" and he then related to his mistress his visit to the booth of the supposed doctor. "do you think that he is honest, guy?" she asked when he concluded. "i think so, madam. he spoke honestly enough, and there was a ring of truth in what he said; nor do i see that he could have had any motive for making my acquaintance save what he stated. his story seemed to me to be a natural one; but i shall be able to judge better when i see him in his own house and with this daughter he speaks of; that is, if your ladyship is willing that i should meet him." "i am willing enough," she said, "for even if he is a spy of burgundy's there is nothing that we wish to conceal. i have come here willingly, and have no thought of making my escape, or of mixing myself up in any of the intrigues of the court. therefore there is no harm that he can do us, while on the other hand you may learn much from him, and will gather in a short time whether he can be trusted. then by all means go and meet him this evening. but it would be as well to take tom with you. it does not seem to me at all likely that any plot can be intended, but at any rate it will be well that you should have one with you whom you can thoroughly trust, in case there is any snare set, and to guard you against any lurking cut-throats." "i will tell him to be in readiness to go with me. it will be his turn to go out with one of the others this evening, and he might not be back in time if i did not warn him." "what arms shall i take with me?" long tom said, when guy told him of their expedition. "nothing but your sword and quarter-staff. i see that many of the beggars and others that one meets in the streets carry long staffs, and yours is not much longer than the generality. you brought it tied up with your bow, so you would do well to carry it, for in a street broil, where there is room to swing it, you could desire no better weapon, in such strong hands as yours, tom. besides, you can knock down and disable with it and no great harm is done, whereas if you used your sword there would be dead men; and although by all i hear these are not uncommon objects in the streets of paris, there might be trouble if the town watch came up, as we are strangers. i shall carry a stout cudgel myself, as well as my sword." accordingly at half-past eight they set out. guy put on a long cloak and a cap such as was worn by the citizens, but strengthened inside by a few bands of steel forming sufficient protection to the head against any ordinary blow. this he had purchased at a stall on his way home. tom had put on the garments that had been bought for him that afternoon, consisting of a doublet of tanned leather that could be worn under armour or for ordinary use, and was thick enough to afford considerable protection. the streets were already almost deserted; those who were abroad hurried along looking with suspicion at all whom they met, and walking in the middle of the road so as to avoid being taken by surprise by anyone lurking in the doorways or at the corners of alleys. once or twice men came out and stared at guy and his companion by the light of the lanterns suspended across the streets, but there was nothing about their appearance to encourage an attack, and the stalwart figure of the archer promised hard blows rather than plunder. arriving at the square in front of notre dame they waited awhile. here there were still people about, for it was a rendezvous both for roistering young gallants, thieves, and others starting on midnight adventures. after walking backwards and forwards two or three times guy said, "you had best stand here in the shadow of this buttress while i go and place myself beneath that hanging lamp; seeing that we are together, and he, looking perhaps only for one, may not recognize me." on reaching the lamp, guy took off his hat, so that the light should fall on his face, waited for a minute, and then replaced it. as soon as he did so a slightly-built lad came up to him. "were you not at the fair by the river to-day, sir, and are you not expecting some one to meet you here?" "that is so, lad. if you will tell me whom i am expecting i shall know that he has sent you, though, indeed, i looked to meet himself and not a messenger." "montepone," the lad said. "that is right. why is he not here himself?" "he received a message before starting that one whose orders he could not neglect would call upon him this evening, and he therefore sent me to the rendezvous. i have been looking anxiously for you, but until now had not seen you." "i have a companion with me; being a stranger here in paris, i did not care to be wandering through the streets alone. he is a countryman of mine, and can be trusted." "it is indeed dangerous to be out alone. it is seldom that i am in the streets after dark, but the doctor came with me and placed me in a corner of the porch, and then returned by himself, telling me to stir not until i saw you; and that should you not come, or should i not be able to make you out, i was to remain until he came for me even if i waited until morning." "i will fetch my follower," guy said, "and am ready to accompany you." the lad was evidently unwilling to be left there for a moment alone, and he walked back with guy to the buttress where the archer was standing. "this is our guide, tom," guy said, as the archer stepped out to join him; "the person i expected was unable to come himself. now, lad, i am ready; you see we are well guarded." the boy nodded, evidently reassured by the bulk of the archer, and was about to step on ahead of them, when guy said, "you had best walk with us. if you keep in front, it will seem as if you were guiding us, and that would point us out at once as strangers. is it far to the place you are taking us to?" "a short quarter of an hour's walk, sir." chapter vii -in the streets of paris they crossed the bridge to the right bank of the river, and followed the stream down for some distance. passing through some narrow lanes, they presently emerged into a street of higher pretensions, and stopped at the door of a small house wedged in between two of much larger size. the boy took a key from his girdle, opened the door, and entered. "stand here a moment, i pray you," he said; "i will fetch a light." in a few seconds he appeared with a lantern. he shut and barred the door, and then led the way upstairs and showed them into a small but well-furnished room, which was lighted by a hanging lamp. he then went to a buffet, brought out a flask of wine and two goblets, and said: "will it please you to be seated and to help yourselves to the wine; my master may possibly be detained for some little time before he is able to see you." then he went out and closed the door behind him. "it is evident, tom," guy said, as he took off his hat and cloak, and seated himself, "that the doctor has a good idea of making himself comfortable. sit down, we may have to wait some time." "do you think that it will be safe to touch the wine, master guy? perchance it may be drugged." "why should it be?" guy asked. "we are not such important personages that anyone can desire to make away with us. i am convinced that the doctor was in earnest when he told me that story that i repeated to you this evening. it is possible that he may not be able to give us as much information as he said, but that he means well by us i am certain; and i think we may be sure that his wine is as good as his apartments are comfortable." this turned out to be the case; the wine was excellent, and the archer soon laid aside any doubt he might have entertained. from time to time steps could be heard in the apartment above, and it was evident that it was here that the interview between the doctor and his visitor was taking place. presently a ring was heard below. "another visitor," guy said. getting up, he slightly drew aside a thick curtain that hung before a casement, a moment later he let it fall again. "there are two men-at-arms standing on the other side of the street and one at the door." he heard the door opened, then the boy's step was heard on the stairs, two or three minutes later there was a movement above and the sound of the footsteps of two men coming down. presently the outside door closed, two or three minutes elapsed; then the door opened and the italian entered. "i regret that i have kept you so long," he said courteously, "but my visitor was not to be got rid of hastily. it was a lady, and there is no hurrying ladies. when a man comes in, i have already ascertained what he desires to know; he listens to my answer and takes his departure. a woman, on the contrary, has a thousand things to ask, and for the most part they are questions quite beyond my power to answer." "i have, as you see, signor montepone, brought my tall countryman with me; as you noticed me, i doubt not for a moment that you also marked him when we entered the city. knowing nothing of the ways of paris, but having heard that the streets were very unsafe after dark, i thought it best to bring him with me; and i am indeed glad that i did so, for we met with several very rough-looking characters on our way to notre dame, and had i been alone i might have had trouble." "you did quite right," the italian said; "i regretted afterwards that i did not myself advise you to bring some one with you, for indeed it is not safe for one man to go abroad alone after dark. and now, will you accompany me upstairs; this tall fellow will doubtless be able to pass the time with that flask of wine until you return." "he should be able to do so," guy said with a smile, "for indeed it is the best wine i have tasted, so far as my judgment goes, since i crossed the channel, and indeed the best i have ever tasted." "'tis good wine. i received a cask of it from the grower, a burgundian noble, who had, as he believed, gained some advantage from following my advice." the man led the way upstairs. the room he entered there was much larger than that which they had left, extending over the whole floor. it was draped similarly to that in the booth, but was far more handsomely and elaborately got up. the hangings were of heavy cloth sprinkled with stars, the ceiling was blue with gold stars, a planisphere and astrolabe stood in the centre of the room, and a charcoal fire burned in a brazier beside them. a pair of huge bats with outstretched wings hung by wires from the ceiling, their white teeth glistening in the light of four lamps on stands, some six feet high, one in each corner of the room. the floor was covered with a dark eastern carpet, a large chair with a footstool in front stood at a short distance from the planisphere; at one end was a massive table on which were retorts, glass globes, and a variety of apparatus new to guy. at the other end of the room there was a frame some eight feet square on which a white sheet was stretched tightly. "now, master guy," the italian said, "firstly, i beg you to give me the date of your birth and if possible the hour, for i would for my own information if not for yours, cast your horoscope. i like to know for my own satisfaction, as far as may be, the future of those with whom i have to deal. if i perceive that misfortunes and perhaps death threaten them, it is clearly of no use my entering into relations with them. in your case, of course, it is with your mistress that i am chiefly concerned; still as your fortunes are at present so closely mixed up with hers, i may learn something of much utility to me from your horoscope." "i was born on the 8th of december, 1394, and shall be therefore seventeen in a fortnight's time. i was born a few minutes after midnight, for i have heard my mother say that the castle bell had sounded but a few minutes before i was born. she said that she had been anxious about it, because an old woman had predicted that if she ever had a child born on the 7th day of the month, it would be in every way unfortunate; so my mother was greatly pleased that i had escaped the consequences predicted." "and now," the italian went on, having made a note in his tablets, "what said your lady?" "she bid me say, sir, that she was very sensible of the advantage that it would be to her to receive news or warning from one so well informed as yourself; and that she on her part promises that she will befriend and protect your daughter should you at any time bring her to her castle in england, or should she come alone with such tokens from you as that she might be known; and this promise my lady vows on the sacraments to keep." "then we are in agreement," the italian said; "and right glad am i to know that should aught befall me, my daughter will be in such good hands. as far as worldly means are concerned her future is assured, for i have laid out much of the money i have received in jewels of value, which will produce a sum that will be an ample dowry for her. now i can give you some news. the duke of berri with the queen came two days since from melun to corbeil, and louis of bavaria came on here yesterday to the duke of aquitaine with a message to burgundy and to the butchers, asking that they would allow him to attend the queen to paris, and that she might reside in his house of nasle. burgundy was minded to grant her leave, but at a meeting of the chiefs of the guild of butchers this afternoon they resolved to refuse the request; and this evening they have broken every door and window of the duke of berri's house, and committed great damages there, so that it should not be habitable; they resolved that berri should not enter paris, but that the queen might come. i hear that it has been determined that the king shall be placed in the louvre, where the citizens of paris can keep guard over him and prevent any attempt by the orleanists to carry him away. "all this will make no difference to your mistress directly; the point of it is that the power of these butchers, with whom go the guild of skinners and others, is so increasing that even the duke of burgundy is forced to give in to them. some of the other guilds and the greater part of the respectable traders are wholly opposed to these men. they themselves may care little whether orleans or burgundy sways the court and the king, but this usurpation of the butchers, who have behind them the scum of paris, is regarded as a danger to the whole city, and the feeling may grow into so hot a rage that there may be serious rioting in the streets. i tell you this that you may be prepared. assuredly the butchers are not likely to interfere with any save such of the townspeople as they may deem hostile to them, and no harm would intentionally be done to her or to any other hostage of burgundy. but the provost of the silversmiths is one of those who withstands them to the best of his power, and should matters come to serious rioting his house might be attacked. the leaders of the butchers' guild would be glad to see him killed, and their followers would still more like to have the sacking of his rich magazine of silver goods and the spoiling of his furniture. "i say not that things are likely to come to that yet, but there is no telling how far they may be carried. it is but a dark cloud in the distance at present, but it may in time burst into a storm that will deluge the streets of paris with blood. i may tell you that, against you as english there is no strong feeling at present among the burgundians, for i am informed that the duke has taken several bodies of english archers into his pay, and that at soissons and other towns he has enlisted a score or two of these men. however, i am sure to gain information long before matters come to any serious point, except a sudden outbreak arise from a street broil. i may tell you that one result of the violence of the butchers to-day may be to cause some breach between them and the burgundian nobles, who are, i am told, greatly incensed at their refusing to give permission to the duke of berri to come here after burgundy had acceded to his request, and that these fellows should venture to damage the hotel of one of the royal dukes seemed to them to be still more intolerable. the duke of burgundy may truckle to these fellows, but his nobles will strongly resent their interference and their arrogant insolence, and the duke may find that if he is to retain their support he will have to throw over that of these turbulent citizens. moreover, their conduct adds daily to the strength of the orleanists among the citizens, and if a strong armagnac force approaches paris they will be hailed by no small portion of the citizens as deliverers." "in truth i can well understand, signor montepone, that the nobles should revolt against this association with butchers and skinners; 'tis past all bearing that fellows like these should thus meddle in public affairs." "the populace of paris has ever been turbulent," the italian replied. "in this it resembles the cities of flanders, and the butchers are ever at the bottom of all tumults. now i will introduce my daughter to you; it is well that you should know her, for in case of need she may serve as a messenger, and it may be that i may some day ask you to present her to your lady." he opened the door. "katarina!" he said without raising his voice, and at once a girl came running up from the floor below. "this is my daughter, master aylmer; you have seen her before." katarina was a girl of some fourteen years of age. she was dressed in black, and was tall and slight. her complexion was fairer than that of her father, and she already gave promise of considerable beauty. guy bowed to her as she made her reverence, while her face lit up with an amused smile. "your father says i have seen you before, signora, but in sooth i know not where or how, since it was but this morning that i arrived in paris." "we parted but half an hour since, monsieur." "parted?" guy repeated with a puzzled expression on his face. "surely you are jesting with me." "do you not recognize my messenger?" the italian said with a smile. "my daughter is my assistant. in a business like mine one cannot trust a stranger to do one service, and as a boy she could come and go unmarked when she carries a message to persons of quality. she looks a saucy page in the daytime when she goes on the business, but after nightfall she is dressed as you saw her this evening. as a girl she could not traverse the streets unattended, and i am far too busy to bear her company; but as a boy she can go where she likes, and indeed it is only when we are alone, and there is little chance of my having visitors, that she appears in her proper character." "you must be very courageous, signora," guy said; "but, indeed, i can well imagine that you can pass where you will without anyone suspecting you to be a girl, for the thought that this was so never entered my head." "i am so accustomed to the disguise," she said, "that i feel more comfortable in it than dressed as i now am, and it is much more amusing to be able to go about as i like than to remain all day cooped up here when my father is abroad." "and now, master aylmer, that you have made my daughter's acquaintance, and i have told you what news i have gathered, it needs not that i should detain you longer; the hour is getting late already, and your lady may well be getting anxious at your absence. can you read?" "yes, signor; the priest at my lady's castle in england, of which my father is castellan during my lord's absences, instructed me." "it is well; for sometimes a note can be slipped into a hand when it would not be safe to deliver a message by word of mouth. from time to time if there be anything new you shall hear from me, but there will be no occasion for you to come hither again unless there is something of importance on which i may desire to have speech with you, or you with me. remain here, katarina, until my return; i will see monsieur out, and bar the door after him." [illustration: guy and long tom come to the rescue of count charles.] passing downstairs guy looked in at the room where he had left the archer. the latter sprung to his feet as he entered with a somewhat dazed expression on his face, for indeed, he had fallen off into a sound sleep. "we are going now, tom," guy said. "i have concluded my business with this gentleman. we will not go back the way we came," he went on, as they issued into the street, "for i am sure we should never find our way through those alleys. let us keep along here until we come to a broader street leading the way we wish to go; fortunately, with the river to our left, we cannot go very far wrong." they presently came to a street leading in the desired direction. they had scarcely entered it when they heard ahead of them the sound of a fray. a loud cry arose, and there was a clashing of sword-blades. "come on, tom!" guy said; "it may be that some gentleman is attacked by these ruffians of the streets." starting off at a run, they soon arrived at the scene of combat, the features of which they were able to see by the light of the lamp that hung in the centre of the street. a man was standing in a narrow doorway, which prevented his being attacked except in front, and the step on which he stood gave him a slight advantage over his adversaries. these were nearly a dozen in number, and were evidently, as guy had supposed, street ruffians of the lowest class. without hesitation guy and the archer fell upon them, with a shout of encouragement to the defender of the doorway, who was evidently sorely pressed. tom's quarter-staff sent two of the men rolling on the ground almost before they realized that they were attacked, while guy ran another through the body. for a moment the assailants scattered, but then, seeing that they were attacked by only two men, they fell upon them with fury. guy defended himself stoutly, but he would have fared badly had it not been for the efforts of long tom, whose staff descended with such tremendous force upon the heads of his assailants that it broke down their guard, and sent man after man on to the pavement. guy himself received a sharp wound in the shoulder, but cut down another of his assailants; and the defender of the door, leaving his post of vantage, now joined them, and in a couple of minutes but four of the assailants remained on their feet, and these, with a shout of dismay, turned and took to their heels. guy had now opportunely arrived. as the latter took off his hat he saw time to look at the gentleman to whose assistance he had so that the stranger was but a year or two older than himself. "by our lady, sir," the young man said, "you arrived at a lucky moment, for i could not much longer have kept these ruffians at bay. i have to thank you for my life, which, assuredly, they would have taken, especially as i had disposed of two of their comrades before you came up. may i ask to whom i am so indebted? i am count charles d'estournel." "my name is guy aylmer, sir; i am the son of sir james aylmer, an english knight, and am here as the esquire of dame margaret de villeroy, who arrived but this morning in paris." "and who is this stalwart fellow whose staff has done more execution than both our sword-blades?" the young count asked; "verily it rose and fell like a flail on a thrashing-floor." "he is one of dame margaret's retainers, and the captain of a band of archers in her service, but is at present here as one of her men-at-arms." "in truth i envy her so stout a retainer. good fellow, i have to thank you much, as well as monsieur guy aylmer, for your assistance." "one is always glad of an opportunity to stretch one's arms a bit when there is but a good excuse for doing so," the archer said; "and one needs no better chance than when one sees a gentleman attacked by such scum as these ruffians," and he motioned to the men lying stretched on the ground. "ah, you are english!" d'estournel said with a slight smile at tom's very broken french. "i know all about you now," he went on, turning to guy. "i was not present today when your lady had audience with burgundy, but i heard that an english dame had arrived, and that the duke came but badly out of the encounter in words with her. but we had best be moving on or we may have the watch on us, and we should be called upon to account for these ten fellows lying here. i doubt not but half of them are only stunned and will soon make off, the other six will have to be carried away. we have a good account to give of ourselves, but the watch would probably not trouble themselves to ask any questions, and i have no fancy for spending a night locked up in the cage with perhaps a dozen unsavoury malefactors. which way does your course lie, sir?" "we are lodged at the house of maã®tre leroux, provost of the silversmiths." "then you are going in the wrong direction. you return up this street, then turn to your right; his house is in the third street to the left. i shall do myself the honour of calling in the morning to thank you more fully for the service you have rendered me, which, should it ever fall into my power, you can count on my returning. my way now lies in the opposite direction." after mutual salutes they parted, and guy followed the directions given to them. "that was a sharp skirmish, master guy," long tom said contentedly; "the odds were just enough to make it interesting. did you escape scatheless?" "not altogether, tom, i had a sword-thrust in my shoulder; but i can do with it until i get back, when i will get you to bandage it for me." "that will i; i did not get so much as a scratch. a quarter-staff is a rare weapon in a fight like that, for you can keep well out of the reach of their swords. in faith i have not had so pleasant an exercise since that fight dickon and i had in the market-place at winchester last lammas fair." "i am afraid dame margaret will scold us for getting into a fray." "had it not been for your wound we need have said nothing about it; but you may be sure that you will have to carry your arm in a sling for a day or two, and she will want to know the ins and outs of the matter." "i think the affair has been a fortunate one, for it has obtained for me the friendship of a young burgundian noble. friendless as we are here, this is no slight matter, and i by no means grudge the amount of blood i have lost for such a gain. there is a light in dame margaret's casement; she said that she should sit up till my return, and would herself let me in, for the household would be asleep two hours ago; and as maã®tre leroux and his wife have shown themselves so kindly disposed towards us, she should not like the household disturbed at such an hour. i was to whistle a note or two of _richard mon roi_, and she would know that we were without." he whistled a bar or two of the air, they saw a shadow cross the casement, then the light disappeared, and in a minute they heard the bolts undrawn and the door opened. "you are late, guy," she said; "i have been expecting you this hour past. why, what has happened to you?" she broke off as she saw his face. "it is but a trifle, lady," he said; "a sword-thrust in the shoulder, and a little blood. long tom will bind it up. our delay was caused partly by the fact that the italian was engaged, and it was half-an-hour before i could see him. moreover, we had been kept at the trysting-place, as the guide did not recognize me owing to tom being with me; and lastly, we were somewhat delayed by the matter that cost me this sword-thrust, which i in no way grudge, since it has gained for us a friend who may be useful." tom had by this time barred the door and had gone upstairs. "i am disappointed in you, guy," dame margaret said severely when they entered the room. "i told you to keep yourself free from frays of all kinds, and here you have been engaged in one before we have been twelve hours in paris." "i crave your pardon, madam, but it is not in human nature to stand by without drawing a sword on behalf of a young gentleman defending himself against a dozen cut-throats. i am sure that in such a case your ladyship would be the first to bid me draw and strike in. the matter did not last three minutes. tom disposed of six of them with his quarter-staff, the gentleman had killed two before we arrived, and i managed to dispose of two others, the rest took to their heels. the young gentleman was count charles d'estournel; he is, as it seems, in the duke of burgundy's train; and as we undoubtedly saved his life, he may turn out a good and useful friend." "you are right, guy; i spoke perhaps too hastily. and now about the other matter." guy told her all that had taken place. "and what is this man like?" she asked when he had concluded. "now that i saw him without the astrologer's robe and in his ordinary costume he seemed to me a very proper gentleman," guy replied. "he is my height or thereabouts, grave in face and of good presence. i have no doubt that he is to be trusted, and he has evidently resolved to do all in his power to aid you, should it be necessary to do so. he would scarce have introduced his daughter to me had it not been so." "he must be a strange man," dame margaret said thoughtfully. "he is certainly no common man, lady. as i have told you, he believes thoroughly in his science, and but adopts the costume in which i first saw him and the role of a quack vendor of nostrums in order that his real profession may not be known to the public, and so bring him in collision with the church." "it seems to me, guy," dame margaret said the next morning, "that as you have already made the acquaintance of a young french noble, and may probably meet with others, 'twill be best that, when we have finished our breakfast, you should lose no time in sallying out and providing yourself with suitable attire. spare not money, for my purse is very full. get yourself a suit in which you can accompany me fitly if i again see the duke, or, as is possible, have an interview with the queen. get two others, the one a quiet one, and not likely to attract notice, for your ordinary wear; the other a more handsome one, to wear when you go into the company of the young men of station like this burgundian noble whom you succoured last night. your father being a knight, you may well, as the esquire of my lord, hold your head as high as other young esquires of good family in the train of french nobles." on agnes and charlie coming into the room, the latter exclaimed, "why have you got your arm in a scarf, guy?" "he was in a fray last night, charlie. he and tom came upon a number of ruffians fighting a young gentleman, so they joined in and helped him, and guy was wounded in the shoulder." "did they beat the bad men, mother?" "yes, dear; guy had taken a sword with him, as it was after dark, and tom had his quarter-staff." "then the others can have had no chance," charlie said decidedly. "i have often seen long tom playing with the quarter-staff, and he could beat anyone in the castle. i warrant he laid about him well. i should have liked to have been there to have seen it, mother." "it will be a good many years yet, charlie, before you will be old enough to go out after dark in such a place as paris." "but i saw real fighting at the castle, mother, and i am sure i was not afraid even when the cannon made a great noise." "no, you behaved very well, charlie; but it is one thing to be standing on the top of a keep and another to be in the streets when a fray is going on all round." "did you kill anyone, guy?" the boy asked eagerly. "some of them were wounded," guy replied, "but i cannot say for certain that anyone was killed." "they ought to be killed, these bad men who attack people in the street. if i were king of france i would have all their heads chopped off." "it is not so easy to catch them, charlie. when the watch come upon them when they are doing such things there is not much mercy shown to them." as soon as breakfast was over guy went out, after learning from maã®tre leroux the address of a tradesman who generally kept a stock of garments in store, in readiness for those passing through paris, who might not have time to stop while clothes were specially made for them. he returned in the course of an hour, followed by a boy carrying a wooden case with the clothes that he had bought. he had been fortunate in getting two suits which fitted him perfectly. they had been made for a young knight who had been despatched by the duke to flanders just after he had been measured for them, and the tailor said that he was glad to sell them, as for aught he knew it might be weeks or even months before the knight returned, and he could make other suits for him at his leisure. thus he was provided at once with his two best suits; for the other he had been measured, and it was to be sent in a couple of days. on his return he went straight to his room, and attired himself in readiness to receive the visit of count charles d'estournel. the suit consisted of an orange-coloured doublet coming down to the hips, with puce sleeves; the trousers were blue, and fitting closely to the legs; the shoes were of the great length then in fashion, being some eighteen inches from the heel to the pointed toe. the court suit was similar in make, but more handsome--the doublet, which was of crimson, being embroidered with gold; the closely-fitting trousers were striped with light blue and black; the cap with the suit in which he was now dressed was yellow, that with the court suit crimson, and both were high and conical, resembling a sugar-loaf in shape. from his sword-belt he carried a light straight sword, instead of the heavier one that would be carried in actual warfare, and on the right side was a long dagger. charlie clapped his hands as he entered the sitting-room. "that will do very well, master esquire," dame margaret said with a smile; "truly you look as well fitted as if they had been made for you, and the colours are well chosen." guy told her how he had obtained them. "you are very fortunate," she said, "and this afternoon, when i mean to take a walk to see the city, i shall feel that i am well escorted with you by my side." "shall you take us, mother?" charlie asked anxiously. "i intend to do so. you are so accustomed to be in the open air that you would soon pine if confined here, though indeed the air outside is but close and heavy compared with that at home. i have been speaking to master leroux while you have been away, and he tells me that a post goes once a week to lille, and that he will send a letter for me to sir eustace under cover to a worthy trader of that town, who will forward it thence to villeroy by a messenger. therefore i shall write this morning; my lord will be pleased indeed to learn that we are so comfortably bestowed here, and that there is no cause for any uneasiness on his part." chapter viii -a riot while dame margaret was speaking to guy, one of the servitors came up with word that count charles d'estournel was below desiring to speak with master guy aylmer. "show the count up. or no, you had best go down yourself to receive him, guy. pray him to come up with you; it will be more fitting." guy at once went down. "so this is my saviour of last night," the count said gaily as guy joined him. "i could scarce get a view of your face then, as the lamps give such a poor light, and i should hardly have known you again. besides, you were wrapped up in your cloak. but you told me that you were an esquire, and i see that you carry a sword. i want to take you out to introduce you to some of my friends. can you accompany me now?" "i shall do so willingly, count; but first will you allow me to present you to my lady mistress? she prayed me to bring you up to her apartments." "that shall i right willingly; those who were present yesterday speak of her as a noble lady." they went upstairs together. "my lady, this is count charles d'estournel, who desires me to present him to you." "i am glad to meet you, sir count," dame margaret said, holding out her hand, which he raised to his lips, "seeing that my esquire, master guy aylmer, was able to render you some slight service last night. this is my daughter agnes, and my son charles." "the service was by no means a slight one," the young count said, returning a deep salute that agnes and charlie made to him, "unless indeed you consider that my life is a valueless one, for assuredly without his aid and that of your tall retainer, my father would have been childless this morning. i was indeed in sore plight when they arrived; my arm was tiring, and i could not have defended myself very much longer against such odds, and as i had exasperated them by killing two of their comrades, i should have received no mercy at their hands. in my surprise at being so suddenly attacked i even forgot to raise a shout for the watch, though it is hardly likely that they would have heard me had i done so; the lazy knaves are never on the spot when they are wanted. however, we gave the ruffians a lesson that those of them who escaped are not likely to forget readily, for out of the fourteen who attacked me we accounted for ten, of whom your retainer levelled no less than six with that staff of his, and i doubt whether any of the other four came off scatheless. i imagine that those levelled by your retainer got up and made off,--that is, if they recovered their senses before the watch came,--but i am sure that the other four will never steal pouch or cut throat in future. 'tis a shame that these rascals are suffered to interfere with honest men, and it would be far better if the city authorities would turn their attention to ridding the streets of these pests instead of meddling with things that in no way concern them." "it would no doubt be much wiser," dame margaret replied; "but since their betters are ever quarrelling among themselves, we can hardly wonder that the citizens do not attend to their own business." "no doubt you are right," the young count said with a smile; "but it is the highest who set the bad example, and we their vassals cannot but follow them, though i myself would far rather draw my sword against the enemies of france than against my countrymen. but methinks," and here he laughed, "the example of the wars that england has so often waged with scotland might well cause you to take a lenient view of our misdoings." "i cannot gainsay you there, sir count, and truly those quarrels have caused more damage to england than your disputes between burgundy and orleans have, so far, inflicted on france; but you see i am a sufferer in the one case and not in the other. even now i am ignorant why i have been brought here. there is a truce at present between england and france, and assuredly there are more english in the service of nobles of burgundy than in those of orleans, and at any rate i have seen no reason why there can at present be any doubt at all of the conduct of my lord, who has but lately defended his castle against the followers of orleans.'" "so i have heard, madame, and i know that there are some of my friends who think that duke john has behaved hardly in the matter; but he seldom acts without reason, though it may not be always that one which he assigns for any action." then, changing the subject, he went on. "i have come to take master guy for a walk with me, and to introduce him to some of my friends. my father is absent at present, but on his return he will, i know, hasten to express his gratitude. i trust that you can spare your esquire to go out with me." "certainly, so that he does but return in time to escort me for a walk through the streets this afternoon." "i will be sure to come back, madam," guy said. "you have but to say the hour at which you will start; but indeed i think that i shall probably be in to dinner at one." "i cannot see," guy said, when he had sallied out with the young count, "why they should have called upon sir eustace to furnish hostages. as the duke of burgundy has english archers in his pay, and france is at truce with england, there seems less reason than at other times to demand sureties of his loyalty, especially as he has shown that he is in no way well disposed to the armagnacs." "between ourselves, guy, i think that the duke in no way expected that hostages would be given, and that he was by no means well pleased when a messenger arrived from the herald to say that he was returning with your lady and her children. what was his intention i know not, but in times like these it is necessary sometimes to reward faithful followers or to secure doubtful ones, and it may be that he would have been glad to have had the opportunity of finding so fair a castle and estate at his disposal. you know the fable of the wolf and the lamb; a poor excuse is deemed sufficient at all times in france when there is a great noble on one side and a simple knight on the other, and i reckon that the duke did not calculate upon the willingness of your sir eustace to permit his wife and children to come here, or upon the dame's willingness to do so, and in no way expected matters to turn out as they have done, for there is now no shadow of excuse for him to meddle with villeroy. indeed, i question whether the condition about hostages was of his devising; but it may well be that the king or the queen wished it inserted, and he, thinking that there was no chance of that alternative being accepted, yielded to the wish. mind, all this is not spoken from my own knowledge, but i did hear that duke john was much put out when he found that the hostages were coming, and there was some laughter among us at the duke being for once outwitted." "then you do not love him overmuch, count?" "he is our lord, guy, and we are bound to fight in his cause, but our vows of fealty do not include the word love. the duke his father was a noble prince, just and honourable, and he was loved as well as honoured. duke john is a different man altogether. he is brave, as he proved in hungary, and it may be said that he is wise, but his wisdom is not of the kind that burgundian nobles love. it might have been wise to remove orleans from his path, although i doubt it, but it was a dastardly murder all the same; and although we are bound to support him, it alienated not a few. then he condescends to consort with these sorry knaves the butchers, and others of low estate, to take them into his counsels, and to thrust them upon us, at which, i may tell you, there is grievous discontent. all this is rank treason to the duke, i have no doubt, but it is true nevertheless. here we are at our first stopping-place. this is as it is kept by a burgundian master, who has with him two or three of the best swordsmen in france, and here a number of us meet every morning to learn tricks of fence, and to keep ourselves in good exercise, which indeed one sorely needs in this city of paris, where there is neither hawking nor hunting nor jousting nor any other kind of knightly sport, everyone being too busily in earnest to think of amusement. several of my best friends are sure to be here, and i want to introduce you to them." when they entered the salon they found some thirty young knights and nobles gathered. two or three pairs in helmet and body-armour were fighting with blunted swords, others were vaulting on to a saddle placed on a framework roughly representing a high war-horse; one or two were swinging heavy maces, whirling them round their heads and bringing them down occasionally upon great sand-bags six feet high, while others were seated on benches resting themselves after their exercises. d'estournel's arrival was greeted with a shout, and several of those disengaged at once came over to him. "laggard!" one exclaimed, "what excuse have you to make for coming so late? i noted not that de jouvaux's wine had mounted into your head last night, and surely the duke cannot have had need of your valuable services this morning?" "neither one nor the other befell, d'estelle. but first let me introduce to you all my friend guy aylmer, an english gentleman, the son of a knight of that country, and himself an esquire of sir eustace de villeroy. i am sure you will welcome him when i tell you that he saved my life last night when attacked by a band of cut-throats. guy, these are my friends count pierre d'estelle, count walter de vesoul, the sieur john de perron, and the knights louis de lactre, sir reginald poupart, sir james regnier, sir thomas d'autre, and sir philip de noisies." "i can assure you of our friendship," the first-named of these gentlemen said cordially to guy, "for indeed you have rendered us all a service in thus saving to us our friend d'estournel. tell us how the matter occurred, charles; in sooth, we shall have to take these ruffians of paris in hand. so long as they cut each other's throats no great harm is done, but if they take to cutting ours it is time to give them a lesson." "the matter was simple enough," d'estournel said. "as you know, it was late before we broke up at de jouvaux's last night, for i heard it strike half-past ten by the bell of st. germain as i sallied out. i was making my way home like a peaceful citizen, when two men came out from a narrow lane and stumbled roughly across me. deeming that they were drunk, i struck one a buffet on the side of his head and stretched him in the gutter." "that was not like a peaceful citizen, charles," one of the others broke in. "well, hardly, perhaps; but i forgot my character at the moment. however, an instant later there was a shout, and a dozen or so armed men poured out from the lane and fell upon me. i saw at once that i had been taken in a trap. luckily there was a deep doorway close by, so i sprang into it, and, drawing my sword, put myself in a posture of defence before they were upon me. i ran the first through the body, and that seemed to teach the others some caution. fortunately the doorway was so deep that only two could assail me at once, and i held my ground for some time pretty fairly, only receiving a few scratches. presently i saw another opening, and, parrying a thrust, i ran my sword through the fellow's throat. he fell with a loud outcry, which was fortunate, for it came to the ears of my friend here, and brought him and a stout retainer--a prodigiously tall fellow, with a staff longer than himself--to my aid. they were but just in time, for the ruffians, furious at the fall of another of their companions, were pressing me hotly, and slashing so furiously with their swords that it was as much as i could do to parry them, and had no time to thrust back in reply. my friend here ran two of them through, his tall companion levelled six to the ground with his staff, while i did what i could to aid them, and at last the four that remained still on their legs ran off. i believe they thought that the man with the staff was the evil one himself, who had got tired of aiding them in their villainous enterprises." "it was a narrow escape indeed, charles," count walter de vesoul said gravely, "and it was well for you that there was that doorway hard by, or your brave friend would have found but your body when he came along. it is evident, gentlemen, that when we indulge in drinking parties we must go home in couples. of course, charles, you must lay a complaint before the duke, and he must let the parisians know that if they do not keep their cut-throats within bounds we will take to sallying out at night in parties and will cut down every man we find about the streets." "i will lay my complaint, but i doubt if much good will come of it. the duke will speak to the provost of the butchers, and nothing will be done." "then we will take them in hand," the other said angrily. "if the parisians won't keep order in their streets we will keep it for them. such doings are intolerable, and we will make up parties to scour the streets at night. men passing peaceably along we shall not of course molest, but any parties of armed men we find about we will cut down without hesitation." "i shall be heartily glad to join one of the parties whenever you are disposed, de vesoul," d'estournel said. "perchance i may light on one or more of the four fellows who got away last night. now i am ready to have a bout with swords." "we have all had our turn, charles," the other said. "then i must work with the mace," the count said. "my friend here, you see, did not come off as scatheless last night as i did, or else i would have asked him to have a bout with me. he held his own so well against two of them who fell on him together that i doubt not i should find him a sturdy adversary." "i fear not, count," guy said smiling. "i can use my sword, it is true, in english fashion, but i know little of feints and tricks with the sword such as i am told are taught in your schools." "a little practice here will amend that," d'estournel said. "these things are well enough in a _salle d'armes_, and are useful when one man is opposed to another in a duel, but in a battle or _mãªlã©e_ i fancy that they are of but little use, though indeed i have never yet had the chance of trying. we will introduce you to the master, and i hope that you will come here regularly; it will give real pleasure to all. this salon is kept up by the duke for our benefit, and as you are one of his most pressingly invited guests you are certainly free of it." they went up in a body to the master. "maã®tre baudin," count charles said, "i have to introduce to you a gentleman who is our mutual friend, and who last night saved my life in a street brawl. he is at present an esquire of sir eustace de villeroy, and has travelled hither with the knight's dame, who has come at the invitation of the duke. his father is an english knight, and as the friend of us all we trust that you will put him upon the list of your pupils." "i shall be pleased to do so, count charles, the more so since he has done you such service." "i am afraid that you will, find me a very backward pupil," guy said. "i have been well taught in english fashion, but as you know, maã®tre, we were more famed for downright hard hitting than for subtlety and skill in arms." "downright hard hitting is not to be despised," the master said, "and in a battle it is the chief thing of all; yet science is not to be regarded as useless, since it not only makes sword-play a noble pastime, but in a single combat it enables one who is physically weak to hold his own against a far stronger antagonist." "that i feel greatly, maã®tre. i shall be glad indeed of lessons in the art, and as soon as my shoulder is healed i shall take great pleasure in attending your school regularly, whenever my lady has no need of my presence. i am now in the position of the weak antagonist you speak of, and am therefore the more anxious to acquire the skill that will enable me to take my part in a conflict with full-grown men." "you showed last night that you could do that," count charles said with a smile. "nay, men of that sort do not count," guy said. "they are but rough swordsmen, and it was only their number that rendered them dangerous. there is little credit in holding one's own against ruffians of that kind." "well, i will be lazy this morning," the young count said, "and do without my practice. will you all come round to my rooms, gentlemen, and drink a glass or two of wine and make the better acquaintance of my friend? he is bound to be back at his lodgings by one, and therefore you need not be afraid that i am leading you into a carouse." guy passed an hour in the count's lodgings and then returned to the provost's. the count accompanied him, saying that he had not yet seen his tall friend of the night before, and must personally thank him. long tom was called down, he being one of the two who had remained in for the morning. "i must thank you again for the service that you rendered me last night," the count said frankly, holding out his hand to the archer. "i hope that you will accept this ring in token of my gratitude; i have had it enlarged this morning so that it may fit one of your strong fingers. it may be useful some day to turn into money should you find yourself in a pinch." "i thank you, sir," tom said. "i will wear it round my neck, for in truth rings are not for the use of men in my condition. as to gratitude, i feel that it is rather the other way, for my arms were beginning to get stiff for want of use. i only wish that the fray had lasted a bit longer, for i had scarce time to warm to it, and i hope that the next time your lordship gets into trouble i may have the good luck to be near at hand again." "i hope you may, my friend; assuredly i could want no better helper." after the count had taken his leave guy went upstairs and told lady margaret how he had spent the morning. "i am very glad to hear what you say about the fencing school, guy; it will be good for you to have such training. and indeed 'tis well that you should have some employment, for time would hang but wearily on your hands were you to remain long caged up here. i shall be very glad for you to go. it will make no difference to us whether we take our walk in the morning or in the afternoon." after dinner they went out. guy escorted dame margaret, agnes and charlie followed, long tom and jules varoy bringing up the rear, both armed with swords and carrying in addition heavy cudgels. first of all they visited the cathedral, where dame margaret and her daughter knelt for some time in prayer before one of the shrines; then crossing the bridge again they followed along the broad pavement between the foot of the walls and the river, which served as a market, where hucksters of all sorts plied their trade; then entering the next gate on the wall they walked down the street to the place de la bastille, which had been finished but a few years. "'tis a gloomy place and a strong one," dame margaret said with a shiver as she looked at its frowning towers; "the poor wretches who are once entombed there can have but little hope of escape. surely there cannot be so many state prisoners as to need for their keeping, a building so large as that. still, with so turbulent a population as this of paris, it doubtless needs a strong castle to hold them." "it seems to me, madame, that, though useful doubtless as a prison, the castle was never really built for that purpose, but as a stronghold to overawe paris." "that may be so, guy; at any rate i am glad that they did not use it as our place of detention instead of the house of maã®tre leroux." "they see well enough, madame, that you are more securely held than bolts and bars could detain you. i imagine that they would like nothing better than for you to get away back to villeroy, since it would give them an excuse for an attack on the castle." "doubtless that is so, guy; i came freely, and i must stay freely until some change takes place that will leave it open to us to fly. but in sooth it seems to me that nothing short of the arrival of an english army could do that. were the armagnacs to get the better of the burgundians our position would be even worse than it is now." "that is true enough, madame, for the burgundians have no cause of hostility whatever to sir eustace and you, while we have given the armagnacs good reasons for ill-will against us. still, were they to come here it would be open to you to fly, for all artois is burgundian; and though the duke might not be able to hold his position here, artois and flanders would long be able to sustain themselves, and you would therefore be safe at villeroy, for they would have other matters to attend to without meddling with those who only ask to be let alone." on their way back from the bastille they saw a crowd in the street and heard loud shouts. "we had best turn off by this side street, madame," guy said; "doubtless it is a body of the scoundrel butchers at their work of slaying some enemy under the pretext of his being an orleanist. do you hear their shouts of 'paris and burgundy!'?" turning down a side street they made a circuit round the scene of the tumult, and then coming up into the main street again resumed their way. after walking a considerable distance they came to a large building. "what place is this, guy?" "it is the louvre, madame. it should be the abode of the king of france, but he is only sometimes lodged there; but often stays at one of the hotels of the great lords. these palaces are all fortified buildings. our country castles are strong, but there is no air of gloom about them; these narrow streets and high houses seem to crush one down." "we will go back again, guy; i do not think that i shall often go out in future." "you can take a boat on the river, madame, and row up or down into the country. they say it is pretty; once fairly away from paris, there are hills and woods and villages." "that may be pleasant. if they would but let me go and live in one of those quiet spots i should be as contented as it is possible for me to be away from my husband. "nothing can be kinder than are maã®tre leroux and his wife, but one cannot but feel that one is a burden upon them. my hope is that when the king comes to his senses i may be able to obtain an interview with him, and even if i cannot have leave to return to villeroy i may be allowed to take up my abode outside the walls, or at any rate to obtain a quiet lodging for ourselves." for the next three weeks the time passed quietly. guy went every morning to the _salle d'armes_, for his wound being on his left shoulder he was able to use his sword arm as soon as it began to heal. "you underrated your skill," the fencing-master said when he had given him his first lesson. "it is true that you do not know the niceties of sword-playing, but indeed you are so quick of eye and wrist that you can afford to do without them. still, doubtless after a couple of months' practice here you will be so far improved that he will need to be a good swordsman who holds his own with you." guy paid only one visit during this time to the lodgings of the italian. "you have not heard from me, master aylmer," the latter said, "because indeed there has been nothing of importance to tell you. the armagnacs are, i hear, collecting a great army, and are likely ere long to march in this direction. the butchers are becoming more and more unpopular and more and more violent; not a day passes but many citizens are killed by them under the pretence that they are armagnacs, but really because they had expressed themselves as hostile to the doings of these tyrants. i have cast your horoscope, and i find that the conjunction of the planets at your birth was eminently favourable. it seems to me that about this time you will pass through many perilous adventures, but you are destined to escape any dangers that threaten you. you will gain honour and renown, and come to fortune through a marriage. there are other things in your career that are uncertain, since i cannot tell at what date they are likely to occur and whether the planets that were favourable at your birth may again be in the ascendant; but, for as much as i have told you, i have no doubt whatever." "i thank you for the trouble that you have taken, count montepone," for guy had now learned the rank that the italian held in his own country, "and can only trust that your predictions will be verified. i would rather win fortune by my own hand than by marriage, though it will not come amiss." "whatever way it may happen, you will be knighted," the astrologist said gravely, "after a great battle, and by the hand of a sovereign; though by whom the battle will be fought and who the sovereign may be i cannot say, but methinks that it will be the english king." "that i can wish more than anything," guy said warmly. "fortune is good, but to be knighted by a royal hand would be an honour greater than any other that could befall me." "bear your destiny in mind," the italian said earnestly, "remember that in many cases predictions bring about their own fulfilment; and truly i am rejoiced that i have found that the stars point out so prosperous a future for you." guy was not free from the superstition of the time, and although in his english home he had seldom heard astrology mentioned, he had found since he had been in france that many even of the highest rank had an implicit belief in it, and he was convinced that at any rate the count himself believed in the power of the stars. he was gratified, therefore, to be told that his future would be prosperous; and, indeed, the predictions were not so improbable as to excite doubt in themselves. he was already an esquire, and unless he fell in combat or otherwise, it was probable that he would attain the honour of knighthood before many years had passed. the fact, however, that it was to be bestowed by royal hand added greatly to the value of the honour. knighthood was common in those days; it was bestowed almost as a matter of course upon young men of good birth, especially if they took up the profession of arms. every noble had some, while not a few had many knights in their service, discharging what would now be the duties of officers when their levies were called out, and they could themselves bestow the rank upon any man possessing a certain amount of land; but to be knighted by a distinguished leader, or by a sovereign, was a distinction greatly prized, and placed its recipient in quite another category to the knights by service. it was a testimony alike of valour and of birth, and was a proof that its bearer was a warrior of distinction. the prophecy that he would better his fortune by marriage weighed little with him; marriage was a matter that appeared to him at present to be a very remote contingency; at the same time it was pleasant to him to be told that his wife would be an heiress, because this would place him above the need of earning his living by his sword, and would enable him to follow his sovereign, not as one of the train of a powerful noble, but as a free knight. chapter ix -a stout defence the duke of burgundy had left paris upon the day after he had received dame margaret, and as the king had a lucid interval, the duke of aquitaine, his son, was also absent with the army. in paris there existed a general sense of uneasiness and alarm. the butchers, feeling that their doings had excited a strong reaction against them, and that several of the other guilds, notably that of the carpenters, were combining against them, determined to strike terror into their opponents by attacking some of their leaders. several of these were openly murdered in the streets, and the houses of others were burnt and sacked. one evening when guy had returned at nine o'clock from a supper at count charles's lodgings, it being the first time he had been out after dark since his first adventure, he had but just gone up to his room, when he heard a loud knocking at the door below. going to the front window he looked out of the casement. "who is it that knocks?" he asked. "it is i--the lad of notre dame." he recognized the voice and ran down and opened the door. "what is it, signora?" "my father bids me tell you, sir, that he but learned the instant before he despatched me that the butchers are going to attack this house this evening, under the pretext that there are english spies here, but really to slay the provost of the silversmiths, and to gratify their followers by the sack of his house. i fear that i am too late, for they were to march from the _abattoirs_ at nine, and it is already nearly half-past. look! i see torches coming up the street." "it is too late, indeed, to fly, even if we wished to," guy said. "dame margaret and the children retired to bed an hour ago. will you take this ring," and he took off from his finger one that d'estournel had given him, "and carry it at once to the lodgings of count charles d'estournel? they are in the house on this side of the hotel of st. pol. he is still up, and has some of his friends with him. tell him from me that this house is being attacked, and beg him to gather a party, if he can, and come to our assistance. say that we shall defend it until the last." the girl took the ring and ran off at the top of her speed. the roar of the distant crowd could now be distinctly heard. guy put up the strong bars of the door and then rushed upstairs. first he knocked at the door of maã®tre leroux. "the butchers are coming to attack your house!" he shouted. "call up your servants; bid them take to their arms." then he ran up to the room where his men slept. long tom, who had met him at d'estournel's door and accompanied him home, sprang to his feet from his pallet as guy entered. "the butchers are about to attack the house, tom; up all of you and arm yourselves; bring down your bow and arrows. where do the men-servants sleep?" "there are five of them in the next room, and the two who serve in the shop are in the chamber beyond," the archer replied, as he hastily buckled on his armour. guy rushed to the door and awoke the inmates of the rooms, telling them to arm and hasten down to defend the house, which was about to be attacked. a moment later maã®tre leroux himself appeared and repeated the order. "art sure of what you say, master guy?" he asked. "look from the window and you will see them approaching," guy replied, and going to the casement window which was at the front of the house he threw it open. some four hundred yards away a dense throng was coming along; a score of torches lighted up the scene. "resistance is vain," the silversmith said. "it is my life they seek; i will go down to them." "resistance will not be in vain," guy said firmly. "i have already sent for aid, and we shall have a body of burgundian men-at-arms here to our assistance before long. your life will not satisfy them; it is the plunder of your shop and house that they long for, and you may be sure that they will put all to the sword if they once break in. now let us run down and see what we can do to strengthen our defences." "the shutters and doors are all strong," the provost said as they hurried downstairs, followed by the four men-at-arms and the servants--for in those days men removed but few of their garments as they lay down on their rough pallets. "in the first place," guy said, "we must pile everything that we can find below against these doors, so that when they yield we can still make a defence here, before we retire. are there other stairs than these?" "no." "so much the better. as soon as we have blocked the door we will barricade the first landing and defend ourselves there. jean bart, do you take the command below for the present. seize everything that you can lay hands on, logs from the wood-store, sacks of charcoal, cases, everything heavy that you can find, and pile them up against the door. tom, do you come with us; an arrow or two will check their ardour, and it is not likely they have brought bows or cross-bows with them. try to parley with them as long as you can, maã®tre leroux, every minute is of value." "what is all this, guy?" dame margaret asked as she entered the apartment. having been aroused by the noise she had hastily attired herself, and had just come into the front room. "the butchers are about to attack the house, lady; we are going to defend it. i have sent to d'estournel, and we may hope for aid before long." at this moment there was a loud knocking at the door and a hoarse roar of voices from the street. the silversmith went to the casement and opened it, and he and guy looked out. a shout of fury arose from the street, with cries of "death to the english spies!" "death to the armagnac provost!" leroux in vain endeavoured to make his voice heard, and so tell the crowd that his guests were not spies, but had been lodged at his house by the duke of burgundy himself. a tall man on horseback, one of several who were evidently leaders of the mob, pressed his way through the crowd to the door and evidently gave some orders, and a din of heavy sledge-hammers and axes beating against it at once mingled with the shouts of the crowd. the horseman crossed again to the other side of the street and shook his fist threateningly at leroux. "that is jacques legoix," the silversmith said, as he retired from the window; "one of the great leaders of the butchers; his family, and the st. yons and taiberts rule the market." "tom," guy said to the archer, who was standing behind him. "begin by picking off that fellow on horseback opposite." tom had already bent his bow and had an arrow in readiness, a moment later the shaft flew and struck the butcher between the eyes, and he fell dead from his horse. a yell of consternation and rage rose from the crowd. "now you can distribute a few arrows among those fellows at the door," guy said. the archer leant far out of the low casement. "it is awkward shooting, master guy," he said quietly, "but i daresay i can make a shift to manage it." disregarding the furious yells of the crowd, he sent arrow after arrow among the men using the sledges and axes. many of them had steel caps with projecting rims which sheltered the neck, but as they raised their weapons with both hands over their heads they exposed their chests to the marksman above, and not an arrow that was shot failed to bring down a man. when six had fallen no fresh volunteers came forward to take their places, although another horseman made his way up to them and endeavoured by persuasions and threats to induce them to continue the work. this man was clad in armour, and wore a steel cap in the place of the knightly helmet. "who is that fellow?" guy asked the merchant. "he is the son of caboche, the head of the flayers, one of the most pestilent villains in the city." "keep your eye on him, tom, and when you see a chance send an arrow home." "that armour of his is but common stuff, master guy; as soon as i get a chance i will send a shaft through it." the man with a gesture of anger turned and gave instructions to a number of men, who pushed their way through the crowd, first picking up some of the fallen hammers and axes. the fate of his associate had evidently taught the horseman prudence, for as he moved away he kept his head bent down so as not to expose his face to the aim of the terrible marksman at the window. he halted a short distance away and was evidently haranguing the crowd round him, and in his vehemence raised his arm. the moment he did so tom's bow twanged. the arrow struck him at the unprotected part under the arm-pit, and he fell headlong from his horse. maddened with rage the crowd no longer hesitated, and again attacked the door. just as they did so there was a roar of exultation down the street as twelve men brought up a solid gate that they had beaten in and wrenched from its hinges from a house beyond. [illustration: "tom's bow twanged, and the arrow struck the horseman under the arm-pit."] "you can shoot as you like now, tom. i will go down and see how the men are getting on below; the mob will have the door in sooner or later." guy found that the men below had not wasted their time. a great pile of logs, sacks, and other materials was piled against the door, and a short distance behind stood a number of barrels of wine and heavy cases ready to be placed in position. "get them upstairs, jean," guy said; "they will make a better barricade than the furniture, which we may as well save if possible." the nine men set to work, and in a very short time a strong barricade was formed across the top of the wide staircase. "have you all the cases out of the shop?" "yes, we have not left one there, master guy. if they are all full of silver there must be enough for a royal banqueting-table." some, indeed, of the massive chests were so heavy that it required the efforts of six men to carry them upstairs. "how do matters go, guy?" dame margaret asked quietly as he re-entered the apartment. "very well," he replied. "i don't think the door will hold out much longer; but there is a strong barricade behind it which it will take them some time to force, and another on the landing here that we ought to be able to hold for an hour at least, and before that yields we will have another ready on the landing above." "i will see to that," she said. "i will take agnes and charlie up with me, and then, with the women, i will move out the clothes' and linen chests and build them up there." "thank you, madame; i trust long before the barricade here is carried we shall have d'estournel and his friends to our assistance. indeed, i doubt whether they will be able to carry it at all; it is as solid and almost as strong as a stone wall, and as there are thirteen or fourteen of us to defend it, it seems to me that nothing short of battering the cases to pieces will enable them to force a way." "i wish i could do something," agnes broke in; "it is hard not to be able to help while you are all fighting for us. i wish i had brought my bow with me, you know i can shoot fairly." "i think that it is just as well that you have not," guy said with a smile. "i do not doubt your courage for a moment, but if you were placing yourself in danger we should all be anxious about you, and i would much rather know that you were safe with your mother upstairs." guy now went to the window. maã®tre leroux had been directing his servants in the formation of the barricades. "i can do nothing to protect the door," the archer said; "they have propped up that gate so as to cover the men who are hammering at it. i have been distributing my arrows among the crowd, and in faith there will be a good many vacancies among the butchers and flayers in the market tomorrow morning. i am just going up to fill my quiver again and bring down a spare armful of arrows." "leave those on the landing here, tom, and bring your full quiver down below. the door will not hold many minutes longer: i could see that it was yielding when i was down there just now. i don't think that we shall be able to make a long defence below, for with their hooked halberts they will be able to pull out the logs, do what we will." one of the servants now ran in. "they have broken the door down, sir. it is only kept in place by the things behind it." guy ran out, climbed the barricade--which on the landing was four feet high, but as it was built on the edge of the top stair it was nine inches higher on that face--let himself drop on to the stairs, and ran down into the passage. "i think, maã®tre leroux," he said, "that you and your men had better go up at once and station yourselves at the barricade. there is no room here for more than five of us to use our arms, and when we retire we shall have to do so quickly. will you please fasten a chair on the top step in such a way that we can use it to climb over the barricade without delay? we are like to be hard pressed, and it is no easy matter to get over a five-foot wall speedily with a crowd of armed men pressing hotly on your heels." the provost told two of his men to pick out a square block of firewood, as nearly as possible the thickness of the height of one of the steps. after trying several they found one that would do, and on placing it on the stair next to the top it formed with the step above it a level platform. on this the chair was placed, a strong rope being attached to it so that it could be pulled up over the barricade when the last of the defenders had entered. by the time this was finished the battle below began in earnest. the infuriated assailants had pulled the doors outwards and were making desperate efforts to climb the pile of logs. this they soon found to be impossible, and began with their halberts to pull them down, and it was not long before they had dislodged sufficient to make a slope up which they could climb. their work had not been carried on with impunity, for the archer had stationed himself on the top and sent his arrows thick and fast among them. "in faith, master," he said to guy, who stood close behind, "methinks that i am doing almost as much harm as good, for i am aiding them mightily in making their slope, which will presently contain as many dead men as logs." as soon as they deemed the slope climbable the furious assailants charged up. they were met by guy and the four men-at-arms. tom had now slung his bow behind him and had betaken himself to his heavy axe, which crashed through the iron caps of the assailants as though they had been eggshells. but in such numbers did they press on that guy saw that this barricade could not be much longer held. "get ready to retire when i give the word!" he shouted to his companions. "tom, you and jules varoy and robert picard run first upstairs. when you have climbed the barricade, do you, tom, take your place on the top. jean bart and i will come up last, and you can cover us with your arrows. tell maã®tre leroux to remove the light into the room, so that they will not be able to see what there is to encounter, while these torches here and those held by the crowd will enable you to see well enough to take aim. now!" he shouted, "fall back!" tom and the two men-at-arms sprang up the stairs, guy and jean bart followed more slowly, and halted a few steps from the top. "all up, master!" tom shouted, and jean and guy were able to cross the barricade before the foremost of their pursuers reached them. there had indeed been confusion below, for several of those who had first climbed the barricade had, instead of pressing hotly in pursuit, run along the hall and through the door into the shop, in their eagerness to be the first to seize upon the plunder. they expected the others to follow their example, but one of their leaders placed himself in their way and threatened to cut them down if they did not first assault the stairs. "fools!" he shouted, "do you think that the old fox has wasted the time we have given him? you may be sure that the richest prizes have been carried above." there was an angry altercation, which was continued until those who had first run into the shop returned with the news that it had been completely stripped of its contents. there was now no longer any hesitation in obeying their leader, and the men poured up the stairs in a mass. suddenly some torches appeared above, and those in front saw with consternation the obstacle that stood between them and their prey. they had little time for consideration, however, for the arrows from the archer now smote them, and that with a force and rapidity that bewildered them. five or six of those in front fell shot through the brain. "heads down!" a voice shouted. there was no retreat for those in front, for the mass behind pressed them forward, and, instinctively obeying the order, they ran up. but neither helm nor breast-plate availed to keep out the terrible english arrows, which clove their way through the iron as if it had been pasteboard. stumbling over the bodies of those who had fallen, the front rank of the assailants at last reached the barricade, but here their progress was arrested. a line of men stood behind the smooth wall of massive cases, and those who strove to climb it were smitten with axe or sword, while they themselves could not reach the defenders above them. they could but thrust blindly with pike or halbert, for if a face was raised to direct the aim one of the deadly arrows struck it instantly. in vain they strove by the aid of the halberts to haul down a case from its position, the weight was too great for one man's strength to move, and before several could grasp the handle of the halbert to aid them, the shaft was cut in two by the blow of an axe. hopeless as the attempt seemed, it was persevered in, for the crowd below, ignorant of the nature of the obstacle, maddened with fury and with the wine which had been freely served out before starting, still pressed forward, each fearing that the silversmith's treasures would be appropriated before he could obtain his share. for half an hour the fight continued, then there was a roar in the street, and dame margaret, who, after seeing the barricade above completed, had come down to her room and was gazing along the street, ran out on to the landing. "help is at hand!" she cried, "the knights are coming!" then came the loud tramp of horses, mingled with shouts of "burgundy!" the crowd at the entrance at once turned and ran out, and as the alarm reached those within, they too rushed down, until the stairs were untenanted save by the dead. bidding the others hold their places lest the assailants should return, guy ran in and joined lady margaret at the window. a fierce conflict was going on in the street, with shouts of "burgundy!" "a rescue!" "a rescue!" the knights, who were followed by some fifty men-at-arms, rode into the mob, hewing them down with their swords. the humiliations that they had received from the arrogance and insolence of the butchers had long rankled in their minds, and they now took a heavy vengeance. the windows of all the houses opposite, from which men and women had been peering timidly out, were now crowded; women waving their handkerchiefs to the knights, and men loudly shouting greetings and encouragements. the whole of the traders of paris were bitterly opposed to the domination of the market guilds, and while they cared but little for the quarrel between the rival dukes, the alliance between burgundy and the butchers naturally drove them to sympathize with the opposite party. the proof afforded by the charge of the knights upon the mob delighted them, as showing that, allied with them though they might be, the burgundians were determined no longer to allow the rioting and excesses of the men of the market guilds to continue. in two or three minutes all was over. the resistance, though fierce, was short, and the mob was driven down the side streets and chased until the trading quarter was cleared of them. as the knights returned guy went down to the door, to which maã®tre leroux had already descended to thank his rescuers for their timely aid. "i thank you, my lords and knights," the silversmith said, "for the timely succour you have rendered me. i would pray you to enter and to allow me to thank you in more worthy fashion, but indeed the stairs and passage are encumbered with dead." "dame margaret of villeroy prays me to say that she also desires greatly to thank you," guy said. "i feared that we should have been too late," count charles replied. "we lost no time when your messenger came, guy, but it took some time to rouse the men-at-arms and to saddle our horses. you must have made a stout defence indeed, judging by the pile of dead that encumber your passage." "there are many more inside," guy said, "and methinks that we could have held out for another hour yet if it had been needed. indeed, the only thing that i feared was that they might set fire to the lower part of the house." "i should like to see your defences, maã®tre leroux," count walter de vesoul said, "what say you, my friends, shall we mount and see the scene of this battle? methinks we might well gain something by it, for 'tis no slight thing that an unfortified house should for over an hour defend itself against a mob full a couple of thousand strong. i doubt not, too, that master leroux will serve us with a flagon of wine; and, moreover, we should surely pay our respects to this english lady,--who while a hostage of the duke has been thus sorely ill-treated by the scum of paris,--if she will please receive us at this hour of the evening." the other knights, of whom there were ten in number, at once dismounted. the silversmith's servants brought torches, and after ordering two of them to broach a cask of wine and to regale the men-at-arms, the provost led the way upstairs. "wait a moment, good provost," the count de vesoul said, "let us understand the thing from the beginning. i see that the knaves lying here and many of those in the road are pierced by arrows, which, as i note, have in some cases gone through iron cap or breast-piece; how comes that?" "that is the work of one of my lady's retainers. he is an english archer, and one of the most skilful. he comes from her english estate, and when she chose him as one of the four men-at-arms to accompany her, he begged leave to bring his bow and arrows, and has in truth, as you see, made good use of them." "that is the same tall fellow who, as i told you, walter, did me such good service in that fray," said d'estournel. "by saint anne, guy, i would that i had a dozen such men among my varlets. why, there are a round dozen lying outside the door." "there would have been more," guy said, "had they not brought up that great gate and used it as a screen while they battered in the door here." "then you built the barricade behind it?" count walter said as he climbed over the heap of logs. "yes, count, it was built against the door, but when that gave way they pulled it down with halberts until they could climb over it. but, as you see, no small portion of slope on the outside is composed of their bodies. the archer's arrows did good execution as they worked at it, and when they made the assault we--that is to say, dame margaret's four retainers and i--held it for some time, then we retired up the stairs and defended that barricade we had built across the top." the knights picked their way among the bodies that encumbered the stairs. "by saint denis, charles, this is a strong work indeed!" the count said to d'estournel, as they reached the top; "no wonder the knaves found it too much for them. what are all these massive cases?" "they contain the goods from my shop," maã®tre leroux said. "master aylmer had them carried here while the archer was defending the door, and by so doing not only made, as you see, a stout breast-work, but saved them from being plundered." "they were well fitted for it," guy said, "for they are very weighty; and though the fellows tried hard they could not move them with their hooks, and as fast as they strove to do so the provost's men and ours struck off the heads of the halberts with axes; and the work was all the more difficult as our archer had always a shaft fitted to let fly whenever they lifted their heads." "but how did you manage to get over safely when they won the barricade below?" d'estournel asked; "it was not an easy feat to climb this wall with a crowd of foemen behind." guy explained how they had arranged a chair to form a step. "there was, however," he went on, "no great need for haste. the archer and two others went first, and he took his stand on the top of the chests in readiness to cover the retreat of the fourth man-at-arms and myself. but happily many of the knaves wanted to sack the shop more than to follow us, and there was such confusion below, that we had time to climb over and pull up the chair before they had mustered to the attack." while they were talking long tom and the others had removed one of the chests and made a passage by which they could pass through, and maã®tre leroux led them into his private apartments, which were similar to, although larger than, dame margaret's. a number of candles had already been lighted, and in a minute mistress leroux entered, followed by two of her maids carrying trays with great beakers of wine and a number of silver goblets, and she and the provost then poured out the wine and offered it with further expressions of thanks to the knights. "say naught about it, madame," count walter said; "it was high time that a check was put on these rough fellows who lord it over paris and deem themselves its masters. i doubt not that they will raise some outcry and lay their complaint before the duke; but you, i trust, and other worthy citizens, will be beforehand with them, and send off a messenger to him laying complaints against these fellows for attacking, plundering, and burning at their will the houses of those of better repute than themselves. we have come to your help not as officers of the duke, but as knights and gentlemen who feel it a foul wrong that such things should be done. moreover, as dame margaret of villeroy, a hostage of the duke, was lodged here at his request, it was a matter that nearly touched his honour that her life should be placed in danger by these scurvy knaves, and we shall so represent the matter to the duke." just as the knights had drunk their wine, guy, who had left them on the landing, entered, escorting dame margaret and her two children. count charles d'estournel, after saluting her, presented his companions to her, and she thanked each very heartily for the succour they had brought so opportunely. "in truth, lady," the count de vesoul said, "methinks from what we saw that you might even have managed without us, so stoutly were you defended by your esquire and your retainers, aided as they were by those of the provost, though in the end it may be that these must have succumbed to numbers; for i can well imagine that your assailants, after the loss that they have suffered, would have spared no effort to avenge themselves, and might indeed, as a last resource, have fired the house. this they would no doubt have done long before had it not been that by so doing they would have lost all the plunder that they counted on. this stout defence will no doubt teach these fellows some moderation, for they will see that citizens' houses are not to be plundered without hard fighting and much loss. as for ourselves, we shall see the duke of burgundy's lieutenant to-morrow morning and lay the matter before him, praying him to issue a proclamation saying that in order to suppress the shameful disorders that have taken place, he gives notice that all who attack the houses of peaceful citizens will henceforth be treated as evildoers and punished accordingly." after some further conversation the knights prepared to leave. "i shall do myself the honour, sirs," maã®tre leroux said, "of sending to your lodgings to-morrow the cups that you have used, as a small testimony of my gratitude to you, and as a memorial of the events of this evening." while they were upstairs the men-at-arms and servants had been employed in clearing the stairs, throwing the bodies that had encumbered it out into the street. the men-at-arms of the knights had, after drinking the wine that had been sent out to them, aided in clearing the passage; buckets of water had been thrown down on the stairs, and the servitors by a vigorous use of brooms had removed most of the traces of the fray. the work had just been finished, and dame margaret's men had, by guy's orders, stationed themselves on the landing to do honour to the knights as they set out. "ah, my tall friend," d'estournel said to the archer, "so you have been at work again, and i can see that you are even more doughty with the bow than with that long staff of yours. well, this time there must have been enough fighting to please even you." "it has been an indifferent good fight, my lord," tom said; "but in truth, save for the stand on that pile of logs below, when things were for a time brisk, it has been altogether too one-sided to please me." "most people would think that the one-sidedness was all the other way," d'estournel laughed. "well, men, you have all done your duty to your lady right well this night, and there is not one of us here who would not gladly have such brave fellows in his service. i see that you are all four wounded." "they are scarce to be called wounds, sir count, seeing that they are but flesh cuts from their halberts which we got in the fray below. these slaughterers can doubtless strike a good blow with a pole-axe, but they are but clumsy varlets with other weapons. but to give them their due, they fought stoutly if with but little skill or discretion." several of the others also said a few words of commendation to the men. the provost and guy escorted the knights to the door below. the latter had ordered twenty of their men-at-arms to remain in the house until morning, after which ten were to stay there until the doors had been repaired and refixed. as soon as the knights had ridden off the silversmith ordered several bundles of rushes to be strewn in the shop for the guard, and a meal of cold meat to be set for their supper. two of them were posted as sentinels at the door. "i shall not open the shop to-morrow," he said as he ascended the stairs with guy, "nor indeed shall i do so until things have settled down. there will be for some time a mighty animosity on the part of these butchers and skinners against me, and it is only reasonable that after such an attack i should close my shop. those who have dealings with me will know that they can do their business with me in private. and now methinks we will retire to bed; 'tis past midnight, and there is no fear of our being disturbed again. if they send anyone to spy out whether we are on the watch, the sight of the burgundian soldiers below will suffice to tell them that there is nothing to be done. the first thing tomorrow i will set the carpenters to work to make me an even stronger pair of doors than those that have been spoilt." chapter x -after the fray on going into dame margaret's apartments guy found that she had again retired to rest, and at once threw himself on his bed without disrobing himself further than taking off his armour, for he felt that it was possible the assailants might return after finding that the burgundian knights and men-at-arms had ridden away. he had told the men-at-arms to keep watch by turns at the top of the stairs, where the barricade still remained, and to run in to wake him should they hear any disturbance whatever at the door below. he slept but lightly, and several times went out to see that the watch was being well kept, and to look up and down the street to assure himself that all was quiet. "you did nobly last night, guy," dame margaret said as she met him in the morning; "sir eustace himself could have done no better had he been here. when i next write to my lord i shall tell him how well you have protected us, and pray him to send word of it to your father." "i did my best, lady; but it is to long tom that it is chiefly due that our defence was made good. it was his shooting that caused the long delay in breaking open the door, and that enabled us to hold the barricade below, and he also stoutly aided in the defence of the landing." "nevertheless, guy, it was under your direction that all things were done. it is to the leader who directs that the first praise is due rather than to the strongest and bravest of his men-at-arms. it was, too, owing to your interference on behalf of count charles d'estournel that we owe it that succour came to us; it was his friendship for you that prompted him to gather his friends to come to our aid; and it was the warning, short though it was, sent us by that strange italian that enabled you to send to the count for aid. i must see his daughter and thank her personally for the part she played in the matter. no, guy, had it not been for you this house would now have been an empty shell, and all of us would have been lying under its ruins. i have been thinking during the night that you must be most careful when you go abroad; you know that the son of that monster caboche, the leader of the skinners, and doubtless many leaders of the butchers, among them legoix, were killed, and their friends are certain to endeavour to take vengeance on you. they saw you at the window, they will know that you are my esquire, and will doubtless put down their defeat entirely to you. you cannot be too careful, and, above all, you must not venture out at night save on grave occasion. agnes," she broke off as the girl entered the room, "you too must thank our brave esquire for having so stoutly defended us." "i do thank you most heartily, guy," the girl said, "though i felt it very hard that i could do nothing to help you. it was terrible sitting here and hearing the fight so close to us, and the dreadful shouts and screams of those people, and to have nothing to do but to wait. not that i was frightened, i felt quite confident that you would beat them, but it was so hard to sit quiet. i should not have minded so much if i could have been standing there to see the brave deeds that were being done." "like the queen of a tournament, agnes," her mother said with a smile. "yes, indeed, it is one of the hardships of us women. it is only when a castle is besieged and her lord is away that a woman may buckle on armour and set an example to her retainers by showing herself on the wall and risking the enemies' bolts, or even, if necessary, taking her place with her retainers on the breach; at other times she must be passive and wait while men fight." "if i had only had my bow," agnes said regretfully, "i could really have done something. you would have let me go out then, mother, would you not?" "i don't know, dear; no, i don't think i should. it was anxious work enough for me as it was. if you had gone out i must have done so, and then charlie would have wanted to go too. no; it was much better that we all sat together as we did, waiting quietly for what might come, and praying for those who were fighting for us." "i was glad that madame leroux stayed upstairs with her maid instead of coming down here as you asked her, mother; she looked so scared and white that i do think it would have been worse than listening to the fighting to have had to sit and look at her." dame margaret smiled. "yes, agnes, but i think that she was more frightened for her husband than for herself, and i don't suppose that she had ever been in danger before. indeed, i must say that to look out at that crowd of horrible creatures below, brandishing their weapons, shouting and yelling, was enough to terrify any quiet and peaceable woman. as a knight's wife and daughter it was our duty to be calm and composed and to set an example, but a citizen's wife would not feel the same obligation, and might show her alarm without feeling that she disgraced herself or her husband." on going out guy found their host already engaged in a conference with a master carpenter as to the construction of the new doors. they were to be very strong and heavy, made of the best oak, and protected by thick sheets of iron; the hinges were to be of great strength to bear the weight. a smith had also arrived to receive instructions for making and setting very strong iron bars before the shop, the front of which would require to be altered to allow of massive shutters being erected on the inside. iron gates were also to be fixed before the door. "that will make something like a fortress of it, master aylmer," the silversmith said, "and it will then need heavy battering-rams to break into it. several others of my craft similarly protect their shops; and certainly no one can blame me, after the attack of last night, for taking every means to defend myself. i intend to enlist a party of ten fighting men to act as a garrison until these troubles are all over." "i think that you will act wisely in doing so," guy said. "your servants all bore themselves bravely last night, but they had no defensive armour and were unaccustomed to the use of weapons. only i would advise you to be very careful as to the men that you engage, or you may find your guard within as dangerous as the mob without." "i will take every pains as to that, you may be sure, and will engage none save after a careful inquiry into their characters." the streets had already been cleared of the slain. all through the night little parties had searched for and carried off their dead, and when at early morning the authorities sent a party down to clear the street there remained but some twenty-five bodies, evidently by their attire belonging to the lowest class, and presumably without friends. that day petitions and complaints were sent to the king by the provosts of the merchants, the gold and silver smiths, the cloth merchants, the carpenters and others, complaining of the tumults caused by the butchers and their allies, and especially of the attack without cause or reason upon the house of maã®tre leroux, the worshipful provost of the silversmiths. several skirmishes occurred in the evening between the two parties, but an order was issued in the name of the king to the maire and syndics of paris rebuking them for allowing such disturbances and tumults, and ordering them to keep a portion of the burgher guard always under arms, and to repress such disturbances, and severely punish those taking part in them. maã®tre leroux and his wife paid a formal visit to dame margaret early in the day to thank her for the assistance that her retainers had given in defending the house. "you were good enough to say, madame," the silversmith said, "that you regretted the trouble that your stay here gave us. we assured you then, and truly, that the trouble was as nothing, and that we felt your presence as an honour; now you see it has turned out more. little did we think when you came here but a few days since that your coming would be the means of preserving our lives and property, yet so it has been, for assuredly if it had not been for your esquire and brave retainers we should have been murdered last night. as it is we have not only saved our lives but our property, and save for the renewal of the doors we shall not have been the losers even in the value of a crown piece. thus, from being our guests you have become our benefactors; and one good result of what has passed is, that henceforth you will feel that, however long your stay here, and however much we may try to do for you, it will be but a trifle towards the discharge of the heavy obligation under which we feel to you." after a meeting of the city council that afternoon, a guard of ten men was sent to the silversmith's to relieve the burgundian men-at-arms. five of these were to be on duty night and day until the house was made secure by the new doors and iron grill erected in front of the shop. guy proposed to dame margaret that he should give up his visit to the _salle d'armes_, but this she would not hear of. "i myself and the children will go no more abroad until matters become more settled, but it is on all accounts well that you should go to the school of arms. already the friends that you have made have been the means of saving our lives, and it is well to keep them. we know not what is before us, but assuredly we need friends. maã®tre leroux was telling me this morning that the armagnacs are fast approaching, and that in a few days they will be within a short distance of paris. their approach will assuredly embitter the hostility between the factions here, and should they threaten the town there may be fierce fighting within the walls as well as without. at present, at any rate, there are likely to be no more disturbances such as that of last night, and therefore no occasion for you to remain indoors. even these butchers, arrogant as they are, will not venture to excite the indignation that would be caused by another attack on this house. that, however, will make it all the more likely that they will seek revenge in other ways, and that the house will be watched at night and any that go out followed and murdered. "you and tom the archer are no doubt safe enough from the attack of ordinary street ruffians, but no two men, however strong and valiant, can hope to defend themselves successfully against a score of cut-throats. but i pray you on your way to the school go round and thank, in my name, this italian and his daughter, and say that i desire much to thank the young lady personally for the immense service she has rendered me and my children. take the archer with you, for even in the daytime there are street brawls in which a single man who had rendered himself obnoxious could readily be despatched." "in faith, master guy," long tom said as they sallied out, "it seems to me that if our stay in paris is a prolonged one i shall return home rich enough to buy me an estate, for never did money so flow into my pocket. we have been here but a short time, and i have gained as much and more than i should do in a year of hard service. first there was that young french count, the very next morning when he called here he gave me a purse with thirty crowns, telling me pleasantly that it was at the rate of five crowns for each skull i cracked on his behalf. then this morning maã®tre leroux came to me and said, 'good fellow, it is greatly to your skill and valour that i owe my life, and that of my wife; this will help you to set up housekeeping; when you return home,' and he gave me a purse with a hundred crowns in it; what think you of that, master? the other three also got purses of fifty crowns each. if that is the rate of pay in paris for a couple of hours' fighting, i do not care how often i take a share in a fray." "you are doing well indeed, tom, but you must remember that sooner or later you might go into a fray and lose your life, and with it the chance of buying that estate you speak of." "we must all take our chances, master, and there is no winning a battle without the risk of the breaking of casques. are we going to the house we went to the first night we came here, master guy? methinks that this is the street we stopped at." "yes, tom. it was the man who lives here who sent me word that the butchers were going to attack the provost's house, by the same messenger who met us before notre dame, and who last night, after warning me, carried my message to count charles, praying him to come to our aid." "then he did us yeoman service," the archer said warmly, "though i think not that they would have carried the barricade had they fought till morning." "perhaps not, though i would not say so for certain, for they might have devised some plan such as they did for covering themselves while they assaulted the door. but even had they not done so they would have been sure before they retired to have fired the house." "that is what i thought of when they were attacking us," the archer said, "and wondered why they should waste men so freely when a torch would have done their business just as well for them." "that would have been so, tom, had they only wished to kill us; but though, no doubt, the leaders desired chiefly the life of the provost, the mob simply fought for plunder. if they had found all the jeweller's store in his shop, they would have fired the house very quickly when they discovered that they could not get at us. but it was the plunder that they wanted, and it was the sight of those chests full of silver-ware that made them venture their lives so freely, in order to have the handling of it. i do not think that i shall be long here, tom. do not wait for me at the door, but stroll up and down, keeping a short distance away, so that i can see you when i come out." a decrepit old woman opened the door, and on guy giving his name she said that she had orders to admit him if he called. the girl came out dressed in her female attire as he went upstairs. "ah, signor," she said, "i am glad indeed to see that you are safe." "thanks to you," he said warmly; "we are all your debtors indeed." "i had but to run a mile or two," she said; "but what was there in that? but indeed i had an anxious time, i so feared that i should be too late. when i had seen the count d'estournel and delivered your message to him and had shown him your ring, and he and his friends had declared that they would call up their men and come at once to your aid, i could not go back and wait until this morning to learn if they arrived in time, so i ran to your street again and hid in a doorway and looked out. just as i got there they broke in the door and i saw some of them rush in. but there was a pause, though they were all pressing to enter. they went in very slowly, and i knew that you must be defending the entrance. at last there was a sudden rush, and i almost cried out. i thought that it was all over. a great many entered and then there was a pause again. the crowd outside became more and more furious; it was dreadful to hear their shouts and to see the waving of torches and weapons. "they seemed to be almost mad to get in. the crush round the door was terrible, and it was only when two or three horsemen rode in among them shouting, that the press ceased a little. one horseman obtained silence for a moment by holding up his hand. he told them that their friends inside were attacking a barricade, and would soon carry it, and then there would be silver enough for all; but that by pressing forward they did but hamper the efforts of their comrades. it seemed, oh, such a long, long time before i saw the burgundians coming along, and i could not help throwing my cap up and shouting when they charged into the crowd. i waited until it was all over, and then i ran back home and had a rare scolding for being out so late; but i did not mind that much, after knowing that you were all safe." at this moment a voice from the landing above said: "are you going to keep master aylmer there all day with your chattering, katarina?" the girl made a little face and nodded to guy to go upstairs. "katarina is becoming a madcap," the astrologer said, as he led guy into the room. "i cannot blame her altogether; i have made a boy of her, and i ought not to be shocked at her acting like one. but she gave me a rare fright last night when she did not return until close on midnight. still, it was natural for her to wish to see how her mission had turned out." "her quickness saved all our lives," guy said. "had it not been for her carrying my message to the count d'estournel we should have been burnt alive before morning." "it was unfortunate that i sent you the message so late, master aylmer. i was busy when a medical student who sometimes gathers news for me in the butchers' quarter came here, and left a missive for me. had he sent up a message to me that it was urgent, i would have begged the personage i had with me to wait a moment while i read the letter. as it was, it lay downstairs till my visitor departed. when i learned the news i sent off katarina at once. she had but a short time before come in, and was fortunately still in her boy's dress, so there was no time lost. i went out myself at ten o'clock to see what was going on, and must have been close to her without either of us knowing it. i looked on for a short time; but seeing that nothing could be done, and feeling sure that the house must be taken,--knowing nothing of the chance of the burgundians coming to the rescue,--i returned here and was surprised to find that katarina had not returned. "i did not think that she could have reached the shop and warned you before the mob arrived, and therefore i became greatly alarmed as the time went by without her appearing. indeed, my only hope was that she must have been looking on at the fight and would return when it was all over, as indeed it turned out; and i should have rated her much more soundly than i did had she not told me how she had fetched the burgundians and that they had arrived in time. i hear that there is a great stir this morning. the number of men they have lost, and specially the deaths of legoix and of the young caboche, have infuriated the butchers and skinners. they have already sent off two of their number to lay their complaint before the duke of burgundy of the conduct of some of his knights in attacking them when they were assailing the house of a noted armagnac. but they feel that they themselves for the moment must remain quiet, as the royal order has emboldened the maire, supported by the traders' guilds, and notably by the carpenters, who are a very strong body, to call out a portion of the city guard, and to issue an order that all making disturbances, whomsoever they may be and under whatsoever pretext they are acting, will be summarily hung if captured when so engaged. "in spite of this there will no doubt be troubles; but they will not venture again to attack the house of the silversmith, at any rate until an order comes from the duke of burgundy to forbid his knights from interfering in any way with their doings." "which i trust he will not send," guy said; "and i doubt if the knights will obey it if it comes. they are already much enraged at the insolence of the butchers, and the royal proclamation this morning will justify them in aiding to put down disturbances whatsoever may be the duke's orders. and now, sir count, i have come hither this morning on behalf of my lady mistress to thank you for sending the news, and still more for the service your daughter rendered in summoning the knights to her assistance. she desires much to return thanks herself to your daughter, and will either call here to see her or would gladly receive her at her lodging should you prefer that." "i should prefer it, master aylmer. your lady can scarce pass through the streets unnoticed, for her english appearance marks her at once; and as all know she lodges at the silversmith's, she will be more particularly noticed after the events of last night, and her coming here will attract more attention to me than i care for. therefore i will myself bring katarina round and will do myself the honour of calling upon your lady. i can wrap the girl up in a cloak so that she shall not attract any observation, for no one knows, save the old woman below, that i have a daughter here; and with so many calling at the house, and among them some reckless young court gallants, i care not that it should be known, if for no other reason than, were it so, it would be soon suspected that the lad who goes so often in and out is the girl in disguise, and i could then no longer trust her in the streets alone." "you will find my lady in at whatever hour you come, signor, for she has resolved not to go abroad again until order is restored in paris." "the decision is a wise one," the italian said; "though indeed i think not that she would be in any danger, save that which every good-looking woman runs in troubled times like these, when crime is unpunished, and those in authority are far too occupied with their own affairs to trouble their heads about a woman being carried off. but it is different with you and your comrade. the butchers know well enough that it was your work that caused their failure last night. your appearance at the window was noticed, and it was that tall archer of yours who played such havoc among them. therefore i advise you to be ever on your guard, and to purchase a mail shirt and wear it under your doublet; for, however watchful you may be, an assassin may steal up behind you and stab you in the back. you may be sure that caboche and the friends of legoix will spare no pains to take vengeance upon you." guy presently rejoined the archer in the street. "henceforth, tom," he said, "you must always put on breast-and-back piece when you go out. i have been warned that our lives will almost surely be attempted, and that i had best put on a mail shirt under my doublet." "perhaps it would be best, master guy. i fear not three men if they stand up face to face with me, but to be stabbed in the back is a thing that neither strength nor skill can save one from. but as i care not to be always going about in armour i will expend some of my crowns in buying a shirt of mail also. 'tis better by far than armour, for a man coming up behind could stab one over the line of the back-piece or under the arm, while if you have mail under your coat they will strike at you fair between the shoulders, and it is only by striking high up on the neck that they have any chance with you. a good coat of mail is money well laid out, and will last a lifetime; and even if it cost me all the silversmith's crowns i will have a right good one." guy nodded. he was wondering in his own mind how he should be able to procure one. his father had given him a purse on starting, but the money might be needed for emergencies. he certainly could not ask his mistress for such a sum, for she too might have need of the money that she had brought with her. he was still turning it over in his mind when they reached the fencing-school. he was greeted with acclamations as he entered by the young count and his friends. "here is our defender of houses," the former exclaimed. "truly, guy, you have given a lesson to the butchers that they sorely needed. they say that the king himself, who is in one of his good moods to-day, has interested himself mightily in the fray last night, and that he has expressed a wish to hear of it from the esquire who he has been told commanded the defence. so it is not unlikely that there will be a royal message for you to attend at the palace. fortunately we had the first say in the matter this morning. my father returned last night, and as he is rather a favourite of his majesty, we got him to go to the king and obtain audience as soon as he arose, to complain of the conduct of the butchers in attacking the house of the provost of the silversmiths, and where, moreover, dame villeroy, who had arrived here in obedience to his majesty's own commands, was lodged. the king when he heard it was mightily offended. he said he had not been told of her coming, and that this insult to her touched his honour. he sent at once for the maire and syndics, and upbraided them bitterly for allowing such tumults to take place, and commanded them to put a stop to them under pain of his severe displeasure. "that accounts, you see, for the maire's proclamation this morning. the king desired my father to thank me and the other knights and gentlemen for having put down the riot, and said that he would at once send off a message to the duke of burgundy commanding him to pay no attention to any reports the butchers might send to him, but to give them a stern answer that the king was greatly displeased with their conduct, and that if any fresh complaint about them was made he would straightway have all their leaders hung. "it is one thing to threaten, and another to do, guy; but at any rate, so long as the duke is away they will see that they had best keep quiet; for when the king is in his right senses and is not swayed by others, he is not to be trifled with. "you can imagine what an excitement there was last night when that boy you sent arrived. the ring was sent up first, and when i gave orders that he should be admitted he came in well-nigh breathless. there were six or eight of us, and all were on the point of leaving. thinking that it might be something private, they had taken up their hats and cloaks. the boy, as he came in, said, 'which of you is count charles d'estournel?' 'i am,' i said. 'you are the bearer of a message from guy aylmer?' 'i am, my lord. he prays you hasten to his assistance, for the butchers and skinners are attacking maã®tre leroux's house, and had begun to hammer on the door when i was still in the street. if they make their way in, they will surely kill all they find in there. they are shouting, 'death to the armagnacs! death to the english spies!' "i called upon my comrades to join me, and all were eager to do so. we had long been smarting under the conduct of these ruffians, and moreover i was glad to discharge a part of my debt to you. so each ran to his lodgings and despatched servitors to summon their men-at-arms, and to order the horses to be saddled, and to gather in front of my lodging with all speed. two or three of my friends who had left earlier were also summoned; but though we used all the speed we could it was more than an hour before all were assembled. the men-at-arms were scattered, and had to be roused; then there was the work of getting the stables open, and we had to force the doors in some places to do it. i was on thorns, as you may well imagine, and had little hope when we started that we should find any of you alive. delighted indeed we were when, on getting near enough, we could see the crowd were stationary, and guessed at once that you were still holding out--though how you could have kept so large a number at bay was beyond us. we struck heartily and heavily, you may be sure, and chased the wolves back to their dens with a will. i hear that, what with those you slew in the house and street and those we cut down, it is reckoned that a couple of hundred were killed; though as to this none can speak with certainty, seeing that so many bodies were carried away before morning." "i trust that none of you received wounds, count charles?" "none of us; though several of the men-at-arms had gashes from the rascals' weapons, but naught, i think, that will matter." at this moment one of the attendants of the salon came in. "an usher from the palace is here, my lords and gentlemen. he has been to the lodging of master guy aylmer, and has learned that he will most likely be here. if so, he has the king's command to conduct him to the palace, as his majesty desires to have speech with him." "i told you so, guy; my father's story has excited the king's curiosity, and he would fain hear all about it. make the most of it, for his majesty loves to be entertained and amused." "had i better ask the usher to allow me to go back to my lodging to put on a gayer suit than this?" guy asked. "certainly not; the king loves not to be kept waiting. fortunately no time has been wasted so far, as this is on the road from the silversmith's to the palace." the louvre at that time bore no resemblance to the present building. it was a fortress surrounded by a strong embattled wall, having a lofty tower at each corner and others flanking its gates. on the water-face the towers rose from the edge of the river, so that there was no passage along the quays. the building itself was in the castellated form, though with larger windows than were common in such edifices. eight turret-shaped buildings rose far above it, each surmounted with very high steeple-like roofs, while in the centre rose another large and almost perpendicular roof, terminating in a square open gallery. the building was further protected by four embattled towers on each side, so that if the outer wall were carried it could still defend itself. in the court-yard between the outer wall and the palace were rows of low barracks, where troops were lodged. two regiments of the best soldiers of burgundy were quartered here, as the duke feared that some sudden rising of the armagnac party might put them in possession of the king's person, in which case the orleanists would easily persuade him to issue proclamations as hostile to burgundy as those which were now published in his name against the orleanists. the louvre, indeed, differed but slightly from palaces of several of the great nobles within the walls of paris, as all of these were to some extent fortified, and stood as separate fortresses capable of offering a stout resistance to any attack by the populace. "i would rather face those villains of last night for another hour than go before the king," guy said, as he prepared to follow the attendant; "but i trust that good may come of my interview, and that i can interest the king in the case of my mistress." joining the usher, who was waiting at the entrance, and who saluted him courteously--for the manner in which the message had been communicated to the usher showed him that the young squire was in no disgrace with the king--guy walked with him to the louvre, which was a short half-mile distant. accompanied as he was by a royal officer, the guard at the gate offered no interruption to his passage, and proceeding across the court-yard he entered the great doorway to the palace, and, preceded by the usher, ascended the grand staircase and followed him along a corridor to the apartments occupied by the king. chapter xi -danger threatened on being ushered into the royal apartment guy was led up to the king, who was seated in a large arm-chair. he was stroking the head of a greyhound, and two or three other dogs lay at his feet. except two attendants, who stood a short distance behind his chair, no one else was present. the king was pale and fragile-looking; there was an expression of weariness on his face, for in the intervals between his mad fits he had but little rest. he was naturally a kind-hearted man, and the troubles that reigned in france, the constant contention among the great lords, and even among the members of his own family, were a constant source of distress to him. between the duke of burgundy, the queen, his nephew of orleans, and the other royal dukes he had no peace, and the sense of his inability to remedy matters, and of his position of tutelage in the hands of whoever chanced for the moment to be in the ascendant, in no slight degree contributed to the terrible attacks to which he was subject. at the present moment the duke of burgundy was away, and therefore, feeling now comparatively free, he looked up with interest when the usher announced guy aylmer. "you are young, indeed, sir," he said, as guy made a deep bow, "to be the hero of the story that i heard this morning. i hear that you have been slaying many of the good citizens of paris!" "some have certainly been slain, sire; but i think not that any of them could be considered as good citizens, being engaged, as they were, in attacking the house of the worshipful provost of the silversmiths, maã®tre leroux." "i know him," the king said, "and have bought many rare articles of his handiwork, and more than once when i have needed it have had monies from him on usance. 'tis a grave scandal that so good a citizen should thus be attacked in my city, but i will see that such doings shall not take place again. and now i would hear from your own lips how you and a few men defended the house so long, and, as i hear, with very heavy loss to those attacking it. i am told that you are english." "yes, sire, i have the honour to be an esquire to sir eustace de villeroy, and am here in attendance upon his dame, who, with her two children, have been brought as hostages to paris under your royal order." a look of pain passed across the king's face. "your lord is our vassal for his castle at villeroy?" "he is, sire, and is also a vassal of england for the estates of his wife." "since england and france are not at present on ill terms," the king said, "he may well discharge both duties without treason to either henry or myself; but they told me that his vassalage to me has sat but lightly upon him." "his father and grandfather, sire, were vassals of england, as villeroy was then within the english bounds, but he is, i am assured, ready faithfully to render any service that your majesty might demand of him, and is willing to submit himself, in all respects, to your will. but since he wishes not to take any part in the troubles between the princes, it seems that both regard him with hostility. two months since his castle was attacked by some eight thousand men from ham, led by sir clugnet de brabant. these he repulsed with heavy loss, and deemed that in so doing he was acting in accordance with your majesty's proclamation, and was rendering faithful service to you in holding the castle against your enemies, and he had hoped for your majesty's approbation. he was then deeply grieved when your royal herald summoned him, in your name, either to receive a garrison or to send his wife and children hither as hostages." "i will see into the matter," the king said earnestly. "and so your mistress was bestowed at the house of maã®tre leroux?" "she was, sire, and is most hospitably entertained by him." "now let us hear of this defence. tell me all that took place; withhold nothing." guy related the details of the defence. [illustration: "the king extended his hand to guy, who went on one knee to kiss it."] "truly it was well done, young sir, and i owe you thanks for having given so shrewd a lesson to these brawlers, maã®tre leroux has good reasons for being thankful to the duke for lodging your lady in his house, for he would doubtless have lost his life had you and your four men not been there. when the duke of burgundy returns i will take council with him touching this matter of your mistress. i know that he gave me good reasons at the time for the bringing of her hither, but in the press of matters i do not recall what they were. at any rate, as she is here as my hostage her safety must be ensured, and for the present i will give orders that a guard be placed at the house." he extended his hand to guy, who went on one knee to kiss it and then retired. he took the news back to dame margaret. "i knew well enough that the poor king had nothing to do with the matter," she said. "were it otherwise i would myself have asked for an audience with him; but i knew that it would be useless, he would but have replied to me as he has to you, that he must consult the duke." in the afternoon the italian called with his daughter upon dame margaret. the former was now dressed in accordance with his rank as an italian noble, and the girl, on laying aside her cloak, was also in the costume of a young lady of position. guy presented the count to his mistress. "i am greatly indebted to you, count montepone," she said, "for the timely warning that you sent us, and still more for the service rendered to us by your daughter in summoning the burgundian knights to our aid. truly," she added with a smile, "it is difficult to believe that it was this young lady who was so busy on our behalf. i thank you, maiden, most heartily. and, believe me, should the time ever come when you require a friend; which i hope may never be the case, you will find one in me on whom you can confidently rely. "this is my daughter agnes. she is, methinks, but a year or so younger than yourself, though she is as tall or taller, and she will gladly be your friend also." katarina replied quietly and composedly, and guy, as he watched her and agnes talking together, was surprised at the way in which she adapted herself to circumstances. as a boy she assumed the character so perfectly that no one would suspect her of being aught else. she was a french gamin, with all the shrewdness, impudence, and self-confidence of the class. as he saw her at her father's in female attire something of the boy's nature seemed still to influence her. there was still a touch of sauciness in her manner, and something of defiance, as if she resented his knowledge of her in her other character. now she had the quiet composure of a young lady of rank. as dame margaret had said, she was but little older than agnes; but though less tall than the english girl, she looked a woman beside her. guy stood talking with them while dame margaret and the count conversed apart. gradually as they chatted katarina's manner, which had at first been somewhat stiff, thawed, and guy left her and agnes together and went to look through the window. he could vaguely understand that katarina at first, knowing that dame margaret and agnes must be aware of her going about as a boy, was standing a little on her dignity. the simple straightforwardness of agnes and her admiration of the other's boldness and cleverness had disarmed katarina, and it was not long before they were chatting and laughing in girlish fashion. there was a difference in their laughter, the result of the dissimilar lives they had led. one had ever been a happy, careless child, allowed to roam about in the castle or beyond it almost unattended, and had only to hold herself as became the position of a maiden of rank on special occasions, as when guests were staying in the castle; the other had been for years her father's assistant, engaged in work requiring shrewdness and quickness and not unattended at times with danger. she had been brought into contact with persons of all ranks and conditions, and at times almost forgot her own identity, and was in thought as well as manner the quick-witted messenger of her father. after the latter had chatted for some time with dame margaret he beckoned her to him. "dame margaret has promised me to be your protector should aught befall me, child," he said, "and i charge you now in her hearing should anything happen to me to go at once to her castle at villeroy, and should she not be there to her castle at summerley, which lies but twelve miles from the english port of southampton, and there to place yourself under her guardianship, and to submit yourself to her will and guidance wholly and entirely. it would be well indeed for you to have a quiet english home after our troubled life. to italy you cannot go, our estates are long since confiscated; and did you return there you would find powerful enemies and but lukewarm friends. besides, there would be but one mode of life open to you, namely, to enter a convent, which would, methinks, be of all others the least suited to your inclinations." "i can promise you a hearty welcome," dame margaret said kindly. "i trust that you may never apply for it; but should, as your father says, aught happen to him, come to me fearlessly, and be assured that you will be treated as one of my own family. we shall ever be mindful of the fact that you saved our lives last night, and that nothing that we can do for you will cancel that obligation." "i trust that i may never be called upon to ask your hospitality, lady margaret," the girl said quietly, "but i thank you with all my heart for proffering it, and i feel assured that i should find a happy home in england." "'tis strange how it has all come about," her father said. "'tis scarce a month since i saw dame margaret enter paris with her children, and the thought occurred to me that it would be well indeed for you were you in the charge of such a lady. then, as if in answer to my thoughts, i saw her young esquire in the crowd listening to me, and was moved at once to say words that would induce him to call upon me afterwards, when i saw that i might possibly in these troublous times be of use to his mistress. and thus in but a short time what was at first but a passing thought has been realized. it is true that there are among my clients those whose protection i could obtain for you; but france is at present as much torn by factions as is our native italy, and none can say but, however highly placed and powerful a man may be to-day, he might be in disgrace to-morrow." carefully wrapping his daughter up in her cloak again, the italian took his leave, refusing the offer of dame margaret for two of her men-at-arms to accompany them. "there is no fear of trouble of any sort to-day," he said. "the loss that was suffered last night was so severe that the people will be quiet for a few days, especially as the king, as well as the city authorities, are evidently determined to put a stop to rioting. moreover, the fact that the burgundian nobles have, now that the duke is away, taken a strong part against the butchers' faction has for the moment completely cowed them. but, apart from this, it is my special desire to return to my house unnoticed. it is seldom that i am seen going in and out, for i leave home as a rule before my neighbours are about, and do not return till after nightfall. i make no secret of my being a vendor of drugs at the fairs, and there are few can suspect that i have visitors after dark." "i like your astrologer, guy," dame margaret said when they had left. "before i saw him i own that i had no great faith in his countship. any man away from his native country can assume a title without anyone questioning his right to use it, so long as he is content to live in obscurity, and to abstain from attracting the attention of those who would be likely to make inquiries. but i have no doubt that our friend is, as he represents himself, the count of montepone, and i believe him to be sincere in the matter of his dealings with us. he tells me that he has received more than one hint that the reports that he deals with the stars and exercises divinations have come to the ears of the church, and it is likely ere long he may be forced to leave paris, and indeed that he would have done so before now had it not been that some of those who have had dealings with him have exercised their influence to prevent things being pushed further. "no doubt it is true that, as he asserts, he in no way dabbles in what is called 'black art,' but confines himself to reading the stars; and he owned to me that the success he has obtained in this way is to some extent based upon the information that he obtains from persons of all classes. he is evidently a man whose nature it is to conspire, not so much for the sake of any prospect of gain or advantage, but for the pleasure of conspiring. he has dealings with men of both factions. among the butchers he is believed to be an agent of the duke, who has assumed the character of a vendor of nostrums simply as a disguise, while among the armagnacs he is regarded as an agent of orleans. it is doubtless a dangerous game to play, but it both helps him in his profession of astrologer and gives him influence and power. i asked him why he thus mingled in public affairs. he smiled and said: 'we are always conspiring in italy; we all belong to factions. i have been brought up in an atmosphere of conspiracy, and it is so natural to me that i could scarce live without it. i am rich: men who trade upon the credulity of fools have plenty of clients. my business of a quack doctor brings me in an income that many a poor nobleman would envy. i travel when i like; i visit alternately all the great towns of france, though paris has always been my head-quarters. "'as an astrologer i have a wide reputation. the name of the count smarondi--for it is under that title that i practise--is known throughout france, though few know me personally or where i am to be found. those who desire to consult me can only obtain access to me through some of those whose fortunes i have rightly foretold, and who have absolute faith in me, and even these must first obtain my consent before introducing anyone to me. all this mystery adds both to my reputation and to my fees. could anyone knock at my door and ask me to calculate his horoscope he would prize it but little; when it is so difficult to obtain an introduction to me, and it is regarded as a matter of favour to be allowed to consult me, people are ready to pay extravagant sums for my advice. and,' he said with a smile, 'the fact that ten days or a fortnight always elapses between the time i am asked to receive a new client and his or her first interview with me, enables me to make such minute inquiries that i can not only gain their complete confidence by my knowledge of certain events in their past, but it will aid me in my divination of their future. "'i believe in the stars, madame, wholly and implicitly, but the knowledge to be gained from them is general and not particular; but with that general knowledge, and with what i know of men's personal character and habits, of their connections, of their political schemes and personal ambitions, i am able in the majority of cases so to supplement the knowledge i gain from the stars, as to trace their future with an accuracy that seems to them astonishing indeed. for example, madame, had i read in the stars that a dire misfortune impended over you last night, and had i learned that there was a talk among the butchers that the provost of the silversmiths was a strong opponent of theirs, and that steps would shortly be taken to show the parisians the danger of opposing them, it would have needed no great foresight on my part to tell you that you were threatened with a great danger, and that the danger would probably take the form of an attack by the rabble on the house you occupied. i should naturally put it less plainly. i should tell you to beware of this date, should warn you that i saw threatening faces and raised weapons, and that the sounds of angry shouts demanding blood were in my ears. "'any astrologer, madame, who works by proper methods can, from the conjunction of the stars at anyone's birth, calculate whether their aspect will be favourable or unfavourable at any given time, and may foretell danger or death; but it needs a knowledge of human nature, a knowledge of character and habits, and a knowledge of the questioner's surroundings to be able to go much farther than this. that i have had marvellous successes and that my counsels are eagerly sought depends, then, upon the fact that i leave nothing to chance, but that while enveloping myself in a certain amount of mystery i have a police of my own consisting of men of all stations, many, indeed most of whom, do not know me even by sight. they have no idea of the object of my inquiries, and indeed believe that their paymaster is the head of the secret police, or the agent of some powerful minister.' "you see, guy, the count spoke with perfect frankness to me. his object naturally was to gain my confidence by showing himself as he is, and to explain why he wished to secure a home for his daughter. he took up his strange profession in the first place as a means of obtaining his living, and perhaps to secure himself from the search of private enemies who would have had him assassinated could he have been found; but he follows it now from his love for an atmosphere of intrigue, and for the power it gives him, because, as he told me, he has already amassed a considerable fortune, and could well retire and live in luxury did he choose. he said frankly that if he did not so interest himself his existence would be simply intolerable to him. "'i may take my daughter to england,' he said; 'i may stay there until i see her established in life, but when i had done so i should have to return here. paris is always the centre of intrigues; i would rather live on a crust here than be a prince elsewhere.' "he certainly succeeded in convincing me wholly of his sincerity, as far as we are concerned. devoted to intrigue himself, he would fain that his daughter should live her life in peace and tranquillity, and that the money for which he has no use himself should be enjoyed by her. 'i have lost my rank,' he said, 'forfeited it, if you will; but she is the countess katarina of montepone, and i should like to know that she and my descendants after her should live the life that my ancestors lived. it is a weakness, a folly, i know; but we have all our weak points and our follies. at any rate i see that that fancy could not well be carried out in france or in italy, but it may be in england.' at any rate, after all he has told me i feel that he has it in his power to be a very useful friend and ally to us here; i am convinced that he is truly desirous of being so." "and how did you like the girl, agnes?" she said, raising her voice. agnes had fetched charlie in, and they were looking together down into the street while their mother was talking to guy. "i hardly know, mother; she seemed to be so much older than i am. sometimes when she talked and laughed, i thought i liked her very much, and then a minute later it seemed to me that i did not understand her one bit. but i do think that she would be very nice when one came to know her thoroughly." "she has lived so different a life to yourself, agnes, that it is no wonder that you should feel at first that you have nothing in common with her. that she is very clever i have no doubt, and that she is brave and fearless we know. can you tell us anything more, guy?" "not very much more, lady margaret. i should say that she was very true and loyal. i think that at present she enters into what she has to do in something of the same spirit as her father, and that she thoroughly likes it. i think that she is naturally full of fun and has high spirits, and that she enjoys performing these missions with which she is entrusted as a child enjoys a game, and that the fact that there is a certain amount of danger connected with them is in itself attractive to her. i am glad that you have told me what he said to you about himself, for i could not understand him before. i think i can now, and understanding him one can understand his daughter." at eight o'clock all retired to bed. they had had little sleep the night before, and the day had been full of events. guy's last thought was that he was sorry for the king, who seemed to wish to do what was right, but who was a mere puppet in the hands of burgundy or queen isobel, to be used as a lay figure when required by whichever had a temporary ascendency. for the next fortnight guy worked hard in the _salle d'armes_, being one of the first to arrive and the last to depart, and after taking a lesson from one or other of the masters he spent the rest of the morning in practising with anyone who desired an adversary. well trained as he was in english methods of fighting, he mastered with a quickness that surprised his teachers the various thrusts and parries that were new to him. at the end of that time he was able to hold his own with the young count d'estournel, who was regarded as an excellent swordsman. the attendance of the burgundian nobles had now fallen off a good deal. the armagnac army had approached paris, st. denis had opened its gates to them, and there were frequent skirmishes near the walls of paris between parties of their knights and the burgundians. paris was just at present more quiet. burgundy was still absent, and the future seemed so uncertain, that both factions in the city held their hands for a time. the news that a reconciliation between orleans and burgundy had been fully effected, and that the great lords would soon enter paris together, was received with a joy that was modified by recollections of the past. burgundy and orleans had once before sworn a solemn friendship, and yet a week or two later orleans lay dead in the streets of paris, murdered by the order of burgundy. was it likely that the present patching up of the quarrel would have a much longer duration? on the former occasion the quarrel was a personal one between the two great houses, now all france was divided. a vast amount of blood had been shed, there had been cruel massacres, executions, and wrongs, and the men of one faction had come to hate those of the other; and although neither party had dared to put itself in the wrong by refusing to listen to the mediators, it was certain that the reconciliation was a farce, and that it was but a short truce rather than a peace that had been concluded. nevertheless paris rejoiced outwardly, and hailed with enthusiasm the entry of the queen, the dukes of aquitaine, burgundy, berri, and bourbon. the duke of aquitaine was now acting as regent, though without the title, for the king was again insane. he had married burgundy's daughter, but it was rumoured that he was by no means disposed to submit himself blindly to the advice of her father. the only effect of the truce between the parties was to add to the power of the burgundian faction in paris. but few of the armagnac party cared to trust themselves in the city that had shown itself so hostile, but most of them retired to their estates, and the great procession that entered the town had been for the most part composed of adherents of burgundy. three days after their arrival in the town guy, on leaving the _salle d'armes_, found katarina in her boy's attire waiting for him at the corner of the street. "my father would speak with you, master guy," she said shyly, for in the past two months she had always been in her girl's dress when he had met her. "pray go at once," she said; "i will not accompany you, for i have other matters to attend to." "things are not going well," the count said when guy entered the room; "the orleanists are discouraged and the butchers triumphant. at a meeting last night they determined that a body of them should wait upon the dukes of aquitaine and burgundy to complain of the conduct of the knights who fell upon them when attacking the silversmith's, and demand in the name of paris their execution." "they would never dare do that!" guy exclaimed indignantly. "they will assuredly do it, and i see not how they can be refused. the duke has no force that could oppose the parisians. they might defend the louvre and one or two of the strongly fortified houses, but the butchers would surround them with twenty thousand men. burgundy's vassals might come to his assistance, but the gates of paris would be closed, and it would need nothing short of an army and a long siege before they could enter paris. when they had done so they might punish the leaders, but burgundy would thereby lose for ever the support of the city, which is all-important to him. therefore if you would save your friends you must warn them that it will be necessary for them to make their way out of paris as quickly and as quietly as may be. in the next place, and principally, you yourself will assuredly be murdered. there was a talk of the meeting demanding your execution and that of your four men; but it was decided that there was no need to do this, as you could all be killed without trouble, and that possibly the duke of aquitaine might refuse on the ground that, as your lady had come here under safe-conduct as a royal hostage, you were entitled to protection, and it would be contrary to his honour to give you up. "there are others who have displeased the parisians whose lives they will also demand, and there are several women among them; therefore, it is clear that even the sex of your lady will not save her and her children from the fury and longing for revenge, felt by the family of legoix and by caboche the skinner. the only question is, where can they be bestowed in safety? i know what you would say, that all this is monstrous, and that it is incredible that the parisians will dare to take such steps. i can assure you that it is as i say; the peril is most imminent. probably to-night, but if not, to-morrow the gates of paris will be closed, and there will be no escape for any whom these people have doomed to death. in the first place, you have to warn your burgundian friends; that done, you must see to the safety of your four men. the three frenchmen may, if they disguise themselves, perchance be able to hide in paris, but your tall archer must leave the city without delay, his height and appearance would betray him in whatever disguise he were clad. "now as to your lady and the children, remain where they are they cannot. doubtless were she to appeal to the duke of burgundy for protection he would place her in the louvre, or in one of the other castles--that is, if she could persuade him of the intentions of the parisians, which indeed it would be difficult for her to do; but even could she do so she would not be safe, for if he is forced to surrender some of his own knights and ladies of the court to these miscreants, he could not refuse to hand over lady margaret. they might, it is true, possibly escape from paris in disguise, but i know that there is already a watch set at the gates. the only resource that i can see is that she should with her children come hither for a time. this is but a poor place for her, but i think that if anywhere she might be safe with me. no one knows that i have had any dealings whatever with you, and no one connects me in any way with politics. what should a vendor of nostrums have to do with such affairs? thus, then, they might remain here without their presence being in the slightest degree suspected. at any rate i have as good means as any for learning what is being done at their councils, and should receive the earliest information were it decided that a search should be made here; and should this be done, which i think is most unlikely, i shall have time to remove them to some other place of concealment. "lastly, as to yourself, i take it that nothing would induce you to fly with your burgundian friends while your lady is in hiding in paris?" "assuredly not!" guy said. "my lord appointed me to take charge of her and watch over her, and as long as i have life i will do so." "you will not be able to aid her, and your presence may even add to her danger. still, i will not say that your resolution is not honourable and right. but, at least, you must not stay here, for your detection would almost certainly lead to hers. you, however, can be disguised; i can darken your skin and hair, and, in some soiled garb you may hope to pass without recognition. where to bestow you i will talk over with my daughter. as soon as it becomes dusk this evening she will present herself at the house-door of maã®tre leroux. she will bring with her disguises for your lady, the children, and yourself--i have many of them here--and as soon as it is quite dark she will guide here dame margaret with her daughter and son. you had best not sally out with them, but can follow a minute or two later and join them as soon as they turn down a side street. as to the men, you must arrange with them what they had best do. my advice is that they should this afternoon saunter out as if merely going for a walk. they ought to go separately; you can decide what they had best do when outside." chapter xii -in hiding the news of this terrible danger was so wholly unexpected that guy for a moment felt almost paralyzed. "it seems almost incredible that such wickedness could take place!" he exclaimed. "my information is certain," the count replied. "i do not say that i think your burgundian friends are in so much danger as some of those of the king's party, as burgundy's influence with these parisians goes for something; still, he might not be able to save them if they waited till the demand was made, although he might warn them if he learned that they were to be among those demanded." "does the duke, then, know what is intended?" the count smiled. "we know what followed the last reconciliation," he said, "and can guess pretty shrewdly at what will happen now. _then_ the duke murdered orleans, _now_ he may take measures against the supporters of the present duke. it was certain that the struggle would begin again as soon as the kiss of peace had been exchanged. last time he boldly avowed his share in the murder; this time, most conveniently for him, the parisians are ready and eager to do his work for him. dismiss from your mind all doubt; you can rely upon everything that i have told you as being true. whether you can convince these young knights is a matter that concerns me not; but remember that if you fail to convince your mistress, her life and those of her children are forfeited; and that, so far as i can see, her only hope of safety is in taking refuge here." "i thank you with all my heart," guy said, "and will now set about carrying out your advice. first, i will return to my lady and consult with her, and see what we had best do with the men. as to count charles d'estournel and his friends, i will see them as soon as i have arranged the other matter. their case is not so pressing, for, at least, when once beyond the gates they will be safe. i will see that my lady and the children shall be ready to accompany your daughter when she comes for them." "look well up and down the street before you sally out," the count said; "see that there are but few people about. it is a matter of life and death that no one who knows you shall see you leave this house." guy followed his advice, and waited until there was no one within fifty yards of the door, then he went out, crossed the street, took the first turning he came to, and then made his way back to the silversmith's as fast as he could. "what ails you, guy?" dame margaret said as he entered the room, "you look sorely disturbed, and as pale as if you had received some injury." "would that that were all, my lady. i have had news from the count of montepone of so strange and grave a nature that i would not tell you it, were it not that he is so much in earnest, and so well convinced of its truth that i cannot doubt it." he then related what the count had told him, and repeated the offer of shelter he had made. "this is, indeed, beyond all bounds," she said. "what, is it credible that the duke of burgundy and the king's son, the duke of aquitaine, can hand over to this murderous mob of paris noble gentlemen and ladies?" "as to burgundy, madame, it seems to me from what the count said that he himself is at the bottom of the affair, though he may not know that the parisians demand the lives of some of his own knights as well as those of his opponents. as he did not of old hesitate to murder orleans, the king's own brother, we need credit him with no scruples as to how he would rid himself of others he considers to stand in his way. as to aquitaine, he is a young man and powerless. there are no orleanist nobles in the town to whom he might look for aid; and if a king's brother was slain, why not a king's son? it seems to me that he is powerless." "that may be; but i cannot consent to what the count proposes. what! disguise myself! and hide from this base mob of paris! it would be an unworthy action." "it is one that i knew you would shrink from, madame; but pardon me for saying that it is not your own life only, but those of your children that are at stake. when royal princes and dukes are unable to oppose these scoundrel parisians, women and children may well bend before the storm." dame margaret sat for some time with knitted brows. at last she said: "if it must be, guy, it must. it goes sorely against the grain; but for the sake of the children i will demean myself, and will take your advice. now you had best summon the four men-at-arms and talk over their case with them." guy went upstairs and fetched the four men down. "we have sure news, my friends," dame margaret said calmly, "that to-night we and many others shall be seized by the mob and slain." an exclamation of rage broke from the four men. "there will be many others slain before that comes about," long tom said. "that i doubt not, tom, but the end would be the same. an offer of refuge has been made to me and the children, and for their sake, unwilling as i am to hide myself from this base mob, i have brought myself to accept it. my brave esquire will stay in paris in disguise, and do what may be to protect us. i have now called you to talk about yourselves. the gates will speedily be guarded and none allowed to sally out, therefore what is to be done must be done quickly." "we will all stay and share your fate, madame. you could not think that we should leave you," robert picard said, and the others murmured their agreement. "you would add to my danger without being able to benefit me," she said, "and my anxiety would be all the greater. no, you must obey my commands, which are that you forthwith quit paris. beyond that i must leave you to judge your own course. as french men-at-arms none would question you when you were once beyond the gate. you may find it difficult to travel in this disturbed time, but you are shrewd enough to make up some story that will account for your movements, and so may work your way back to villeroy. the difficulty is greater in the case of your english comrade--his height and that light hair of his and ruddy face would mark him anywhere, and if he goes with you would add to your danger, especially as his tongue would betray him as being english the first time he spoke. however, beyond ordering you to quit paris, i must leave this matter in your hands and his, and he will doubtless take counsel with my esquire and see if any disguise can be contrived to suit him. i will see you again presently. you had best go with them, guy, and talk the matter over." "this thing cannot be done, master guy," the archer said doggedly when they reached their apartments; "it is not in reason. what should i say when i got home and told them at summerley that i saved my own skin and left our dear lady and the children to be murdered without striking a blow on their behalf? the thing is beyond all reason, and i will maintain it to be so." "i can understand what you say, tom, for i feel exactly as you do. the question is, how is the matter to be arranged?" then he broke into french, which the archer by this time understood well enough, though he could speak it but poorly. "tom is saying that he will not go, men," he said, "and i doubt not that you feel as he does. at the same time our lady's orders must be carried out in the first place, and you must leave paris. but i say not that you need travel to any distance; on the contrary, i should say that, if it can be arranged, you must return here in a few days, having so changed your attire and aspect that there is no fear of your being recognized, and bestow yourself in some lodging where i may find you if there be need of your services." "that is what will be best, master guy," robert picard said. "we have but to get steel caps of another fashion to pass well enough, and if need be we can alter the fashion of our hair. there are few here who have noticed us, and i consider that there is no chance whatever of our being recognized. there are plenty of men among the cut-throats here who have served for a while, and we can easily enough get up some tale that will pass muster for us three. that matter is simple enough, the question is, what are we to do with tom? we cannot shorten his stature, nor give his tongue a french twist." "no, that is really the difficulty. we might dye that hair of his and darken his face, as i am going to do myself. there are tall men in france, and even his inches would not matter so much; the danger lies in his speech." "i would never open my mouth, master guy; if need were i would sooner cut out my tongue with a dagger." "you might bleed to death in the doing of it, tom. no; we must think of something better than that. you might perhaps pass as a fleming, if we cannot devise any other disguise." "leave that to me, master guy, i shall think of something. i will at any rate hide somewhere near paris, and the lads here will let me know where they are to be found, and i shall not be long before i join them in some such guise as will pass muster. but it will be necessary that we should know where you will be, so that you can communicate with us." "that i don't know myself yet; but i will be every evening in front of notre dame when the bell strikes nine, and one of you can meet me there and tell me where you are bestowed, so that i can always send for you in case of need. now i think that you had better lose no time, for we know not at what hour a guard will be placed on the gate. you had better go out in pairs as if merely going for a walk. if you are stopped, as may well happen, return here; but as you come purchase a length of strong rope, so that you may let yourselves down from the wall. now that peace has been made, there will be but slight watch save at the gates, and you should have no difficulty in evading the sight of any who may be on guard." "that will be easy enough," robert picard said confidently. "we had best not come back here, for there may be a watch set upon the house and they may follow us." "the only thing that troubles me," tom said, "is that i must leave my bow behind me." "you can get another when you get back to villeroy; there are spare ones there." "yes, yes, but that is not the same thing, master guy; a man knows his own bow, and when he takes to a fresh one his shooting is spoilt until he gets to know it well. every bow has its niceties; for rough shooting it makes but little matter, but when it comes to aiming at the slit in a knight's vizor at eighty yards one makes poor shooting with a strange bow." "well, you must practise with your new one, that is all, tom; and if you hide yours here it may be that you will be able to recover it before we start for villeroy. you must leave your bundles behind, it would look suspicious if you were to attempt to take them with you. i should advise you to put on one suit over the other, it will not add greatly to your bulk. when you are ready to start, come below and our lady will say good-bye to you. do not give her a hint that you are thinking of staying near paris; if she asks any questions say that you intend to disguise tom, and he will travel with you." a few minutes later there was a tapping at dame margaret's door; guy opened it and the four men entered. "i wish you good fortunes, my friends," dame margaret said. "here is a letter, robert, that i have written to my lord telling him that you have all served me faithfully and well, and that i commend you to him. i have told him that you are leaving me by my special orders, and that you would willingly have stopped and shared my danger, but that, as i feel that force would avail nothing and your presence might lead to the discovery of my hiding-place, i bid you go. here are four purses to pay the expenses of your journey and of any disguises you may find it necessary to adopt. and now farewell. tarry not an instant, my heart will be lighter when i know that you are beyond the walls." she held out her hand to them; each in turn knelt and kissed it, the three frenchmen in silence but with tears running down their cheeks. tom was the last, and said as he rose: "i am obeying your orders, lady margaret, but never before have i felt, as i feel now, that i am doing a mean and cowardly action. i would rather stay by your side, though i knew that i should be cut in pieces this very night, than leave you thus." "i doubt it not, tom. i know well how your inclinations lie, and yet i feel that it is necessary that you should go. if the great nobles cannot withstand this cruel mob of paris, the arm of a single man can avail nothing, and your presence would bring danger rather than safety to me." "i feel that, my lady; did i not do so i would not go even at your command. you are my liege lady, and i have a right to give my life for you, and would do it were it not that i see that, as you say, my staying here would bring danger upon you." as soon as they had gone dame margaret said: "now, guy, i will detain you no longer; hasten and warn your friends." guy hurried away; he found that count charles was on the point of mounting to go for a ride with some of his friends. "stay a moment i beg of you, count," guy said as he hurried up, "i have a matter of most serious import to tell you." "wait, my friends," the young count said to sir pierre estelle, count walter de vesoul, and the sieur john de perron, who were already mounted; "i shall not detain you many minutes." "well, what is it, friend guy?" he asked as he entered his room. "i have come to warn you of a great danger, count. this evening a mob of parisians, i know not how numerous, but at least of great strength, will demand from burgundy and the duke of aquitaine the surrender to them of you and the others who took part in defeating them the other night, besides other gentlemen, and, as i hear, ladies." "_pardieu_! if it be so the duke will give the impudent knaves their answer." "ten thousand armed men are not apt to take an answer, count. you know that many times already the duke of burgundy has been overborne by the leaders of these parisians and forced to do things that must have displeased him, as they displeased you all, therefore i implore you to ride off while you may. even now it is possible that the gales may be closed, but if so, they are not likely to be strongly guarded. it is evident that your going would at any rate save the duke from grave embarrassment." "are you sure that this news is true?" the count asked. "absolutely certain. if you would save yourself and your friends i pray you to call upon them at once to mount and ride in a body to one of the gates. you may bid some of your retainers mount and follow you at a short distance, and if you find the gates closed and the fellows will not let you out, call them up and fight your way out. you can stay for to-night at sã¨vres, and if you find in the morning that i have not spoken truly you can return and upbraid me as you will. if, however, you find that strange events have happened here, then you had best ride away to burgundy and stay there until you find that these villainous knaves here have been reduced to order, which methinks it will need an army to undertake." the count went to the window, opened it, and called his friends below to come up. "no, no," d'estelle said laughing; "if we once come up we shall stay there. if you cannot come now, join us at the lion d'or at sã¨vres, where you will find us eating the dinner that we have sent on to order." "the matter is urgent," d'estournel said. "i am not joking with you, but pray you to come up at once." seeing that the matter was serious the three knights dismounted and went up. they were at first absolutely incredulous when they heard from count charles what guy had told them. "that the knaves owe us no good-will i know well enough," count walter said, "for they have over and over again laid their complaint against us before the duke; but it is hard to believe that they would dare to demand what burgundy would never grant." guy repeated the arguments that he had used with d'estournel. "there is no limit," he said, "to the arrogance of these knaves, and in truth it cannot be denied that they are masters here, and that even the duke cannot altogether withstand them; and you know, moreover, how essential is their goodwill to him. but even should he ever so obstinately refuse their demands they might well take their way without his leave. what can he, with a handful of knights and a few hundred armed men, do against the mob of paris? i earnestly pray you, gentlemen, to treat the matter as serious. warn your eight friends without delay; bid your retainers mount and ride to the gate. if it is open, all the better, it is but a party of pleasure bound for sã¨vres, and if you learn to-morrow morning that all is quiet here you can return. if it seems better to you, and this may save you much argument, merely ask your friends to mount and ride with you to dine there; if any refuse, say you have a motive that they will learn when they get there, and almost compel them to go with you. i pledge you my honour that you will have no reason to regret having taken my advice." "well, what do you say, gentlemen?" count walter asked. "as master aylmer says, it will at worst be but a carouse, which i hope he will share with us." "that i would right gladly do," guy replied, "but i have the safety of my lady and her children to look after, for she too, as well as our four men-at-arms, have incurred the enmity of these butchers. i have sent the men out of the town, and a place of safety has been prepared for her and the children. i shall see them safely bestowed there at nightfall." "since you have thought such preparations necessary we will at any rate act on the information that you have given us, and will promise not to blame you unduly should it turn out that the affair you speak of does not come off. let us lose no time, gentlemen; let us each go to two of our friends and take no denial from them to our invitation to dine with us at sevres. let us say nothing to them about bringing their men-at-arms and grooms with them. we can ourselves muster some thirty fighting men, and that should be enough with our own swords to bring these knaves to reason if they keep their gates shut against us." "as my arrangements are all made," guy said, "and i have an hour to spare, i shall walk down towards the gate and see what comes of it." the four gentlemen at once mounted and rode off,--after giving directions to their grooms to order their men-at-arms to mount at once and to wait for them at a spot a quarter of a mile from the gate,--and guy strolled off in the same direction. in half an hour he had the satisfaction of seeing the men-at-arms ride up and halt as ordered. walking a little further on he saw that something unusual had happened. groups of people were standing about talking, and each man who came up from the gate was questioned. joining one of the groups he soon learned that the excitement was caused by the unusual closing of the gates, no one being allowed either to enter or pass out. none could account for this proceeding. it was certain that it had not been done by the orders either of the dukes of aquitaine or burgundy,--for there were no royal guards or men-at-arms with the duke's cognizance,--but by men of the city, who, as all agreed, must be acting under the orders of the butchers. "it is a bold deed," one said, "for which they will have to account. it is a usurpation of authority, and one the duke of aquitaine, who is now king in all but name, will surely resent hotly." "how strong is the party?" one of the bystanders asked, putting the question that guy had on his lips. "some forty or fifty, all stout fellows with steel caps and breast-pieces, and well armed." guy turned and walked back to the spot where the burgundian men-at-arms were drawn up. in ten minutes d'estournel and his party rode up. guy was glad to see that he had with him the whole of his companions. he at once went up to them. "the gates are closed, count, and held by forty or fifty of the townsmen in arms, so you see that my information was correct. had you not better tell your friends of the truth now, for otherwise they might hesitate to take so grave a step as to attack them?" d'estournel nodded, and, riding to the others, said in a low voice: "gentlemen, we had not intended to let you into this little mystery until we had left paris, but i find it necessary to do so now. i have learned surely that the rabble of paris have resolved upon massacring us to-night for the share we took in that little affair at the provost of the silversmiths. to that end they have shut the gates, and hold it with some fifty armed men. it is as well that some of us have brought our men-at-arms here. i can hardly fancy that these rascals will try to prevent us from passing out, seeing that they have no warrant but their own for closing the gates against us, but if they do there is nothing for it but to open them ourselves. let us ride forward at once, gentlemen, for these fellows may receive a reinforcement at any time." so saying, he put spurs to his horse, calling upon the men-at-arms to follow. his three companions, who were already in the secret, joined him at once; and the others, after a pause of astonishment and almost incredulity, followed, in no way loath at the chance of another fight with the followers of the butchers. as they approached the gate the townsmen hastily drew up in front of it. "what means this?" count walter de vesoul said haughtily, as he reined up his horse a few paces from the line. "by what authority do you dare close the gates and thus stand armed before them?" "by the authority of the city of paris," the leader of the party said insolently. "i recognize no such authority while the king and the duke of aquitaine, who holds his full powers, are resident here. clear the way, my man, and open the gates, or i will ride over you." the butcher answered him with a derisive laugh. "it will cost you your lives if you attempt it," he said. "gentlemen, draw your swords and give these rough fellows the lesson they need;" and, setting the example, he rode at the butcher and cut him down. the idea that the burgundian knights would venture to force a passage in the teeth of the prohibition of the master of the butchers had apparently not so much as entered the minds of the guard, and as soon as the knights and their followers fell upon them, the greater portion of them flung down their arms and fled, a few only fighting stoutly until overpowered. as soon as the skirmish was over the keys were brought out from the guard-room, and the gate unlocked and the massive bars taken down. in the meantime some of the men-at-arms had run up on to the wall, hoisted the portcullis, and lowered the drawbridge across the fosse. as soon as they returned and mounted the party rode through. as they did so, four men ran out from a lane near the wall and followed them; and guy at once recognized in them the archer and his three companions. greatly pleased, he returned to the city and informed dame margaret of what had taken place. "no doubt," he said, "when they found the gates shut they remembered what i had said, that i was going to warn count charles and his friends, and went back to observe what these were doing; and the sight of their retainers going towards the gate must have told them which way they intended to leave; and they, no doubt, went down and hid up near the gate to watch the conflict, and to take advantage of it, if a chance offered, to get off themselves." "that is indeed a satisfaction, guy; and i am glad, too, that your friends got away. there can be no doubt now that the count's information was accurate; the gates having been closed, as he said they would be, vouches for this. katarina has been here; she was dressed this time as an apprentice in the service of some trader, and brought a large box containing our disguises and yours. for you there is a bottle of dye for your hair, a mixture for darkening your skin, and clothes--the latter such as would be worn by a workman. charlie is to wear a girl's dress, at which he is mightily offended; nor is agnes better pleased, for a boy's suit has been sent for her. my disguise is simply a long cloak with a hood, such as is worn by the wives of small traders. katarina explained that it had been thought better to change the sex of agnes and charlie, so that, when a hue and cry is raised for a missing woman, with a girl of fourteen, and a boy of ten, no one should associate the woman with two lads and a little girl, whom they passed in the street, as being the party for which search is being made. and now, guy, do you not think that we should warn our good host of the danger that threatens, for, doubtless, he also has been marked out as a victim?" "i will see him at once, and will tell him as much as it is necessary for him to know. assuredly it is now too late for him to escape beyond the walls, unless he were to take his wife with him, and bring his serving-men to let them down from the walls; but this, i should think, he will not do, he would rather take refuge in the house of some of his friends." the silversmith listened gravely when guy told him that he had received sure information that the butchers would that evening make a slaughter of some of their opponents, that they would be in such force that resistance would be hopeless, and that the few royal troops and the followers of burgundy would be insufficient to make head against them. "your news does not surprise me, and though i know not how you came by it, i fear that it is true. the news that the city gates have been all shut and are being guarded by strong parties of the butchers' rabble, shows but too surely that there is danger in the air. in the first place, there is your lady to be thought of; i must endeavour to obtain for her also shelter among my friends." "we have already arranged for a hiding-place for her and the children, maã®tre leroux. i may not name where it is to anyone, but suffice that it is a quiet house where there is little fear of any suspicions resting upon them, and where they will be able to remain until order is restored." "i fear that that will be a long time," the silversmith said. "the butchers boast that they can place 20,000 men under arms, and indeed the terror excited by them is so great, that very many who hate their doings as much as i do myself have been forced to make a semblance of joining them. next about your men-at-arms, they are brave fellows and i owe them much." "they are all safe outside the walls. some burgundian knights, indignant that this rabble should dare stop them, cut their way out through the port st. denis, and our men took advantage of the gates being open to follow them." "and as to yourself, master aylmer?" "i have dyes to blacken my hair and a tincture for darkening my face. i have also a disguise by which i may pass as an apprentice to a trader. i shall at all hazards remain in paris, but what i shall yet do i know not. and now about yourself and madame leroux--you will not, i hope, think of defending the house as you did before." "certainly not; it would not avail to save our lives, and would assuredly cost those of my servitors and most likely of the women. i have friends, who will, i hope, gladly take us in. maã®tre lepelletiere, the master carpenter, who has been doing my doors, is an old friend of mine, and after the last attack, urged me to withdraw for a time from the attention of the mob, and offered me refuge in his place. he lives in the rue des fosses; which is close to the old inner wall that is now for the most part in ruins. you pass along by the hospital, and when beyond the old wall turn to the right; 'tis the third doorway. there are no houses facing it, but it looks straight upon the wall, the ground between being some thirty or forty yards wide; and doubtless when the house was built, it was before the present wall was erected, and stood on the outer side of the fosse round the old one. there are many others of the same trade who live in that quarter, and as they are for the most part opposed to the butchers, i doubt not that my friend will have no difficulty in obtaining a lodging for you among them should no other have been settled upon." "thank you indeed," guy replied; "the arrangement has been made by others, and i know not for certain what has yet been decided upon, but should not a suitable place have been chosen i will gladly accept your offer." "and now i must set to work," the silversmith said. "in what way?" guy asked in surprise. "in hiding my wares. in a city like paris, with its sieges and its tumults, a prudent man having goods of great value will assuredly prepare a place of safety for them. i will set my men to work at once; the business must be finished before it becomes dark, for as soon as it does so we must leave the house and close it." "i have nothing to do at present, and shall be glad to help your men," guy said. he followed the silversmith downstairs. maã®tre leroux called his head man. "we must move, jacques, and that quickly; you have heard that the gates are shut." "yes, master, people are talking of nothing else." "i have news that there will be trouble to-night, so we must set to work at once to place the chests in safety. first let them clear out the wood-cellar." this was done in a few minutes by the seven men, then jacques told the others to go back into the shop and pack up all the silver goods in the chests. as soon as they were gone jacques looked inquiringly at his master, who nodded. then he touched a brick in the wall some seven feet above the floor; it sprung back. "will you lift me up?" the man said to guy. the lad did as he was asked, and the man thrust his arm into the orifice. a moment later he asked guy to set him down. "go to the doorway," he said, and hurried across to where maã®tre leroux was standing; then kneeling down he pushed his hand under the sill of the doorway and then stood up. "do you hear that?" the silversmith said. "i hear a dull rumbling somewhere," guy replied. as he spoke he saw half the floor, which was apparently of solid flags, beginning to rise. "this was done in my father's time," maã®tre leroux said, "and it was made for him by maã®tre lepelletiere's father with the aid of two or three good smiths, who put the machinery together at his house and were in ignorance where it was intended to be placed." the trap-door was now raised, and guy to his astonishment saw a stream of running water three feet below the opening. "whence comes this?" he asked in astonishment. "no wonder you are surprised," the silversmith said; "it was a piece of rare good-luck that my father hit upon it. a map that he had showed him that in the old days, before there were any houses on this side of the river, a narrow branch left the stream some hundred yards above the position of his house, made a circuit and came into it again as much below. he inquired among some old men, and learned that they had heard their grandfathers say that they knew that at some time or other this stream had been built over when paris began to grow in this direction. after he had contrived this apparatus that you see, which is worked by a heavy counterpoise in the wall, he began to dig, and a foot below the surface came upon an arch of brickwork, so my father concluded that his house was exactly over the old stream. "on breaking through the crown he discovered, as you see, that the water still flowed through this tunnel, which is some three and a half yards wide and eight feet deep. my men, all of whom are trusty fellows, know of the existence of this hiding-place, but jacques is the only one besides myself who knows the secret of the opening. now, jacques, fetch the chests along as fast as they are ready." the chests were soon brought up and one by one lowered. chains were attached from the handle of each to that of the one that followed; they were almost the weight of the water and sank until within an inch-or two of the surface. each was floated down as it was lowered, until twenty great chests had been taken down. then one more heavy and ponderous than the rest was attached to the train, and a sloping board being placed from the cellar floor to the bottom of the stream, the case was allowed to slide down this until it rested on the bottom several feet beyond the trap-door. "there you see," the silversmith said, "even if they discovered the trap-door and broke up the floor with sledgehammers, which would be no easy matter, and probed the stream with lances, they would find nothing. as you saw, there is a chain to the end of the last box, which is, as it were, an anchor to the rest; this chain jacques will now attach to a strong wire, and fasten that to a ring below the water's edge, and a foot beyond the trap-door, so that when danger is past we shall haul up the chain and recover the cases one by one in the order in which they have been sent down." as soon as jacques had fastened the wire to the ring he touched another heavy spring under the sill, then pulled hard on the trap-door; this gradually began to sink, and in a minute was in its place again. at the same time the brick that had been pushed in above came out into its place again, dust was then swept into the crack at the edge of the trapdoor, and no one who had not seen the latter raised would have dreamt of its existence. chapter xiii -the masters of paris the trap-door closed, the firewood was carried back again, and guy went upstairs, where he found that dame margaret, agnes, and charlie had already put on their disguises. their faces had been slightly darkened; agnes had coiled her hair up under a cap, while dame margaret's would be completely hidden under the hood. she and charlie could, have passed very well even in daylight, but agnes by no means looked her character. her mother had darkened the skin at the back of her neck as well as on her face, but the girl's evident discomfort and shyness were so unboylike that they would at once be noticed. guy fetched a short cloak reaching only to his hips from his room and brought it in to her. "i think that you will be more comfortable in this," he said. "yes, indeed," she exclaimed gratefully, as she put it over her shoulders; "i shall not mind now." it reached nearly down to her knees, and the high collar concealed the back of her head effectually. "i did not expect that you would be ready so soon," he said, turning to dame margaret; "it will not be dark for two hours yet." "no; but i thought it much better to be prepared to leave at any moment. mistress leroux has shown me a door opening from the yard into a very narrow lane behind. she says that it has not been used for years, but she has been down herself with the key and has unlocked it, so that we have only to let a bar down to open it, and if there should be an attack on the front of the house we can escape that way." "it would be best to leave that way in any case," guy said, "and thereby you will avoid observation by anyone who may be watching. it is evident that the citizens of this quarter are very anxious and alarmed; looking from the window i have seen them standing in groups, or going in and out of each other's houses. they cannot know what is going to take place, but the closing of the gates by the butchers without any warrant has, of course, shown them that something serious is going to occur." "you had better disguise yourself at once, guy." "i will do so, mistress, but i do not think that there is any fear of disturbance until evening; men who are engaged in work, that may some day bring punishment upon those concerned in it, prefer darkness. besides, at that time all careful men will be in their houses, and will not dare to come out whatever sounds they may hear." maã®tre leroux presently came up. "i have been out and trying to gather news. there are all sorts of rumours abroad, but none know aught with certainty. they say that the butchers have stationed guards at the end of all the streets leading to the market quarter, and they allow none to pass in or out. it is reported that aquitaine has sent an officer to the butchers to demand under what warrant they have closed the gates of the city, and to order them to open them forthwith, and to withdraw the men stationed there. it is said that their answer was that they had acted for the good of the state, and for the safety of the king's person, and that they would presently call upon his highness and explain matters to him. this may be true or merely rumour, but it is generally believed. everyone is talking of the fight at the gate of st. denis. some say that it was forced open by order of the duke of burgundy, while others affirm that caboche, and that mischievous varlet john de troyes, went in great haste to the duke when they received the news, that he declared to them that he knew nothing whatever of the affair, and that whatever was done was certainly done without his orders. most of my men have already left; it were better that they should go off one by one than that they should move off together. 'tis well that my wife bethought her of that back entrance. it has never been used in my time, for the lane is but three feet wide, and the houses beyond are of no very good repute. i talked at one time of having it bricked up, and only refrained from doing so from the thought that it might be useful on some such occasion as this. your esquire has not gone out, i suppose, lady margaret?" "no, he is putting on his disguise--at least, he is colouring his hair and face, and so altering himself that he would not be known; but he will not put on his full disguise until later." guy soon came out. he was in his ordinary garments, but having put on his best suit beneath them he looked broader and bulkier than usual, while his blackened hair and darkened face had made so great a change in his appearance that both agnes and her mother agreed that they would not have known him. "you could certainly go anywhere, guy, and mix with any crowd, and no one would have a suspicion that you were the young englishman for whom the whole town was searching." half an hour before it became dark, guy went down to the front door. standing there listening attentively, he presently heard three little knocks given, as by a hand on the door. he opened it a little, katarina slipped in, and he again fastened it and put up the bar. "i brought the disguises early," she said, "as i thought they might be required in haste, but my father has learned that it will be eight o'clock before the butchers sally out with their forces from the markets." "all here are ready and prepared to start at a moment's notice, and have arranged to go out by a door behind, that leads into a narrow lane." "that is good!" the girl said. "i have been near for the last half-hour and have noticed two or three men hanging about, and by their furtive glances in the direction of the house i have no doubt that they are watching it. i had to wait until there happened to be a group of people before the door, and then slipped in behind them, and got in without, i am sure, their having seen me. i have been uneasy as to how we should leave, for if they saw a party of three or four issuing out together, one of them would be sure to follow." they were now upstairs. the fact that agnes was in the same disguise as herself freed katarina from the shame-facedness that she would otherwise have felt at being seen by dame margaret in her present attire. "you are well disguised," the latter said as she entered. "i no longer wonder that you are able to go about as a boy without suspicion; you look one to the life, while agnes is so awkward that she would be detected in a moment." "she has not had the practice that i have had," katarina said with a laugh; "the awkwardness will soon wear off if she has to dress like this for a short time. as for me, i have learnt all a boy's tricks and ways. i can whistle and shout with any of them, can quarrel, and bluster, be saucy on occasion, and have only once been in trouble." "how was that, katarina?" "a boy who was a bit taller than i ran against me and declared that it was my fault, and gave me a cuff on the head. i might have run away, and of course i ought to have done so, but i was angry, for he really hurt me; so i had to do what any boy would have done, and i flew at him so fiercely, and cuffed and scratched and kicked so savagely that at last he turned and ran. he had hit me too, but i did not feel it at the time, and next morning i was all sorts of colours round the eyes. father was very angry, but when i asked what else he would have done if he had been cuffed, he could not tell me. i had a very important message to carry that morning for him. at first he said i could not go out in that state; but, as i told him, i had never looked so much like a boy before." all were glad when it became dark enough for them to make a start. the men and maids had all been sent away, and none remained save maã®tre leroux and his wife. they were not in any disguise, but were wrapped up in cloaks, and in the badly-lighted streets could pass unrecognized. "do you go out first, master aylmer," the silversmith said. "i have no fear of anyone watching behind, for it is not likely that any of them know of this entrance to my house; still, it is as well to make certain. when you get out of the lane you had best stay there until the others have passed on, then you can follow them. we will wait for a few minutes after they have gone, and lock the door behind us. you have not forgotten where you are to find us." "no, i have the name and house right. shall i ask for you as maã®tre leroux?" "i have not thought of that. no, it will be better, perhaps, to ask for philip sampson; it were just as well that none should know my name there except lepelletiere and his wife." as arranged guy went out first; there was still light enough for him to make his way along the narrow lane without falling over piles of dirt and rubbish that at some points almost blocked it. the street into which it opened was also a very narrow one, and no one was about. in a minute dame margaret, walking with katarina, and with agnes close behind, holding charlie's hand, passed him. "it is all quite clear," he said. keeping some fifteen yards behind he followed them until they entered a broader street. there were a good many people about here. the nearest way would have been to have crossed the road and passed by another small street facing that from which they had come, but somewhat to his surprise they turned and went along the broader street. he soon acknowledged to himself that this was the wiser course, for there were so many people about that their passage would be unnoticed, while in the narrow lanes some rough fellow might have accosted them. keeping always in frequented streets they made a long detour before they reached that in which the count resided, and it was with a feeling of great relief that guy saw them enter the house. he himself, as arranged, did not approach it for another quarter of an hour, then he went and knocked on the door with his hand, which was at once opened by katarina. "all is well," she said; "your lady is in the room where you first waited--my father is with her." as guy entered the count was just saying: "yes, it would certainly be best, madame, that your daughter should continue at present in that disguise. in the first place, she will get accustomed to it, and should she have occasion to move again she would be able to do so without attracting notice; in the second place, it would be desirable that, even accidentally, no one should know that there is a young lady of her age here. i have no visitors save on business, but possibly either she or your boy might come out on to the stairs when one is going up or down. it would be unfortunate that he should see them at all, but if it were but a boy he caught sight of he would not at any rate associate them with your party. these precautions may seem to you absurd, but it is often by little accidents that things are discovered when as it seemed everything had been provided against." "i shall not mind," agnes said. "when i first went out it seemed dreadful, but when i found that nobody noticed me i began to be accustomed to it, and as your daughter is dressed as a boy too i shall not mind it." "i shall not like being dressed as a girl," charlie said sturdily. the count smiled. "well, we will see what we can do in your case; anyhow, you must keep on that dress--for a day or two. and now, guy, about yourself. i have arranged for you to lodge with a man who gets news for me; it is in the butchers' quarter, which is the last place where anyone would think of looking for you. besides, there you will see all that is going on. i have two other disguises in addition to that i sent you; one is that of a young butcher, another is that of one of the lads who live in misery, who sleep at the market where they can earn a few sous by doing odd jobs, and beg or steal when they can do nothing else. i hear that you have also arranged for a shelter in the quarter between the walls; that too may be very useful, and it will be well for you to go thither to-morrow and arrange so that you can have a place to go to when you choose; it will doubtless be much more pleasant for you there than in the market quarter. lastly, i have got you a white hood, which may be most useful of all." guy looked surprised. "henceforth," the count went on, "white is to be the butchers' colour. all who march this evening are to be so clad, and as soon as it is known to-morrow, you will find three-fourths of the people wearing it, for not to do so will be taken as a sign of hostility to their faction. they will have started by this time, and if it pleases you to put on the butcher's dress and the white hood over it you can mingle in safety with them and see all that is done; then when they return to their quarter, you can go with them. the house to which you are to go is the third on the left-hand side of the rue des couteaux. my man lodges at the top of the house, the room to the left when you mount the stair--his name is simon bouclier. the lane is at the back of the butchers' market. the man has no idea who you are. i have simply told him that i will send a young man to help gather news for me of what is going on, that you would work separately, but that he was to do all in his power to aid you, and that at any time if he wanted to send a message to me and could not himself come, he was to intrust it to you, and similarly he was to bring any message that you might want to send to the spot where he meets my messenger. the man works for one of the thiberts. he does not know who i am, but i think he believes me to be an agent of burgundy's, and that i collect the information so that he may be privately informed of what is doing. i have encouraged that idea, because it is more likely to keep him truthful to me, since he would think that were he to play me false the duke would see that some harm or other befell him. therefore, it is as well that you should drop a word as if by accident that will confirm that notion, and will lead him to believe that you too are working under the orders of the duke. this will lull any suspicion that he might feel on seeing, as he must do, that you live in a position far higher than would appear from your garb. and now, if you would see to-night's doings, you had best put on that disguise and the white hood, and be off without delay; you will find the things in the room above." in a few minutes guy was ready to start. he could not help looking with disfavour at the greasy and stained garments, and he put them on with an expression of strong disgust. the two suits that he had taken off he made up into a bundle, placed the disguise he had brought with him with them, putting up separately that of which the count had spoken, and which was so ragged and dirty that he inwardly hoped he might never be obliged to assume it; then he went downstairs again. he had strapped round his waist a heavy sword placed beside the clothes, and carried in his hand a short pike. dame margaret smiled when he entered, and katarina laughed aloud at the expression of his face. "truly, guy," the former said, "you might go anywhere in that garb without a soul suspecting you. this journey with me is leading you into strange disguises and adventures, which will give you much matter for talk when we are safely back at summerley." "i have left my other disguises above," he said to the count. "the decent one of an apprentice i have placed with my own clothes, and will take them with me to any lodging that i may get among the carpenters, but that beggar suit i will take to simon bouclier's the next time i come. i suppose you would not wish me to come here during the day." "no, unless it is very important; and to that end i think you had better carry the apprentice's disguise also to your lodging in the market. you would not gain favour among the carpenters were you to go among them in the dress you now wear, and your calling upon me here in your apprentice's dress would excite no attention; therefore, if you have need to come here during the day, you had best come as an apprentice." guy now went down into the street through which the butchers' force would pass. in a short time he heard a deep dull sound, and soon they came along, a host of armed men. he fell in unnoticed near the head of the column. soon after he had joined them they halted, and three or four knights came up and entered into conversation with their leaders. guy recognized among them sir robert de mailly, sir charles de lens, and several others of the household of the duke of burgundy. these talked for some time with the sieur de jacqueville, governor of paris, who had joined the butchers' faction and was now riding at the head of the column, whereupon the force went no farther, but turned and retraced its steps. guy wondered greatly where the butchers could be going, but soon found that they were making for the bastille. after much parley between de jacqueville and the governor, the latter consented, on the order of the duke of burgundy's friends, to hand over to them sir peter des essars and his brother sir anthony, who were both supporters of the orleanists and had come to paris secretly, and had by the orders of the duke of aquitaine been admitted as guests to the bastille. these were marched back to the louvre, the gates of which were opened by the orders of burgundy's friends, and the two knights were thrown into the prison of the palace. on the way back the houses of a very rich upholsterer and of a cannon-founder of great repute, both of whom had withstood the butchers, were broken into and their owners both murdered. after this the mob marched to the house of maã®tre leroux. no reply being given to their summons to open, an attack was made upon the door. while they were engaged in doing this, screens of wattles covered with two or three thicknesses of hides were placed so as to shelter the assailants from the arrows that had proved so deadly on the occasion of their last attack. it was thus evident that the outrage was a planned one. guy looked on with some amusement until the door gave way under the action of some very heavy sledge-hammers wielded by a party of brawny smiths; the moment it did so the crowd made a tremendous rush. so great was the pressure that many were thrown down and trampled to death in the doorway. it was not long before several of the windows were thrown open and voices shouted down that the house was deserted. a yell of fury burst from the crowd below, but the pressure at the door was even greater than before. the loss incurred during the first attack had caused all but the bravest and most determined to hang back somewhat; now, however, that it seemed that the silversmith's stores could be ransacked without danger, all were anxious to have a hand in it. presently one of the leaders appeared at a casement on the first floor and waved his arms for silence. the roar of voices ceased and the man cried: "citizens, 'tis of no use to press forward into the house, not only has the traitor and those with him fled from the just vengeance of the people, but he has taken away with him the whole of his silverware." a yell of disappointment and rage rose, then as it ceased for a moment a voice shouted out: "they are trying to cheat us, my friends; those who got in first have divided up the spoil and wish us to have no share in it." this caused a fresh outburst of commotion. at a signal from the leader above a number of well-armed men, who were evidently a sort of body-guard, pressed forward to the door and drove back the crowd with blows from the staves of their pikes. presently those who had entered began to pour out, and in a quarter of an hour the house was cleared. as soon as it was so the windows were lit up by a lurid light which showed that it had been fired on each floor, and the flames very soon burst out through the casements. satisfied with having done this the butchers returned to their quarter, and guy mounted to the chamber of simon bouclier. the man had evidently just returned, as he too wore a white hood. he had been carrying a torch in the procession, and this was stuck into a ring on the wall. [illustration: "well, comrade," said simon, "i suppose you are the man i was told would come to-night?"] "well, comrade," he said as guy entered, "i suppose you are the man i was told would come here to-night." "i am so," guy said. "i should have been here before, but i joined the procession, as i guessed that you would be there also." "yes," the man said; "though i should not have gone had i not thought that more would come of it. what have we done? captured two knights and killed two bourgeois! pooh, it did not need five thousand men for that." "no, but it was just as important as if we had killed a hundred." "how so?" the other asked. "because it has shown the armagnacs that paris and burgundy are as united as ever, and that they will stand no intrigues by the court party." "that is true. we are all sound here; there were but five thousand out to-night, because that was enough for the work, but there will be four times as many next time we go to the louvre. to-morrow morning, you know, we are going to pay a visit to the duke of aquitaine at his hotel, to teach that young man that he has to do as we and burgundy order him, or that it will be worse for him." "so i understand," guy said carelessly. "as long as all hold together in this quarter everything will go right. my duty principally is to find out if there are any signs of wavering; there are no signs, of course, among the butchers, but some of the others are thought to be but half-hearted." "the butchers and skinners are all right, never fear," the man said; "and if there are others in the quarter who may not be quite so hot in the matter as we are, they know better than to open their mouths. of course, in the other quarters there may be a strong party who would thwart us; the smiths and the carpenters and masons are ever jealous of us of the markets, but they have no leaders, and hold not together as we do. besides, they know that we have burgundy with us, so whatever they think they are not likely to say much, for if it came to a battle we could sweep them out of the city." "yes, yes, i know that there is no fear of that, the great thing is to make sure that some of those who seem to be hottest in the matter, are not taking money from the other party; there are one or two i am specially to observe." "i understand you, comrade. i myself have never had much confidence in john de troyes nor his medical students. he is good at talking, no one will deny that; but for myself i would rather that we kept among ourselves and had nothing to do with such cattle, who have no interest in the privileges of the guilds, and who take part with us no one knows why. but i am sleepy; that bundle of fresh rushes in the corner is yours, i got them in the hay-market to-day when i heard that you were coming. you can keep beside me to-morrow morning and i will get you a good place in the ranks. from whence shall i say that you come, as many will ask the question, seeing that your face is strange?" "you can say i am from nancy." "yes, that will be good enough; that is the right quarter of france for a man to have come from just at present." guy was thoroughly fatigued with the long excitement of the day. at eleven in the morning everything had been going on as usual, now dame margaret and the two children were in hiding, her four men-at-arms fugitives, and paris was virtually in a state of insurrection against the royal authority, stirred up thereto by the duke of burgundy, who had thus openly leagued himself with the scum of paris. that what he had seen that evening was but the beginning of a series of crimes, guy could not doubt; and although this man had expressed his confidence in the power of the market-men to sweep the craftsmen out of paris, he felt sure from what he had heard, that this could not be done until a fierce and doubtful battle had been fought in the streets. at eight next morning he went out with his companion. "it is well not to go into a place where we shall meet many till your face is better known," the latter said; and he led the way to a small _trattoir_ a quarter of a mile away. here they sat down and breakfasted, then they returned to the market where the white hoods were mustering. simon, who was evidently well known to most of the butchers, took his place near the head of the column, and at nine o'clock it got into motion. when it issued from its own quarters it was evident that its approach excited general apprehension. the streets were deserted as it passed along. none of the casements were opened, and although the traders dared not put up their shutters, none of them appeared at the doors, where their apprentices and workmen gathered to look at the procession. passing along steadily and in good order, and headed as before by the knights of the duke of burgundy's household, they drew up before the palace of the duke of aquitaine. caboche, john de troyes, and one of the butchers entered the house. the guards having no orders, and seeing how strong was the force that was at their back, did not venture to oppose their entrance, and they pushed on into the private apartments of the duke and informed him that they, on behalf of the good town of paris and for the welfare of his father and himself, required the delivery to them of certain traitors now in the hotel. the duke, furious at their insolence, told them that such affairs were not their business, and that there were no traitors in the hotel. in the meantime many of the white hoods had followed their leaders, simon and guy entering with them. they scattered through the apartments and seized the duke's chancellor, the duke of bar, a cousin of the king, and twelve other knights and gentlemen, some of whom were in the apartment of the duke of aquitaine himself. while this was going on the dukes of burgundy and lorraine arrived, and aquitaine, turning to the former angrily, said: "father-in-law, this insurrection has been caused by your advice; those of your household are the leaders of it; you shall some day repent of this. the state shall not be always governed according to your will and pleasure." however, in spite of his indignation and remonstrance, the twelve gentlemen were carried away and confined in different prisons; and presently discovering the king's secretary, they killed him and threw the body into the river. they compelled the duke of aquitaine himself to leave his palace, and with the king, his father, to take up his abode in the hã´tel de st. pol. placing a strong guard round it, so as to prevent them from leaving paris, the mob then compelled all the nobles and even the prelates, they met, to put on white hoods, and their leaders sent off letters to the chief towns in france to inform them that what they had done was for the welfare of the king and kingdom, and requiring them to give aid should there be any necessity for it; they then published an edict in the name of the king ordering that it should be proclaimed in every bailiwick that no person, under penalty of death and confiscation of goods, should obey any summons from their superior lord to take up arms or to trouble the kingdom. the mad king was made to sign this after the dukes of aquitaine, berri, and lorraine, and other nobles of the council had put their names to it. at nine o'clock that evening guy went to the square before notre dame. here many groups of people were talking over the events of the day. guy had, as soon as he left the market quarter, taken off his white hood, and before starting he put on his dress as an apprentice. there was no doubt that the opinion of the great majority of those in the square was hostile to the authors of the events of the day, and that the consternation among the citizens was very great. after thus forcing the great nobles to obey their will and outraging the palace of the duke of aquitaine, there was no saying to what length they would go, and fears were expressed that ere long they might sack the whole of the better quarters of paris. it was so evident, however, that they had the support of the duke of burgundy that no one saw any way out of their trouble, and that nothing but the arrival of a powerful army of orleanists could relieve them from their peril. as guy had no real expectation of seeing any of his followers,--although the gates had been opened that afternoon after the seizure of the knights,--he attended more to the conversations going on about him than to the matter on which he had come. presently, however, he saw a rough-looking fellow watching him attentively. he walked close to him, but not recognizing him would have passed on, had not the man taken a step forward and said in a low voice: "villeroy!" "is it you, robert? in faith i did not recognize you in that attire." "and i was not sure that it was you, master guy; i should certainly not have known you by your face. your figure and walk, when a short distance away, attracted my attention, and knowing your disguise was that of an apprentice i made sure it was you. then as you came closer i doubted, and though i ventured upon saying the name of our lord, i scarce thought that you would reply." "where are the others, robert?" "they are walking about separately seeking for you. we are to meet on the steps of the cathedral at half-past nine." "what has become of tom?" the man laughed. "if you will come along this way, master, you will see." they went to a quiet corner of the square. as they approached it they heard angry voices, and standing under a lamp guy saw a tall man of wild and unkempt appearance, with black hair and a begrimed face, and a basket of vegetables strapped to his shoulders, threatening angrily with a staff three or four gamins who were making fun of him. he spoke in a wild, incoherent way, and seemed to be half-witted. "what are you worrying this poor fellow for?" robert said angrily to the boys. "if you do not be off, and that quickly, i will lay my cudgel about your shoulders." this threat was much more efficacious than those of the half-witted man had been, and the boys at once took to their heels. the tall man shuffled towards the new-comers. "is it really you, tom?" guy said in a low tone. "it is me, sure enough, master guy. i should not know myself, and am not surprised that you do not know me; in faith, my back aches with walking with a stoop, and my legs with shuffling along as if i had scarce the use of them, instead of stepping out manfully. is all well? we have heard of strange doings--that the butchers have, with the countenance of burgundy, bearded the duke of aquitaine, and even carried off some of his friends from before his face; also that the houses of three of those who had withstood them had been burned, among them that of maã®tre leroux; also that two traders had been killed, though which two they were we have not been able to learn." "all is well, tom; our lady and her children were safely bestowed, as was also the silversmith and his wife." "i am right glad of that; they were a worthy couple. and so his house is burned and sacked?" "burned, but not sacked, tom; for he had, before they came, stowed away in a hiding-place where they could not be found all those chests of his, and not a single piece of silver fell into the hands of the butchers." "that was well done," the archer said, rubbing his hands. "i should like to have seen the dogs' faces when they burst in and found nothing. and my bow, master guy?" "i fear that the flames will not have spared it. i went past the house to-day, and naught but the bare walls are standing." at this moment the bell of the cathedral struck the half-hour, and robert picard said: "will you stay here, master guy? i must go and meet the others, and forthwith bring them to you here." chapter xiv -planning massacre in a short time robert picard returned with his two companions, and leaving the square, they all went along the quays to a quiet spot. "we cannot be overheard here," guy said, "and now, in the first place, let me know how you have fared. i knew that you had got safely away, for i was near the gate of st. denis when the burgundians fought their way out, and i saw you follow." "we had no difficulty," robert picard said. "we went into the wood, and thence i went across to st. cloud and bought these garments that you see us in, and we hid away our steel caps and harness in some bushes in the heart of the wood, where they are not likely to be found. then after a long talk with tom we agreed that he had best go as a half-witted man with a basket of vegetables for sale, and i went into st. cloud again, dressed as i now am, and found a little shop where they sold rags and old garments, and got his outfit for a couple of francs, and dear at that. we thought in that way he would not have to say much, and that any confusion of speech would be set down to the fact that his brain was weak. hearing that the gates were open this afternoon, we came in just before they were closed for the night. we have got a room in a lane which honest folk would not care to pass through even in daylight; 'tis a vile hole, but consorts well with our appearance." "i will try and find you a better place to-morrow, robert. i am going to see the people with whom maã®tre leroux is in hiding. i hear that they have no sympathy with these butchers, and when i tell them that you are stout fellows and good fighters methinks they will find quarters for you; and you may be able to put on safer disguises than those you wear at present, except that of tom's, which i think we cannot better. besides, he can lie there quietly, and need not, except when he chooses, sally out. i myself am lodging at present among the butchers. i hear that caboche and the legoix are furious at our having slipped through their fingers, and they declare that, as we cannot have escaped from paris, they will lay hands on us very soon." "i should like to lay hands on a few of them myself, master guy," tom said earnestly, "say out in that wood there with a quarter-staff, and to deal with four of them at a time. they have burnt my bow, and i shall not get even with them till i have cracked fully a dozen of their skulls." "i shall be likely to be near you in the quarter where i hope to get you lodging, tom, for i too am going to have a room there, though i shall generally live where i now am, as i can there obtain news of all that is going on, and might be able to warn our lady in time if they should get any news that may set them on her track. heard you aught at st. cloud of any orleanist gathering?" "i heard a good deal of talk about it, but naught for certain; but methinks that ere long they will be stirring again. the news that i have heard of the insolence of the mob here to the duke of aquitaine, and of the seizure of their friends who were with him, is like to set them on fire, for they will see that all the promises made by burgundy meant nothing, and that, with the aid of the parisians, he is determined to exercise all authority in the state, and to hold aquitaine as well as the king in his hands." the next morning guy went to the house of maã®tre de lepelletiere, and inquired for philip sampson. maã®tre leroux was in. "i have spoken to my friend about you," he said, after they had talked over the events of the last two days, "and he has arranged for a room for you in a house three doors away; and i have no doubt that your four men can be lodged there also, for 'tis a large house, and is let out, for the most part, as he told me, to journeymen carpenters. but since the troubles began there has been little building, and men who can find no work here have moved away to seek for it in places less afflicted by these troubles. that is one of the reasons why the carpenters have not made a firmer stand against the butchers. i will ask him to come up here. you already know him, as you have spoken with him several times when he was looking after his men putting up the new doors." the master carpenter soon came in. "i will gladly get a lodging for your men," he said, when guy had explained the matter to him. "we may come to blows with these market people, and four stout fellows are not to be despised. there will be a meeting of the council of our guild this afternoon, and on my recommendation they will give me the necessary documents, saying that the men--you can give me their names--have received permission to work as carpenters in paris. they can then put on dresses suitable for craftsmen, and the papers will suffice to satisfy anyone who may inquire as to their business. i think that your tall archer may safely lay aside the disguise you say he has assumed, it might be likely to get him into trouble; the change in the colour of the hair and the darkening of his eyebrows should be quite sufficient disguise, and if he is always when abroad with one of his comrades, he has but to keep his mouth shut, and if questioned the man with him can say that he is dumb." "that would be excellent," guy said, "and i am greatly obliged to you. doubtless, too, they will soon make acquaintance with some of the other workmen, and by mixing with these there will be less suspicion excited than if they always went about together." "i will tell my foreman to present them to the men who work for me, and they will soon get known in the quarter. five or six of my men lodge in the house where i took the room for you. it might be useful, too, were i to give you a paper of apprenticeship, and if you were similarly introduced. in that case it might be convenient to exchange the small room that i have taken for you for a larger one; as an apprentice you would ordinarily lodge with your master, and if you did not you would scarce have a room to yourself, but were you to lodge with your four men it would seem natural enough." "that would be a capital plan, maã®tre lepelletiere." "you see, in that way, too," the carpenter went on, "you would only have to place a plank on your shoulder and then go where you will without exciting the least attention. i will furnish you with a list of the houses where i have men at work, and this again would be an assistance to you. it is my foreman who took the lodging for you; i am expecting him here shortly for orders, and he shall go round with you. as you say that your fellows are dressed at present in rough fashion it will be as well that they should provide themselves with their new disguises before they come here, as, if they were seen in their present guise, it would prejudice them with the others in the house, for craftsmen look down greatly upon the rough element of the street." "they shall do so," guy said, "and i will come with them myself this evening." guy presently went in with the foreman and arranged for a large attic with a dormer window, at the top of the house. at midday he met robert picard and told him the arrangements that had been made, supplying him with money for the purchase of the four dresses. "as soon as it becomes dark," he said, "you had best go to some quiet spot and change them. bring the clothes you now have on in a bundle, for they may yet prove useful, and meet me at eight o'clock at the corner of the rue des fosses." guy then went to the italian's and told dame margaret of the arrangements he had made. "since you have managed it all so well, guy, i am glad to hear that the men are all back in paris. i before wished that they should make straight for villeroy, but since they are so safely bestowed it were best perhaps that they should be within reach. long tom is the only one i shall feel anxious about, for of course he is less easy to disguise than the others." "he has plenty of shrewdness, my lady, and will, i have no doubt, play his part well. i know that i myself feel very glad that there are four true men upon whom we can rely if any difficulty should arise." "some evening, mother," agnes said, "when i have grown more accustomed to this boy's dress i will go with katarina to this house so that i can carry a message there, should she happen to be away when there is need for sending one." lady margaret hesitated, but guy said: "by your leave, my lady, i think that the idea is a very good one, saving that i myself will escort the two ladies there as soon as mistress agnes feels confident enough to go." "in that case i should have no objection, guy. under your charge i have no doubt agnes would be perfectly safe, but i could hardly bring myself to let her go out without escort in so wild a city as this is at present." the italian and his daughter presently joined them, and heard with satisfaction where guy and the four men had obtained a safe lodging. "still," he said, "i should advise you sometimes to sleep at your lodging by the market-place. simon is not the sort of companion you would choose. i have only seen him once, and i was then so disguised that he would not recognize me again--for none of those with whom i have dealings know who i am or where i live--but that once was sufficient to show me that the fellow might be trusted to serve me well as long as he was paid well, especially as he believed that i was an agent of the duke's; still, he is a rough and very unsavoury rascal, and had i been able to think at the moment of anywhere else where you could for the time safely shelter i should not have placed you with him." "i do not mind," guy said; "and at any rate with him i have opportunities of seeing what is going on, as, for example, when they insulted the duke of aquitaine, and it is certainly well to be able to learn what the intentions of the fellows are. as an englishman i care naught for one party or the other, but as one of gentle blood it fills me with anger and disgust to see this rabble of butchers and skinners lording it over nobles and dragging knights and gentlemen away to prison; and if it were in my power i would gladly upset their design, were it not that i know that, for my lady's sake, it were well to hold myself altogether aloof from meddling in it." "you are right," the italian said gravely. "i myself am careful not to meddle in any way with these affairs. i try to learn what is doing, because such knowledge is useful to me and gains me credit as well as money with those who consult me, and may possibly be the means of saving their lives if they do but take my warning. thus, having learned what was proposed to be done yesterday morning, i was able to warn a certain knight who visited me the evening before that it might cost him his life were he to remain in paris twelve hours. he was incredulous at first, for i would give him no clue as to the nature of the danger; however, by a little trick i succeeded in impressing him sufficiently for him to resolve to leave at daybreak. this he did; at least they searched for him in vain at the duke of aquitaine's, and therefore i have no doubt that he took my advice, engaged a boat, and made his escape by the river. it was his first a to me, and i doubt not that henceforth he will be a valuable client, and that he will bring many of his friends to me. if i mistake not, i shall have more opportunities of doing such services and of so increasing my reputation ere long." for a time things went on quietly. tom and his companions were on friendly terms with the other men in the house, who all believed them to be carpenters who had come to paris in search of employment. long tom was supposed by them to be dumb, and never opened his lips save when alone with his companions, and seldom left the house. the room was altogether unfurnished, but furniture was regarded as by no means a necessity in those days. five bundles of rushes formed their beds, and guy, as there was little to learn in the markets, generally slept there. an earthenware pan, in which burned a charcoal fire over which they did what cooking was necessary, a rough gridiron, and a cooking pot were the only purchases that it was necessary to make. slices of bread formed their platters, and saved them all trouble in the matter of washing up. washing was roughly performed at a well in the court-yard of the house. things had now quieted down so much that a considerable number of great nobles resorted to paris, for the king had now a lucid interval. among them were the dukes of berri, burgundy, and lorraine, with duke louis of bavaria, the queen's brother, with the counts de nevers, de charolais, de st. pol, the constable of france, and many other great lords and prelates. the queen was also with her husband. "there will shortly be trouble again," the italian said one day to guy. "simon told my daughter yesterday evening that the butchers were only biding their time to get as many fish into their net as possible, and that when they would draw it they would obtain a great haul. you have not been down there for some time; it were best that you put on your butcher's garb again and endeavour to find out what is intended." "i was expecting you," simon said, when that evening guy entered his room. "there will be a meeting at midnight in the butchers' hall, and i cannot take you in with me, but i will tell you what happens." "that will do as well as if i went myself," guy said, "though in truth i should like well to see one of these councils." "no one is admitted save those known to be, like myself, thoroughly devoted to the cause." "that i can well understand, simon; a traitor might mar all their plans." "some time i may take you," simon said, "for doubtless i could smuggle you in; but to-night--" and he hesitated, "to-night it will be specially important, and they have to be more particular than usual as to who are admitted." guy noticed the hesitation, and replied carelessly that one occasion would be as good as another for him, and presently lay down in his corner. he wondered to himself what the business could be that his companion was evidently anxious that he should hear nothing of. he might wish that he should alone have the merit of reporting it, or it might be something that it was deemed the duke of burgundy himself, the butchers' friend and ally, would not approve of. at any rate he was determined, if possible, to find it all out; he therefore feigned sleep. at eleven o'clock simon got up and went down; guy waited for two or three minutes and then rose and followed. as soon as he was out of the door he made direct for the hall of the butchers' guild. he knew that simon was not going straight there, as the meeting was not, he said, for an hour, and that he would be stopping to drink at some cabaret with his associates. the hall was but a short distance away. when guy approached it he saw that as yet it was not lighted up. on three sides it was surrounded by a garden with high trees; near the front entrance some twenty men were gathered talking together. he, therefore, went round to the back; several trees grew near the wall, and the branches of one of these extended over it. with considerable difficulty guy succeeded in climbing it, and made his way along the branch and got upon the top of the wall. this was about fourteen feet high, and, lowering himself by his arms, he dropped into the garden and crossed to the building. he took off his white hood and thrust it into his doublet. the windows were six feet from the ground, and were, as usual at this time, closed by wooden shutters on the inside. putting his fingers on the sill he raised himself up. there was plenty of room for him to stand, and, holding on by the iron bars, he took out his dagger and began to cut a hole in the shutter. the wood was old, and after half an hour's hard work he succeeded in making a hole three inches long and an inch wide. by the time this was finished the hall had been lighted up with torches, and men were pouring in through the doors at the other end. across the end next to him was a platform on which was a table. for a time no one came up there, for the members as they entered gathered in groups on the floor and talked earnestly together. after a few minutes ten men came up on to the platform; by this time the body of the hall was full, and the doors at the other end were closed. a man, whom guy recognized as john de troyes, stepped forward from the others on the platform and, standing in front of the table, addressed his comrades. "my friends," he said, "it is time that we were at work again. paris is becoming infested by enemies of the people, and we must rid ourselves of them. the nobles are assembled for the purpose, as they say, of being present at the marriage of louis of bavaria with the widow of peter de navarre, but we know well enough that this is but a pretext; they have come to consult how best they can overthrow the power of our duke of burgundy and suppress the liberty of this great city. the question is, are we tamely to submit to this?" a deep shout of "no!" ran through the multitude. "you are right, we will not submit. were we to do so we know that it would cost the lives of all those who have made themselves prominent in the defence of the liberties of paris; they might even go so far as to suppress all our privileges and to dissolve our guilds. in this matter the duke of burgundy hesitates and is not inclined to go with us to the full, but we parisians must judge for ourselves what is necessary to be done. the duke has furnished us with a list of twelve names; these men are all dangerous and obnoxious to the safety of paris. but there must be a longer list, we must strike at our own enemies as well as at those of the duke, and the council has therefore prepared a list of sixty names, which i will read to you." then, taking out a roll of paper, he read a list of lords and gentlemen, and also, to guy's indignation, the names of several ladies of rank. "these people," he said when he had finished, "are all obnoxious, and must be cast into prison. they must be tried and condemned." even among the greater portion of those present the boldness of a proposal that would array so many powerful families against them created a feeling of doubt and hesitation. the bolder spirits, however, burst into loud applause, and in this the others speedily joined, none liking to appear more lukewarm than the rest. then up rose caboche, a big, burly man with a coarse and brutal expression of face. "i say we want no trials," he cried, striking one hand on the palm of the other. "as to the number, it is well enough as a beginning, but i would it were six hundred instead of sixty. i would that at one blow we could destroy all the nobles, who live upon the people of france. it needs but a good example to be set in paris for all the great towns in france to follow it. still, paltry as the number is, it will, as i said, do as a beginning. but there must be no mistake; if trials they must have, it must be by good men and true, who will know what is necessary and do it; and who will not stand upon legal tricks, but will take as evidence the fact that is known to all, that those people are dangerous to paris and are the enemies of the king and the duke of burgundy. last time we went, we marched with five thousand men; this time we must go with twenty thousand. they must see what force we have at our command, and that paris is more powerful than any lord or noble even of the highest rank, and that our alliance must be courted and our orders obeyed. the duke of burgundy may pretend to frown, but at heart he will know that we are acting in his interest as well as our own; and even if we risk his displeasure, well, let us risk it. he needs us more than we need him. do what he will, he cannot do without us. he knows well enough that the orleanists will never either trust or forgive him, and he committed himself so far with us last time that, say what he will, none will believe that he is not with us now. for myself, i am glad that de jacqueville and his knights will not this time, as last, ride at our head; 'tis best to show them that paris is independent even of burgundy, and that what we will we can do." the hall rang with the loud acclamations, then john de troyes got up again. "i agree, we all agree, with every word that our good friend has spoken, and can warrant me that the judges shall be men in whom we can absolutely trust, and that those who enter the prisons will not leave them alive. the day after to-morrow, thursday, the 11th of may, we shall hold a great assembly, of which we shall give notice to the king and the royal dukes, and shall make our proposals to the duke of aquitaine. now, my friends, let each come forward with a list of the number of his friends who he will engage shall be present on thursday." at this point, guy, seeing that the main business of the meeting had been declared, and that there now remained but to settle the details, got down from his post. with the aid of some ivy he climbed the wall and dropped down beyond it, and made his way back to his lodging. when simon returned an hour later, guy was apparently as fast asleep as before. when sleeping at the butchers' quarter he always rose at a very early hour, so that none who might have noticed him in his butcher's attire should see him go out in that of an apprentice, and he was obliged to walk about for some time before he could call at the count's. as soon as he thought that they would be likely to be stirring he knocked at the door. the old woman opened it. "is your master up yet?" he asked. she nodded, and without further question he made his way upstairs to the italian's chamber. "you are early, master aylmer," the latter said in surprise as he entered. "have you news of importance?" "i have indeed, count," and he at once related all that he had heard through the hole in the shutter. "the insolence of these people surpasses all bounds," the count said angrily as he walked up and down the room. "were there any force in the town that could resist them i would warn the duke of aquitaine what was intended, but as it is, nothing would be gained by it. you can only remember the eight or ten names that you have given me?" "that is all; they were names that i was familiar with, while the others were strange to me." "two or three of them i can at least save from the grasp of these rascals," he said, "but i will take them all down on my tablets. what need was there for you," he went on after he had done this, "to run such risk as you did--for you would assuredly have been killed without mercy had they caught you spying upon them--when simon, who you say was present, could have sent me full particulars of all that passed?" guy stated his reasons for fancying that upon this occasion simon did not intend to send a full account. "i thought so before i started," he said, "but i was well assured of it when i heard that, although burgundy had given the names of twelve persons whom he desired to be arrested, he would go no further in the matter, and that he had no knowledge of their further pretensions. it seems to me, count, that, believing as he does that you are an agent of the duke's, he was unwilling to say anything about this matter, as burgundy might thwart the intentions of the butchers. the man is heart and soul with them, and though he is willing to sell you information that can do no harm to their plans, he will say nothing that might enable burgundy to thwart them." "if i thought that burgundy could, or would do so, i would inform him as well as aquitaine what is doing; but in the first place he has not the power, and in the second he would not have the will. what are a few score of lives to him, and those mostly of men of the orleanist faction, in comparison with the support of paris? i am vexed, too, at this failure of simon, that is to say, if it be a failure. that we shall know by mid-day. my daughter will meet him in the place de grã¨ve at eleven, and we shall hear when she comes back how much he has told her. i am going after breakfast to my booth outside the walls, where you first saw me. i must send notes to the three gentlemen whom i know, begging them to see me there." "can i take them for you? i have nothing to do, and shall be glad of anything to occupy me." "i shall be obliged if you will; you are sure to find them in at this hour." he sat down and wrote three short communications. the wording was identical, but the times fixed for the interview were an hour apart. they ran as follows: "_my lord,--consulting the stars last night i find that danger menaces you. it may be averted if you quit paris when you receive this, for it seems to me that it is here only that your safety is menaced. should you wish to consult me before doing so, come, i pray you, to my booth in the fair at two, but come mounted. _" instead of a signature a cabalistic figure was drawn below it, and then the words were added: _the bearer can be trusted._ the slips of parchment were then rolled up and sealed; no addresses were put on. "if they question you," he said, "say nothing, save that i told you that the matter contained in the letter was sure and certain, and that a great risk of life would assuredly be run unless my advice was taken. deliver them into the hands of those they concern, and trust them to no others, master aylmer. if you cannot obtain access to them, say to the varlets that they are to inform their lords that one from the man in the rue des essarts desires urgently to see them, and that should be sufficient if the message is given. if they refuse to take it, then i pray you wait outside for a while on the chance of the gentlemen issuing out. this, on which you see i have made one dot, is for the count de rennes, who is at present at the hotel of st. pol, being in the company of the duke of berri; this is for sir john rembault, who is at the louvre, where he is lodging with the governor, who is a relation of his; the third is for the lord of roubaix, who is also lodged at the louvre." "they shall have them," guy said as he placed them in his doublet, "if i have to stop till midnight to get speech with them; the matter of waiting a few hours is but a trifle in comparison with the life of a man. i would that i could warn others." the italian shook his head. "it could not be done without great danger," he said. "were you to carry an anonymous letter to others you might be seized and questioned. the three to whom you now carry notes have all reason for knowing that my predictions are not to be despised, but the others would not accept any warning from an unknown person. they might take it for a plot, and you might be interrogated and even put to torture to discover who you are and whence you obtained this information. things must go on as they are; assuredly this is no time for meddling in other people's affairs. we are only at the beginning of troubles yet, and know not how great they may grow. moreover, you have no right to run a risk for strangers when your life may be of vital service to your mistress. should you succeed in handing these three letters to the gentlemen to whom they are written by noon, i shall be glad if you will bring the news to me at my booth, and i shall then be able to tell, you how much information the butcher has sent of the proceedings last night." guy went first to the louvre. as many people were going in and out, no question was asked him, and on reaching the entrance he inquired of some varlets standing there for the lodgings of the lord de roubaix and sir john rembault. "i am in the service of the lord de roubaix; what would you with him?" "i am charged with a message for him; i was told to deliver it only to himself." "from whom do you come? i cannot disturb him with such a message from i know not who." "that is reasonable," guy replied, "but if you tell him that i come from the man in the rue des essarts i warrant that he will see me. you don't suppose that i am joking with you," he went on as the varlet looked at him suspiciously, "when i should likely be whipped for my pains. if you will give the message to your lord i doubt not that he will give me audience." "follow me," the varlet said, and led the way upstairs and through several corridors, then he motioned to him to wait, and entered a room. he returned in a minute. "my lord will see you," he said, and led the way into the room. "this is the person, my lord," he said, and then retired. the lord of roubaix was a tall man of some forty years of age. guy bowed deeply and handed to him the roll of parchment. the count broke the seal and read it, and when he had finished looked fixedly at guy. "the writer tells me that you are to be trusted?" "i hope so, my lord." "do you know the contents of this letter?" "i know so much, my lord, that the writer told me to assure you that the matter was urgent, and that he could not be mistaken as to what was written in the letter." the count stood irresolute for a minute or two; then he said: "tell him that i will act upon his advice. he has before now proved to me that his warnings are not to be neglected. you seem by your attire to be an apprentice, young sir, and yet your manner is one of higher degree." "disguises are convenient in times like these, my lord," guy said. "you are right, lad." he put his hand to his pouch, but guy drew back with a smile. "no, my lord, had you offered me gold before you remarked that i was but playing a part, i should have taken it in order to keep up that part; as it is i can refuse it without your considering it strange that i should do so." the count smiled. "whoever you are, you are shrewd and bold, young sir. i shall doubtless see you when i return to paris." guy then left, and delivered the other two missives. in each case those who received them simply returned an answer that they would be at the place at the hour named, and he then went beyond the walls, observing as he passed out through the gates that a party of white hoods had stationed themselves there. however, they interfered with no one passing in or out. on reaching the booth he informed the count of the success of his visits. "i doubt, however," he said, "whether either of the three gentlemen will be here at the time appointed, for the white hoods are watching at the gate." "i think that they will not stop anyone to-day, master aylmer. they intend to make a great haul to-morrow, and would not wish to excite suspicion by seizing anyone to-day. were it known that they had done so, many others who have reason to believe they are obnoxious to burgundy or to the parisians, might conceal themselves or make their escape in various disguises. i hear that a request has been made that a deputation of the citizens of paris shall be received by the duke of aquitaine to-morrow morning, and that the great lords may be present to hear the request and complaints of the city." chapter xv -a rescue guy had found his mornings hang heavy on his hands, as of course he had been obliged to give up attending the fencing-school. going down to the river now, he sat there watching the passing boats until nearly one o'clock, and then returned to the fair. before reaching the booth katarina joined him. "i have been watching for you, monsieur guy. father said it was as well that you should not, twice in a day, be seen entering his place. he bade me tell you that the three gentlemen have been to him and will not re-enter paris." "did you see simon this morning?" "yes, he only told me that the market men would have an interview with the duke of aquitaine to-morrow, and would demand the arrest of those whom the duke of burgundy had pointed out as his enemies. he said that they would go in such force that the duke would be unable to refuse their request. although it was so early, i think that the man had been drinking. my father, when i told him, said i should go no more to meet him." "i am very glad to hear it," guy said. "he is a low scoundrel, and though i say not but that the information obtained from him may have been of some advantage, for indeed it was the means of my being enabled to save our lives and those of my burgundian friends, i like not the thought of your going to meet him; and i am sure that if he were to take the idea into his thick head that it was not for the advantage of the duke of burgundy that the information he had given was being used, he is capable of denouncing you." "i did not mind meeting him,", the girl said. "i never went into the rough quarters, but always met him in one of the better squares or streets. still, i am glad that i have not to go again. i think that he had been drinking all night, and with his unwashed face and his bloodshot eyes and his foul attire i was ashamed even in my present dress to speak with him." "i hope that i have done with him too," guy said. "of course, for my mistress's sake, i shall go again if there be aught to be learnt by it, but as it seems he is now no longer to be trusted it is not likely that any advantage is to be gained by visiting him. however, i shall hear what your father thinks this evening." upon talking over the matter with the astrologer the latter at once said that he thought that it would be better for him not to go to simon's again. "when he finds that my daughter meets him no more he will feel aggrieved. i myself shall go in disguise to-morrow to meet him in the place de grã¨ve, and tell him that for the present there will be no occasion for him to come to the rendezvous, as the events of the meeting which will have taken place before i see him show that there can be no doubt that the butchers are ready to go all lengths against the orleanist party; but that if any change should occur, and private information be required, you would go to his lodging again, i shall make no allusion to his having given me none of the names save those furnished by the duke, or remark on the strangeness that, having been at the meeting, he should have heard nothing of the measures proposed against the others; his own conscience will no doubt tell him that his failure is one of the causes of my no longer desiring any messages from him. i have other means of gaining information, as i have one of the medical students who follow that cracked-brained fellow, john de troyes, in my pay. hitherto i have not employed him largely, but shall now, if need be, avail myself of his services. but i do not think that i shall have any occasion to do so. after the demand by the parisians for so many nobles and gentlemen to be arrested, it will be clear to all adhering to orleans that paris is no longer a place for them, and even the followers of burgundy will see that those the duke regarded as his servants have become his masters, and there will be but few persons of quality remaining in paris, and therefore, save when some citizen wishes to consult me, i shall have little to do here save to carry on my work as a quack outside the gates. even this i can drop for a time, for the people of paris will not be inclined for pleasure when at any moment there may be fierce fighting in the streets. i shall be well content to look on for a time. i have been almost too busy of late. and it was but yesterday that i received news from a carthusian monk,--whom i thought it as well to engage to let me know what is passing,--that there have been debates among some of the higher clergy upon reports received that persons, evidently disguised, call upon me at late hours, and that i practise diabolic arts. a determination has been arrived at that an inquisition shall be made into my doings, my house is to be searched, and myself arrested and tried by the judge for having dealings with the devil. this news much disturbed me; however, when you told me that the archbishop of bourges was among those on the list of accused, and also boisratier, confessor to the queen, it is evident that these good ecclesiastics will have ample matter of another sort to attend to, and are not likely to trouble themselves about sorcery at present." on the following morning some twelve thousand white hoods marched to the hã´tel de st. pol, and the leaders, on being admitted, found all the great lords assembled. after making various propositions they presented a roll to the duke of aquitaine containing the names of those they charged with being traitors. he at first refused to take it; but so many of their followers at once poured into the great hall that he was obliged to do so, and to read out the names. twenty of those mentioned in the list were at once, in spite of the protest of the duke, arrested and carried off; a proclamation was made by sound of trumpet in all the squares of paris summoning the other forty named to appear within a few days, under penalty of having their property confiscated. a week later the king, having recovered his health, went to the church of notre dame, he and all the nobles with him wearing white hoods. four days later the parisians rose again, seized the gates, drew up the bridges, placed strong guards at each point, and a cordon of armed men outside the walls all round the city, to prevent any from escaping by letting themselves down from the walls. parties of ten armed men were placed in every street, and the sheriffs and other leaders marched a large body of men to the hã´tel de st. pol and surrounded it by a line three deep. they then entered and found the king, dukes, and nobles all assembled in the great hall. they then ordered a carmelite friar, named eustace, to preach to the king. he took for his text, "_except the lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain_," and upon this discoursed on the bad state of the government of the kingdom, and of the crimes committed. the chancellor of france demanded of the friar when he had concluded who were those who had incited him thus to speak, and the leaders at once said they had done so, and called up a number of other leaders, who on bended knees declared to the king that father eustace had spoken their sentiments; that they had the sincerest love for the king and his family, and that what they had done had been for the welfare of himself and the kingdom. while this was going on, the duke of burgundy, at once indignant and alarmed at this insolence of the parisians, had gone out, and, finding the lines of armed men surrounding the hotel, had earnestly entreated them to retire, saying that it was neither decent nor expedient that the king, who had but just recovered from his illness, should thus see them drawn up in battle array round his abode. those he addressed replied like the leaders within, that they were there for the good of the kingdom, and then gave him a roll, saying that they should not depart until those written on it were delivered up to them. with the names of louis of bavaria, five knights, an archbishop and priest, were those of nine ladies of high rank, including the eldest daughter of the constable. the duke found that neither his authority nor powers were of the slightest avail, and returning to the queen, showed her the list. she was greatly troubled, and begged him to go with the duke of aquitaine and beg the parisians in her name to wait for eight days, and that she would at the end of that time allow them to arrest her brother. the two dukes went out to the parisians, but they positively refused to grant the request, and declared that they would go up to the queen's apartments and take those named by force, even in her or the king's presence, unless they were given up. on their return to the queen they found louis of bavaria and the king with her. on their report of the parisians' demands the duke of bavaria went out and begged them to take him into custody, and that if he were found guilty they could punish him, but that if found innocent he should be allowed to go back to bavaria, under a promise not to return to france again. he begged them to be content with taking him a prisoner, and to arrest no others. they would not, however, abate one jot of their pretensions, and the whole of those demanded were at once brought out, including the ladies. they were put two and two on horseback, each horse escorted by four men-at-arms, and were carried to various prisons. the duke of burgundy now, with his usual craft, professed to be well satisfied with what the parisians had done, and handed over to them the duke of bar and the other prisoners confined in the louvre, for whose security he had solemnly pledged himself. the parisians then obliged the king to appoint twelve knights, nominated by themselves, and six examiners, to try the prisoners and punish all found guilty, while the dukes were obliged to draw up a statement and send it to the university for their seal of approval of what had been done. the university, however, to their honour, stood firm; and while king and nobles had quailed before the violence of the crowd, they declared in full council before the king that they would in nowise intermeddle or advise in the business; and that so far from having advised the arrests of the dukes and other prisoners, they were much displeased at what had taken place. the university was a power; its buildings were strong, and the students were numerous, and at all times ready to take part in brawls against the parisians; and even the butchers, violent as they were, were afraid to take steps against it. they foresaw, however, that the position taken up by the university might lead some day to an inquiry into their conduct, and therefore obtained from the king an edict declaring that all that had been done was done by his approval and for the security of his person and the state, and that the arrests and imprisonments were therefore to be considered and regarded as having been done for the true honour and profit of the crown, and that he accordingly commanded all his councillors, judges, and officers to proclaim that this was so in all public places. this was signed by the king in council, the dukes of berri and burgundy, and several other nobles and ecclesiastics, by the chancellor of burgundy, and other knights attached to the duke. many nobles quitted paris at once, either openly or in disguise, including many of the burgundian party, who were to the last degree indignant at what was going on; for the mock trials were at once commenced, and many of the prisoners, without regard to sex, were daily either put to death in prison or drowned in the seine. some of the bodies were exhibited on gibbets, the heads of others were fixed on lances, and some of them were beheaded in the market-place. during this time paris remained in a state of terror, bands of armed butchers parading the streets were loud in their threats as to what would be done to all who did not join heartily with them. none of the better class ventured from their houses, and the mob were absolute masters of the city. the leaders, however, maintained for the time a certain degree of order. for the time they were anxious to appear in the light of earnest friends of the king, and as carrying out in his name the punishment of his enemies. but many tumults, murders, and conflagrations occurred in the city, and the country in general soon perceived the real nature of their doings. it was known that the orleanist forces were marching against the city. the count d'eu had left paris and returned to his estates, where he raised two thousand men-at-arms and marched to verneuil, where the dukes of orleans, brittany, and bourbon were assembled, with a number of great lords, among whom were the counts of vettus and d'alenã§on, the king's sons. the former had made his escape from paris, and brought letters from the duke of aquitaine declaring that he himself, with the king and queen, were prisoners in the hands of the parisians. all these nobles met in a great assembly, and letters were written to the king, his great council, and to the parisians, ordering them to allow the duke of aquitaine to go wherever he pleased, and to set at liberty the dukes of bar and bavaria and all other prisoners. should they refuse to comply, they declared war against the town of paris, which they declared they would destroy, with all within it except the king and the princes of royal blood. the parisians compelled the king to send a friendly answer, putting them off with excuses, and in the meantime to despatch commissaries to all the towns and baronies of france assuring them that the trials and executions of the traitors had been fairly conducted and their guilt proved, and calling upon the country to take up arms to aid paris against various nobles who were traitorously advancing against it. during this time guy remained quietly in his lodging with the four retainers, seldom stirring abroad. the men were now regarded by all their neighbours as honest carpenters, and they shared the indignation of the great body of the craft at this usurpation by the market men of the government of france, and at the murders of knights and ladies that were daily taking place. at present, however, the opponents of the butchers dared not resort to arms. so great had been the fear that they excited that most men, however much at heart opposed to them, had been constrained to appear to side with and agree with them, and as there was no means of knowing who could be counted upon to join the carpenters were these to take up arms, the latter could not venture alone to enter the lists against the armed host of the other party. one evening guy, who had not been near the italian's for over a fortnight, received a message from dame margaret to say that she wished to speak to him, for that she had determined, if any way of escape could be decided on, to quit paris, and to endeavour to make her way to villeroy. he was greatly pleased at the news. he had himself ventured to urge this step on the day after the duke of bar and his companions were seized, pointing out that it was evident that the duke of burgundy had neither the power nor the inclination to thwart the parisians, and that although both parties were now nominally hostile to the english, neither were likely, at so critical a time, to give so much as a thought to villeroy. dame margaret had agreed to this, but considered the difficulties of getting out of paris and traversing the intervening country were so great that she preferred to wait until some change took place in the situation of paris. but it was now too evident that the changes were entirely for the worse, and that if discovered the butchers would undoubtedly add her and her children to their long list of victims. his companions were equally glad when guy told them the news. "the sooner the better, master guy," long tom said. "i own that i should like to have a tussle with these rascals before i go; their doings are so wicked that every honest man must want to get one fair blow at them. still, i don't see any chance of that, for although the good fellows round here grumble under their breath, there does not seem any chance of their doing anything. there is not an hour passes that my heart is not in my mouth if i hear a step on the stairs, thinking that they may have found out where my lady is hidden." guy had just turned into the street where the astrologer dwelt when he heard loud voices from a little group in front of him. four armed men, whose white hoods showed that they were one of the butchers' patrols, were standing round a slight figure. "it is well you stopped him, comrade," a voice said, that guy recognized at once as being that of simon bouclier. "i know the young fellow; he has been to me many a time on the part of a knave who professed to be an agent of burgundy's, making inquiries of me as to the doings in our quarter. i have found out since that the duke employed no such agent, and this matter must be inquired into. we will take him with us to the market; they will soon find means of learning all about him and his employer." guy felt at once that if katarina were carried to the butchers, not only would the consequences to herself be terrible, but that she would be forced to make such disclosures as would lead to the arrest of the count, and to the discovery of dame margaret. he determined at all hazards to get her out of these men's hands. the girl made a sudden attempt to free herself, slipped from the grasp that one of the men had of her shoulder, dived between two others, and would have been off had not simon seized her by the arm. guy sprung forward and threw himself on the butcher, and with such force that simon rolled over in the gutter. "run, run!" he shouted at the same moment to katarina, who darted down a lane to the left, while he himself ran forward and turned down the first lane to the right with the three men in hot pursuit of him. young, active, and unencumbered by armour, he gained on them rapidly; but when he neared the end of the lane he saw some five or six white hoods, whose attention had been called by the shouts of his pursuers, running to meet him. he turned and ran back till close to those who had been following him, and then suddenly sprung into a doorway when they were but three or four paces from him. they were unable to check their speed, and as they passed he brought his sword down on the neck of the one nearest, and as he fell to the ground guy leapt out and ran up the street again. he had gone but ten paces when he met simon, who rushed at him furiously with an uplifted axe. springing aside as the blow descended he delivered a slashing cut on the butcher's cheek, dashed past him, and kept on his way. he took the first turning, and then another, leading, like that in which he had been intercepted, towards the river. his pursuers were fifty yards behind him, but he feared that at any moment their shouts would attract the attention of another patrol. more than once, indeed, he had to alter his direction as he heard sounds of shouts in front of him, but at last, after ten minutes' running, he came down on to the main thoroughfare at the point where the street leading to the bridge across to the island issued from it. [illustration: "guy delivered a slashing blow on the butcher's cheek, and dashed past him."] his pursuers were still but a short distance away, for fresh parties who had joined them had taken up the chase, and guy was no longer running at the speed at which he had started. his great fear was that he should be stopped at the gate at the end of the bridge; but as there was no fear of attack this had been left open, so as not to interfere with the traffic between that quarter of the city on the island and those on the opposite banks. guy was now again running his hardest, in order to get across far enough ahead of his pursuers to enable him to hide himself, when a strong patrol of some twenty white hoods issued from the gate at the other side of the bridge. without a moment's hesitation he climbed the parapet and threw himself over. it would, he knew, be as bad for his mistress were he captured as if katarina had fallen into their hands, for if caught he felt sure that tortures would be applied to discover who he was and where his mistress was hidden, and he had made up his mind that if he was overtaken he would fight until killed rather than be captured. when he came to the surface of the water guy turned on his back and suffered himself to float down until he recovered his breath. when he did so he raised his head and, treading the water, listened attentively. he was now nearly a quarter of a mile below the bridge. there was no sound of shouting behind him, but he felt sure that the pursuit was in no way abandoned. already torches were flashing on the quay between the wall and the river, and in a short time others appeared on his left. on both sides there were dark spaces where the walls of the great chateaux of the nobles extended down to the water's side, and obliged those pursuing him along the quays to make a detour round them to come down again to the bank. he could hardly succeed in reaching one of these buildings without being seen, for the light of the torches on the opposite shore would be almost certain to betray his movements as soon as he began to swim, and even if he did reach the shore unseen he might at once be handed over to the white hoods by those in the hotel. he therefore remained floating on his back, and in twenty minutes was beyond the line of the city wall. he could now swim without fear of being discovered, and made for the southern shore. it was now the middle of june, and the water was fairly warm, but he was glad to be out of it. so far as guy had heard he had not been caught sight of from the moment that he had sprung from the bridge. it might well be supposed that he had been drowned. climbing up the bank he gained, after walking a quarter of a mile, the forest that surrounded paris on all sides. going some distance into it he threw himself down, after first taking off his doublet and hanging it on a bush to dry. he had escaped the first pressing danger, that of being taken and tortured into confession, and the rest was now comparatively easy. he had but to obtain another disguise of some sort and to re-enter paris; he would then be in no greater danger than before, for in the sudden attack on simon, and in the subsequent flight through the ill-lighted streets, he was certain that beyond the fact that he was young and active, and that he was evidently not a noble, no one could have noted any details of his dress, and certainly no one could have had as much as a glance at his face. he started at daybreak, walked through the woods up to meudon, and thence to versailles, which was then little more than a village. by the time that he reached it his clothes had thoroughly dried on him, and being of a dark colour they looked little the worse, save that his tight pantaloons had shrunk considerably. the stalls were just opening when he arrived there, and he presently came upon one where garments of all sorts were hanging. the proprietor's wife, a cheery-looking woman, was standing at the door. "i have need of some garments, madame," he said. "you look as if you did," she said with a smile, glancing at his ankles. "i see that you are an apprentice, and for that sort of gear you will have to go to paris; we deal in country garments." "that will suit me well enough, madame. the fact is that, as you see, i am an apprentice; but having been badly treated, and having in truth no stomach for the frays and alarms in paris (where the first man one meets will strike one down, and if he slays you it matters not if he but shout loud enough that he has killed an orleanist), i have left my master, and have no intention of returning as an apprentice. but i might be stopped and questioned at every place i pass through on my way home did i travel in this 'prentice dress, and i would, therefore, fain buy the attire of a young peasant." the woman glanced up and down the street. "come in," she said. "you know that it is against the law to give shelter to a runaway apprentice, but there are such wild doings in paris that for my part i can see no harm in assisting anyone to escape, whether he be a noble or an apprentice, and methinks from your speech that you are as like to be the former as the latter. but," she went on, seeing that guy was about to speak, "tell me naught about it. my husband, who ought to be here, is snoring upstairs, and i can sell what i will; therefore, look round and take your choice of garments, and go into the parlour behind the shop and don them quickly before anyone comes in. as to your own i will pay you what they are worth, for although those pantaloons are all too tight for those strong limbs of yours they may do for a slighter figure." guy was soon suited, and in a few minutes left the shop in a peasant's dress, and made his way along the village until beyond the houses. then he left the road, made a long detour, and returned to sã¨vres. here he first purchased a basket, which he took outside the place and hid in a bush. then he went down into the market and bargained for vegetables, making three journeys backwards and forwards, and buying each time of different women, until his basket was piled up. then he got a piece of old rope for two or three sous, slung the basket on his shoulders, crossed the ferry, and made for paris. he felt strange without his sword, which he had dropped into the water on landing; for although in paris every one now went armed, a sword would have been out of character with his dress, in the country, and still more so in the disguise in which he had determined to re-enter the town. he passed without question through the gate, and made his way to his lodgings. as he entered long tom leapt up with a cry of joy. "thank god that you are safe, master guy! we have been grievously disturbed for your safety, for the count came here early this morning in disguise to ask if we had heard aught of you. he said that his daughter had returned last night saying that you had rescued her from the hands of the white hoods, and that beyond the fact that they had followed you in hot pursuit she had no news of you, and that the countess was greatly alarmed as to your safety. the other three men-at-arms started at once to find out if aught could be learned of you. i would fain have gone also, but the count said that i must bide here in case you should come, and that there was trouble enough at present without my running the risk of being discovered. an hour since robert picard returned; he had been listening to the talk of the white hoods, and had learned that one of their number had been killed and another sorely wounded by a man who had rescued a prisoner from the hands of a patrol. he had been chased by a number of them, and finally threw himself off the bridge into the seine to avoid falling into their hands. the general idea was that he was one of the nobles in disguise, of whom they were in search, and that the capture would have been a very important one. "all agreed that he could never have come up alive, for there were bands of men with torches along both banks, and no sign of him had been perceived. however, they are searching the river down, and hope to come upon his body either floating or cast ashore. robert went out again to try and gather more news, leaving me well-nigh distraught here." "the story is true as far as it goes, tom. i did catch one of them a back-handed blow just under his helmet as he ran past me, and i doubt not that it finished him; as to the other, i laid his cheek open. it was a hot pursuit, but i should have got away had it not been that a strong patrol came out through the gate at the other end of the bridge just as i was in the middle, and there was no course but to jump for it. i thrust my sword into the sheath, and went over. it added somewhat to my weight in the water, and it sunk my body below the surface, but with the aid of my hands paddling i floated so that only my nose and mouth were above the water; so that it is little wonder that they could not make me out. i landed on the other bank a quarter of a mile beyond the walls, slept in the forest, started this morning from versailles, where i got rid of my other clothes and bought these. i purchased this basket and the vegetables at sã¨vres, then walked boldly in. no one could have seen my face in the darkness, and therefore i am safe from detection, perhaps safer than i was before." "well done, master guy; they would have killed you assuredly if they had caught you." "it was not that that i was afraid of--it was of being taken prisoner. you see, if they had captured me and carried me before the butchers in order to inquire who i was before cutting my throat, they might have put me to the torture and forced me to say who i was, and where my mistress was in hiding. i hope if they had, that i should have stood out; but none can say what he will do when he has red-hot pincers taking bits out of his flesh, and his nails, perhaps, being torn out at the roots. so even if i could not have swam a stroke i should have jumped off the bridge." "you did well, master guy," the archer said admiringly; "for indeed they say that the strongest man cannot hold out against these devilish tortures." at this moment a step was heard on the stairs, and jules varoy entered. "the saints be praised!" he exclaimed as he recognized guy. "i thought that you were drowned like a rat, master guy; and though tom here told us that you could swim well, i never thought to see you again." guy told him in a few words how he had escaped, and begged him to carry the news to his mistress. he was about to give him the address--for up till now he had refrained from doing so, telling them that it was from no doubt of their fidelity, but that if by any chance one of them fell into the hands of the white hoods they might endeavour to wring from them the secret, and it was therefore best that they should not be burdened with it--but the man stopped him. "the count told us that he would be at his booth at the fair at eleven o'clock, and that if any of us obtained any news we were to take it to him there. he said that there were several parties of white hoods in the streets, and that as he went past he heard them say that the boy of whom they were in search was a messenger of some person of importance at court, and that doubtless the man who had rescued him was also in the plot, and that a strict watch was to be kept on the quarter both for the boy and for the man, who was said to be tall and young. simon, who had been wounded by him, had declared that he knew him to be connected with the boy; that he was a young man with dark hair, and was in the habit of using disguises, sometimes wearing the dress of an apprentice, and at other times that of a butcher's assistant. he said that he was about twenty-three." guy smiled. he understood that the butcher, who was a very powerful man, did not like to own that the man who had killed one of his comrades and had severely wounded himself was but a lad. "as you go, jules," he said, "will you see maã®tre leroux and ask him if he can come hither, for i would consult him on the matter." chapter xvi -the escape maã®tre leroux came in shortly after jules varoy had left. he had not, until the man told him, heard of the events of the night before, and guy had to tell him all about it before anything else was said. "it was a lucky escape, master aylmer, if one can call luck what is due to thought and quickness. is there anything i can do for you?" "this black hue that i gave my hair has been of good service to me hitherto, but as it is a youth with black hair that they are now looking for, i would fain change its hue again." "what dye did you use?" "it was bought for me at a perfumer's in the rue cabot. as you see, it is fading now, and the ducking last night has greatly assisted to wash it out. the shopman said that it was used by court ladies and would last for a long time, but i have already had to renew it four or five times. i would now colour my hair a red or a reddish-brown; if i cannot do that i must crop it quite short. it matters nothing in this disguise whether it is altogether out of the fashion or not. what think you?" "doubtless you could get dyes of any shade at the perfumer's you speak of, for he supplies most of the court ladies with dyes and perfumes; and i should say that reddish-brown dye would suit you well, since that differs a good deal from your hair's original colour and still more from what it is at present. i will ask one of lepelletiere's daughters to fetch it for you. it would be better than cutting it short, though that might not go badly with your present disguise, but should you need to adopt any other it would look strange, since in our days there is scarce anyone but wears his hair down to his shoulders. in the meantime i would have you wash your hair several times with a ley of potash, but not too strong, or it will damage it. i warrant me that will take out the dye altogether; but be sure that you wash it well in pure water afterwards, so as to get rid of the potash, for that might greatly affect the new dye. i will send a boy up with some potash to you at once, so that you may be ready to apply the dye as soon as you get it." late in the afternoon guy sallied out in the disguise in which he had arrived. his hair was a tawny brown. he had left his basket behind him, and carried a heavy cudgel in his hand. he sauntered quietly along, stopping often to stare at the goods on the stalls, and at nobles who rode past followed generally by two or three esquires. no one would doubt that he was a young countryman freshly arrived in paris. he had sent a message to the count by jules varoy that he would pass along the street in the disguise of a young peasant as the clock struck seven, and that if he saw no white hoods about he would look up at the casement, return a minute or two afterwards, and then try if the door was unfastened. if so he would come in, while if it were fastened he should consider that it was judged unsafe for him to enter. he caught sight of katarina's face at the window as he glanced up. there was a patrol of the white hoods in sight, but it was far down the street, and after going a few yards past the house he crossed the road, and as he returned he pushed at the door. it yielded at once, and with a glance round to see that no one was watching he entered quickly and closed it behind him. "the madonna be thanked that you are safe!" katarina, now in her girl's dress, exclaimed as she seized his hand. "oh, monsieur guy, how i have suffered! it was not until two o'clock that my father returned and told us that you were safe; i should never have forgiven myself if harm had come to you from your noble effort to save me. i heard their shouts as they ran in pursuit of you, and scarce thought it possible that you could escape when there was so many of their patrols about in the street. i cried all night at the thought that you should have thrown away your life to try to save mine, for i knew well enough what would have happened had that evil butcher dragged me to his quarter. after my father had been out early and brought back the news that you had leapt into the seine we had some little hope, for dame margaret declared that she knew that you could swim well. we had no one we could send out, for the old woman is too stupid, and my father now strictly forbids me to stir outside the door. so here we all sat worn with anxiety until my father returned from the booth with the news. he could not come back earlier, and he had no one to send, for the black man must keep outside amusing the people as long as my father is there." all this was poured out so rapidly that it was said by the time they reached the door upstairs. dame margaret silently held out her hands to guy as he entered, and agnes kissed him with sisterly affection, while charlie danced round and round him with boisterous delight. "i hardly knew how much you were to me and how much i depended upon you, guy," dame margaret said presently, "until i feared that i had lost you. when, as i thought must be the case from what katarina said, i believed you were killed or a prisoner in the hands of those terrible people, it seemed to me that we were quite left alone, although there still remained the four men. neither agnes nor i closed our eyes all night charlie soon cried himself to sleep, katarina sat up with us till nigh morning, and we had hard work to console her in any way, so deep was her grief at the thought that it was owing to her that you had run this peril. all night we could hear the count walking up and down in the room above. he had pointed out the peril that might arise to us all if you had fallen into the hands of the butchers, but at the time we could not dwell on that, though there were doubtless grounds for his fears." "great grounds, madame. that is what i most feared when i was flying from them, and i was resolved that i would not be taken alive, for had i not gained the bridge i was determined to force them to kill me rather than be captured. it was fortunate, indeed, that i came along when i did, katarina, for had i not heard what simon said i should have passed on without giving a thought to the matter. there are too many evil deeds done in paris to risk one's life to rescue a prisoner from the hands of a patrol of the white hoods." "as for me, i did not realize it until it was all over," katarina said. "i felt too frightened even to think clearly. it was not until the shouts of your pursuers had died away that i could realize what you had saved me from, and the thought made me so faint and weak that i was forced to sit down on a door-step for a time before i could make my way home. as to my father, he turned as pale as death when i came in and told him what had happened." shortly afterwards the count, who had been engaged with a person of consequence, came down. he thanked guy in the warmest terms for the service he had rendered his daughter. "never was a woman in greater peril," he said, "and assuredly st. anthony, my patron saint, must have sent you to her rescue. she is all that i have left now, and it is chiefly for her sake that i have continued to amass money, though i say not that my own fancy for meddling in such intrigues may not take some part in the matter. after this i am resolved of one thing, namely, that she shall take no further part in the business. for the last year i had often told myself that the time had come when i must find another to act as my messenger and agent. it was difficult, however, to find one i could absolutely trust, and i have put the matter off. i shall do so no longer; and indeed there is now the less occasion for it, since, as i have just learned, fresh negotiations have been opened for peace. that it will be a lasting one i have no hope, but the orleanists are advancing in such force that burgundy may well feel that the issue of a battle at present may go against him. but even though it last but a short time, there will come so many of the orleanist nobles here with doubtless strong retinues that paris will be overawed, and we shall have an end of these riots here. i shall, therefore, have no need to trouble as to what is going on at the markets. as to other matters i can keep myself well informed. i have done services to knights and nobles of one party as well as the other, and shall be able to learn what is being done in both camps. the important point at present is, lady margaret, that there is like to be a truce, at any rate for a time. as soon as this is made and the duke of aquitaine has gained power to act you may be sure that the leaders of the white hoods will be punished, and there will be no more closing of gates and examination of those who pass in and out. therefore, madame, you will then be able to do what is now well-nigh impossible, namely, quit the town. at present the orders are more stringent than ever, none are allowed to leave save with orders signed by john de troyes, who calls himself keeper of the palace, caboche, or other leaders and even peasants who come in with market goods must henceforth produce papers signed by the syndics of their villages saying they are the inhabitants of his commune, and therefore quiet and peaceable men going about their business of supplying the city with meat or vegetables, as the case may be. these papers must also be shown on going out again. until a change takes place, then, there is no hope of your making your way out through the gates with your children; but as soon as the truce is concluded and the orleanists come in you will be able to pass out without trouble." it was not, indeed, for another month that the truce was settled, although the terms were virtually agreed upon at pontois, where the dukes of berri and burgundy met the dukes of orleans and bourbon and the other orleanist nobles, and the conditions were considered at a council to which the delegates of the university and the municipality of paris were admitted. the conduct of the insurgents of paris was now repudiated by the duke of burgundy, and the severest, censure passed upon them, in the conditions of the treaty. the greatest alarm was excited in the market quarter, and this was increased when, immediately afterwards, the dukes of bar and bavaria were liberated. on the 12th of august and on the 4th of september the rest of the prisoners still left alive were also set free. the bells of the churches rang a joyful peal. de jacqueville, john de troyes, caboche, and many of the leaders of the butchers at once fled from paris. most of the knights who had been agents for the insurgents in the mock trials also left paris, and shortly afterwards the duke himself, finding how strongly the tide had set against him, and fearing that he himself might shortly be seized and thrown into prison, went out from paris under the pretence of hunting, and fled. during this time guy had remained with the four men-at-arms. as soon as the power of the butchers diminished and the guards were removed from the gates, and all who pleased could enter or leave, dame margaret prepared for flight. along with the burgundian knights and nobles who returned after the truce was proclaimed came count charles d'estournel, and several of those who had fled with him. guy met the former riding through the street on the day after his return to paris. not caring to accost him there, he followed him and saw him dismount at his former lodging. as soon as he had entered guy went up to the door. "what do you want?" one of the count's valets said. "i want to see your master, fellow," guy said sharply, "and i will pull your ears for your insolence if you accost me in that style." the valet stared at him open-mouthed, then thinking that this peasant might be deputed by the terrible butchers to see his lord, he inquired in a changed tone what message he should give to the count. "say to him that the man of the street fray wants to see him." a minute later the young count himself ran downstairs and warmly embraced guy, to the astonishment of the valet. "my dear friend," he exclaimed, "i am indeed delighted to see you! twice have you saved my life, for assuredly had we not got through the port st. denis that day not one of us would ever have left paris alive, and we are all under the deepest obligation to you. but even after our skirmish at the gate we scarcely realized the danger that we had escaped, for we believed that even had the parisians been insolent enough to demand our arrest for stopping them when engaged in attacking the houses of peaceable citizens, the duke would treat their demand with the scorn that it deserved. however, when next day we heard that some of the officers of his household had headed them when they forced their way into the duke of aquitaine's hotel, and carried off the duke of bar and others from before his eyes, and that the duke in all things assisted them, we knew that he would not have hesitated to deliver us up to the villains. "we held a council as to what we should do. we could not affirm that he had failed, as our lord, in giving us protection, for he had not done so, seeing that we had taken the matter in our own hands. had he actually consented to hand us over to the parisians, we should have issued a declaration laying the matter before all the great vassals of burgundy and denouncing him as a false lord. there are many who would have been very glad to have taken up the matter, for his truckling to these knaves has greatly displeased all save the men who are mere creatures of his. however, as we had no proof that he was willing to surrender us to the fury of the mob of paris, we could do nothing, and the crafty fox called upon my father the next day and expressed his satisfaction that we had all ridden away, though at the same time saying that there was no reason whatever for our having done so, as he should of course have refused to give any satisfaction to the mob of paris, and he caused several letters to the same effect to be sent to my friends who escaped with me. "my father was very short with him, and told him that as it seemed the parisians were the masters of the city, and that he had no power to restrain them, however monstrous their doings, he thought that we had all acted very wisely in going. he himself left paris the next day, and several other nobles, relations or friends to some of us, took the earliest opportunity also of leaving for their estates. now that the power of the butchers has been broken and that their leaders have fled, i came back again, chiefly to find out what had become of you, and whether you and your charges have passed through these evil times unharmed." "we have all been in hiding, and save for an adventure or two have passed the time quietly. now that the gates are open we are going to make our escape, for you see everything points to the probability that the orleanists will very shortly be supreme here, and after the defeat sir eustace gave sir clugnet de brabant they might be glad still to retain our lady as hostage, though methinks they would treat her more honourably than the duke of burgundy has done." "possibly they might, but i would not count upon it, for indeed wherever they have taken a town they have treated those who fell into their hands most barbarously. 'tis true that they have some excuse for it in the treatment of so many knights and ladies here. indeed it seems to me that france has been seized with madness, and that heaven's vengeance will fall upon her for the evil things that are being done. and now, can we aid you in any way? the duke was extremely civil when i saw him on my arrival here yesterday. he said that i and my friends were wrong in not having trusted in him to protect us from the demands of the butchers. i told him frankly that as he had in other matters been so overborne by them, and had been unable to save noble knights and ladies from being murdered by them under the pretence of a trial that all men knew was a mockery, it was just as well that we had taken the matter into our own hands without adding it to his other burdens; and that i and my friends felt that we had no reason to regret the step we had taken, and we knew that our feelings were shared by many other nobles and knights in burgundy. "he looked darkly at me, but at the present pass he did not care to say anything that would give offence, not only to me, but to my friends, who with their connections are too powerful to be alienated at a time when he may need every lance. i could not, however, well ask from him a free conduct for your people without naming them, but i might get such a pass from his chancellor, and if your former host, maã®tre leroux, be still alive, he might doubtless get you one from the municipality. as an additional protection i myself shall certainly ride with you. it is for that that i have returned to paris. i shall simply say to the chancellor that i am riding to arras on my own business, and that though in most places i should be known to burgundians, yet that it would be as well that i should have a pass lest i be met by any rude body of citizens or others who might not know me, and i shall request him to make it out for me personally and for all persons travelling in my train. so that, as far as flanders at any rate, there should be no difficulty. i only propose that you should also get a document from the city in case of anything befalling us on the way. "i see not indeed what can befall us; but it is always well in such times as these, when such strange things occur, to provide for all emergencies. i may tell you that louis de lactre and reginald poupart have arrived with me in paris bent on the same errand, and anxious like myself to testify their gratitude to you; so that we shall be a strong body, and could if necessary ride through france without any pass at all, since one or other of us is sure to find a friend in every town which we may traverse." "truly, i am thankful indeed to you and to your friends, count. i own that it has been a sore trouble to me as to how we should be able, however we might disguise ourselves, to travel through the country in these disturbed times, without papers of any kind, when bodies of armed men are moving to and fro in all directions, and travellers, whoever they may be, are questioned at every place on the road where they stop." "do not speak of thanks, guy; i twice owe you my life, and assuredly 'tis little enough to furnish you in return with an escort to artois. now, tell me all that you have been doing since we left." guy gave a short account of all that had happened. "it has been fortunate for us both," the count charles said when he had finished, "that this astrologer should have made your acquaintance; it was his warning that enabled you to save us as well as your lady. i have heard several times of him as one who had wondrous powers of reading the stars, but now i see that it is not only the stars that assist him." "i can assure you that he himself believes thoroughly in the stars, count; he says that by them he can read the danger that is threatening any person whose horoscope he has cast. i had not heard much of such things in england, but i cannot doubt that he has great skill in them. to my knowledge he has saved several lives thereby." "he certainly saved ours, guy, and should he like to join your party and ride with us he will be heartily welcomed." "i will return at once," guy said, "and give my lady the good news. i will not ask you to go with me now, for if the count--for he is really a nobleman though an exile--decides to stay here he would not care to attract the attention of his neighbours by the coming of a noble to his house in daylight. though i cannot without his permission take you there, i will return here this evening at eight o'clock, if you will be at home at that hour." "i will be here, and de lactre and poupart will be here to meet you. i will go now direct to the chancellor and obtain the pass both in their names and mine, then we shall be ready to start whenever your lady is prepared. we have all brought some spare horses, so that you will have no trouble on that score. your men-at-arms will, of course, ride with ours. we have brought eight horses, knowing the number of your company; if your italian and his daughter go with us lady agnes and charles can ride behind some of us." dame margaret, agnes, and charlie were delighted indeed when they heard from guy of his meeting with the young count d'estournel, and of the latter's offer to escort them to artois. "the saints be praised!" his lady said. "i have spoken little about it, guy, but i have dreaded this journey far more than any of the dangers here. in times so disturbed i have perceived that we should run innumerable risks, and eager as i am to return to my lord i have doubted whether, with agnes with me, i should be right in adventuring on such a journey. now there can be no risk in it, saving only that of falling in with any of the bands of robbers who, as they say, infest the country, and even these would scarce venture to attack so strong a party. we shall be ready to start to-morrow, if count d'estournel is prepared to go so soon. we will be veiled as we ride out. it is most unlikely that anyone will recognize us, but 'tis as well for his sake that there should be no risk whatever of this being known. the count is out and will not return until six, therefore it will be best that you should go at once and warn the others that we start to-morrow." the pleasure of long tom and his companions at the news was scarcely less than had been that of dame margaret, and they started at once to recover their steel caps and armour from the place where they had been hidden, saying that it would take them all night to clean them up and make them fit for service. then guy went in to maã®tre lepelletiere and saw the silversmith, who was also sincerely glad at the news he gave him. "i was but yesterday arranging for a house where i could open my shop again until my own was rebuilt," he said, "for there is an end now of all fear of disturbances, at any rate for the present, and i was heartily greeted by many old friends, who thought that i was dead. i will go down with lepelletiere this afternoon to the offices of the municipality and ask for a pass for madame--what shall i call her?" "call her picard: it matters not what surname she takes." "madame picard, her daughter and son, and her cousin jean bouvray of paris, to journey to st. omer. it does not seem to me that the pass is likely to be of any use to you; at the same time it is as well to be fortified with it. now that the tyranny of the market-men is over they will be glad to give us the pass without question." on the italian's return that afternoon dame margaret herself told him of the offer the count d'estournel had made. he sat silent for a minute or two and then said: "i will talk it over with katarina; but at present it does not seem to me that i can accept it. i am a restless spirit, and there is a fascination in this work; but i will see you presently." an hour later he came down with katarina. "we have agreed to stay, lady margaret," he said gravely, "i cannot bring myself to go. it is true that i might continue my work in london, but as a stranger it would be long before i found clients, while here my reputation is established. two of the knights i enabled to escape have already returned. one called upon me last night and was full of gratitude, declaring, and rightly, that he should have been, like so many of his friends, murdered in prison had i not warned him. i have eight requests already for interviews from friends of these knights, and as, for a time at any rate, their faction is likely to be triumphant here, i shall have my hands full of business. this is a pleasant life. i love the exercise of my art, to watch how the predictions of the stars come true, to fit things together, and to take my share, though an unseen one, in the politics and events of the day. i have even received an intimation that the queen herself is anxious to consult the stars, and it may be that i shall become a great power here. i would fain that my daughter should go under your protection, though i own that i should miss her sorely. however, she refuses to leave me, and against my better judgment my heart has pleaded for her, and i have decided that she shall remain. she will, however, take no further part in my business, but will be solely my companion and solace. i trust that with such protection as i shall now receive there is no chance of even the church meddling with me, but should i see danger approaching i will send or bring her to you at once." "i shall be glad to see her whenever she comes, and shall receive her as a daughter. we owe our lives to your shelter and kindness, and we already love her." "the shelter and the kindness have already been far more than repaid by the inestimable service your esquire rendered us," the italian said. "i have since blamed myself bitterly that i neglected to consult the stars concerning her. i have since done so, and found that a most terrible danger threatened her on that day; and had i known it, i would have kept her indoors and would on no account have permitted her to go out. however, i shall not be so careless of her safety in future. i see that, at any rate for some time, her future is unclouded. she herself will bitterly regret your absence, and has already been weeping sorely at the thought of your leaving. save myself she has never had a friend, poor child, and you and your daughter have become very dear to her." dame margaret had no preparations to make, for in their flight from the silversmith's each had carried a bundle of clothes. guy brought count d'estournel round in the evening, and the arrangements were then completed. it was thought better that they should not mount at the house, as this would be certain to attract considerable observation and remark, but that count charles should come round at seven in the morning and escort them to his lodging. there the horses would be in readiness, and they would mount and ride off. guy then went round to the rue des fosses and warned the men of the hour at which they were to assemble at the count's. he found them all hard at work burnishing up their armour. "we shall make but a poor show, master guy, do what we will," tom said; "and i doubt whether this gear will ever recover its brightness, so deeply has the rust eaten into it. still, we can pass muster on a journey; and the swords have suffered but little, having been safe in their scabbards. i never thought that i should be so pleased to put on a steel cap again, and i only wish i had my bow slung across my shoulder." "it will be something for you to look forward to, tom, and i doubt not that you will find among the spare ones at villeroy one as good as your own, and that with practice you will soon be able to shoot as truly with it." tom shook his head doubtfully. "i hope so, but i doubt whether i shall be suited again till i get home, and master john the bowyer makes one specially suitable for me, and six inches longer than ordinary. still, i doubt not that, if it be needed, i shall be able to make shift with one of those at villeroy." the evening before the departure of dame margaret and her children, maã®tre leroux and his wife, with a man bearing a large parcel, had called upon dame margaret at the house of the astrologer, whose address guy had given, the provost that day. "we could not let you leave, lady margaret," his wife said, "without coming to wish you god speed. our troubles, like yours, are over for the present, and i trust that the butchers will never become masters of paris again, whatever may happen." "maã®tre lepelletiere," said the silversmith, "is going to organize the whole of his craft, the workmen and apprentices, into an armed body, and the master of the smiths will do the same. i shall endeavour to prevail upon all the traders of my own guild and others to raise such a body among their servitors; and while we have no wish whatever to interfere in the political affairs of state, we shall at least see that the market people of paris shall not become our masters again. master aylmer, i have brought hither for you a slight token of my regard and gratitude for the manner in which you saved not only our property but our lives. within this package are two suits of armour and arms. one is a serviceable one suitable to your present condition of an esquire; the other is a knightly suit, which i hope you will wear in remembrance of us as soon as you obtain that honour, which i cannot but feel assured will not be far distant. had you been obliged to leave paris in disguise i should have made an endeavour to send them to you in england by way of flanders; but as you will issue out in good company, and without examination or question asked, you can wear the one suit and have the other carried for you." guy thanked the silversmith most heartily, for, having lost his armour at the burning of the house, he had felt some uneasiness at the thought of the figure that he would cut riding in the train of the three burgundian knights. but at the same time his own purse had been exhausted in the purchase of the disguises for himself and the men-at-arms, and that of his mistress greatly reduced by the expenses of the keep of the men, and he had determined not to draw upon her resources for the purchase of armour. his thanks were repeated when, on the package being opened, the beauty of the knightly armour was seen. it was indeed a suit of which any knight might be proud. it was less ornate in its inlaying and chasing than some of the suits worn by nobles, but it was of the finest steel and best make, with every part and accessory complete, and of the highest workmanship and finish. "it is a princely gift, sir," guy said as he examined it, "and altogether beyond my poor deserts." "that is not what i think, master aylmer. you have shown all through this business a coolness and courage altogether beyond your years, and which would have done honour to an experienced knight. my store of silver-ware that was saved by your exertions, to say nothing of our lives, was worth very many times the value of this armour, and i am sure that your lady will agree with me that this gift of ours has been well and honourably earned." "i do indeed, maã®tre leroux," dame margaret said warmly; "and assure you that i am as pleased as guy himself at the noble gift you have made him. i myself have said but little to him as to the service that he has rendered here, leaving that until we reach our castle in safety, when sir eustace, on hearing from me the story of our doings, will better speak in both our names than i can do." in the morning dame margaret and her children set out for the lodging of d'estournel, escorted by the count and guy, followed by a porter carrying the latter's second suit of armour and the valises of dame margaret. guy himself had charge of a casket which the count de montepone had that morning handed to dame margaret. "these are gems of value," he said, "in the course of my business i more often receive gifts of jewels than of money. the latter, as i receive it, i hand to a firm here having dealings with a banker of bruges, who holds it at my disposal. the gems i have hitherto kept; but as it is possible that we may, when we leave paris, have to travel in disguise, i would fain that they were safely bestowed. i pray you, therefore, to take them with you to your castle in england, and to hold them for us until we come." dame margaret willingly took charge of the casket, which was of steel, strongly bound, and some nine inches square. "its weight is not so great as you would think by its appearance," the italian said, "for it is of the finest steel, and the gems have been taken from their settings. it will, therefore, i hope, be no great inconvenience to you." at parting, katarina, who was greatly affected, had given guy a small box. "do not open it until you reach villeroy," she said; "it is a little remembrance of the girl you saved from deadly peril, and who will never forget what she owes to you." on reaching the count's lodgings they found the other two knights in readiness. dame margaret's four men-at-arms were holding the horses. "i am glad to see you all again," she said as she came up. "this is a far better ending than our fortunes seemed likely to have at one time, and i thank you all for your faithful service." "i am only sorry, my lady, that we have had no opportunity of doing aught since we were cooped up," tom replied; "nothing would have pleased us better than to have had the chance again of striking a stout blow in your defence." "we may as well mount at once, if it is your pleasure, dame margaret," count d'estournel said, "for the other men-at-arms are waiting for us outside the gates." the packages were at once fastened on the two pack-horses that were to accompany them; all then mounted. the three knights with dame margaret rode first, then guy rode with agnes by his side, and the four men-at-arms came next, charlie riding before jules varoy, who was the lightest of the men-at-arms, while two of the count's servants brought up the rear, leading the sumpter horses. chapter xvii -a long pause a quarter of a mile beyond the gate the party was joined by eighteen men-at-arms, all fully armed and ready for any encounter; eight of them fell in behind dame margaret's retainers, the other ten took post in rear of the sumpter horses. with such a train as this there was little fear of any trouble with bands of marauders, and as the road lay through a country devoted to burgundy there was small chance of their encountering an orleanist force. they travelled by almost the same route by which dame margaret had been escorted to paris. at all the towns through which they passed the burgundian knights and their following were well entertained, none doubting that they were riding on the business of their duke. one or other of the knights generally rode beside guy, and except that the heat in the middle of the day was somewhat excessive, the journey was altogether a very pleasant one. from arras they rode direct to villeroy. as soon as their coming was observed from the keep the draw-bridge was raised, and as they approached sir eustace himself appeared on the wall above it to hear any message the new-comers might have brought him. as they came near, the knights reined back their horses, and dame margaret and agnes rode forward, followed by guy having charlie in front of him. as he recognized them sir eustace gave a shout of joy, and a moment later the drawbridge began to descend, and as it touched the opposite side sir eustace ran across to the outwork, threw open the gate, and fondly embraced his wife and children, who had already dismounted. "ah, my love!" he exclaimed, "you cannot tell how i have suffered, and how i have blamed myself for permitting you and the children to leave me. i received your first letter, saying that you were comfortably lodged at paris, but since then no word has reached me. i of course heard of the dreadful doings there, of the ascendency of the butchers, of the massacres in the streets, and the murders of the knights and ladies. a score of times i have resolved to go myself in search of you, but i knew not how to set about it when there, and i should assuredly have been seized by burgundy and thrown into prison with others hostile to his plans. but who are these with you?" "they are three burgundian knights, who from love and courtesy, and in requital of a service done them by your brave esquire here, have safely brought us out of paris and escorted us on our way. they are count charles d'estournel, sir john poupart, and sir louis de lactre." holding his hand she advanced to meet them and introduced them to him. "gentlemen," sir eustace said, "no words of mine can express the gratitude that i feel to you for the service that you have rendered to my wife and children. henceforth you may command me to the extent of my life." "the service was requited before it was rendered, sir eustace," count charles said; "it has been service for service. in the first place your esquire, with that tall archer of yours, saved my life when attacked by a band of cutthroats in paris. this to some small extent i repaid when, with my two good friends here and some others, we charged a mob that was besieging the house in which your dame lodged. then master aylmer laid a fresh obligation on us by warning us that the butchers demanded our lives for interfering in that business, whereby we were enabled to cut our way out by the port st. denis and so save our skins. we could not rest thus, matters being so uneven, and therefore as soon as the king's party arrived in a sufficient force to put down the tyranny of the butchers, we returned to paris, with the intention we have carried out--of finding dame margaret in her hiding-place, if happily she should have escaped all these perils, and of conducting her to you. and now, having delivered her into your hands, we will take our leave." "i pray you not to do so, count," the knight said; "it would mar the pleasure of this day to me, were you, who are its authors, thus to leave me. i pray you, therefore, to enter and accept my hospitality, if only for a day or two." the knights had previously agreed among themselves that they would return that night to arras; but they could not resist the earnestness of the invitation, and the whole party crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle, amid the tumultuous greeting of the retainers. "you have been away but a few months," sir eustace said to his wife, as they were crossing the bridge, "though it seems an age to me. you are but little changed by what you have passed through, but agnes seems to have grown more womanly. charlie has grown somewhat also, but is scarcely looking so strong!" "it has been from want of air and exercise; but he has picked up a great deal while we have been on the road, and i, too, feel a different woman. agnes has shared my anxiety, and has been a great companion for me." "you have brought all the men back, as well as guy?" "you should rather say that guy has brought us all back, eustace, for 'tis assuredly wholly due to him that we have escaped the dangers that threatened us." the knights and men-at-arms dismounted in the courtyard, and sir eustace and dame margaret devoted themselves at once to making them welcome with all honour. the maids hurried to prepare the guest-chambers, the servitors to get ready a banquet. guy and his men-at-arms saw to the comfort of the knights' retainers and their horses, and the castle rang with sounds of merriment and laughter to which it had been a stranger for months. after the cup of welcome had been handed round sir eustace showed the knights over the castle. "we heard the details of the siege, sir eustace, from your esquire, and it is of interest to us to inspect the defences that sir clugnet de brabant failed to capture, for, foe though he is to burgundy, it must be owned that he is a very valiant knight, and has captured many towns and strong places. yes, it is assuredly a strong castle, and with a sufficient garrison might well have defeated all attempts to storm it by foes who did not possess means of battering the walls, but the force you had was quite insufficient when the enemy were strong enough to attack at many points at the same time, and i am surprised that you should have made good your defence against so large a force as that which assailed you. "but it was doubtless in no slight degree due to your english archers. we saw in paris what even one of these men could do." "i am all anxiety to know what took place there," sir eustace said, "and i shall pray you after supper to give me an account of what occurred." "we will tell you as far as we know of the matter, sir eustace; but in truth we took but little share in it, there was just one charge on our part and the mob were in flight. any i can tell you that we did it with thorough good-will, for in truth we were all heartily sick of the arrogance of these butchers, who lorded over all paris; even our lord of burgundy was constrained to put up with their insolence, since their aid was essential to him. but to us, who take no very great heed of politics and leave these matters to the great lords, the thing was well-nigh intolerable; and i can tell you that it was with hearty good-will we seized the opportunity of giving the knaves a lesson." as soon as the visitors had arrived, mounted men had ridden off to the tenants, and speedily returned with a store of ducks and geese, poultry, wild-fowl, brawn, and fish; the banquet therefore was both abundant and varied. while the guests supped at the upper table, the men-at-arms were no less amply provided for at the lower end of the hall, where all the retainers at the castle feasted royally in honour of the return of their lady and her children. the bowmen were delighted at the return of long tom, whom few had expected ever to see again, while the return of robert picard and his companions was no less heartily welcomed by their comrades. after the meal was concluded dame margaret went round the tables with her husband, saying a few words here and there to the men, who received her with loud shouts as she passed along. then the party from the upper table retired to the private apartment of sir eustace, leaving the men to sing and carouse unchecked by their presence. when they were comfortably seated and flagons of wine had been placed on the board, the knight requested count charles to give him an account of his adventure with the cut-throats and the part he had subsequently played in the events of which he had spoken. d'estournel gave a lively recital, telling not only of the fray with the white hoods, but of what they saw when, after the defeat of the mob, they entered the house. "had the passage and stairs been the breach of a city attacked by assault it could not have been more thickly strewn with dead bodies," the count said; "and indeed for my part i would rather have struggled up a breach, however strongly defended, than have tried to carry the barricade at the top of the stairs, held as it was. i believe that, even had we not arrived, master aylmer could have held his ground until morning, except against fire." "i wonder they did not fire the house," sir eustace remarked. "doubtless the leaders would have done so as soon as they saw the task they had before them; but you see plunder was with the majority the main object of the attack, while that of the leaders was assuredly to get rid of the provost of the silversmiths, who had powerfully withstood them. the cry that was raised of 'down with the english spies!' was but a pretext. however, as all the plate-cases with the silverware were in the barricade, there would have been no plunder to gather had they set fire to the house, and it was for this reason that they continued the attack so long; but doubtless in the end, when they were convinced that they could not carry the barricade, they would have resorted to fire." then he went on to recount how guy had warned himself and his friends of the danger that threatened, and how difficult it had been to persuade them that only by flight could their safety be secured; and how at last he and the two knights with him had returned to paris to escort dame margaret. "truly, count, your narrative is a stirring one," sir eustace said; "but i know not as yet how guy managed to gain the information that the house was going to be attacked and so sent to you for aid, or how he afterwards learned that your names were included with those of the duke of bar and others whom the butchers compelled the duke of aquitaine to hand over to them." "dame margaret or your esquire himself can best tell you that," the count said. "it is a strange story indeed." "and a long one," dame margaret added. "were i to tell it fully it would last till midnight, but i will tell you how matters befell, and to-morrow will inform you of the details more at length." she then related briefly the incidents that had occurred from the day of her interview with the duke of burgundy to that of her escape, telling of the various disguises that had been used, the manner in which guy had overheard the councils of the butchers before they surrounded the hotel of the duke of aquitaine and dragged away a large number of knights and ladies to prison, and how the four men-at-arms had re-entered paris after their escape, and remained there in readiness to aid her if required. guy himself was not present at the narration, as he had, after staying for a short time in the room, gone down into the banqueting-hall to see that the men's wants were well attended to, and to talk with the english men-at-arms and archers. "it seems to me," sir eustace said when his wife had finished the story, "that my young esquire has comported himself with singular prudence as well as bravery." "he has been everything to me," dame margaret said warmly; "he has been my adviser and my friend. i have learned to confide in him implicitly. it was he who secured for me in the first place the friendship of count charles, and then that of his friends. he was instrumental in securing for us the assistance of the italian who warned and afterwards sheltered us--one of the adventures that i have not yet told, because i did not think that i could do so without saying more than that person would like known; but guy rendered him a service that in his opinion far more than repaid him for his kindness to us. the messenger he employed was a near relation of his." and she then related how guy had rescued this relation from the hands of the butchers, how he had himself been chased, and had killed one and wounded another of his assailants; and how at last he escaped from falling into their hands by leaping from the bridge into the seine. "you will understand," she said, "that not only our host but we all should have been sacrificed had not the messenger been rescued. he would have been compelled by threats, and if these failed by tortures, to reveal who his employer was and where he lived, and in that case a search would have been made, we should have been discovered, and our lives as well as that of our host would have paid the penalty." "it is impossible to speak too highly of the young esquire," sir john poupart said warmly. "for a short time we all saw a good deal of him at the fencing-school, to which d'estournel introduced him. he made great progress, and wonderfully improved his swordsmanship even during the short time he was there, and the best of us found a match in him. he was quiet and modest, and even apart from the service he had rendered to d'estournel, we all came to like him greatly. he is a fine character, and i trust that ere long he may have an opportunity of winning his spurs, for the courage he has shown in the defence of his charges would assuredly have gained them for him had it been displayed in battle." the knights were persuaded to stay a few days at the castle, and then rode away with their retainers with mutual expressions of hope that they would meet again in quieter times. guy had opened the little packet that katarina had given him at starting. it contained a ring with a diamond of great beauty and value, with the words "with grateful regards." he showed it to sir eustace, who said: "it is worth a knight's ransom, lad, and more, i should say. take it not with you to the wars, but leave it at home under safe guardianship, for should it ever be your bad luck to be made a prisoner, i will warrant it would sell for a sufficient sum to pay your ransom. that is a noble suit of armour that the silversmith gave you. altogether, guy, you have no reason to regret that you accompanied your lady to paris. you have gained a familiarity with danger which will assuredly stand you in good stead some day, you have learned some tricks of fence, you have gained the friendship of half a score of nobles and knights; you have earned the lasting gratitude of my dame and myself, you have come back with a suit of armour such as a noble might wear in a tournament, and a ring worth i know not how much money. it is a fair opening of your life, guy, and your good father will rejoice when i tell him how well you have borne yourself. it may be that it will not be long before you may have opportunities of showing your mettle in a wider field. the english have already made several descents on the coast, and have carried off much spoil and many prisoners, and it may not be long before we hear that henry is gathering a powerful army and is crossing the seas to maintain his rights, and recover the lands that have during past years been wrested from the crown. "i propose shortly to return to england. my dame has borne up bravely under her troubles, but both she and agnes need rest and quiet. it is time, too, that charlie applied himself to his studies for a time and learnt to read and write well, for methinks that every knight should at least know this much. i shall take john harpen back with me. such of the men-at-arms and archers as may wish to return home must wait here until i send you others to take their places, for i propose to leave you here during my absence, as my castellan. it is a post of honour, guy, but i feel that the castle will be in good hands; and there is, moreover, an advantage in thus leaving you, as, should any message be sent by burgundian or orleanist, you will be able to reply that, having been placed here by me to hold the castle in my absence, you can surrender it to no one, and can admit no one to garrison it, until you have sent to me and received my orders on the subject. thus considerable delay may be obtained. "should i receive such a message from you, i shall pass across at once to calais with such force as i can gather. i trust that no such summons will arrive, for it is clear that the truce now made between the two french factions will be a very short one, and that ere long the trouble will recommence, and, as i think, this time burgundy will be worsted. the orleanists are now masters of paris and of the king's person, while assuredly they have the support of the duke of aquitaine, who must long to revenge the indignities that were put upon him by burgundy and the mob of paris. they should therefore be much the stronger party, and can, moreover, issue what proclamations they choose in the king's name, as burgundy has hitherto been doing in his own interest. the duke will therefore be too busy to think of meddling with us. upon the other hand, if the orleanists gain the mastery they are the less likely to interfere with us, as i hear that negotiations have just been set on foot again for the marriage of king henry with katherine of france. the english raids will therefore be stopped, and the french will be loath to risk the breaking off of the negotiations which might be caused by an assault without reason upon the castle of one who is an english as well as a french vassal, and who might, therefore, obtain aid from the garrison of calais, by which both nations might be again embroiled." "if you think well, my lord, to leave me here in command i will assuredly do the best in my power to prove myself worthy of your confidence; but it is a heavy trust for one so young." "i have thought that over, guy, but i have no fear that you will fail in any way. were the garrison wholly a french one i might hesitate, but half the defenders of the castle are englishmen; and in tom, the captain of the archers, you have one of whose support at all times you will be confident, while the french garrison will have learned from the three men who went with you that they would as readily follow you as they would a knight of experience. moreover, good fighters as the english are, they are far more independent and inclined to insubordination than the french, who have never been brought up in the same freedom of thought. therefore, although i have no doubt that they will respect your authority, i doubt whether, were i to put a frenchman in command, they would prove so docile, while with the french there will be no difficulty. i might, of course, appoint john harpen, who is ten years your senior, to the command; but john, though a good esquire, is bluff and rough in his ways, and as obstinate as a mule, and were i to leave him in command he would, i am sure, soon set the garrison by the ears. as an esquire he is wholly trustworthy, but he is altogether unfitted for command, therefore i feel that the choice i have made of you is altogether for the best, and i shall go away confident that the castle is in good hands, and that if attacked it will be as staunchly defended as if i myself were here to direct the operations." two days later sir eustace with his family started, under the guard of ten english and ten french men-at-arms, for calais. before starting he formally appointed guy as castellan in his absence, and charged the garrison to obey his orders in all things, as if they had been given by himself. he also called in the principal tenants and delivered a similar charge to them. the english men-at-arms were well pleased to be commanded by one whom they had known from childhood, and whose father they had been accustomed to regard as their master during the absences of sir eustace and dame margaret. the archers had not, like the men-at-arms, been drawn from the summerley estate, but the devotion of their leader to guy, and the tales he had told them of what had taken place in paris rendered them equally satisfied at his choice as their leader. as for the french men-at-arms, bred up in absolute obedience to the will of their lord, they accepted his orders in this as they would have done on any other point. sir eustace left guy instructions that he might make any further addition to the defences that he thought fit, pointing out to him several that he had himself intended to carry out. "i should have set about these at once," he had said, "but it is only now that the vassals have completed the work of rebuilding their houses, and i would not call upon them for any service until that was completed. i have told them now that such works must be taken in hand, and that, as they saw upon the occasion of the last siege, their safety depends upon the power of the castle to defend itself, i shall expect their services to be readily and loyally rendered, especially as they have been remitted for over six months. it would be well also to employ the garrison on the works--in the first place, because they have long been idle, and idleness is bad for them; and in the second place because the vassals will all work more readily seeing that the garrison are also employed. while so engaged an extra measure of wine can be served to each man, and a small addition of pay. here are the plans that i have roughly prepared. beyond the moat i would erect at the centre of each of the three sides a strong work, similar to that across the drawbridge, and the latter i would also have strengthened. "these works, you see, are open on the side of the moat, so that if carried they would offer the assailants no shelter from arrows from the walls, while being triangular in shape they would be flanked by our fire. each of these three forts should have a light drawbridge running across the moat to the foot of the wall, thence a ladder should lead to an entrance to be pierced through the wall, some fifteen feet above the level of the moat; by this means the garrison could, if assailed by an overwhelming force, withdraw into the castle. these outposts would render it--so long as they were held--impossible for storming-parties to cross the moat and place ladders, as they did on the last occasion. the first task will, of course, be to quarry stones. as soon as sufficient are prepared for one of these outworks you should proceed to erect it, as it would render one side at least unassailable and diminish the circuit to be defended. as soon as one is finished, with its drawbridge, ladder, and entrance, proceed with the next. i would build the one at the rear first. as you see from this plan, the two walls are to be twenty feet high and each ten yards long, so that they could be defended by some twenty men. after they are built i would further strengthen them by leading ditches from the moat, six feet deep and ten feet wide, round them. the earth from these ditches should be thrown inside the walls, so as to strengthen these and form a platform for the defenders to stand on. if the earth is insufficient for that purpose the moat can be widened somewhat." "i will see that your wishes are carried out, sir eustace; assuredly these little outworks will add greatly to the strength of the castle. are the bridges to be made to draw up?" "no; that will hardly be necessary. let them consist of two beams with planks laid crosswise. they need not be more than four feet wide, and the planks can therefore be easily pulled up as the garrison falls back. i have told the tenants that during the winter, when there is but little for their men to do, they can keep them employed on this work, and that i will pay regular wages to them and for the carts used in bringing in the stones." guy was very glad that there was something specific to be done that would give him occupation and keep the men employed. sir eustace had informed the garrison of the work that would be required of them, and of the ration of wine and extra pay that would be given, and all were well satisfied with the prospect. for the english especially, having no friends outside, found the time hang very heavy on their hands, and their experience during the last siege had taught them that the additional fortifications, of the nature of which they were ignorant, however, would add to their safety. as soon, therefore, as sir eustace had left, guy commenced operations. a few men only were kept on guard, and the rest went out daily to prepare the stones under the direction of a master mason, who had been brought from arras by sir eustace. some fifty of the tenants were also employed on the work, and as the winter closed in this number was doubled. the quarry lay at a distance of half a mile from the castle, and as fast as the stones were squared and roughly dressed they were taken in carts to the spot where they were to be used. guy had the foundations for the walls dug in the first place, to a depth below that of the bottom of the moats, and filled up with cement and rubble. the trenches were then dug at a distance of five feet from the foot of the walls. with so many hands the work proceeded briskly, and before springtime the three works were all completed, with their bridges and ladders, passages pierced through the castle wall, and stone steps built inside by which those who passed through could either descend into the court yard or mount to the battlements. at the end of september fifteen archers and men-at-arms arrived from england to take the place of those who had desired to return home, and who on their coming marched away to calais. from time to time reports were received of the events happening in paris. paris had been strongly occupied by the orleanists, and a proclamation had at once been issued in the name of the king condemning all that had been done in the city, and denouncing by name all the ringleaders of the late tumults, and such of these as were found in paris were arrested. another proclamation was then issued enjoining all parties to keep the peace, to refrain from gathering in armed bodies, and to abstain from the use of expressions against each other that might lead to a breach of the peace. on the 13th of november, the year being 1413, fresh and more stringent orders were issued by the king against any assemblies of men-in-arms, and at the end of this month the duke of burgundy sent to the king a letter of complaint and accusation against his enemies. those surrounding charles persuaded him to send no answer whatever to what they considered his insolent letter. some of the burgundian knights had still remained in paris, and on the advice of the dukes of berri and orleans and other princes, the queen caused four knights of the suite of the duke of aquitaine to be carried away from the louvre. this so much enraged the duke that he at first intended to sally out and call upon the populace of paris to aid him to rescue the prisoners. the princes of the blood, however, restrained him from doing this; but although he pretended to be appeased he sent secret letters to the duke of burgundy begging him to come to his assistance. this served as an excuse for burgundy to gather all his adherents and to march towards paris, and as he collected the force he sent letters to all the principal towns saying that at the invitation of his son-in-law, the duke of aquitaine, and in consequence of the breach of the peace committed by his enemies, he was forced to take up arms to rescue his beloved daughter and the duke from the hands of those who constrained them. upon the other hand, letters were written in the king's name to the various towns on the line by which burgundy would advance from artois, begging them not to open their gates to him. the burgundian army advanced and occupied st. denis, thence the duke sent detachments to the various gates of paris in hopes that the populace would rise in his favour. however, the citizens remained quiet, and the duke, being unprovided with the engines and machines necessary for a siege, fell back again, placing strong garrisons in compiã¨gne and soissons. then the orleanists took the offensive, besieged and captured town after town, and revenged the murder of their friends in paris by wholesale massacres and atrocities of the worst description. the burgundians in vain attempted to raise an army of sufficient strength to meet that of the king, who himself accompanied the orleanist forces in the field. the fact that he was present with them had a powerful influence in preventing many lords who would otherwise have done so from joining burgundy, for although all knew that the king was but a puppet who could be swayed by those who happened to be round him, even the shadow of the royal authority had great weight, and both parties carried on their operations in the king's name, protesting that any decrees hostile to themselves were not the true expression of his opinion, but the work of ambitious and traitorous persons who surrounded him. after occupying laon, peronne, and other places, the king's army entered artois, captured bapaume, and advanced against arras, where sir john of luxemburg, who commanded a burgundian garrison, prepared for the siege by sending away the greater part of the women and children, and destroying all the buildings and suburbs outside the walls. as soon as it was evident that the orleanist army was marching against artois, guy despatched one of the english soldiers to summerley to inform his lord that if, as it seemed, the orleanists intended to subdue all the burgundian towns and fortresses in the province, it was probable that villeroy would be besieged. the messenger returned with twenty more archers, and brought a letter from sir eustace to guy saying that dame margaret had been ill ever since her return from france, and that she was at present in so dangerous a state that he could not leave her. "i trust," he said, "that as the negotiations for the marriage of the king with the french princess are still going on, you will not be disturbed. the main body of the french army will likely be engaged on more important enterprises, and if you are attacked it will probably be only by strong plundering detachments; these you need not fear. should you be besieged strongly, hold out as long as you can. i shall be sure to receive news of it from calais, and will go at once to the king and pray for his protection, and beg him to write to the king of france declaring that, to his knowledge, i have ever been as loyal a vassal of france as of england. should you find that the pressure upon you is too great, and that the castle is like to be taken, i authorize you to make surrender on condition that all within the castle are permitted to march away free and unmolested whithersoever they will." chapter xviii -katarina as soon as the king's army approached arras, guy repeated all the precautions that had before been taken, but as this time there had been long warning, these were carried out more effectually. a considerable number of the cattle and sheep of the tenants were driven to calais and there sold, the rest, with the horses, were taken into the castle. the crops were hastily got in, for it was near july, and these were thrashed and the grain brought in, with the household furniture and all belongings. a great store of arrows had been long before prepared, and guy felt confident that he could hold out for a long time. the women and children took up their abode in the castle, and the former were all set to work to make a great number of sacks. a hundred cart-loads of earth were brought in, and this was stored in a corner of the court-yard. the earth was to be employed in filling the sacks, which were to be lowered from the walls so as to form a protection against heavy missiles, should an attempt be made to effect a breach. [illustration: guy welcomes the count of montepone and his daughter to villeroy.] a few days after the king's army sat down before arras, the look-out informed guy that a horseman, together with a lady and two attendants, were riding towards the castle. wondering who these visitors could be, guy crossed the drawbridge to the outwork, where a small party were now stationed. as they rode up, he saw, to his surprise and pleasure, that they were the count of montepone and his daughter. he ran out to meet them. "i am delighted to see you, count, and you also mistress katarina. i regret that sir eustace and dame margaret are not here to receive you properly." "we were aware that she was absent," the count said as he dismounted, while guy assisted katarina from her saddle. "i received a letter three months since; it came by way of flanders from sir eustace, expressing his thanks for what slight services i had rendered to his wife. he told me that they had crossed over to england, and that you were his castellan here. but i thought that ere this he might have returned." "i heard from him but a few days ago," guy said. "he is detained in england by the illness of dame margaret, or he would have hastened hither on hearing that the french army was moving north. i need scarcely ask how you are, mistress katarina, for you have changed much, and if i may say it without offence, for the better." the girl flushed a little and laughed, and her father said: "it is nigh three months since we left paris; the country air has done her good. since we left she has till now been in disguise again, and has ridden as my page, for i could not leave her behind, nor could i in an army, with so many wild and reckless spirits, take her in the dress of a girl." by this time they had crossed the drawbridge, the servants leading their horses after them. "my stay must be a short one," the count said as they entered the banqueting-hall, and guy gave orders for a repast to be served. "i hoped that you were come to stay for a time, count; i would do all in my power to make your visit a pleasant one." the italian shook his head. "no, i must ride back tonight. i have come here for a double purpose. in the first place i must send katarina to england; she is almost a woman now, and can no longer wander about with me in times like these. in the second place, i have come to tell you that i think you need have no fear of an attack upon the castle. that news you gave me, which enabled me to save those three orleanist nobles, has, added to what i had before done in that way, helped me vastly. one of them is a great favourite with aquitaine, and the latter took me under his special protection; and he and many other great lords, and i may tell you even the queen herself, consult me frequently. shortly after you left i moved to a larger house, and as there was no longer any need for me to assume the character of a vendor of medicines i abandoned that altogether, and took handsome apartments, with my negro from the booth to open the door, and two other lackeys. "my knowledge of the stars has enabled me with some success to predict the events that have taken place, and aquitaine and the queen have both implicit confidence in me and undertake nothing without my advice. the duke of orleans, too, has frequently consulted me. i have used my influence to protect this castle. i have told them that success will attend all their efforts, which it was easy enough to foresee, as burgundy has no army in the field that can oppose them. but i said that i had described a certain point of danger. it was some time before i revealed what this was, and then said that it appeared to me that the evil in some way started from the west of arras. i would go no further than this for many days, and then said that it arose from a castle held by one who was not altogether french, and that were an attack made upon it evil would arise. i saw that it would lead to a disturbance, i said, in the negotiations for the marriage, and perhaps the arrival of an english army. more than this i said the stars did not tell me. "aquitaine made inquiries and soon found that my description applied to villeroy, and he and the queen have issued strict orders that no plundering party is to come in this direction, and that on no account is the castle to be interfered with, and i shall take care that their intentions in this matter are not changed. i had the royal orders to accompany the army. this i should have done in any case, but of course i professed a certain reluctance, by saying that i had many clients in paris. however, i received various rich presents, and was therefore prevailed upon to travel with them." "i thank you most heartily, count, for, as you saw on crossing the court-yard, i have already called all the vassals in and made preparations to stand a siege. as to your daughter, i will, if you wish it, appoint two of the tenants' daughters as her attendants, and send an elderly woman as her companion, with an escort under robert picard,--one of those who were with me in paris,--and four other men-at-arms to accompany her to summerley and hand her over to the charge of dame margaret, who will, i trust, be in better health than when sir eustace wrote to me. it will be a great relief to our lord and lady to know that their presence is not urgently required here. the escort can start to-morrow at daybreak if you wish that they should do so." the count hesitated, and guy went on: "i will appoint the woman and the two maids at once. mistress katarina can occupy dame margaret's chamber, and the woman and the maids can sleep in those adjoining it." "that will do well," the count said cordially. "we have ridden twenty miles already, and she could hardly go on to-day, while if she starts at daybreak they may reach calais to-morrow." "i will give picard a letter to the governor, asking him in my lord's name to give honourable entertainment to the young lady, who is under dame margaret's protection, and to forward her upon her journey to join them by the first vessel sailing to southampton, or if there be none sailing thither, to send her at once by ship to dover, whence they can travel by land. one of the four men-at-arms shall be an englishman, and he can act as her spokesman by the way." "that will do most excellently," the count said, "and i thank you heartily. as soon as i have finished my meal i must ride for the camp again. i started early this morning in order not to be observed; in the first place because i did not wish my daughter to be seen in her female dress, and in the second because i would not that any should notice my coming in this direction, and indeed we rode for the first mile backwards along the road to bapaume, and i shall return by the same way." "what will the end of these troubles be, count?" "as i read the stars there will be peace shortly, and indeed it is clear to me that the duke of burgundy must by this time see that if the war goes on he will lose all artois and perhaps flanders, and that therefore he must make peace, and perhaps keep it until the royal army has marched away and dispersed; after that we may be sure that the crafty duke will not long remain quiet. i have a trusty emissary in burgundy's household, and as soon as the duke comes to the conclusion that he must beg for peace i shall have intelligence of it, and shall give early news to the queen and to aquitaine, who would hail it with gladness; for, seeing that the latter's wife is burgundy's daughter, he does not wish to press him hard, and would gladly see peace concluded." an hour later the count rode off with his two followers, after taking an affectionate leave of his daughter, and telling her that it would not be long before he joined her--if only for a time--in england. before he went guy had chosen the woman who, with her two daughters, was to accompany katarina, and had installed them in the private apartments. "what shall we do with ourselves for the day?" he asked the girl, who was, he saw, shy and ill at ease, now that her father had left. "if you are not tired we might take a ride. we have some hawks here, and now that the harvest has been gathered we shall doubtless find sport with the game-birds." "i am not at all tired," she said eagerly, "and should like it much." calling upon long tom and another to accompany them, horses were brought up, and they started and remained out until supper-time, bringing home with them some seven or eight partridges that had been killed by the hawks. guy suggested that perhaps she would prefer to have the meal served in her own apartments and to retire to bed early. she accepted the offer, and at once went to her room, which she did not leave again that evening. guy, as he ate alone, wondered to himself at the change that some nine or ten months had made in her. "i suppose she feels strange and lonely," he said to himself. "she was merry enough when we were out hawking; but directly we got back again she seemed quite unlike herself. i suppose it is because i always used to treat her as if she were a boy, and now that she has grown up into a woman she wants to forget that time." the town of arras resisted sturdily. the garrison made frequent sorties, took a good many prisoners, and inflicted heavy loss upon the besiegers before these could gather in sufficient numbers to drive them in again, and all assaults were repulsed with loss. the castle of belle moote, near arras, also repulsed all the efforts of the king's army to take it. foraging parties of orleanists committed terrible devastations in the country round, but gained no advantage in their attacks on any fortified place. on the 29th of august the duke of brabant arrived with some deputies from flanders to negotiate a peace between burgundy and the king. they were well received, and an armistice was at once arranged. the french troops were suffering severely from disease, and the failure of all their attempts to capture arras made them ready to agree willingly upon a peace. this was accordingly concluded on the 4th of september, and the next day the royal army marched away. three weeks after katarina had gone to england, sir eustace himself, to guy's great joy, arrived at the castle, bringing with him his esquire and eight men-at-arms, as well as the three serving-women and their escort. as soon as his pennon was seen guy leapt on a horse that was standing saddled in the court-yard, and rode to meet them. as he came up he checked his horse in surprise, for his father was riding by the side of sir eustace. recovering himself, however, he doffed his cap to his lord. "welcome back, my lord!" he said. "i trust that our dear lady is better." "much better, guy. you see i have brought your father over with me." guy bent low to his father. "i am right glad to see you," the latter said, "and to hear such good accounts of you. dame margaret and mistress agnes were never tired of singing your praises, and in truth i was not weary of hearing them." "are you going to make a long stay, father?" "i shall stay for some little time, guy. our lady is going to be her own castellan for the present. and in truth things are so quiet in england that summerley could well go on without a garrison, so sir eustace suggested that i should accompany him hither, where, however, just at present things have also a peaceful aspect. the young countess arrived safely, guy, and was heartily welcomed, the more so since, as your letter told me, it is to her father that we owe it that we did not have the king's army battering our walls, or, even if they did not try that, devastating the fields and ruining the farmers." by this time they were at the gate. long tom had the garrison drawn up in the court-yard, and they hailed the return of their lord with hearty cheers, while the retainers of summerley were no less pleased at seeing sir john aylmer. "and now, guy," said sir eustace, "i will tell you why i have come hither. it is partly to see after the estate, to hear the complaints of my vassals and to do what i can for them, and in the next place i wanted to see these fortifications that you have raised, and, thirdly, i shall shortly ride to paris in the train of the earl of dorset, the lord grey, admiral of england, some bishops, and many other knights and nobles, amounting in the whole to 600 horse. they go to treat for the marriage of the princess of france with the english king. i had an audience with the king at winchester as soon as we heard that the royal army was marching towards artois, and he gave assurance that he would instruct the governor of calais to furnish what assistance he could should the castle be attacked, and that he himself would at once on hearing of it send a remonstrance to the king of france, urging that i, as a vassal of his as well as of france, had avoided taking any part in the troubles, and had ever borne myself as a loyal vassal of his majesty. "he was at winchester when the young countess arrived, and i rode over to him to tell him that i had news that it was not probable that villeroy would be attacked. it was then that his majesty informed me that the earl of dorset with a large body of nobles would ere long cross the channel for the purpose that i have named, and begged me to ride with them. the king, being disengaged at the time, talked with me long, and questioned me as to the former defence of the castle, and how dame margaret had fared when, as he had heard, she was obliged to go as a hostage to paris. i told him all that had befallen her, at which he seemed greatly interested, and bade me present you to him at the first opportunity. "'he must be a lad after my own heart,' he said, 'and he shall have an opportunity of winning his spurs as soon as may be, which perchance is not so far away as some folks think.'" guy thanked sir eustace for having so spoken of him to the english king, and asked: "what do you think he meant by those last words, my lord?" "that i cannot say, guy; but it may well be that he thinks that this marriage which has been so long talked of may not take place, and that the negotiations have been continued solely for the purpose of keeping him quiet while france was busied with her own troubles. moreover, i know that the king has been already enlisting men, that he is impatient at having been put off so often with soft words, and that embassy is intended to bring matters to a head; therefore if, as i gathered from some of my friends at his court, he is eager for fighting, it may be that his ambassadors will demand conditions which he is sure beforehand the king of france will not grant. at any rate i shall ride with dorset to paris; whatever the sentiments of the burgundians or orleanists may be towards me will matter nothing, riding as i shall do in the train of the earl. i am going to take you with me, as well as john harpen, for i must do as well as others, and have had to lay out a goodly sum in garments fit for the occasion, for the king is bent upon his embassy making a brave show. your father will be castellan here in my absence. i shall also take with me long tom and four of his archers, and five french men-at-arms. i have brought some lincoln-green cloth to make fresh suits for the archers, and also material for those for the men-at-arms." both sir eustace and sir john aylmer expressed great satisfaction at the manner in which the new outworks had been erected. "assuredly it is a strong castle now, sir eustace," sir john said, "and would stand a long siege even by a great army." "what is all that earth for in the corner, guy?" sir eustace asked as they re-entered the castle after having made a survey of the new works. "i had that brought in, my lord, to fill sacks, of which i had three hundred made, so that if guns and battering machines were brought against us, we might cover the wall at the place they aimed at with sacks hanging closely together, and so break the force of the stones or the cannon balls." "excellently well arranged, guy. you thought, sir john, that i was somewhat rash to leave the defence solely to the charge of this son of yours, but you see the lad was ready at all points, and i will warrant me that the castle would have held out under him as long a time as if you and i both had been in command of it." it was not until january, the year being 1414, that the earl of dorset and a great company arrived at calais. as they passed not far from the castle they were joined by sir eustace and his retinue. the king's wishes had been carried out, and the knights and nobles were so grandly attired and their retinues so handsomely appointed that when they rode into paris the people were astonished at the splendour of the spectacle. a few days after they reached the capital the king gave a great festival in honour of the visitors, and there was a grand tournament at which the king and all the princes of the blood tilted. the english ambassadors were splendidly entertained, but their proposals were considered inadmissible by the french court, for henry demanded with katherine the duchy of normandy, the county of pontieu, and the duchy of aquitaine. no direct refusal was given, but the king said that he would shortly send over an embassy to discuss the conditions. many handsome presents were made to all the knights and noblemen, and the embassy returned to england. sir eustace left them near villeroy with his party, and stayed two days at the castle. sir john aylmer said that he would prefer that guy should return home with sir eustace and that he himself should remain as castellan, for he thought that there was little doubt that war would soon be declared; he said that he himself was too old to take the field on active service, and preferred greatly that guy should ride with sir eustace. long tom made a petition to his lord that he too should go to england for a time. "if there was any immediate chance of fighting here, my lord," he said, "i would most willingly remain, but seeing that at present all is quiet, i would fain return, were it but for a month; for i have a maid waiting for me, and have, methinks, kept her long enough, and would gladly go home and fetch her over here." the request was at once granted, and sir eustace, his two esquires, and the archer rode to calais, and crossed with the company of the earl of dorset. for some months guy remained quietly at summerley. agnes, though nearly sixteen, was still but a young girl, while katarina had grown still more womanly during the last six months. the former always treated him as a brother, but the latter was changeable and capricious. occasionally she would laugh and chat when the three were alone, as she had done of old in paris, but more often she would tease and laugh at him, while sometimes she would be shy and silent. "i cannot make out the young countess, my lady," he said to dame margaret when katarina had been teasing him even more than usual. "she was never like this in paris, and i know not that i have done aught to offend her that she should so often pick up my words, and berate me for a meaning they never had." "you see, things have changed since then," dame margaret said with a smile; "'tis two years since you were in paris, and katarina, although but little older than agnes, is already a young woman. you were then still under seventeen, now you are nineteen, and in growth and stature well-nigh a man. you can hardly expect her to be the same with you as when she was running about paris in boy's attire, for then you regarded her rather as a comrade than as a girl. i think, perhaps, it is that she a little resents the fact that you knew her in that guise, and therefore feels all the less at her ease with you. do not trouble about it, the thing will right itself in time; and besides, you will shortly be going off to the war." in fact, preparations were being already made for it. a french embassy of nobles and knights, with three hundred and fifty horsemen, had come over, and, after passing through london, had gone to winchester, and there met the king and his great lords. the archbishop of bourges, who was their spokesman, at once set forth that the king could not hand over so large a portion of his kingdom, but that he would give with his daughter large estates in france, together with a great sum in ready money. this offer was refused, and preparations for war went on in both countries. france was, indeed, but in poor condition to defend itself, for the duke of aquitaine had seriously angered both parties. he had made a pretext to get the great lords to ride out from paris, he being with them; but he had secretly returned, and had ordered the gates to be closed, had called the citizens to arms, and had resumed the supreme authority of the realm. having done this, he sent his wife, burgundy's daughter, to a castle at a distance, and surrounding himself with young nobles as reckless and dissipated as himself, led a life of disorder, squandering money on his pleasures, and heavily taxing the city for his wants. the duke of burgundy, indignant at the treatment of his daughter, sent an ambassador to demand that she should be taken back, and that all the persons, five hundred in number, who had been exempted from the terms of the treaty, should be allowed to return to paris. both requests were refused, and the consequence was that the duke of burgundy, with his partisans, returned to his own country in deep anger; he would take no part in the war against the english, although he permitted his vassals to do so. in july the english levies gathered at southampton. the king was to have embarked immediately, and a great fleet had been collected for the purpose; but, as he was on the point of sailing, henry obtained news of a plot against his life on the part of sir thomas grey, lord scroop, and richard, earl of cambridge, the king's cousin. as scroop was in constant attendance upon the king and slept in his room, the conspirators had little doubt that their purpose could be carried out, their intention being to proclaim the earl of march king, and to summon assistance from scotland. the three conspirators were tried by a jury and were all found guilty. grey was beheaded, but his companions claimed to be tried again by their peers. no time was lost in carrying out the trial; all the lords assembled at southampton were called together, and, after hearing the evidence, at once found the two nobles guilty, and they were immediately beheaded. orders were then given for the embarkation. sir eustace had brought with him thirty archers and as many men-at-arms, and, as they were waiting on the strand for the boats that were to take them out to the ships to which they had been appointed, the king, who was personally superintending the operations, rode past. sir eustace saluted him. "is this your following, sir eustace?" the king asked. "it is, my lord king, and would that it were larger. had we landed at calais i should have been joined by another fifty stout englishmen from villeroy, and should we in our marches pass near it i will draw them to me. your majesty asked me to present to you my esquire, guy aylmer, who, as i had the honour of telling you, showed himself a brave and trusty gentleman, when, during the troubles, he was in paris with my wife. step forward, guy!" the latter did so, saluted the king, and stood erect in military attitude. "you have begun well," the king said graciously; "and i hereby request your lord that in the day of battle he will permit you to fight near me, and if you bear yourself as well when fighting for your king as you did when looking after your lady mistress, you shall have your share of honours as well as of blows." the king then rode on, and sir eustace and guy took their places in a boat where the men had already embarked. "this is something like, master guy," said long tom, who was in command of the archers. "it was well indeed that i asked to come home to england when i did, else had i been now mewed up at villeroy while my lord was fighting the french in the open field. crecy was the last time an english king commanded an army in battle against france; think you that we shall do as well this time?" "i trust so, tom; methinks we ought assuredly not to do worse. it is true that the french have been having more fighting of late than we have, but the nobles are less united now than they were then, and are likely to be just as headstrong and incautious as they were at crecy. i doubt not that we shall be greatly outnumbered, but numbers go for little unless they are well handled. the constable d'albrett is a good soldier, but the nobles, who are his equals in rank, will heed his orders but little when their blood is up and they see us facing them. we may be sure, at any rate, that we shall be well led, for the king has had much experience against the scotch and welsh, and has shown himself a good leader as well as a brave fighter. i hope, tom, that you have by this time come to be well accustomed to your new bow." "that have i. i have shot fourscore arrows a day with it from the time i reached home, not even omitting my wedding day, and i think that now i make as good shooting with it as i did with my old one. 'tis a pity we are not going to calais; if we had been joined by thirty archers there we should have made a brave show, and more than that, they would have done good service, for they are picked men. a few here may be as good, but not many. you see when we last sailed with our lord the times were peaceful, and we were able to gather the best shots for fifty miles round, but now that the king and so many of the nobles are all calling for archers we could not be so particular, and have had to take what we could get; still, i would enlist none who were not fair marksmen." this conversation took place as they were dropping down southampton waters. their destination was known to be harfleur, which, as it was strongly fortified and garrisoned, was like to offer a sturdy resistance. the fleet was a great one, consisting of from twelve to fourteen hundred sail, which the king had collected from all the ports of england and ireland, or hired from holland and friesland. the army consisted of six thousand five hundred horsemen and twenty-four thousand footmen of all kinds. on the 13th of august the fleet anchored in the mouth of the seine, three miles from harfleur. the operation of landing the great army and their horses occupied three days, the french, to the surprise of all, permitting the operation to be carried on without let or hindrance, although the ground was favourable for their attacks, as soon as the landing was effected the army took up its position so as to prevent any supplies from entering the town. they had with them an abundance of machines for battering the walls, and these were speedily planted, and they began their work. the garrison had been reinforced by four hundred knights and picked men-at-arms, and fought with great determination and valour, making several sorties from the two gates of the town. there were, however, strong bodies of troops always stationed near to guard the engines from such attacks, and the french sorties were not only repulsed, but their knights had much difficulty in winning their way back to the town. the enemy were unable to use their cannon to much effect, for a large supply of gunpowder sent by the french king was, on the day after the english landed, captured on its way into the town. the besiegers lost, however, a good many men from the crossbowmen who manned the walls, although the english archers endeavoured to keep down their shooting by a storm of arrows. the most formidable enemy, however, that the english had to contend with was dysentery, brought on by the damp and unhealthy nature of the ground upon which they were encamped. no less than two thousand men died, and a vastly larger number were so reduced by the malady that they were useless for fighting. the siege, however, was carried on uninterruptedly. the miners who had been brought over drove two galleries under the walls, and the gates were so shattered by stones and cannon-balls that they scarce hung together. the garrison surrendered after having by the permission of the english king sent a messenger to the king of france, who was at vernon, to say that unless they were succoured within three days they must surrender, as the town was already at the mercy of the english, and received for answer that no army was as yet gathered that could relieve them. in addition to the ravages of dysentery the english army had suffered much from want of food. large bodies of french troops were gathered at rouen and other places, and when knights and men-at-arms went out to forage, they fell upon them and drove them back. still a large amount of booty was gathered, together with enough provisions to afford a bare subsistence to the army. a considerable amount of booty was also obtained when harfleur fell. the greater portion of the inhabitants of the town were forced to leave it, the breaches in the walls were repaired and new gates erected. a portion of the treasure obtained was divided by the king among the troops. the prisoners and the main portion of the booty--which, as harfleur was the chief port of normandy, and indeed of all the western part of france, was very great--he sent direct to england, together with the engines of war. the sick and ailing were then embarked on ships, with a considerable fighting force under the earl of warwick. they were ordered to touch at calais, where the fighting-men were to be landed and the sick carried home, and henry then prepared to march to calais by land. chapter xix -agincourt the english king waited some time for an answer to a challenge he had sent to the duke of aquitaine to decide their quarrel by single combat; but aquitaine cared more for pleasure than for fighting, and sent no answer to the cartel. it was open to henry to have proceeded by sea to calais, and it was the advice of his counsellors that he should do so; but the king declared that the french should never say that he was afraid to meet them, and that as the country was his by right he would march wherever he pleased across it; and so, after leaving a thousand archers and five hundred men-at-arms under the command of the duke of exeter, he set out on the 6th of october on his adventurous journey. accounts differ as to the number that started with him, some french historians put it as high as 17,000, but it is certain that it could not have exceeded nine thousand men, of whom two thousand were men-at-arms and the rest archers. now, while the siege of harfleur had been going on, the arrangements for the embarkation of the troops and stores carried out, and the town put in a state of defence, troops had been marching from all points of france at the command of the french king to join him at rouen, so that here and in picardy two great armies were already assembled, the latter under the command of the constable. the english force marched by the sea-shore until it arrived at the river somme. no great resistance was encountered, but large bodies of the enemy's horse hovered near and cut off all stragglers, and rendered it difficult to obtain food, so that sickness again broke out among the troops. on reaching the somme henry followed its left bank up, intending to cross at the ford of la blanche-tache, across which edward the third had carried his army before fighting at crecy. the french, as on the previous occasion, held the ford; but they this time had erected defences on each of the banks, and had strong posts driven into the bed of the river. still ascending along the river bank the english found every bridge broken and every ford fortified, while a great body of troops marched parallel with them on the right bank of the river. at pont st. remy, ponteau de mer, and several other points they tried in vain to force a passage. seven days were spent in these attempts; the troops, suffering terrible hardships, were disheartened at their failure to cross the river, and at finding themselves getting farther and farther from the sea. on the morning of the 19th, however, a ford was discovered which had not been staked. the english vanguard at once made a dash across it, repulsed its defenders on the other bank, and the whole army with its baggage, which was of scanty dimensions, swarmed across the river. sir eustace, with his little force, now reduced to half its number, was, as it happened, in front of the army when the ford was discovered, and, followed by his two esquires and ten mounted men-at-arms, dashed into the river, while the archers, slinging their bows behind them, drew their axes and followed. for a short time there was a desperate conflict, but as reinforcements hurried across, the fight became more even and the french speedily gave way. when the king had crossed he thanked sir eustace for his prompt action. "had you waited to send back for orders," he said, "the french would have come up in such numbers that the ford would not have been won without heavy loss, whereas by dashing across the moment it was discovered, you took the defenders by surprise and enabled us to get over without the loss of a single man." the constable, disconcerted at finding that all his plans for keeping the english on the left bank of the river were foiled, fell back to st. pol in artois. henry followed, but without haste. his small force was greatly reduced by sickness, while by this time the whole of the royal army had marched round and joined that of the constable. on the day after the passage had been effected three heralds arrived in the english camp to acquaint the king with the resolution of the constable and of the dukes of orleans and brabant to give his army battle before he reached calais. henry replied that fear of them would not induce him to move out of his way or to change the order of his march; he intended to go on straight by the road to calais, and if the french attempted to stop him it would be at their peril; he accordingly continued to advance at the same rate as before. the constable fell back from st. pol and took up his post between the villages of ruissanville and agincourt, where, having received all the reinforcements he expected, he determined to give battle. on the 24th the english crossed the ternois at blangi, and soon afterwards came in sight of the enemy's columns. these fell back as he advanced, and towards evening he halted at the village of maisoncelles, within half a mile of the enemy's position. fortunately provisions had been obtained during the day's march; these were cooked and served out, and the english lay down to sleep. the king sent for sir eustace. "you know this ground well, i suppose, sir eustace," he said, "for your castle of villeroy is not many miles distant?" "'tis but six miles away," the knight replied. "it is a good ground to fight on, for facing it are fields, and on either flank of these are large woods, so that there will be little space for the enemy to move." "that is just what i would have," the king said. "were they but half as strong as they are i should feel less confident that we should defeat them; their numbers will hinder them, and the deep wet ground will hamper their movements. as for ourselves, i would not have a man more with me if i could; the fewer we are the greater the glory if we conquer, while if we are defeated the less the loss to england. does your young esquire also know the ground, sir eustace?" "yes, sire; he has, i know, often ridden here when hawking." "then let him go with four of my officers, who are about to reconnoitre the ground and see where we had best fight." guy was accordingly called up and started with the officers. he first took them up to the wood on the right of the french division, then they moved across its front at a distance of fifty yards only from the french line. the contrast between it and the english camp was great. in the latter all was quiet. the men after a hearty meal had lain down to sleep, heeding little the wet ground and falling rain, exhausted by their long marching, and in good spirits,--desperate though the odds seemed against them,--that they were next day to meet their foes. in the french camp all was noise and confusion. each body of troops had come on the ground under its own commander, and shouts, orders, and inquiries sounded from all quarters. many of the frenchmen never dismounted all the night, thinking it better to remain on horseback than to lie down on wet ground. great fires were lighted and the soldiers gathered round these, warming themselves and drinking, and calculating the ransoms to be gained by the capture of the king and the great nobles of england. knights and men-at-arms rode about in search of their divisions, their horses slipping and floundering in the deep clay. passing along the line of the french army guy and the officers proceeded to the wood on the left, and satisfied themselves that neither there nor on the other flank had any large body of men been posted. they then returned and made their report to the king. guy wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down and slept until the moon rose at three o'clock, when the whole army awoke and prepared for the day's work. the english king ordered the trumpeters and other musicians who had been brought with the army to play merry tunes, and these during the three hours of darkness cheered the spirits of the men and helped them to resist the depressing influence of the cold night air following upon their sleep on the wet ground. the french, on the other hand, had no manner of musical instruments with their army, and all were fatigued and depressed by their long vigil. the horses had suffered as-much as the men from damp, sleeplessness, and want of forage. there was, however, no want of confidence in the french army--all regarded victory as absolutely certain. as the english had lost by sickness since they left harfleur fully a thousand men out of the 9,000, and as against these were arrayed at least a hundred thousand--some french historians estimate them at 150,000--comprising most of the chivalry of france, the latter might well regard victory as certain. there were, however, some who were not so confident; among these was the old duke of berri, who had fought at poitiers sixty years before, and remembered how confident the french were on that occasion, and how disastrous was the defeat. his counsel that the english should be allowed to march on unmolested to calais, had been scouted by the french leaders, but he had so far prevailed that the intention that charles should place himself at the head of the army was abandoned. "it would be better," the duke had urged, "to lose the battle than to lose the king and the battle together." as soon as day broke the english were mustered and formed up, and three masses were celebrated at different points in order that all might hear. when this was done the force was formed up into three central divisions and two wings, but the divisions were placed so close together that they practically formed but one. the whole of the archers were placed in advance of the men-at-arms. every archer, in addition to his arms, carried a long stake sharpened at both ends, that which was to project above the ground being armed with a sharp tip of iron. when the archers had taken up their positions these stakes were driven obliquely into the ground, each being firmly thrust in with the strength of two or three men. as the archers stood many lines deep, placed in open order and so that each could shoot between the heads of the men in front of him, there were sufficient stakes in front of the line to form a thick and almost impassable _chevaux-de-frise_. the baggage and horses were sent to the rear, near the village of maisoncelles, under a guard of archers and men-at-arms. when all the arrangements were made, the king rode along the line from rank to rank, saying a few words of encouragement to each group of men. he recounted to them the victories that had been won against odds as great as those they had to encounter, and told them that he had made up his own mind to conquer or die, for that england should never have to pay ransom for him. the archers he fired especially by reminding them that when the orleanists had taken soissons a few months before they had hung up like dogs three hundred english archers belonging to the garrison. he told them that they could expect no mercy, for that, as the french in other sieges had committed horrible atrocities upon their own countrymen and countrywomen, they would assuredly grant no mercy to the english; while the latter on their march had burned no town nor village, and had injured neither man nor woman, so that god would assuredly fight for them against their wicked foes. the king's manner as much as his words aroused the enthusiasm of the soldiers; his expression was calm, confident, and cheerful, he at least evidently felt no doubt of the issue. the duke of berri had most strongly urged on the council that the french should not begin the attack. they had done so at crecy and poitiers with disastrous effect, and he urged them to await the assault of the english. the latter, however, had no intention of attacking, for henry had calculated upon the confusion that would surely arise when the immense french army, crowded up between the two woods, endeavoured to advance. the men were therefore ordered to sit down on the ground, and food and some wine were served, out to them. the constable was equally determined not to move; the french therefore also sat down, and for some hours the two armies watched each other. the constable had, however, some difficulty in maintaining his resolution. the duke of orleans and numbers of the hot-headed young nobles clamoured to be allowed to charge the english. he himself would gladly have waited until joined by large reinforcements under the duke of brittany and the marshal de loigny, who were both expected to arrive in the course of the day. as an excuse for the delay, rather than from any wish that his overtures should be accepted, he sent heralds to the english camp to offer henry a free passage if he would restore harfleur, with all the prisoners that he had made there and on his march, and resign his claims to the throne of france. henry replied that he maintained the conditions he had laid down by his ambassadors, and that he would accept none others. he had, in fact, no wish to negotiate, for he, too, knew that the french would very shortly be largely reinforced, and that were he to delay his march, even for a day or two, his army would be starved. perceiving at last that the constable was determined not to begin the battle, he sent off two detachments from the rear of his army, so that their movements should be concealed from the sight of the french. one of these, composed of archers, was to take post in the wood on the left hand of the french, the other was to move on through the wood, to come down in their rear, and to set on fire some barns and houses there, and so create a panic. he waited until noon, by which time he thought that both detachments would have reached the posts assigned to them, and then gave the orders for the advance. the archers were delighted when their commander, sir thomas erpingham, repeated the order. none of them had put on his armour, and many had thrown off their jerkins so as to have a freer use of their arms either for bow or axe. each man plucked up his stake, and the whole moved forward in orderly array until within bow-shot of the enemy. then the archers again stuck their stakes into the ground, and, taking up their position as before, raised a mighty shout as they let fly a volley of arrows into the enemy. the shout was echoed from the wood on the french left, and the archers there at once plied their bows, and from both flank and front showers of arrows fell among the french. as originally formed up, the latter's van should have been covered by archers and cross-bowmen, but, from the anxiety of the knights and nobles to be first to attack, the footmen had been pushed back to the rear, a position which they were doubtless not sorry to occupy, remembering how at crecy the cross-bowmen had been trampled down and slain by the french knights, desirous of getting through them to attack the english. therefore, there stood none between the archers and the french array of knights, and the latter suffered heavily from the rain of arrows. sir clugnet de brabant was the first to take the offensive, and with twelve hundred men-at-arms charged down upon the archers with loud shouts. the horses, however, were stiff and weary from standing so long in order; the deep and slippery ground, and the weight of their heavily-armed riders caused them to stagger and stumble, and the storm of arrows that smote them as soon as they got into motion added to the disorder. so accurate was the aim of the archers, that most of the arrows struck the knights on their helmets and vizors. many fell shot through the brain, and so terrible was the rain of arrows that all had to bend down their heads so as to save their faces. many of the archers, too, shot at the horses; some of these were killed and many wounded, and the latter swerving and turning aside added to the confusion. and when at length sir clugnet and the leaders reached the line of stakes in front of the archers, only about a hundred and fifty of the twelve hundred men were behind them. the horses drew up on reaching the hedge of stakes. their riders could give them no guidance, for without deigning to move from their order the archers continued to keep up their storm of arrows, which at such close quarters pierced all but the very finest armour, while it was certain death to the knights to raise their heads to get a glance at the situation. the horses, maddened with the pain of the arrows, soon settled the matter. some turned and rushed off madly, carrying confusion into the ranks of the first division, others galloped off to the right or left, and of the twelve hundred men who charged, three only broke through the line of stakes, and these were instantly killed by the bill-hooks and axes of the archers. the second line of battle was now in disorder, broken by the fugitive men and horses of sir clugnet's party, smitten with the arrows to which they had been exposed as that party melted away, and by those of the english archers in the wood on their flank. the confusion heightened every moment as wounded knights tried to withdraw from the fight, and others from behind struggled to take their places in front. soon the disorder became terrible. the archers plucked up their stakes and ran forward; the french line recoiled at their approach in order to get into fairer order; and the archers, with loud shouts of victory, slung their bows behind them, dropped the stakes, and with axe and bill-hook rushed at the horsemen. these were too tightly wedged together to use their lances, and as they had retired they had come into newly-ploughed ground, which had been so soaked by the heavy rain that the horses sank in the deep mud to their knees, many almost to their bellies. into the midst of this helpless crowd of armed men the english archers burst. embarrassed by their struggling horses, scarcely able to wield their arms in the press, seeing but scantily, and that only in front through the narrow slits of their vizors, the chivalry of france died almost unresistingly. the constable of france and many of the highest nobles and most distinguished knights fell, and but few of the first line made their escape: these, passing through the second division, in order to draw up behind, threw this also into some confusion. the duke de brabant, who had just arrived on the field, charged down upon the flank of the archers. these met him fearlessly, and he and most of those with him were killed. this fight had, however, given time to the second division to close up their ranks. the archers would have attacked them, but the king caused the signal for them to halt to be sounded, and riding up formed them in order again. the french were unable to take advantage of the moment to try and recover their lost ground, for the horses were knee-deep in the ground, upon which they had all night been trampling, and into which the weight of their own and their riders' armour sunk them deeply. "now, my lords," the king said, turning to those around him, "our brave archers have done their share; it is our turn;" and then, as arranged, all dismounted and marched forward against the enemy. in accordance with his orders, sir eustace de villeroy and guy were posted close to the king, while john harpen led the men-at-arms from summerley. for a time the battle raged fiercely. in the centre fought the king with his nobles and knights; while the archers, who had most of them thrown off their shoes and were able to move lightly over the treacherous ground, threw themselves upon the enemy's flanks, and did dreadful execution there. in the centre, however, the progress of the english was slower. the french knights made the most desperate efforts to attack the king himself, and pressed forward to reach the royal banner. his brother, the duke of clarence, was wounded, and would have been killed had not the king himself, with a few of his knights, taken post around him, and kept off the attacks of his foes until he recovered his feet. almost immediately afterwards a band of eighteen knights, under the banner of the lord of croye, who had bound themselves by an oath to take or kill the king, charged down upon him. one of them struck him so heavy a blow on the head with a mace that the king was beaten to his knee, but his knights closed in round him, and every one of his assailants was killed. the duke of alenã§on next charged down with a strong following; he cut his way to the royal standard, and struck the duke of york dead with a blow of his battle-axe. henry sprung forward, but alenã§on's weapon again fell, and striking him on the head clipped off a portion of the crown which henry wore round his helmet. but before the french knight could repeat the stroke guy aylmer sprung forward and struck so heavy a blow full on the duke's vizor that he fell from his horse dead. his fall completed the confusion and dismay among the french, and the second division of their army, which had hitherto fought gallantly, now gave way. many were taken prisoners. the third division, although alone vastly superior in numbers to the english, seeing the destruction of the others, began to draw off. they had moved but a short distance when loud shouts were heard in the english rear. two or three french knights, with a body of several hundred armed peasants, had suddenly fallen upon the english baggage and horses which had been left at maisoncelles. many of the guard had gone off to join in the battle, so that the attack was successful, a portion of the baggage, including the king's own wardrobe, and a great number of horses being captured. ignorant of the strength of the attacking party, henry believed that it was the reinforcements under the duke of brittany that had come up. at the same moment the third division of the french, whose leaders were also similarly deceived, halted and faced round. believing that he was about to be attacked in front and rear by greatly superior forces, henry gave the order that all prisoners should be killed, and the order was to a great extent executed before the real nature of the attack was discovered and the order countermanded. the third division of the french now continued its retreat, and the battle was over. there remained but to examine the field and see who had fallen. the king gave at once the name of agincourt to the battle, as this village possessed a castle, and was therefore the most important of those near which the fight had taken place. properly the name should have been azincourt, as this was the french spelling of the village. the loss of the french was terrible, and their chivalry had suffered even more than at poitiers. several of the relations of the french king were killed. the duke of brabant, the count de nevers, the duke of bar and his two brothers, the constable, and the duke of alenã§on all perished. no less than a hundred and twenty great lords were killed, and eight thousand nobles, knights, and esquires lost their lives, with some thousands of lower degree, while the duke of orleans, the duke of bourbon, and many others were taken prisoners. the accounts of the english loss differ considerably, the highest placing it at sixteen hundred, the lowest at one-fourth of that number. the plunder taken by them in the shape of costly armour, arms, rich garments, and the trappings of horses, was great; but of food there was but little, many of the victors lay down supperless around the village of maisoncelles. the knights who had led the peasants to the attack of the baggage-train, instead of joining in the fight, and had thereby caused the unfortunate massacre of so many prisoners, fell into great disgrace among the french for their conduct, and were imprisoned for some years by the duke of burgundy. that evening the english king knighted many esquires and aspirants of noble families, among them guy aylmer, who was indeed the first to receive the honour. "no one fought more bravely than you did, young knight," he said, as guy rose to his feet after receiving the accolade; "i will see that you have lands to support your new dignity. twice you were at my side when i was in the greatest danger, and none have won their spurs more fairly." john harpen would also have been among those knighted, but he declined the honour, saying that he was not come of gentle blood, and wished for nothing better than to remain his lord's esquire so long as he had strength to follow him in the field. the next morning the army marched to calais. the king turned aside with sir eustace, and with a strong party rode to villeroy. guy had gone on with the men-at-arms at daybreak, and a banquet had been prepared, and twenty cartloads of grain and a hundred bullocks sent off to meet the army on its march. "'tis a fine castle, sir eustace," the king said as he rode in, "but truly it is perilously situated. if after this i can make good terms with france i will see that the border shall run outside your estates; but if not, methinks that it were best for you to treat with some french noble for its sale, and i will see that you are equally well bestowed in england, for in truth, after fighting for us at agincourt, you are like to have but little peace here." "i would gladly do so, my lord king," sir eustace replied. "during the last three years it has been a loss rather than a gain to me. i have had to keep a large garrison here; the estate has been wasted, and the houses and barns burned. had it not been that there was for most of the time a truce between england and france i should have fared worse. and now i may well be attacked as soon as your majesty and the army cross to england." "you will have a little breathing time," the king said; "they will have enough to do for a while to mourn their losses. i will not leave behind any of your brave fellows who have fought so hard here, but when i arrive at calais will order two hundred men of the garrison to come over to reinforce you until you can make arrangements to get rid of the castle, if it is not to remain within my territory." sir eustace introduced sir john aylmer as the father of the newly-made knight. "you have a gallant son, sir john," the king said, "and one who is like to make his way to high distinction. i doubt not that before we have done with the french he will have fresh opportunities of proving his valour." after the meal was over the king went round the walls. "'tis a strong place," he said, "and yet unless aid reached you, you could not resist an army with cannon and machines." "i have long seen that, your majesty, and have felt that i should have to choose between england and france, for that, when war broke out again, i could not remain a vassal of both countries." "it shall be my duty to show you that you have not chosen wrongly, sir eustace. i cannot promise to maintain you here, for you might be attacked when i have no army with which i could succour you. as soon as i return home and learn which of those who have fallen have left no heirs, and whose lands therefore have come into my gift, i will then make choice of a new estate for you." the army marched slowly to calais. it was weakened by sickness and hunger, and every man was borne down by the weight of the booty he carried. on arriving there the king held a council, and it was finally determined to return to england. the force under his command was now but the skeleton of an army. fresh men and money were required to continue the war, and he accordingly set sail, carrying with him his long train of royal and noble prisoners. the news of the victory created the greatest enthusiasm in england. at dover the people rushed into the sea and carried the king to shore on their shoulders. at canterbury and the other towns through which he passed he received an enthusiastic welcome, while his entry into london was a triumph. every house was decorated, the conduits ran with wine instead of water, and the people were wild with joy and enthusiasm. great subsidies were granted him by parliament, and the people in their joy would have submitted to any taxation. however, throughout his reign henry always showed the greatest moderation; he kept well within constitutional usages, and his pleasant, affable manner secured for him throughout his reign the love and devotion of his subjects. on his arrival at calais guy discovered that among the prisoners was his friend count charles d'estournel. "i am grieved indeed to see you in this plight," he exclaimed as he met him. "'tis unfortunate truly, aylmer, but it might have been worse; better a prisoner than among the dead at agincourt," the light-hearted young count said; "but truly it has been an awful business. who could have dreamt of it? i thought myself that the council were wrong when they refused all the offers of the towns to send bodies of footmen to fight beside us; had they been there, they might have faced those terrible archers of yours, for they at least would have been free to fight when we were all but helpless in that quagmire. i see that you have knightly spurs on, and i congratulate you." "now, count, what can i do to ensure your release at once? whose prisoner are you?" "i surrendered to one john parsons, an esquire, and i shall, of course, as soon as we get to england, send home to raise money for my ransom." "i know him well," guy said; "his lord's tent was pitched alongside that of sir eustace, before harfleur, and we saw much of each other, and often rode together on the march. if i gave him my guarantee for your ransom, i doubt not that he will take your pledge, and let you depart at once." "i should be glad indeed if you would do so, aylmer." "at any rate he will take the guarantee of sir eustace," guy said, "which will, i know, be given readily, after the service you rendered to his dame, and it may be that you will have it in your power to do him a service in return." he then told the count of the intention of sir eustace to sell the estate, or rather to arrange for its transfer. "it is held directly from the crown," he said, "but just at present the crown is powerless. artois is everywhere burgundian, and it would certainly be greatly to the advantage of burgundy that it should be held by one of his followers, while it would be to the safety of france that it should be held by a frenchman, rather than by one who is also a vassal of england." "i should think that that could be managed," the count said thoughtfully. "i will speak to my father. i am, as you know, his second son, but through my mother, who is a german, i have an estate on the other side of the rhine. this i would gladly exchange--that is to say, would part with to some german baron--if i could obtain the fief of villeroy. i have no doubt that burgundy would not only consent, but would help, for, as you know by the manner in which your lady was made a hostage, he looked with great jealousy on this frontier fortress, which not only gives a way for the english into artois, but which would, in the hands of an orleanist, greatly aid an invasion of the province from pontoise and the west. and, although the court would just at present object to give the fief to a burgundian, it is powerless to interfere, and when the troubles are over, the duke would doubtless be able to manage it." guy had no difficulty in arranging the matter with d'estournel's captor, to whom sir eustace and he both gave their surety that his ransom should be paid; and, before sailing, guy had the satisfaction of seeing his friend mount and ride for st. omar with a pass through the english territory from the governor. chapter xx -penshurst after accompanying the king to london sir eustace and guy rode to summerley, where long tom and his companions had already arrived, having marched thither direct from dover. there were great rejoicings at the castle. not only the tenants, but people from a long way round came in to join in welcoming home two of the heroes of agincourt. the archer had already brought news of guy having been knighted, and he was warmly, congratulated by dame margaret and by agnes, who received him with her usual sisterly affection. katarina, also, congratulated him, but it was with less warmth of manner. in the evening, how ever, her mood changed, and she said to him: "though i do not say much, you know that i am pleased, sir guy." [illustration: "katarina swept a deep curtsey, and went off with a merry laugh."] "i am not sure, countess katarina--since we are to be ceremonious to each other--that i do quite know, for since i returned from france last time, i have seldom understood you; one moment you seem to me just as you used to be, at another you hold me at a distance, as if i were well-nigh a stranger." katarina shrugged her shoulders. "what would you have, guy? one can't be always in the same humour." "you are always in the same humour to dame margaret and agnes," he said; "so far as i can see i am the only one whom you delight to tease." "now that you are a belted knight, sir guy, i shall not presume to tease you any more, but shall treat you with the respect due to your dignity." then she swept a deep curtsey, and turning, went off with a merry laugh, while guy looked after her more puzzled than ever. that evening he received the news that during the absence of sir eustace and himself sir william bailey, a young knight whose estates lay near, had asked for the hand of agnes, and that, although dame margaret had been unable to give an answer during her lord's absence, agnes would willingly submit herself to her father's orders to wed sir william. guy remained for some months quietly at summerley. the emperor sigismund had paid a visit to england, and then to paris, to endeavour to reconcile the two countries. his mediation failed. henry offered, as a final settlement, to accept the execution, on the part of france, of the treaty of trepigny. nothing, however, came of it, for there was no government in france capable of making a binding treaty. in spite of the disgrace and the slaughter of the nobles at agincourt there was no abatement of the internal dissensions, and the civil war between burgundy and armagnac was still raging, the only change in affairs being that the vicious and incapable duke of aquitaine had died, and the queen had once again gone over to the burgundian faction. count charles d'estournel had carried into effect the mission with which he had charged himself. burgundy had eagerly embraced the opportunity of attaching to his side the castle and estates of villeroy, and he and the count d'estournel between them raised a sum of money which was paid to sir eustace for the relinquishment to burgundy of the fief, which was then bestowed upon count charles. the sum in no way represented what would now be considered the value of the estate, but in those days, when fiefs reverted to the crown or other feudal superior upon the death of an owner without heirs, or were confiscated upon but slight pretence, the money value was far under the real value of the estate. sir eustace was well satisfied, however, with the sum paid him. had his son henry lived he had intended that the anomalous position of the lord of villeroy, being also a vassal of england, should have been got rid of by one of his sons becoming its owner, and a vassal of france, while the other would inherit summerley, and grow up a vassal of england only. henry's death had put an end to the possibility of this arrangement, and charlie would now become, at his father's death, lord of summerley and of such other english lands as could be obtained with the money paid for the surrender of the fief of villeroy. in the first week of july there were great rejoicings at summerley over the marriage of agnes with sir william bailey. the king had not forgotten his promise to sir eustace, and had raised him to the title of baron eustace of summerley, and had presented him with a royal manor near winchester. guy was summoned to court to take part in the festivities that were held during the visit of sigismund, and the king said to him pleasantly one day: "i have not forgotten you, sir guy; but i have had many to reward, and you know importunate suitors, and those who have powerful connections to keep their claims ever in front, obtain an advantage over those who are content to hold themselves in the back-ground." "i am in all ways contented, your majesty. i have lived all my life in the household at summerley, and am so much one of my lord's family that i have no desire to quit it. moreover, my father has just returned from villeroy with the garrison of the castle, and it is a great pleasure to me to have his society again." "i thought that some day you would have married dame margaret's fair daughter, after acting as their protector in the troubles in paris, but i hear that she is betrothed to sir william bailey." "such an idea never entered my mind, your majesty. she was but a child in those days, not so much in years as in thought, and brought up together as we were i have always regarded her rather in the light of a sister." guy's quiet stay at summerley came to an end suddenly. a fortnight after the marriage of agnes, harfleur was besieged by the french by land and water, and the earl of dorset, its governor, sent to england for aid. the king sent hasty orders to his vassals of kent, surrey, and hampshire, to march with their retainers to rye, where a fleet was to gather for their conveyance. a body of archers and men-at-arms were also sent thither by the king, and the duke of bedford, his brother, appointed to the command of the expedition. sir eustace was suffering somewhat from the effects of a fever, the seeds of which he had contracted in france, and he accordingly sent his contingent, thirty archers and as many men-at-arms, under the command of guy. "i had hoped that we had done with harfleur," long tom said as they started on their march to the seaport. "i don't mind fighting, that comes in the way of business, but to see men rotting away like sheep with disease is not to my fancy." "we shall have no fighting on land, tom," guy replied, "at least i expect not. when the french see that the garrison is reinforced they will probably give up the siege, though we may have a fight at sea with the french ships that are blockading the town and preventing provisions from reaching the garrison. doubtless we shall take a good store of food with us, and the french will know well enough that as we had such hard work in capturing the town, they can have no chance whatever of taking it by assault when defended by us." guy and his party had a small ship to themselves, with which he was well content, as, being but a newly-made knight, he would, had he been in a large ship, have been under the orders of any others who chanced to be with him; while he was now free to act as he chose. the voyage was favourable, but when the fleet arrived off the mouth of the seine they found that the work before them was far more serious than they had expected. in addition to their own fleet, which was itself considerably stronger than the english, the besiegers had hired the aid of some great genoese vessels, and a number of galleys, caravels, and many high-decked ships from spain. they occupied a strong position off the town, and could be supported by some of the siege batteries. the english fleet lay to at the mouth of the seine, and at night the captains of the troops on board the various ships were rowed to bedford's ship, which displayed a light at the mast-head, so that the fleet could all lie in company round her. here after much discussion a plan for the battle next day was agreed upon. the enterprise would have been a very hazardous one, but, happily, at daybreak the french ships were seen coming out to give battle. confident in their superior numbers, and anxious to revenge their defeat at agincourt, the french commanders were eager to reap the whole glory of victory without the assistance of their allies, whose ships remained anchored in the river. bedford at once made the signal to attack them, and a desperate fight ensued. great as was the slaughter in those days in battles on land, it was far greater in sea-fights. except to knights and nobles, from whom ransom could be obtained, quarter was never given to prisoners either by land or sea, consequently as soon as soldiers in a land battle saw that fortune was going against them they fled. but on sea there was no escape; every man knew that it was either death or victory, and therefore fought with determination and obstinacy to the end. the two first french ships that arrived were speedily captured, but when the rest came up a desperate battle took place. guy was on the point of ordering his ship to be laid alongside a french craft little larger than his own, when his eye fell upon a great ship carrying the flag of a french admiral, and at once diverting the course of his vessel, he ran alongside her. the archers were on the bow and stern castles of his ship, and as they came within a short distance of the frenchman, they sent their arrows thick and fast into the crowded mass on her deck. two grapnels, to each of which were attached twenty feet of chain, were thrown into the shrouds of the french vessel, and guy shouted to the men-at-arms in the waist to keep the enemy from boarding by holding the vessels apart by thrusting out light spars and using their spears. the french had a few cross-bowmen on board, but guy, running up on to the castle at the bow, where long tom himself was posted, bade him direct the fire of his men solely against them, and in a very short time the discharge of missiles from the french ship ceased. in vain the french attempted to bring the ships alongside each other by throwing grapnels; the ropes of these were cut directly they fell, and although many of the english spears were hacked in two, others were at once thrust out, and the spars, being inclined so as to meet the hull of the enemy below the water-line, could not be reached by their axes. the wind was light, and there was no great difference in point of sailing. the english sailors were vigilant, and when the frenchman brailed up his great sail, so as to fall behind, they at once followed his example. at the end of a quarter of an hour the effect of the arrows of the thirty archers was so great that there was much confusion on board the enemy, and guy thought that, comparatively small as his force was, an attack might be made. so the spars were suddenly drawn in and the chains hauled upon. the archers caught up their axes and joined the men-at-arms, and as the vessels came together they all leapt with a great shout upon the enemy's deck. the french knights, whose armour had protected them to some extent from the slaughter that the arrows had effected among the soldiers, fought bravely and rallied their men to resistance; but with shouts of "agincourt!" the men-at-arms and archers, led by guy,--who now for the first time fought in his knightly armour,--were irresistible. they had boarded at the enemy's stern so as to get all their foes in front of them, and after clearing the stern castle they poured down into the waist and gradually won their way along it. after ten minutes' hard fighting the french admiral and knights were pent up on the fore castle, and defended the ladder by which it was approached so desperately that guy ordered tom, with a dozen of the archers, to betake themselves to the english fore castle and to shoot from there, and in a short time the french leaders lowered their swords and surrendered. the french flag at the stern had been hauled down and that of england hoisted as soon as they boarded, and the latter was now run up to the mast-head amid the loud hurrahs of the english. the moment the french surrendered, guy called to his men to cease from slaying and to disarm the prisoners, who were still much more numerous than themselves. the common men he told to take to their boats and row away, while the admiral and knights were conducted to the cabin, and a guard placed over them. as soon as this was done guy looked round; the battle was still raging and many of the french ships had been captured, but others were defending themselves desperately. twelve of guy's men had been killed, and several of the others more or less severely wounded, and seeing that his countrymen did not need his assistance, he ordered the decks to be cleared and the dead bodies thrown overboard. in a quarter of an hour, the last french ship had been taken. there was now breathing time for half an hour, during which the duke of bedford, whose ship lay not far from guy's prize, had himself rowed on board. "all have done well to-day, sir guy aylmer, but assuredly the feat you have performed surpasses any of the others, seeing that you have captured this great ship with one of the smallest in our fleet. their crew must have been three or four times as strong as yours, which was, as i know, but sixty strong. has the count de valles fallen?" "no, my lord duke, he is, with six of his knights, a prisoner in the cabin." "i will see him later," the duke said; "we are now going to attack the genoese and spaniards. is there aught that i can do for you?" "some twenty of my men are dead or disabled," guy said, "and i must leave ten in charge of this prize. i have suffered the french soldiers, after disarming them and the sailors, to leave in their boats, and ten men will therefore be sufficient to hold her. if your grace can spare me thirty men-at-arms i will go on in my own ship to attack the genoese." "i will do so," the duke replied. "i will send ten to keep this ship, and twenty to fill the places of those of your men who have fallen. i can spare ten from my own ship and will borrow twenty from such of the others as can best spare them." in a few minutes the thirty men came on board, with a sub-officer to take charge of the prize. guy returned with his own men and twenty new-comers to his vessel, and sailed in with the fleet to attack the great ships of the genoese and spaniards at their moorings. as they approached they were received with a heavy cannonade from the enemy's ships and shore batteries, but without replying they sailed on and ranged themselves alongside the enemy, their numbers permitting them to lay a vessel on each side of most of the great caravels. their task was by no means an easy one, for the sides of these ships were fifteen feet above those of the low english vessels, and they were all crowded with men. nevertheless, the english succeeded in boarding, forcing their way in through port-holes and windows, clambering up the bows by the carved work, or running out on their yards and swinging themselves by ropes on to the enemy's deck, while the cannon plied them with shot close to the water-line. most of the ships were taken by boarding, some were sunk with all on board, a few only escaped by cutting their cables and running up the seine into shallow water. the loss of life on the part of the french and their allies in this brilliant british victory was enormous. with the exception of those on board the few ships which escaped, and the men sent off in the boats by guy, the whole of the crews of the french, genoese, and spaniards, save only the nobles and knights put to ransom, were killed, drowned, or taken prisoners, and during the three weeks that the english fleet remained off harfleur, the sailors were horrified by the immense number of dead bodies that were carried up and down by the tide. harfleur was revictualled and put into a state of defence, and the duke of bedford then sailed with his fleet to england, having achieved the greatest naval victory that england had ever won save when edward the third, with the black prince, completely defeated a great spanish fleet off the coast of sussex, with a squadron composed of ships vastly inferior both in size and number to those of the spaniards, which contained fully ten times the number of fighting men carried by the english vessels. this great naval victory excited unbounded enthusiasm in england. the king gave a great banquet to the duke of bedford and his principal officers, and by the duke's orders guy attended. before they sat down to the table the duke presented his officers individually to the king. guy, as the youngest knight, was the last to be introduced. "the duke has already spoken to me of the right valiant deeds that you accomplished, sir guy aylmer," the king said as he bowed before him, "and that with but a small craft and only sixty men-at-arms and archers you captured the ship of the french admiral, which he estimates must have carried at least three hundred men. we hereby raise you to the rank of knight-banneret, and appoint you to the fief of penshurst in hampshire, now vacant by the death without heirs of the good knight sir richard fulk. and we add thereto, as our own gift, the two royal manors of stoneham and piverley lying adjacent to it, and we enjoin you to take for your coat-of-arms a great ship. the fief of penshurst is a sign of our royal approval of your bravery at harfleur, the two manors are the debt we owe you for your service at agincourt. we have ordered our chancellor to make out the deeds, and tomorrow you will receive them from him and take the oaths." guy knelt and kissed the hand that the king held out to him, and acknowledged the royal gift in fitting words. on the following day, after taking the oaths for his new possessions, he mounted, and the next day rode into summerley. here to his surprise he found the count of montepone, who had arrived, by way of calais and dover, a few days previously. he was suffering from a severe wound, and when guy entered rose feebly from a chair by the fire, for it was now october and the weather was cold. his daughter was sitting beside him, and lady margaret was also in the room. lord eustace and sir john aylmer had met guy as he dismounted below. "so you have gone through another adventure and come out safely," the count said after guy had greeted him. "truly you have changed greatly since you left paris, well-nigh three years ago. it was well that maã®tre leroux had the armour made big for you, for i see that it is now none too large. i too, you see, have been at war; but it was one in which there was small honour, though, as you see, with some risk, for it was a private duel forced upon me by one of the armagnac knights. up to that time my predictions had wrought me much profit and no harm. i had told aquitaine and other lords who consulted me that disaster would happen when the french army met the english. that much i read in the stars. and though, when henry marched north from harfleur with so small a following, it seemed to me that victory could scarce attend him against the host of france, i went over my calculations many times and could not find that i had made an error. it was owing greatly to my predictions that the duke readily gave way when the great lords persuaded him not to risk his life in the battle. "others whom i had warned went to their death, in some cases because they disbelieved me, in others because they preferred death to the dishonour of drawing back. one of the latter, on the eve of the battle, confided to a hot-headed knight in his following that i had foretold his death; and instead of quarrelling with the stars, the fool seemed to think that i had controlled them, and was responsible for his lord's death. so when in paris some months since, he publicly insulted me, and being an italian noble as well as an astrologer, i fought him the next day. i killed him, but not before i received a wound that laid me up for months, and from which i have not yet fairly recovered. while lying in paris i decided upon taking a step that i had for some time been meditating. i could, when katarina left paris with your lady, have well gone with her, with ample means to live in comfort and to furnish her with a fortune not unfitted to her rank as my daughter. "during the past three years the reputation i gained by my success in saving the lives of several persons of rank, increased so rapidly that money has flowed into my coffers beyond all belief. there was scarcely a noble of the king's party who had not consulted me, and since agincourt the duke of aquitaine and many others took no step whatever without coming to me. but i am weary of the everlasting troubles of which i can see no end, and assuredly the aspect of the stars affords no ground for hope that they will terminate for years; therefore, i have determined to leave france, and to practise my art henceforth solely for my own pleasure, i shall open negotiations with friends in mantua, to see whether, now that twelve years have elapsed since i had to fly, matters cannot be arranged with my enemies; much can often be done when there are plenty of funds wherewith to smooth away difficulties. still, that is in the future. my first object in coming to england was to see how my daughter was faring, and to enjoy a period of rest and quiet while my wound was healing, which it has begun to do since i came here. i doubted on my journey, which has been wholly performed in a litter, whether i should arrive here alive." "and now, father," katarina said, "let us hear what sir guy has been doing since he left; we have been all full of impatience since the news came four days ago that the duke of bedford had destroyed a great fleet of french, spanish, and genoese ships." "guy has had his share of fighting, at any rate," lord eustace said, as he entered the room while the girl was speaking, "for fifteen of our men have fallen; and, as long tom tells me, they had hot work of it, and gained much credit by capturing single-handed a great french ship." "yes, we were fortunate," guy said, "in falling across the ship of the french admiral, count de valles. our men all fought stoutly, and the archers having cleared the way for us and slain many of their crew, we captured them, and i hold the count and five french knights to ransom." "that will fill your purse rarely, guy. but let us hear more of this fighting. de valles's ship must have been a great one, and if you took it with but your own sixty men it must have been a brilliant action." guy then gave a full account of the fight, and of the subsequent capture of one of the spanish carracks with the aid of another english ship. "if the duke of bedford himself came on board," lord eustace said, "and sent you some reinforcements, he must have thought highly of the action; indeed he cannot but have done so, or he would not have come personally on board. did he speak to the king of it?" "he did, and much more strongly, it seems to me, than the affair warranted, for at the banquet the day before yesterday his majesty was graciously pleased to appoint me a knight-banneret, and to bestow upon me the estates of penshurst, adding thereto the royal manors of stoneham and piverley." "a right royal gift!" lord eustace said, while exclamations of pleasure broke from the others. "i congratulate you on your new honour, which you have right worthily earned. sir john, you may well be proud of this son of yours." "i am so, indeed," sir john aylmer said heartily. "i had hoped well of the lad, but had not deemed that he would mount so rapidly. sir richard fulk had a fine estate, and joined now to the two manors it will be as large as those of summerley, even with its late additions." "i am very glad," dame margaret said, "that the king has apportioned you an estate so near us, for it is scarce fifteen miles to penshurst, and it will be but a morning ride for you to come hither." "methinks, wife," lord eustace said with a smile, "we were somewhat hasty in that matter of sir william bailey, for had we but waited agnes might have done better." "she chose for herself," dame margaret replied with an answering smile. "i say not that in my heart i had not hoped at one time that she and guy might have come together, for i had learnt to love him almost as if he had been my own, and would most gladly have given agnes to him had it been your wish as well as theirs; but i have seen for some time past that it was not to be, for they were like brother and sister to each other, and neither had any thought of a still closer relation. had it not been so i should never have favoured sir william bailey's suit, though indeed he is a worthy young man, and agnes is happy with him. you have not been to your castle yet, guy?" she asked, suddenly changing the subject. "no, indeed, lady margaret, i rode straight here from london, deeming this, as methinks that i shall always deem it, my home." "we must make up a party to ride over and see it to-morrow," lord eustace said. "we will start early, wife, and you and katarina can ride with us. charlie will of course go, and sir john. we could make a horse-litter for the count, if he thinks he could bear the journey. "methinks that i had best stay quietly here," the italian said. "i have had enough of litters for a time, and the shaking might make my wound angry again." "nonsense, child!" he broke off as katarina whispered that she would stay with him; "i need no nursing now; you shall ride with the rest." accordingly the next day the party started early. charlie was in high spirits; he had grown into a sturdy boy, and was delighted at the good fortune that had befallen guy, whom he had regarded with boundless admiration since the days in paris. katarina was in one of her silent moods, and rode close to lady margaret. long tom, who was greatly rejoiced on hearing of the honours and estates that had been bestowed on guy, rode with two of his comrades in the rear of the party. penshurst was a strong castle, though scarcely equal in size to summerley; it was, however, a more comfortable habitation, having been altered by the late owner's father, who had travelled in italy, with a view rather to the accommodation of its inmates than its defence, and had been furnished with many articles of luxury rare in england. "a comfortable abode truly, guy!" his father said. "it was well enough two hundred years since, when the country was unsettled, for us to pen ourselves up within walls, but there is little need of it now in england, although in france, where factions are constantly fighting against each other, it is well that every man should hold himself secure from attack. but now that cannon are getting to so great a point of perfection, walls are only useful to repel sudden attacks, and soon crumble when cannon can be brought against them. me thinks the time will come when walls will be given up altogether, especially in england, where the royal power is so strong that nobles can no longer war with each other." "however, guy," lord eustace said, "'tis as well at present to have walls, and strong ones; and though i say not that this place is as strong as villeroy, it is yet strong enough to stand a siege." guy spent an hour with the steward, who had been in charge of the castle since the death of sir richard fulk, and who had the day before heard from a royal messenger that sir guy had been appointed lord of the estates. the new owner learned from him much about the extent of the feu, the number of tenants, the strength that he would be called upon to furnish in case of war, and the terms on which the vassals held their tenure. "your force will be well-nigh doubled," the steward said in conclusion, "since you tell me that the manors of stoneham and piverley have also fallen to you." "'tis a fair country," guy said as the talk ended, "and one could wish for no better. i shall return to summerley to-day, but next monday i will come over here and take possession, and you can bid the tenants, and those also of the two manors, to come hither and meet me at two o'clock." "well, daughter," the count of montepone said to katarina as she was sitting by his couch in the evening, "so you think that penshurst is a comfortable abode?" "yes, father, the rooms are brighter and lighter than these and the walls are all hung with arras and furnished far more comfortably." "wouldst thou like to be its mistress, child?" a bright flush of colour flooded the girl's face. "dost mean it, father?" she asked in a voice hardly above a whisper. "why not, child? you have seen much of this brave young knight, whom, methinks, any maiden might fall in love with. art thou not more sensible to his merits than was mistress agnes?" "he saved my life, father." "that did he, child, and at no small risk to his own: then do i understand that such a marriage would be to your liking?" "yes, father," she said frankly, "but i know not that it would be to sir guy's." "that is for me to find out," he said. "i asked lady margaret a few days ago what she thought of the young knight's inclinations, and she told me that she thought indeed he had a great liking for you, but that in truth you were so wayward that you gave him but little chance of showing it." "how could i let him see that i cared for him, father, when i knew not for certain that he thought aught of me, and moreover, i could not guess what your intentions for me might be." "i should not have sent you where you would often be in his company, katarina, unless i had thought the matter over deeply. it was easy to foresee that after the service he had rendered you you would think well of him, and that, thrown together as you would be, it was like enough that you should come to love each other. i had cast your horoscope and his and found that you would both be married about the same time, though i could not say that it would be to each other. i saw enough of him during that time in paris to see that he was not only brave, but prudent and discreet. i saw, too, from his affection to his mistress, that he would be loyal and honest in all he undertook, that it was likely that he would rise to honour, and that above all i could assuredly trust your happiness to him. he was but a youth and you a girl, but he was bordering upon manhood and you upon womanhood. i marked his manner with his lady's daughter and saw that she would be no rival to you. had it been otherwise i should have yielded to your prayers, and have kept you with me in france. matters have turned out according to my expectation. i can give you a dowry that any english noble would think an ample one with his bride; and though guy is now himself well endowed he will doubtless not object to such an addition as may enable him, if need be, to place in the field a following as large as that which many of the great nobles are bound to furnish to their sovereign. i will speak to him on the subject to-morrow, katarina." accordingly, the next morning at breakfast the count told guy that there was a matter on which he wished to consult him, and the young knight remained behind when the other members of the family left the room to carry out their avocations. "hast thought of a mistress for your new castle, sir guy?" the count began abruptly. guy started at the sudden question, and did not reply at once. "i have thought of one, count," he said; "but although, so far, all that you told me long ago in paris has come true, and fortune has favoured me wonderfully, in this respect she has not been kind, for the lady cares not for me, and i would not take a wife who came not to me willingly." "how know you that she cares not for you?" the count asked. "because i have eyes and ears, count. she thinks me but a boy, and a somewhat ill-mannered one. she mocks me when i try to talk to her, shuns being left alone with me, and in all ways shows that she has no inclination towards me, but very much the contrary." "have you asked her straightforwardly?" the count inquired with a smile. "no, i should only be laughed at for my pains, and it would take more courage than is required to capture a great french ship for me to put the matter to her." "i fancy, sir guy, that you are not greatly versed in female ways. a woman defends herself like a beleaguered fortress. she makes sorties and attacks, she endeavours to hide her weakness by her bravados, and when she replies most disdainfully to a summons to capitulate, is perhaps on the eve of surrender. to come to the point, then, are you speaking of my daughter?" "i am, sir count," guy said frankly. "i love her, but she loves me not, and there is an end of it. 'tis easy to understand that, beautiful as she is, she should not give a thought to me who, at the best, can only claim to be a stout man-at-arms; as for my present promotion, i know that it goes for nothing in her eyes." "it may be as you say, sir guy; but tell me, as a soldier, before you gave up the siege of a fortress and retired would you not summon it to surrender?" "i should do so," guy replied with a smile. "then it had better be so in this case, sir guy. you say that you would willingly marry my daughter. i would as willingly give her to you. the difficulty then lies with the maiden herself, and it is but fair to you both that you should yourself manfully ask her decision in the matter." he went out of the room, and returned in a minute leading katarina. "sir guy has a question to ask you, daughter," he said; "i pray you to answer him frankly." he then led her to a seat, placed her there and left the room. guy felt a greater inclination to escape by another door than he had ever felt to fly in the hour of danger, but after a pause he said: "i will put the question, katarina, since your father would have me do it, though i know well enough beforehand what the answer will be. i desire above all things to have you for a wife, and would give you a true and loyal affection were you willing that it should be so, but i feel only too well that you do not think of me as i do of you. still, as it is your father's wish that i should take your answer from your lips, and as, above all things, i would leave it in your hands without any constraint from him, i ask you whether you love me as one should love another before plighting her faith to him?" "why do you say that you know what my answer will be, guy? would you have had me show that i was ready to drop like a ripe peach into your mouth before you opened it? why should i not love you? did you not save my life? were you not kind and good to me even in the days when i was more like a boy than a girl? have you not since with my humours? i will answer your question as frankly as my father bade me." she rose now. "take my hand, guy, for it is yours. i love and honour you, and could wish for no better or happier lot than to be your wife. had you asked me six months ago i should have said the same, save that i could not have given you my hand until i had my father's consent." during the next month guy spent most of his time at penshurst getting everything in readiness for its mistress. lord eustace advanced him the monies that he was to receive for the ransoms of count de valles and the five knights, and the week before the wedding he went up with the count of montepone to london, and under his advice bought many rich hangings and pieces of rare furniture to beautify the private apartments. the count laid out a still larger sum of money on eastern carpets and other luxuries, as well as on dresses and other matters for his daughter. on jewels he spent nothing, having already, he said, "a sufficient store for the wife of a royal duke." on his return guy called upon the king at his palace at winchester, and henry declared that he himself would ride to summerley to be present at the wedding. "you stood by me," he said, "in the day of battle, it is but right that i should stand by you on your wedding-day. her father will, of course, give her away, and it is right that he should do so, seeing that she is no ward of mine; but i will be your best man. i will bring with me but a small train, for i would not inconvenience the baron of summerley and his wife, and i will not sleep at the castle; though i do not say that i will not stay to tread a measure with your fair bride." two days later a train of waggons was seen approaching summerley; they were escorted by a body of men-at-arms with two officers of the king. lord eustace, in some surprise, rode out to meet them, and was informed that the king had ordered them to pitch a camp near the castle for himself and his knights, and that he intended to tarry there for the night. as soon as the waggons were unloaded the attendants and men-at-arms set to work, and in a short time the royal tent and six smaller ones were erected and fitted with their furniture. other tents were put up a short distance away for the grooms and attendants. this greatly relieved lady margaret, for she had wondered where she could bestow the king and his knights if, at the last moment, he determined to sleep there. for the next three days the castle was alive with preparations. oxen and swine were slaughtered, vast quantities of game, geese, and poultry were brought in, two stags from the royal preserves at winchester were sent over by the king, and the rivers for miles round were netted for fish. at ten o'clock guy rode in with fifty mounted men, the tenants of penshurst, stoneham, and piverley, and these and all the tenants of summerley rode out under lord eustace and guy to meet the king. they had gone but a mile when he and his train rode up. he had with him the earl of dorset and five of the nobles who had fought at agincourt and were all personally acquainted with guy. the church at summerley was a large one, but it was crowded as it had never been before. the king and his nobles stood on one side of the altar, while lord eustace, his wife, agnes, and charlie were on the other. guy's tenants occupied the front seats, while the rest of the church was filled by the tenants of summerley, their wives and daughters, and the retainers of the castle, among them long tom, with his pretty wife beside him. when everything was in order the count of montepone entered the church with his daughter, followed by the six prettiest maidens on the summerley estate. "in truth, sir guy," the king whispered as the bride and her father came up the aisle, "your taste is as good in love as your arms are strong in war, for my eyes never fell on a fairer maid." after the ceremony there was a great banquet in the hall, while all the tenants, with their wives and families, sat down to long tables spread in the court-yard. after the meal was over and the tables removed, the king and the party in the banqueting-hall went out on the steps and were received with tremendous cheering. guy first returned thanks for himself and his bride for the welcome that they had given him, and then, to the delight of the people, the king stepped forward. "good people," he said, "among whom there are, i know, some who fought stoutly with us at agincourt, you do well to shout loudly at the marriage of this brave young knight, who was brought up among you, and who has won by his valour great credit, and our royal favour. methinks that he has won, also, a prize in his eyes even greater than the honours that we have bestowed upon him, and i doubt not that, should occasion occur, he will win yet higher honours in our service." a great shout of "god bless the king!" went up from the assembly. then the party returned to the hall, while casks of wine were broached in the court-yard. as lord eustace had sent for a party of musicians from winchester, first some stately dances were performed in the hall, as many as could find room being allowed to come into it to witness them. the king danced the first measure with katarina, the earl of dorset led out lady margaret, and guy danced with lady agnes, while the other nobles found partners among the ladies who had come in from the neighbourhood. after a few dances the party adjourned to the court-yard, where games of various kinds, dancing and feasting were kept up until a late hour, when the king and his companions retired to their tents. at an early hour next morning the king and his retinue rode back to winchester. until he signed the marriage contract before going to the church, guy was altogether ignorant of the dowry that katarina was to bring, and was astonished at the very large sum of money, besides the long list of jewels, entered in it. "she will have as much more at my death," the count said quietly; "there is no one else who has the slightest claim upon me." consequently, in the course of the wars with france, guy was able to put a contingent of men-at-arms and archers, far beyond the force his feudal obligations required, in the field. long tom was, at his own request, allowed by his lord to exchange his small holding for a larger one at penshurst, and always led guy's archers in the wars. sir john aylmer remained at summerley, refusing guy's pressing invitation to take up his abode at penshurst. "no, lad," he said; "lord eustace and i have been friends and companions for many years, and lady margaret has been very dear to me from her childhood. both would miss me sorely did i leave them, the more so as agnes is now away. moreover, it is best that you and your fair wife should be together also for a time. 'tis best in all respects. you are but two hours' easy riding from summerley, and i shall often be over to see you." four years after his marriage the king promoted guy to the rank of baron of penshurst, and about the same time the count of montepone, who had been for some months in italy, finding that his enemies at mantua were still so strong that he was unable to obtain a reversal of the decree of banishment that had been passed against him, returned to penshurst. "i have had more than enough of wandering, and would fain settle down here, guy, if you will give me a chamber for myself, and one for my instruments. i shall need them but little henceforth, but they have become a part of myself and, though no longer for gain, i love to watch the stars, and to ponder on their lessons; and when you ride to the wars i shall be company for katarina, who has long been used to my society alone, and i promise you that i will no longer employ her as my messenger." once established at penshurst the count employed much of his time in beautifying the castle, spending money freely in adding to the private apartments, and decorating and furnishing them in the italian style, until they became the wonder and admiration of all who visited them. in time he took upon himself much of the education of katarina's children, and throughout a long life guy never ceased to bless the day when he and dame margaret were in danger of their lives at the hands of the white hoods of paris. the end. a roving commission [illustration: "i have heard a great deal of you, mr. glover," the admiral said.] a roving commission or _through the black insurrection at hayti_ by g. a. henty author of "with frederick the great," "the dash for khartoum" "both sides the border," etc. _with twelve illustrations by william rainey, r.i._ new york charles scribner's sons 1904 _copyright_, 1899, by charles scribner's sons. preface horrible as were the atrocities of which the monsters of the french revolution were guilty, they paled before the fiendish outrages committed by their black imitators in hayti. indeed, for some six years the island presented a saturnalia of massacre, attended with indescribable tortures. it may be admitted that the retaliation inflicted by the maddened whites after the first massacre was as full of horrors as were the outrages perpetrated by the blacks, and both were rivalled by the mulattoes when they joined in the general madness for blood. the result was ruin to all concerned. france lost one of her fairest possessions, and a wealthy race of cultivators, many belonging to the best blood of france, were annihilated or driven into poverty among strangers. the mulattoes, many of whom were also wealthy, soon found that the passions they had done so much to foment were too powerful for them; their position under the blacks was far worse and more precarious, than it had been under the whites. the negroes gained a nominal liberty. nowhere were the slaves so well treated as by the french colonists, and they soon discovered that, so far from profiting by the massacre of their masters and families, they were infinitely worse off than before. they were still obliged to work to some extent to save themselves from starvation; they had none to look to for aid in the time of sickness and old age; hardships and fevers had swept them away wholesale; the trade of the island dwindled almost to nothing; and at last the condition of the negroes in hayti has fallen to the level of that of the savage african tribes. unless some strong white power should occupy the island and enforce law and order, sternly repress crime, and demand a certain amount of labour from all able-bodied men, there seems no hope that any amelioration can take place in the present situation. g. a. henty. contents chapter page i. a fight with a bloodhound 1 ii. rejoined 21 iii. a slave depot 38 iv. a sharp fight 58 v. a pirate hold 76 vi. the negro rising 93 vii. in hiding 112 viii. a time of waiting 132 ix. an attack on the cave 152 x. afloat again 172 xi. a first command 191 xii. a rescue 211 xiii. two captures 232 xiv. the attack on port-au-prince 253 xv. the attack on port-au-prince 273 xvi. toussait l'ouverture 293 xvii. a french frigate 311 xviii. another engagement 331 xix. home 352 illustrations page "i have heard a great deal of you, mr. glover," the admiral said _frontispiece_ "headed by nat, the crew of the gig leapt down on to the deck" 40 the guns on the rampart send a shower of grape into the pirate 64 "it was not long before he came across the figure of a prostrate man" 122 "he fell like a log over the precipice" 164 the journey to the coast 178 the rescue of louise pickard 212 "four shots were fired and as many negroes fell" 226 "the captain of the pirates shook his fist in defiance" 246 a message from toussaint l'ouverture 294 "drop it!" nat repeated 308 "nat sprang on to the rail" 318 a roving commission chapter i a fight with a bloodhound "now, look here, nathaniel--" "drop that, curtis, you know very well that i won't have it. i can't help having such a beast of a name, and why it was given me i have never been able to make out, and if i had been consulted in the matter all the godfathers and godmothers in the world wouldn't have persuaded me to take such a name. nat i don't mind. i don't say that it is a name that i should choose; still, i can put up with that, but the other i won't have. you have only just joined the ship, but if you ask the others they will tell you that i have had at least half a dozen fights over the name, and it is an understood thing here that if anyone wants a row with me he has only got to call me nathaniel, and there is no occasion for any more words after that." the speaker was a pleasant-faced lad, between fifteen and sixteen, and his words were half in jest half in earnest. he was a general favourite among his mess-mates on board h. m. frigate _orpheus_. he was full of life and fun, exceptionally good-tempered, and able to stand any amount of chaff and joking, and it was understood by his comrades that there was but one point that it was unsafe to touch on, and that sore point was his name. it had been the choice of his godmother, a maiden aunt, who had in her earlier days had a disappointment. nat had once closely questioned his father as to how he came by his name, and the latter had replied testily: "well, my boy, your aunt eliza, who is, you know, a very good woman--no one can doubt that--had a weakness. i never myself got at the rights of the matter. anyhow, his name was nathaniel. i don't think there was ever any formal engagement between them. her own idea is that he loved her, but that his parents forbade him to think of her; for that was at a time before her aunt lydia left all her money to her. anyhow, he went abroad, and i don't think she ever heard of him again. i am inclined to think it was an entire mistake on her part, and that the young fellow had never had the slightest fancy for her. however, that was the one romance of her life, and she has clung to it like a limpet to a rock. at any rate when we asked her to be your godmother she said she would be so if we would give you the name of nathaniel. i own it is not a name that i like myself; but when we raised an objection, she said that the name was very dear to her, and that if you took it she would certainly make you her heir, and more than hinted that if you had any other name she would leave her money to charitable purposes. well, you see, as she is worth thirty thousand pounds if she is worth a penny, your mother and i both thought it would be folly to allow the money to go out of the family for the sake of a name, which after all is not such a bad name." "i think it beastly, father, in the first place because it is long." "well, my boy, if you like we can shorten it to nathan." "oh, that would be a hundred times worse! nathan indeed! nat is not so bad. if i had been christened nat i should not have particularly minded it. why did you not propose that to aunt?" his father shook his head. "that would never have done. to her he was always nathaniel. possibly if they had been married it might some day have become nat, but, you see, it never got to that." "well, of course, father," the boy said with a sigh, "as the thing is done it cannot be helped. and i don't say that aunt isn't a good sort--first-rate in some things, for she has always tipped me well whenever she came here, and she says she is going to allow me fifty pounds a year directly i get my appointment as midshipman; but it is certainly hard on me that she could not have fallen in love with some man with a decent name. nathaniel is always getting me into rows. why, the first two or three years i went to school i should say that i had a fight over it once a month. of course i have not had one lately, for since i licked smith major fellows are more careful. i expect it will be just as bad in the navy." so when he first joined nat had found it, but now that he was nearly sixteen, and very strong and active, and with the experience of many past combats, the name nathaniel had been dropped. it was six months since the obnoxious christian name had been used, as it was now by a young fellow of seventeen who had been transferred to the _orpheus_ when the frigate to which he belonged was ordered home. he was tall and lanky, very particular about his dress, spoke in a drawling supercilious way, and had the knack of saying unpleasant things with an air of innocence. supposing that glover's name must be nathaniel, he had thought it smart so to address him, but although he guessed that it might irritate him, he was unprepared for an explosion on the part of a lad who was proverbially good-tempered. "dear me," he said, in assumed surprise, "i had no idea that you objected so much to be called by your proper name! however, i will, of course, in future use the abbreviation." "you had better call me glover," nat replied sharply. "my friends can call me nat, but to other people i am glover, and if you call me out of that name there will be squalls; so i warn you." curtis thought it was well not to pursue the subject further. he was no coward, but he had the sense to see that as nat was a favourite with the others, while he was a new-comer, a fight, even if he were the victor, would not conduce to his popularity among his mess-mates. the president of the mess, a master's mate, a good-tempered fellow, who hated quarrels, broke what would have been an awkward silence by saying: "we seem to be out of luck altogether this trip; we have been out three weeks and not fired a shot. it is especially hard, for we caught sight of that brigantine we have been in search of, and should have had her if she hadn't run into that channel where there was not water enough for us to follow her." "yes, that was rough upon us, and one hates to go back to port royal without a prize, after having taken so many that we have come to be considered the luckiest ship on the station," another said. "still, the cruise is not over yet. i suppose by the way we are laying our course, marston, we are going into cape françois?" the mate nodded. "yes; we want fresh meat, fruit, and water, and it is about the pleasantest place among these islands. i have no doubt, too, that the captain hopes to get some news that may help him to find out where those piratical craft that are doing so much mischief have their rendezvous. they are all so fast that unless in a strong breeze a frigate has no chance whatever of overhauling them; there is no doubt that they are all of spanish build, and in a light breeze they sail like witches. i believe our only chance of catching them is in finding them at their head-quarters, wherever that may be, or by coming upon them in a calm in a bay. in that case it would be a boat affair; and a pretty sharp one i should think, for they all carry very strong crews and are heavily armed, and as the scoundrels know that they fight with ropes round their necks they would be awkward customers to tackle." "yes, if we happened to find them all together, i don't think the captain would risk sending in the boats. one at a time we could manage, but with three of them mounting about fifty guns between them, and carrying, i should say, from two hundred to two hundred and fifty men, the odds would be very great, and the loss, even if we captured them, so heavy that i hardly think the captain would be justified in attempting it. i should say that he would be more likely to get out all the boats and tow the frigate into easy range. she would give a good account of the whole of them." "yes, there is no doubt about that; but even then we should only succeed if the bay was a very narrow one, for otherwise their boats would certainly tow them faster than we could take the frigate along." it was glover who spoke last. "i don't think myself that we shall ever catch them in the frigate. it seems to me that the only chance will be to get hold of an old merchantman, put a strong crew on board and a dozen of our guns, and cruise about until one of them gets a sight of us and comes skimming along to capture us." "yes, that would be a good plan; but it has been tried several times with success, and i fancy the pirates would not fall into the trap. besides, there is very little doubt that they have friends at all these ports, and get early information of any movements of our ships, and would hear of what we were doing long before the disguised ship came near them. it can hardly be chance, that it matters not which way we cruise these fellows begin their work in another direction altogether. now that we are here in this great bay, they are probably cruising off the west of cuba or down by porto rico or the windward islands. that is the advantage that three or four craft working together have: they are able to keep spies in every port that our ships of war are likely to go into, while a single vessel cannot afford such expenses." "i don't think that the expenses, low, would be heavy; the negroes would do it for next to nothing, and so would the mulattoes, simply because they hate the whites. i don't mean the best of the mulattoes, because many of them are gentlemen and good fellows; but the lower class are worse than the negroes, they are up to any devilment, and will do anything they can to injure a white man." "poor beggars, one can hardly blame them; they are neither one thing nor the other! these old french planters are as aristocratic as their noblesse at home, and indeed many of them belong to noble families. even the meanest white--and they are pretty mean some of them--looks down upon a mulatto, although the latter may have been educated in france and own great plantations. the negroes don't like them because of their strain of white blood. they are treated as if they were pariahs. their children may not go to school with the whites, they themselves may not sit down in a theatre or kneel at church next to them, they may not use the same restaurants or hotels. no wonder they are discontented." "it is hard on them," glover said, "but one can't be surprised that the whites do fight shy of them. great numbers of them are brutes and no mistake, ready for any crime and up to any wickedness. there is lots of good in the niggers; they are merry fellows; and i must say for these old french planters they use their slaves a great deal better than they are as a rule treated by our planters in jamaica. of course there are bad masters everywhere, but if i were a slave i would certainly rather be under a french master than an english one, or, from what i have heard, than an american." "very well, glover, i will make a note of that, and if you ever misbehave yourself and we have to sell you, i will drop a line to the first luff how your preference lies." early the next morning the frigate dropped anchor at cape françois, the largest and most important town in the island, with the exception of the capital of the spanish portion of san domingo. the _orpheus_ carried six midshipmen. four of these had been ashore when on the previous occasion the _orpheus_ had entered the port. nat glover and curtis were the exceptions, curtis having at that time belonged to the frigate for but a very few weeks, and nat having been in the first lieutenant's bad books, owing to a scrape into which he had got at the last port they had touched at. after breakfast they went up together to the first lieutenant, whose name was hill. "please, sir, if we are not wanted, can we have leave for the day?" the lieutenant hesitated, and then said: "yes, i think the other four will be enough for the boats. you did not go ashore last time you were here, i think, mr. glover," he added with a slight smile. "no, sir." "very well, then, you can go, but don't get into any scrape." "i will try not to, sir," nat said demurely. "well, i hope your trial will be successful, mr. glover, for if not, i can tell you that it will be a long time before you have leave again. these people don't understand that sort of thing." "he is a nice lad," mr. hill said to the second lieutenant as the two midshipmen walked away, "and when he has worked off those animal spirits of his he will make a capital officer, but at present he is one of the most mischievous young monkeys i ever came across." "he does not let them interfere with his duty," the other said. "he is the smartest of our mids; he is well up in navigation, and has any amount of pluck. you remember how he jumped overboard in port royal when a marine fell into the water, although the harbour was swarming with sharks. it was a near touch. luckily we threw a bowline to him, and the two were hauled up together. a few seconds more and it would have been too late, for there was a shark within twenty feet of them." "yes, there is no doubt about his pluck, playford, and indeed i partly owe my life to him. when we captured that piratical brigantine near santa lucia i boarded by the stern, and she had such a strong crew that we were being beaten back, and things looked very bad until he with the gig's crew swarmed in over the bow. even then it was a very tough struggle till they cut their way through the pirates and joined us, and we went at them together, and that youngster fought like a young fiend. he was in the thick of it everywhere, and yet he was as cool as a cucumber. oh yes, he has the making of a very fine officer. although i am obliged to be sharp with him, there is not a shadow of harm in the lad, but he certainly has a genius for getting into scrapes." the two midshipmen went ashore together. "i don't know what you are going to do, curtis, but after i have walked through the place and had a look at it, i shall hire a horse and ride out into the country." "it is too hot for riding," the other said. "of course i shall see what there is to be seen, and then i shall look for a seat in some place in the shade and eat fruit." "well, we may as well walk through the town together," nat said cheerfully. "from the look of the place i should fancy there was not much in it, and i know the fellows who went on shore before said that the town contained nothing but native huts, a few churches, and two or three dozen old french houses." half an hour indeed sufficed to explore the place. when they separated nat had no difficulty in hiring a horse. he had been accustomed, when in england, to ride a pony, and was therefore at home in the saddle; he proceeded at a leisurely pace along the road across the flat plain that surrounded cape françois. on either side were plantations,--sugar-cane and tobacco,--and he occasionally passed the abode of some wealthy planter, surrounded by shady trees and gardens gorgeous with tropical plants and flowers. he was going by one of these, half a mile from the town, when he heard a loud scream, raised evidently by a woman in extreme pain or terror. he was just opposite the entrance, and, springing from his horse, he ran in. on the ground, twenty yards from the gate, lay a girl. a huge hound had hold of her shoulder, and was shaking her violently. nat drew his dirk and gave a loud shout as he rushed forward. the hound loosed his hold of the girl and turned to meet him, and, springing upon him with a savage growl, threw him to the ground. nat drove his dirk into the animal as he fell, and threw his left arm across his throat to prevent the dog seizing him there. a moment later the hound had seized it with a grip that extracted a shout of pain from the midshipman. as he again buried his dirk in the hound's side, the dog shifted his hold from nat's forearm to his shoulder and shook him as if he had been a child. nat made no effort to free himself, for he knew that were he to uncover his throat for a moment the dog would seize him there. though the pain was terrible he continued to deal stroke after stroke to the dog. one of these blows must have reached the heart, for suddenly its hold relaxed and it rolled over, just as half a dozen negroes armed with sticks came rushing out of the house. nat tried to raise himself on his right arm, but the pain of the left was so great that he leant back again half-fainting. presently he felt himself being lifted up and carried along; he heard a lady's voice giving directions, and then for a time he knew no more. when he came to himself he saw the ship's doctor leaning over him. "what is the matter, doctor?" he asked. "you are badly hurt, lad, and must lie perfectly quiet. luckily the messenger who was sent to fetch a doctor, seeing mr. curtis and me walking up the street, ran up to us and said that a young officer of our ship was hurt, and that he was sent in to fetch a doctor. he had, in fact, already seen one, and was in the act of returning with him when he met us. of course i introduced myself to the french doctor as we came along together, for we fortunately got hold of a trap directly, so that no time was lost. the black boy who brought the message told me that you and a young lady had been bitten by a great hound belonging to his master, and that you had killed it. now, my lad, i am going to cut off your coat and look at your wounds. the frenchman is attending to the young lady." "mind how you touch my arm, doctor! it is broken somewhere between the elbow and the wrist; i heard it snap when the brute seized me. it threw me down, and i put my arm across over my throat, so as to prevent it from getting at that. it would have been all up with me if it had gripped me there." "that it would, glover. i saw the dog lying on the grass as i came in. it is a big bloodhound; and your presence of mind undoubtedly saved your life." by this time he had cut the jacket and shirt up to the neck. nat saw his lips tighten as he caught sight of the wound on the shoulder. "it is a bad bite, eh, doctor?" "yes, it has mangled the flesh badly. the dog seems to have shifted his hold several times." "yes, doctor, each time i stabbed him he gave a sort of start, and then caught hold again and shook me furiously. after the first bite i did not seem to feel any pain. i suppose the limb was numbed." "very likely, lad. now i must first of all see what damage was done to the forearm. i am afraid i shall hurt you, but i will be as gentle as i can." nat clenched his teeth and pressed his lips tightly together. not a sound was heard as the examination was being made, although the sweat that started out on his forehead showed how intense was the pain. "both bones are broken," the surgeon said to his french colleague, who had just entered the room and came up to the bedside. "the first thing to do is to extemporize some splints, and of course we shall want some stuff for bandages." "i will get them made at once," the doctor replied. "madame demaine said that she put the whole house at my disposal." he went out, and in a few minutes returned with some thin slips of wood eighteen inches long and a number of strips of sheeting sewn together. "it is very fortunate," the surgeon said, "that the ends of the bone have kept pretty fairly in their places instead of working through the flesh, which they might very well have done." very carefully the two surgeons bandaged the arm from the elbow to the finger-tips. "now for the shoulder," the doctor said. they first sponged the wounds and then began feeling the bones again, giving exquisite pain to nat. then they drew apart and consulted for two or three minutes. "this is a much worse business than the other," dr. bemish said when he returned to the bedside; "the arm is broken near the shoulder, the collar-bone is broken too, and the flesh is almost in a pulp." "don't say i must lose the arm, doctor," nat said. "well, i hope not, glover, but i can't say for certain. you see i am speaking frankly to you, for i know that you have pluck. the injury to the collar-bone is not in itself serious, but the other is a comminuted fracture." "what is comminuted, doctor?" "it means that the bone is splintered, lad. still, there is no reason why it should not heal again; you have a strong constitution, and nature works wonders." for the next half-hour the two surgeons were at work picking out the fragments of bone, getting the ends together, and bandaging the arm and shoulder. nat fainted under the pain within the first few minutes, and did not recover until the surgeons had completed their work. then his lips were wetted with brandy and a few drops of brandy and water were poured down his throat. in a minute or two he opened his eyes. "it is all over now, lad." he lay for sometime without speaking, and then whispered, "how is the girl?" "her shoulder is broken," dr. bemish replied. "i have not seen her; but the doctor says that it is a comparatively simple case." "how was it the dog came to bite her?" "she was a stranger to it. she is not the daughter of your hostess. it seems her father's plantation is some twelve miles away; he drove her in and left her here with madame demaine, who is his sister, while he went into town on business. madame's own daughter was away, and the girl sauntered down into the garden, when the hound, not knowing her, sprang upon her, and i have not the least doubt would have killed her had you not arrived." "are you going to take me on board, doctor?" "not at present, glover; you need absolute quiet, and if the frigate got into a heavy sea it might undo all our work, and in that case there would be little hope of saving your arm. madame demaine told the french doctor that she would nurse you as if you were her own child, and that everything was to be done to make you comfortable. the house is cool, and your wound will have a much better chance of getting well here than in our sick-bay. she wanted to come in to thank you, but i said that, now we had dressed your arm, it was better that you should have nothing to disturb or excite you. when the girl's father returns--and i have no doubt he will do so soon, for as yet, though half-a-dozen boys have been sent down to the town, they have not been able to find him--he must on no account come in to see you at present. here is a tumbler of fresh lime-juice and water. doctor lepel will remain here all night and see that you have everything that you require." the tumbler was held to nat's lips, and he drained it to the bottom. the drink was iced, and seemed to him the most delicious that he had ever tasted. "i shall come ashore again to see you in the morning. dr. lepel will go back with me now, and make up a soothing draught for you both. remember that above all things it is essential for you to lie quiet. he will put bandages round your body, and fasten the ends to the bedstead so as to prevent you from turning in your sleep." "all right, sir; i can assure you that i have no intention of moving. my arm does not hurt me much now, and i would not set it off aching again for any money." "it is a rum thing," nat thought to himself, "that i should always be getting into some scrape or other when i go ashore. this is the worst of all by a long way." a negro girl presently came in noiselessly and placed a small table on the right-hand side of the bed. she then brought in a large jug of the same drink that nat had before taken, and some oranges and limes both peeled and cut up into small pieces. "it is lucky it was not the right arm," nat said to himself. "i suppose one can do without the left pretty well when one gets accustomed to it, though it would be rather awkward going aloft." in an hour dr. lepel returned, and gave him the draught. "now try and go to sleep," he said in broken english. "i shall lie down on that sofa, and if you wake up be sure and call me. i am a light sleeper." "had you not better stay with the young lady?" "she will have her mother and her aunt with her, so she will do very well. i hope that you will soon go to sleep." it was but a few minutes before nat dozed off. beyond a numbed feeling his arm was not hurting him very much. once or twice during the night he woke and took a drink. a slight stir in the room aroused him, and to his surprise he found that the sun was already up. the doctor was feeling his pulse, a negro girl was fanning him, and a lady stood at the foot of the bed looking at him pitifully. "do you speak french, monsieur?" she asked. "a little," he replied, for he had learned french while at school, and since the frigate had been among the west indian islands he had studied it for a couple of hours a day, as it was the language that was spoken in all the french islands and might be useful to him if put in charge of a prize. "have you slept well?" she asked. "very well." "does your arm hurt you very much now?" "it hurts a bit, ma'am, but nothing to make any fuss about." "you must ask for anything that you want," she said. "i have told off two of my negro girls to wait upon you. of course they both speak french." half an hour later dr. bemish arrived. "you are going on very well, glover," he said after feeling the lad's pulse and putting his hand on his forehead. "at present you have no fever. you cannot expect to get through without some, but i hardly expected to find you so comfortable this morning. the captain told me to say that he would come and see you to-day, and i can assure you that there is not one among your mess-mates who is not deeply sorry at what has happened, although they all feel proud of your pluck in fighting that great hound with nothing but a dirk." "they are useless sort of things, doctor, and i cannot think why they give them to us; but it was a far better weapon yesterday than a sword would have been." "yes, it was. the room is nice and cool, isn't it?" "wonderfully cool, sir. i was wondering about it before you came in, for it is a great deal cooler than it is on board." "there are four great pans full of ice in the room, and they have got up matting before each of the windows, and are keeping it soaked with water." "that is very good of them, doctor. please thank madame demaine for me. she was in here this morning--at least i suppose it was she--and she did not bother me with thanks, which was a great comfort. you are not going to take these bandages off and put them on again, i hope?" "oh, no. we may loosen them a little when inflammation sets in, which it is sure to do sooner or later." captain crosbie came to see nat that afternoon. "well, my lad," he said cheerfully, "i see that you have fallen into good hands, and i am sure that everything that is possible will be done for you. i was talking to the girl's mother and aunt before i came in. their gratitude to you is quite touching, and they are lamenting that dr. bemish has given the strictest orders that they are not to say anything more about it. and now i must not stay and talk; the doctor gave me only two minutes to be in the room with you. i don't know whether the frigate is likely to put in here again soon, but i will take care to let you know from time to time what we are doing and where we are likely to be, so that you can rejoin when the doctor here gives you leave; but mind, you are not to dream of attempting it until he does so, and you must be a discontented spirit indeed if you are not willing to stay for a time in such surroundings. good-bye, lad! i sincerely trust that it will not be very long before you rejoin us, and i can assure you of a hearty welcome from officers and men." three days later, fever set in, but, thanks to the coolness of the room and to the bandages being constantly moistened with iced water, it passed away in the course of a week. for two or three days nat was light-headed, but he woke one morning feeling strangely weak. it was some minutes before he could remember where he was or how he had got there, but a sharp twinge in his arm brought the facts home to him. "thank god that you are better, my brave boy," a voice said in french, as a cool hand was placed on his forehead; and turning his head nat saw a lady standing by his bedside. she was not the one whom he had seen before; tears were streaming down her cheeks, and, evidently unable to speak, she hurried from the room, and a minute later doctor lepel entered. "madame duchesne has given me the good news that you are better," he said. "i had just driven up to the door when she ran down." "have i been very bad, doctor?" "well, you have been pretty bad, my lad, and have been light-headed for the past three or four days, and i did not for a moment expect that you would come round so soon. you must have a magnificent constitution, for most men, even if they recovered at all from such terrible wounds as you have had, would probably have been three or four times as long before the fever had run its course." "and how is the young lady?" "she is going on well, and i intended to give permission for her to be carried home in a hammock to-day, but when i spoke of it yesterday to her mother, she said that nothing would induce her to go until you were out of danger. she or madame demaine have not left your bedside for the past week, and next to your own good constitution you owe your rapid recovery to their care. i have no doubt that she will go home now, and you are to be moved to monsieur duchesne's house as soon as you are strong enough. it lies up among the hills, and the change and cooler air will do you good." "i have not felt it hot here, doctor, thanks to the care that they have taken in keeping the room cool. i hope now that there is no fear of my losing my arm?" "no; i think that i can promise you that. in a day or two i shall re-bandage it, and i shall then be able to see how the wounds are getting on; but there can be no doubt that they are doing well, or you would never have shaken off the fever so soon as you have done." "of course the _orpheus_ has sailed, doctor?" "yes. she put to sea a week ago. i have a letter here that the captain gave me to hand to you when you were fit to read it. i should not open it now if i were you. you are very weak, and sleep is the best medicine for you. now, drink a little of this fresh lime-juice. i have no doubt that you will doze off again." almost before the door closed on the doctor nat was asleep. a fortnight later he was able to get up and sit in an easy-chair. "how long shall i have to keep these bandages on, doctor?" "i should say in another fortnight or so you might take them off the forearm, for the bones seem to have knit there, but it would be better that you should wear them for another month or six weeks. there would indeed be no use in taking them off earlier, for the bandages on the shoulder and the fracture below it cannot be removed for some time, and you will have to carry your arm in a sling for another three months. i do not mean that you may not move your arm before that, indeed it is desirable that you should do so, but the action must be quiet and simple, and done methodically, and the sling will be necessary at other times to prevent sudden jerks." "but i shall be able to go away and join my ship before that, surely?" "yes, if the arm goes on as well as at present you may be able to do so in a month's time; only you will have to be very careful. you must remember that a fall, or even a lurch against the rail, or a slip in going down below, or anything of that kind, might very well undo our work, for it must be some time before the newly-formed bone is as strong as the old. as i told you the other day, your arm will be some two inches shorter than it was." "that won't matter a rap," nat said. that afternoon nat had to submit to what he had dreaded. the doctor had pronounced that he was now quite convalescent, and that there was no fear whatever of a relapse, and monsieur and madame duchesne therefore came over to see him. he had seen the latter but once, and then only for a minute, for she found herself unable to observe the condition on which alone the doctor had allowed her to enter, namely, to repress all emotion. madame demaine came in with them. since her niece had been taken away, she had spent much of her time in nat's room, talking quietly to him about his english home or his ship, and sometimes reading aloud to him, but studiously avoiding any allusion to the accident. monsieur duchesne was a man of some thirty-five years of age, his wife was about five years younger, and they were an exceptionally handsome couple of the best french type. madame duchesne pressed forward before the others, and to nat's embarrassment bent over him and kissed him. "you cannot tell how we have longed for this time to come," she said. "it seemed so cold and ungrateful that for a whole month we should have said no word of thanks to you for saving our darling's life, but the doctor would not allow it. he said that the smallest excitement might bring on the fever again, so we have been obliged to abstain. now he has given us leave to come, and now we have come, what can we say to you? ah, monsieur, it was our only child that you saved, the joy of our lives! think of the grief into which we should have been plunged by her loss, and you can then imagine the depth of our gratitude to you." while she was speaking her husband had taken nat's right hand and pressed it silently. there were tears in his eyes, and his lips quivered with emotion. "pray do not say anything more about it, madam," nat said. "of course i am very glad to have saved your daughter's life, but anyone else would have done the same. you don't suppose that anyone could stand by and see a girl mauled by a dog without rushing forward to save her, even if he had had no arm of any kind, while i had my dirk, which was about as good a weapon for that sort of thing as one could want. why, harpur, our youngest middy, who is only fourteen, would have done it. of course i have had a good deal of pain, but i would have borne twice as much for the sake of the pleasure i feel in having saved your daughter's life, and i am sure that i have had a very nice time of it since i have begun to get better. madame demaine has been awfully good to me. if she had been my own mother she could not have been kinder. i felt quite ashamed of being so much trouble to her, and of being fanned and petted as if i had been a sick girl. and how is your daughter getting on? the doctor gave me a very good account of her, but you know one can't always quite believe doctors; they like to say pleasant things to you so as not to upset you." "she is getting on very well indeed. of course she has her arm in a sling still, but she is going about the house, and is quite merry and bright again. she wanted to come over with us to-day, but dr. lepel would not have it. he said that a sudden jolt over a stone might do a good deal of mischief. however, it will not be long before she sees you, for we have got leave to have you carried over early next week." chapter ii rejoined four days later monsieur duchesne came down with six negroes and a cane lounging chair, on each side of which a long pole had been securely lashed. nat's room was on the ground floor, and with wide windows opening to the ground. the chair was brought in. nat was still shaky on his legs, but he was able to get from the bed into the chair without assistance. "i shall come over to see you to-morrow," madame demaine said, as he thanked her and her husband for their great kindness to him, "and i hope i shall find that the journey has done you no harm." four of the negroes took the ends of the poles and raised them onto their shoulders, the other two walked behind to serve as a relay. monsieur duchesne mounted his horse and took his place by nat's side, and the little procession started. the motion was very easy and gentle. it was late in the afternoon when they started, the sun was near the horizon, and a gentle breeze from the sea had sprung up. in half an hour it was dusk, and the two spare negroes lighted torches they had brought with them, and now walked ahead of the bearers. it was full moon, and after having been so long confined in a semi-darkened room, nat enjoyed intensely the soft air, the dark sky spangled with stars, and the rich tropical foliage showing its outlines clearly in the moonlight. presently monsieur duchesne said: "i have a flask of brandy and water with me, mr. glover, in case you should feel faint or exhausted." nat laughed. "thank you for thinking of it, monsieur, but there is no fatigue whatever in sitting here, and i have enjoyed my ride intensely. it is almost worth getting hurt in order to have such pleasure: we don't get such nights as this in england." "but you have fine weather sometimes, surely?" monsieur duchesne said. "oh yes, we often have fine weather, but there are not many nights in the year when one can sit out-of-doors after dark! when it is a warm night there are sure to be heavy dews; besides, the stars are not so bright with us as they are here, nor is the air so soft. i don't mean to say that i don't like our climate better; we never have it so desperately hot as you do, and besides, we like the cold, because it braces one up, and even the rain is welcome as a change, occasionally. still, i allow that as far as nights go you beat us hollow." the road presently began to rise, and before they reached the end of the journey they were high above the plain. as they approached the house the negroes broke into a song, and on their stopping before the wide verandah that surrounded the house, madame duchesne and her daughter were standing there to greet them as the bearers gently lowered the chair to the ground. the girl was first beside it. "ah, monsieur," she exclaimed as she took his hand, "how grateful i am to you! how i have longed to see you! for i have never seen you yet; and it has seemed hard to me that while aunt and the doctor should have seen you so often, and even mamma should have seen you once, i should never have seen you at all." "there is not much to see in me at the best of times, mademoiselle," nat said as he rose to his feet, "and i am almost a scarecrow now. i wanted to see you, too, just to see what you were like, you know." he took the arm that monsieur duchesne offered him, for although he could have walked that short distance unaided, he did not know the ground, and might have stumbled over something. they went straight from the verandah into a pretty room lighted by a dozen wax candles. he sat down in a chair that was there in readiness for him. the girl placed herself in front of him and looked earnestly at him. "well," he said with a laugh, "am i at all like what you pictured me?" "you are not a scarecrow at all!" she said indignantly. "why do you say such things of yourself? of course you are thin, very thin, but even now you look nice. i think you are just what i thought you would be. now, am i like what you thought i should be?" "i don't know that i ever attempted to think exactly what you would be," nat said. "i did not notice your face; i don't even know whether it was turned my way. i did take in that you were a girl somewhere about thirteen years old, but as soon as the dog turned, my attention was pretty fully occupied. madame demaine said your name was myra. i thought that with such a pretty name you ought to be pretty too. i suppose it is rude to say so, but you certainly are, mademoiselle." the girl laughed. "it is not rude at all; and please you are to call me myra and not mademoiselle. now, you must get strong as soon as you can. mamma said i might act as your guide, and show you about the plantation, and the slave houses, and everywhere. i have never had a boy friend, and i should think it was very nice." "my dear," her mother said with a smile, "it is not altogether discreet for a young lady to talk in that way." "ah! but i am not a young lady yet, mamma, and i think it is much nicer to be a girl and to be able to say what one likes. and you are an officer, monsieur glover!" "well, if i am to call you myra, you must call me nat. monsieur glover is ridiculous." "you are very young to be an officer," the girl said. "oh, i have been an officer for more than two years," he said. "i was only fourteen when i joined, and i am nearly sixteen now." "and have you been in battles?" "not in a regular battle. you see england is not at war now with anyone, but i have been in two or three fights with pirates and that sort of thing." "and now, myra, you must not talk any more," her father said. "you know the doctor gave strict orders that he was to go to bed as soon as he arrived here." at this moment the door opened and a slave girl brought in a basin of strong broth. "well, you may stop to take that." nat spent a delightful month at monsieur duchesne's plantation. for the first few days he lay in a hammock beneath a shady tree, then he began to walk, at first only for a few minutes, but every day his strength increased. at the end of a fortnight he could walk half a mile, and by the time the month was up he was able to wander about with myra all over the plantation. monsieur duchesne, on his return one day from town, brought a letter for him. it was from the captain himself: _dear mr. glover,--i hope you are getting on well, and are by this time on your legs again. as far as i can see, we are not likely to be at cape françois again for some time, therefore, when you feel quite strong enough, you had better take passage in a craft bound for jamaica, which is likely to be our head-quarters for some time. of course if we are away, you will wait till our return. i have spoken to a friend of mine, mr. cummings--his plantation lies high up among the hills--and he has kindly invited you to make his place your home till we return, and it will be very much better for you to be in the pure air up there than in this pestilential place._ nat would have started the next day, but his host insisted upon his staying for another week. "you are getting on so well," m. duchesne said, "that it would be folly indeed to risk throwing yourself back. every day is making an improvement in you, and a week will make a great difference." at the end of that week the planter, seeing that nat was really anxious to rejoin his ship, brought back the news that a vessel in port would sail for port royal in two days. "i have engaged a cabin for you," he said, "for although we shall be sorry indeed to lose you, i know that you want to be off." "it is not that i want to be off, sir, for i was never happier in all my life, but i feel that i ought to go. it is likely enough that the ship may be short of middies, one or two may be away in prizes, and it will be strange if no one falls sick while they are lying in port royal. it would be ungrateful indeed if i wanted to leave you when you are all so wonderfully kind to me." m. duchesne drove nat down to the port the next morning. the midshipman as he left the house felt quite unmanned, for myra had cried undisguisedly, and madame duchesne was also much moved. they passed m. demaine's house without stopping, as he and his wife had spent the previous evening at the duchesnes', and had there said good-bye to him. "it is quite time that i was out of this," nat said to himself as he leaned on the rail and looked back at the port. "that sort of life is awfully nice for a time, but it would soon make a fellow so lazy and soft that he would be of no use on board ship. of course it was all right for a bit, but since i began to use my arm a little, i have wanted to do something. still, it would have been no good leaving before, for my arm is of no real use yet, and the doctor said that i ought to carry it in a sling for at least another month. but i am sure i ought to feel very grateful to our doctor and lepel, for i expect i should have lost it altogether if they hadn't taken such pains with it at first. well, it will be very jolly getting back again. i only hope that the captain won't be wanting to treat me as an invalid." to nat's delight he saw, as he entered port royal, the _orpheus_ lying there, and without landing he hailed a boat and went on board. as soon as he was made out there was quite a commotion on board the frigate among the sailors on deck and at the side, while those below looked out of the port-holes, and a burst of cheering rose from all as the boat came alongside. as he came up on to the deck the midshipmen crowded round, shaking him by the hand; and when he went to the quarter-deck to report his return, the lieutenants greeted him as heartily. the captain was on shore. nat was confused and abashed at the warmth of their greeting. "it is perfectly ridiculous!" he said almost angrily, as he rejoined the midshipmen; "as if there was anything extraordinary in a fellow fighting a dog!" "it depends upon the size of the dog and the size of the fellow," needham, the senior midshipman, said, "and also how he got into the fight." "the fact is, needham, if i had killed the dog with the first stroke of my dirk nobody would have thought anything about the matter, and it is just because i could not do so, and therefore got badly mauled before i managed it, that all this fuss is made! it would have been much more to the point if you had all grumbled, when i came on board, at my being nursed and coddled, while you had to do my duty between you, just because i was such a duffer that i was a couple of minutes in killing the dog instead of managing it at once." "well, we might have done so if we had thought of it, but, you see, we did not look at it in that light, nat," needham laughed; "there is certainly a good deal in what you say. however, i shall in future look upon my dirk as being of more use than i have hitherto thought; i have always considered it the most absurd weapon that was ever put into anyone's hand to use in action. not, of course, that one does use it, for one always gets hold of a cutlass when there is fighting to be done. how anyone can ever have had the idea of making a midshipman carry about a thing little better than a pocket-knife, and how they have kept on doing so for years and years, is most astonishing! for the lords of the admiralty must all have been midshipmen themselves at one time, and must have hated the beastly things just as much as we do. if they think a full-sized sword too heavy for us--which it certainly isn't for the seniors--they might give us rapiers, which are no weight to speak of, and would be really useful weapons if we were taught to use them properly. "well, we won't say anything more about your affair, nat, if you don't like it; but we sha'n't think any the less, because we are all proud of you, and whatever you may say, it was a very plucky action. i know that i would rather stand up against the biggest frenchman than face one of those savage hounds. and how is the arm going on? i see you still have the arm of your jacket snipped open and tied up with ribbons, and you keep it in a sling." "yes; the doctor made such a point of it that i was obliged to promise to wear it until bemish gives me permission to lay it aside." he took it out of the sling and moved it about. "you see i have got the use of it, though i own i have very little strength as yet; still, i manage to use it at meals, which is a comfort. it was hateful being obliged to have my grub cut up for me. how long have you been in harbour here?" "three days; and you are in luck to find us here, for i hear that we are off again to-morrow morning. you have missed nothing while you have been away, for we haven't picked up a single prize beyond a little slaver with a hundred niggers on board." when the captain came off two hours later with dr. bemish he sent for nat. "i am heartily glad to see you back again, mr. glover, and to see you looking so vastly better than when i saw you last; in fact, you look nearly as well as you did before that encounter." "i have had nothing to do but to eat, sir." "well, the question is, how is your arm?" "it is not very strong yet, sir, but i could really do very well without this sling." "well, you see i have to decide whether you had better go up to the hills until we return from our next cruise or take you with us." "please, sir, i would much rather go with you." "yes; it is not a question of what you like best, but what the doctor thinks best for you. you had better go to him at once, he will examine your arm and report to me, and of course we must act on his decision." nat went straight to the doctor. "well, you are looking better than i expected," the latter said, holding the lad at arm's-length and looking him up and down; "flesh a good deal more flabby than it used to be--want of exercise, of course, and the result of being looked after by women. now, lad, take off your shirt and let me have a regular examination." he moved the arm in different directions, felt very carefully along each bone, pressing rather hard at the points where these had been broken, and asking nat if it hurt him. he replied "no" without hesitation, as long as the doctor was feeling the forearm, but when he came to the upper-arm and shoulder he was obliged to acknowledge that the pressure gave him a bit of a twinge. "yes, it could hardly be otherwise," the doctor said; "however, there is no doubt we made a pretty good job of it. stretch both arms out in front of you and bring the fingers together. yes, that is just what i expected, it is some two and a half inches shorter than the other; but no one will be likely to notice it." "don't you think, doctor, that i can go to sea now? the captain said that you would have to decide." "i think a month up in the hills would be a very desirable thing, glover. the bones have knit very well, but it would not take much to break them again." "i have had quite enough of plantations for the present, doctor, and i do think that sea air would do me more good than anything. i am sure i feel better already for the run from cape françois here." the doctor smiled. "well, you see, if you did remain on board you would be out of everything. you certainly would not be fit for boat service, you must see that yourself." "i can't say that i do, sir; one fights with one's right arm and not with one's left." "that is so, lad, but you might get hit on the left arm as well as the right. besides, even on board, you might get hurt while skylarking." "i would indeed be most careful, doctor." "well, we will see about it, and talk it over with the captain." all that evening nat was in a state of alarm whenever anyone came with a message to any of his mess-mates; but when it was almost the hour for lights out he turned into his hammock with great satisfaction, feeling sure that if it had been decided that he must go ashore next morning a message to that effect would have been sent to him. the sound of the boatswain's whistle, followed by the call "all hands to make sail!" settled the question. he had already dressed himself with needham's assistance, but had remained below lest, if the captain's eye fell on him, he might be sent ashore. as soon, however, as he heard the order he felt sure that all was right, and went up on deck. here he took up his usual station, passing orders forward and watching the men at work, until the vessel was under sail. the want of success on the last cruise made all hands even keener than usual to pick up something worth capturing. "i suppose there is no clue as to the whereabouts of those three pirates," he said to needham as the latter, after the vessel was fairly under weigh, joined him. "no; twice we had information from the captains of small craft that they had seen suspicious sail in the distance, but there is no doubt that the niggers had been either bribed or frightened into telling us the story, for in each case, though we remained a fortnight cruising about, we have never caught sight of a suspicious sail. when we returned here we found to our disgust that they must have been at work hundreds of miles away, as several ships were missing, and one that came in had been hotly chased by them, but being a fast sailer escaped by the skin of her teeth. that is the worst of these negroes, one can never believe them, and i think the best way would be when anyone came and told a yarn, to go and cruise exactly in the opposite direction to that in which he tells us he has seen the pirates." "it is a pity we cannot punish some of these fellows who give false news," nat said. "yes; but the difficulty is proving that it is false. in the first place, one of these native craft is so much like another that one would not recognize it again; besides, you may be sure that the rascals would give port royal a wide berth for a time. on our last cruise we did take with us the negro who brought the news, but that made the case no better. he pretended, of course, to be as anxious as anyone that the pirates should be caught, and as he stuck to his story that he had seen a rakish schooner where he said he did, there was no proof that he was lying, and he pretended to be terribly cut up at not getting the reward promised him if he came across them. "i have no doubt that he was lying, but there was no way of proving it. you see, the idea of getting hold of a trader and fitting her up with a few guns and some men is all well enough when you have only got to deal with a single schooner or brigantine, but it would be catching a tartar if these three scoundrels were to come upon her at once. of course they are all heavily armed and carry any number of men, nothing short of the frigate herself would be a match for them. and one thing is certain, we can't disguise her to look like a merchantman. do what we would, the veriest landlubber would make her out to be what she is, and you may be sure the pirates would know her to be a ship of war as soon as they got a sight of her topsails." "you have not heard, i suppose, where our cruising ground is going to be this time?" nat asked. "no, and i don't suppose we shall know for a few hours. you may be sure that whatever course we take now will not be our real course, for i bet odds that after dark some fast little craft will sneak out of harbour to take the pirates news as to the course we are following, and to tell them that we have not taken a negro this time who would lead us a dance in the wrong direction. i should not be surprised if we are going to search the islands round cuba for a change. we were among the bays and islets up north on our last cruise, and the captain may be determined to try fresh ground." needham's guess turned out to be correct, for after darkness fell the ship's course was changed, and her head laid towards cuba. after cruising for nearly three weeks without success, they were passing along the coast of the mainland, when nat, who had now given up his sling, went aloft with his telescope. every eye on deck was turned towards the island, but their continued failures had lessened the eagerness with which they scanned the shore, and, as there was no sign of any break in its outline, it was more from habit than from any hope of seeing anything that they looked at the rugged cliffs that rose forty or fifty feet perpendicularly above the water's edge, and at the forest stretching up the hillsides behind them. "you have seen nothing, i suppose, tom?" he asked the sailor stationed in the main-top. "not a thing, mr. glover." nat continued his way up, and took his seat on the yard of the topsail. leaning back against the mast, he brought his telescope to bear upon the land, and for half an hour scanned every rock and tree. at last something caught his eye. "come up here, tom," he called to the sailor below. "look there, you see that black streak on the face of the cliff?" "i see it, yer honour." "well, look above the first line of trees exactly over it: isn't that a pole with a truck on the top of it?" "you are right, sir! you are right!" the sailor said, as he got the glass to bear upon the object nat had indicated, "that is the upper spar of a vessel of some sort, sure enough." "on deck there!" nat shouted. "what is it, mr. glover?" the first lieutenant answered. "i can make out the upper spar of a craft in among the trees over there, sir." "you are sure that you are not mistaken?" "quite sure, sir. with the glass i can make out the truck quite distinctly. it is certainly either the upper spar of a craft of some kind or a flag-staff, of course i cannot say which." the first lieutenant himself ran up the ratlines and joined nat. the breeze was very light, and the _orpheus_ was scarcely moving through the water. nat handed his telescope to mr. hill. "there, sir, it is about a yard to the west of that black streak on the rock." "i see it," the lieutenant exclaimed after a long gaze at the shore. "you are right, it must be, as you say, either the spar of a ship or a flag-staff; though how a ship could get in there is more than i can say. there, it has gone now!" "the trees were rather lower at the point where we saw it, and the higher trees have shut it in." he descended to the deck followed by nat. "well, what do you make of it, mr. hill?" enquired the captain, who had come out of his cabin on hearing nat's hail. "there is no doubt that mr. glover is right, sir, and that it is the upper spar of a craft of some kind, unless it is a flag-staff on shore, and it is hardly the sort of place in which you would expect to find a flag-staff. it is a marvel mr. glover made it out, for even with his glass i had a great difficulty in finding it, though he gave me the exact bearing." "thank you, mr. glover," the captain said. "at last there seems a chance of our picking up a prize this cruise. the question is, how did she get there?" "i am pretty sure that we have passed no opening, sir. i have been aloft for the past half-hour, and have made out no break in the rocks." "that is quite possible," the captain said, "and yet it may be there. we are a good three-quarters of a mile off the shore, and some of these inlets are so narrow, and the rocks so much the same colour, that unless one knows the entrance is there, one would never suspect it. at any rate we will hold on as we are for a bit." the hail had set everyone on deck on the _qui vive_, and a dozen telescopes were turned upon the shore. "unlikely as it seems, mr. hill," the captain said, after they had gone on half a mile without discovering any break in the line of rock, "i am afraid that it must have been a flag-staff that you saw. there may be some plantation there, and the owner may have had one put up in the front of his house. however, it will be worth while to lower a boat and row back along the foot of the cliff for a mile or so, and then a mile ahead of us; if there is an opening we shall be sure to find it. tell mr. playford to take the gig; mr. glover can go with him as he is the discoverer." the boat was lowered at once, and as soon as the officers had taken their place the six men who composed the crew bent their backs to the oars, the coxswain making for a point on the shore about a mile astern of the frigate, which was lying almost becalmed. the men had taken muskets and cutlasses with them, for it was probable enough that a watch might have been set on the cliff, and that, should there be an inlet, a boat might be lying there ready to pounce out upon them as soon as they reached it. every eye was fixed upon the boat as she turned and rowed along within fifty yards of the foot of the rocks. "i thought i could not have been so blind as to pass the entrance without seeing it," one of the sailors who had been on watch aloft said, in a tone of satisfaction. "now, i don't mind how soon the boat finds a gap." but when the boat had paddled on for another mile without a pause, a look of doubt and dissatisfaction showed itself on every face. "you are quite sure, mr. hill," the captain asked, "that it was a staff of some kind that you saw, and not, perhaps, the top of a dead tree whose bark had peeled off?" "i am quite certain, sir. it was too straight and even for rough wood; and i made out a truck distinctly: but it is certainly strange that no entrance should be discovered. i am afraid that 'tis but a flag-staff after all." "i can hardly imagine that," the captain said. "i have often seen flag-staffs in front of plantation houses, but never one so high as this must be to show over the trees. if it had been nearer to the edge of the cliff it might have been a signal-post, but they would hardly put it a mile back from the edge of the cliff and bury it among trees. at any rate, if we find no entrance i will send a landing-party ashore to see what it really is, that is to say if we can find any place where the cliff can be scaled." "what is it, mr. needham?" as the midshipman came up and touched his hat. "the boat is rowing in to shore, sir." the two officers went to the side. "they have either found an entrance or some point at which the rock can be scaled--ah, there they go!" he went on, as the boat disappeared from sight, "though from here there is no appearance whatever of an opening." it was some minutes before the boat again appeared. it was at once headed for the frigate. "mr. playford has news for us of some sort," the captain said, "the men are rowing hard." in a few minutes the boat came alongside. the second officer ran up the accommodation ladder. "well, mr. playford, what is your news?" "there is an inlet, sir, though if we had not been close in to those rocks i should never have noticed it. it runs almost parallel with the coast for a quarter of a mile. i thought at first that it ended there, but it makes a sharp angle to the south-east, and continues for a mile or so, and at the other end there is a large schooner, i have no doubt a slaver. i fancy they are landing the slaves now. there is a barracoon on the shore and some storehouses." "did they see you?" "no, sir; at least i don't think so. directly i saw that the passage was going to make a turn, i went close in to the rocks on the other side, and brought up at the corner where i could get a view without there being much fear of our being seen, and indeed i don't think that it would have been possible to make us out unless someone had been watching with a glass." "we shall soon know whether they saw you, mr. playford. if they did they will probably set all hands to work to tow the schooner out, for though there is not wind enough to give us steerage-way, these slavers will slip along under the slightest breath. they can hardly have made the frigate out. they probably thought the hiding-place so secure that they did not even put a watch on the cliffs. of course if there was anyone up there they could have seen the boat leave our side, and would have watched her all along. "did you see any place at which the cliff could be climbed?" "no, sir, and up to the turn the rocks are just as steep inside as they are here, but beyond that the inlet widens out a good deal and the banks slope gradually, and a landing could be effected anywhere there, i should say." "we will send the boats in as soon as it gets dark, mr. hill. if they saw us coming they would drive off the slaves into the woods before we could get there, so the best plan will be to land a strong party at the bend, so that they can get down to the barracoon at the same time that the others board the schooner. no doubt this is a regular nest of slave-traders. it has long been suspected that there was some depot on this side of the island. it has often been observed that slavers when first made out were heading in this direction, and more than once craft that were chased, and, as it seemed, certain to be caught in the morning, have mysteriously disappeared. this hiding-place accounts for it. "you did not ascertain what depth of water there was at the mouth of the creek, mr. playford?" "yes, sir, i sounded right across with the boat's grapnel; there is nowhere more than two and a half fathoms, but it is just about that depth right across." "then it is evident that we cannot take the frigate in. what is the width at the mouth?" "about thirty yards." an hour later the _orpheus_ anchored opposite the mouth of the inlet, which, however, was still invisible. "i think that, as this may be an important capture, mr. hill, it would be as well for you to go in charge of the boats. mr. playford will take the command of the landing-party. i should say that twenty marines, under lieutenant boldero, and as many blue-jackets, would be ample for that. he had better take the long-boat and one of the gigs, while you take the launch, the pinnace, and the other gig. if they have made us out, we may expect a very tough resistance, and it may be that, although mr. playford saw nothing of them, they may have a couple of batteries higher up." "likely enough, sir." "you had better let the landing-party have a start of you, so that if they should unmask a battery on the side on which they are, they can rush down at once and silence it." "very good, sir." the sun was now approaching the horizon; as soon as it dipped behind it the boats were lowered, and the sailors, who had already made all preparations, at once took their places in them. needham was in command of the gig that carried a portion of the landing-party, nat was in charge of the other gig, and low was in charge of the pinnace, mr. hill going in the launch. nat had first been told off to the gig now commanded by needham, but the captain said to the first lieutenant, "you had better take glover with you, mr. hill, and let needham go with mr. playford. scrambling along on the shore in the dark, one might very well get a heavy fall, and it is as well that glover should not risk breaking his arm again." chapter iii a slave depot night fell rapidly as soon as the sun had set, and by the time the boats reached the mouth of the inlet it was already dark. the two boats under the second officer entered first, rowed up the inlet to the bend, and landed the marines and sailors on the opposite side; the boarding-party lay on their oars for five minutes and then followed. the oars were muffled, and the men ordered to row as noiselessly as they could, following each other closely, and keeping under the left bank. they were about half-way up when the word "fire!" was shouted in spanish, and six guns were simultaneously discharged. had the spaniards waited a few seconds longer, the three boats would all have been in line with the guns. as it was, a storm of grape sent the water splashing up ahead of the pinnace, which, however, received the contents of the gun nearest to them. it was aimed a little low, and fortunately for the crew the shot had not yet begun to scatter, and the whole charge struck the boat just at the water-level, knocking a great hole in her. "we are sinking, mr. hill," low said. "will you come alongside and pick us up?" although the launch was but a length behind, the gunwale of the pinnace was nearly level with the water as she came alongside. its occupants were helped on board the launch, which at once held on her way. half a minute later six guns were fired from the opposite bank. the boats were so close under the shore that their position could not be made out with any certainty. three men were hit by the grapeshot, but beyond this there were no casualties. "keep in as much as you dare," mr. hill said to the coxswain; "the battery opposite will be loaded again in a couple of minutes, but as long as we keep in the shadow of the shore their shooting will be wild." the battery, indeed, soon began to fire again, irregularly, as the guns were loaded. the shot tore up the water ahead and astern of the boats, but it was evident that those at the guns could not make out their precise position. another five minutes and the boats were headed for the schooner. "you board at the bow, mr. glover, i will make for her quarter. now, lay out, lads, as hard as you can, the sooner you are there the less chance you have of being hit." a moment later a great clamour arose behind them. first came a british cheer; then rapid discharges of pistols and muskets, mingled with the clash of cutlasses and swords; a minute or two later this ceased, and the loud cheer of the marines and seamen told those in the boats that they had carried the battery. the diversion was useful to the boats. until now the slavers had been ignorant that a party of foes had landed, and the fact that a barracoon full of slaves, and the storehouses, were already threatened, caused something like consternation among them. the consequence was that they fired hastily and without taking time to aim. before they could load again the boats were alongside, unchecked for an instant by the musketry fire which broke out from the deck of the schooner as soon as cannon had been discharged. boarding-nettings had been run up, but holes were soon chopped in these by the sailors. headed by nat, the crew of the gig leapt down on to the deck, for the greater part of the slaver's crew ran aft to oppose what they considered the more dangerous attack made by the occupants of the crowded launch. the defence was successfully maintained until the crew of the gig, keeping close together and brushing aside the resistance of the few men forward, flung themselves upon the main body of the slavers, and with pistol and cutlass hewed their way through them till abreast of the launch. the slavers attacked them furiously, and would speedily have annihilated them, but the crew of the launch, led by mr. hill, came swarming over the bulwarks, and, taking the offensive, drove the slavers forward, where, seeing that all was lost, they sprang overboard, striking out for the shore to the right. severe fighting was now going on opposite the schooner, where the landing-party were evidently attacking the barracoon and storehouses. [illustration: "headed by nat, the crew of the gig leapt down on to the deck."] "to the boats, men!" mr. hill shouted, "our fellows are being hard pressed on shore; mr. glover, you with the gig's crew will remain in charge here." indeed, it was evident that the resistance on shore was much more obstinate than had been expected. nat stood watching the boat. just as it reached the shore one of the sailors shouted, "look out, sir!" and he saw a big mulatto rushing at him with uplifted sword. his cutlass was still in his hand, and throwing himself on guard he caught the blow as it fell upon it, and in return brought his cutlass down on his opponent's cheek. with a howl of pain the man sprang at him, but nat leaped aside, and his cutlass fell on the right wrist of the mulatto, whose sword dropped from his hand, and, rushing to the side, he threw himself overboard. in the meantime a fierce struggle was going on between the sailors and seven or eight of the slavers who, being unable to swim, had thrown themselves down by the guns and shammed death, as had nat's antagonist, who was first mate of the schooner. the fight was short but desperate, and one by one the slavers were run through or cut down, but not before three or four of the sailors had received severe wounds. "get a lantern, mate," one of these growled, "and see that there are no more of these skulking hounds alive." the sailors, furious at what they considered treachery, fetched a light that was burning in the captain's cabin, and without mercy ran through two or three unwounded men whom they found hiding among the fallen. it was soon clear that the reinforcement that had landed had completely turned the tables. gradually the din rolled away from the neighbourhood of the storehouses, there was some sharp firing as the enemy fled towards the wood behind, and then all was quiet. presently there was a shout in mr. hill's voice from the shore: "schooner ahoy!" "ay, ay, sir." "load with grape, mr. glover, and send a round or two occasionally into that wood behind the houses; i am going to leave thirty men here under mr. playford, and to take the rest over to the opposite side and carry the battery there." "ay, ay, sir." and as the guns pointing on that side had not been discharged, he at once opened fire on the wood. a minute later the launch and gig rowed past the schooner and soon reached the opposite side. ten minutes passed without any sound of conflict being heard, and nat had no doubt that the battery had been found deserted. it was not long before the boats were seen returning. they rowed this time to the schooner. "mr. glover," the first lieutenant said as he reached the deck, "do you lower the schooner's cutter, put all the wounded on board, take four of your men and row out to the frigate and report to the captain what has taken place. tell him that mr. playford carried the battery on the right in spite of the guns, and that i have spiked those in the battery on the left, which i found deserted. say that we have had a sharp fight on shore with a large number of negroes led by two or three white men and some mulattoes, and that i believe there must be some large plantations close at hand whose owners are in league with the slavers. you can say that we found a hundred and twenty slaves in the barracoon, evidently newly landed from the schooner, and that i intend to find the plantations and give them a lesson in the morning. how many wounded have you here?" "there are fourteen altogether, sir; ten of them were wounded in the first attack, and four have been wounded since by some of the slavers who shammed death." "there are eight more in the launch, happily we have only two men killed. you had better give all the wounded a drink of water; i have a flask, and i dare say you have one: empty them both into the bucket." there was a barrel half full of water on deck; a bucketful of this was drawn, and the two flasks of spirits emptied into it, and a mug of the mixture given to each of the wounded men. they were then assisted down into the schooner's boat; four of the gig's crew took their places in it, and nat, taking the tiller, told them to row on. half an hour later they came alongside the frigate. a sailor ran down the ladder with a lantern. nat stepped out and mounted to the deck. the captain was standing at the gangway. "we have been uneasy about you, mr. glover. we heard a number of reports of heavier guns than they were likely to carry on board a slaver, and feared that they came from shore batteries." "yes, sir, there were two of them mounting six guns each. mr. playford, with the landing-party, captured the one on the eastern side; mr. hill, after the schooner was taken and the enemy on shore driven off, rowed across and took the other, which he found unoccupied." "what is the loss?" "only two killed, sir, but there are twenty-two wounded, two or three of them by musket-shots, and the rest cutlass wounds. they are all in the boat below, sir." a party was at once sent down to carry up such of the wounded as were unable to walk. as soon as all were taken below, and the surgeon had begun his work, the captain asked nat to give him a full account of the proceedings. "i cannot tell you much of what took place ashore, sir," he said, "as mr. hill left me in charge of the schooner. after we had carried her, he went ashore with the crews of the launch and pinnace to help mr. playford." "tell me all you know first." nat related the opening of the two batteries, and how one had been almost immediately captured by mr. playford. "so the pinnace was sunk?" "yes, sir, the enemy's charge struck her between wind and water, and she went down at once; her crew were picked up by the launch. i hear that none of them were injured." then he told how they had kept under the shelter of the shore, and thus escaped injury from the other battery, and how the schooner had been captured. "it was lucky that your men got a footing forward, mr. glover. you did well to lead them aft at once, and thus assist mr. hill's party to board." nat then related the sudden attack by the slavers who had been feigning death. "it was lucky that it was no worse," the captain said. "no doubt they were fellows who couldn't swim, and if there had been a few more it would have gone hard with you. and now about this fight on shore; it can hardly have been the crew of the schooner, for, by the stout resistance they offered, they must have been all on board." "yes, sir." nat then gave the message that mr. hill had sent. "no doubt, mr. glover; i dare say this place has been used by slavers for years. probably there are some large barracoons where the slaves are generally housed, and planters who want them either come or send from all parts of the island. i will go ashore myself early to-morrow morning. there is no question that this is an important capture, and it will be a great thing to break up this centre of the slave-trade altogether. now that their hiding-place has once been discovered, they will know that our cruisers will keep a sharp look-out here, and a vessel once bottled up in this inlet has no chance whatever of escape. you can go with me, it is thanks to the sharpness of your eyes that we made the discovery." the sun had not yet shown above the eastern horizon when the captain's gig passed in through the mouth of the inlet, and ten minutes later rowed alongside the wharf in front of the barracoon. "there is another wharf farther along," the captain said; "we may take that as proof that there are often two of these slavers in here at the same time. ah, there is mr. hill! i congratulate you on your success," he went on, as the first lieutenant joined him; "there is no doubt that this has been a regular rendezvous for the scoundrels. it is well that you attacked after dark, for the cross fire of those batteries, aided by that of the schooner, would have knocked the boats into matchwood." "that they would have done, sir. i was very glad when i saw the boat coming, as i thought it was probable that you were on board her, and we are rather in a difficulty." "what is that, mr. hill?" "well, sir, as soon as we had settled matters here we followed the enemy, and found a road running up the valley; and as it was along this that most of the fellows who opposed us had no doubt retreated, i thought it as well to follow them up at once. we had evidently been watched, for a musketry fire was opened upon us from the trees on both sides. i sent mr. boldero with the marines to clear them out on the left, and mr. playford with twenty seamen to do the same on the right, and then i pressed forward with the rest. presently a crowd of negroes came rushing down from the front, shouting, and firing muskets. we gave them a volley, and they bolted at once. we ran straight on, and a hundred yards farther up came upon a large clearing. "in the middle stood a house, evidently that of a planter. a short distance off were some houses, probably inhabited by the mulatto overseers, and a few huts for his white overseers, and some distance behind these were four large barracoons. we made straight for these, for we could hear a shouting there, and had no doubt that the mulattoes were trying to get the slaves out and to drive them away into the wood. however, as soon as we came up the fellows bolted. there were about a hundred slaves in each barracoon. no doubt the fellows who attacked us were the regular plantation hands. i suppose the owner of the place made sure that we should be contented with what we had done, and should not go beyond the head of the inlet; and when the firing began again he sent the plantation men down to stop us until he had removed the slaves. i left mr. playford in command there, and brought twenty men back here; and i was just going to send off a message to you saying what had taken place, and asking for instructions. you see, with the slaves we found here, we have over five hundred blacks in our hands. that is extremely awkward." "extremely," the captain said thoughtfully. "well, i will go back with you and see the place. as to the houses--the plantation house and the barracoons--i shall have no hesitation in destroying them. this is evidently a huge slaving establishment, and, as the blacks and their overseers attacked us, we are perfectly justified in destroying this den altogether. if i could catch their owner i should assuredly hang him. the difficulty is what to do with all these unfortunate creatures; the schooner would not hold more than two hundred if packed as close as herrings. however, the other thing is first to be thought of." nat followed his commander and the lieutenant to the plantation, or, it should rather be said, to the depot; for the clearing in the valley was but a quarter of a mile long and a few hundred yards wide. it was evident that if the owner had a plantation it was at some distance away, and that the men with whom they had fought were principally mulattoes and negroes employed about the place, and in minding the slaves as they were brought in. they passed straight on to the barracoons. the sailors had already brought the slaves out and knocked off their irons. the poor creatures sat on the ground, evidently bewildered at what had taken place, and uncertain whether they were in the hands of friends or enemies. "some of the men have found the cauldrons in which food is cooked," mr. hill said, "and are now preparing a meal for them; and as we found some hogsheads of molasses and stores of flour and rice they will get a better meal than they are accustomed to. i have set some of the strongest slaves to pump water into those big troughs there; the poor beggars will feel all the better after a wash." "they will indeed. i don't suppose they have had one since they were first captured in africa." in half an hour a meal was served. as an effort of cooking it could hardly be termed a success, but was a sort of porridge, composed of flour and rice sweetened with molasses. there was some difficulty in serving it out, for only a few mugs and plates were found at the barracoons. these were supplemented by all the plates, dishes, and other utensils in the houses of the owner and overseers. by this time the negroes had been taken in parties of twenties to the troughs, where they had a thorough wash. "this is all very well, mr. hill," the captain said, "but what are we to do with all these people? of course we must move them down to the water, and burn these buildings, in the first place because the scoundrels who are at the bottom of all this villainy should be punished, and in the second place because in all probability they will collect a large number of negroes and mulattoes and make an attack. we cannot leave a force here that could defend itself; therefore, whatever we decide upon afterwards, it is clear that all the slaves must be taken down to the houses on the inlet. i should set the men to open all the stores, and load the negroes with everything that can be useful. i expect you will find a good deal of cotton cloth and so on, for no doubt the man here dealt in other articles besides slaves, and he would, moreover, keep cottons and that sort of thing for sending them up the country into market. however, take everything that is worth taking in the way of food or otherwise, and carry it down to the storehouses by the water, then set all the houses and sheds here on fire. when you see them well alight you can bring the men down to the shore; then we must settle as to our course. it is a most awkward thing our coming upon all these slaves. if there were only those who had been landed from the schooner there would be no difficulty about it, as we should only have to put them on board again, but with four hundred others on our hands i really don't know how to manage. we might stow a hundred in the frigate, though i own i should not like it." "no, indeed," mr. hill murmured; "and four hundred would be out of the question." the captain returned to the inlet and made an examination of the storehouses there. they were for the most part empty. they were six in number, roughly constructed of timber, and some forty feet long by twenty wide, and consisted only of the one floor. they stood ten feet apart. the barracoon was some twenty yards away. in a short time the slaves began to pour in, all--men, women, and children--carrying burdens proportionate to their strength. they had now come to the conclusion that their new captors were really friends, and with the light-heartedness of their race laughed and chattered as if their past sufferings were already forgotten. mr. playford saw to the storing of their burdens. these filled one of the storehouses to the roof. there was, as the captain had anticipated, a large quantity of cotton cloth among the spoil. some of these bales were placed outside the store, twenty of the negroes were told off to cut the stuff up into lengths for clothing, and by mid-day the whole of the slaves were, to their delight, attired in their new wraps. among the goods that had been brought down were a number of implements and tools--axes, hoes, shovels, and long knives. captain crosbie had, by this time, quite made up his mind as to the plan to be pursued. "we must hold this place for a time, mr. hill," he said as the latter came down with the last body of sailors, after having seen that all the buildings in the valley were wrapped in flames. "i have been thinking over the question of the slaves, and the only plan that i can see is to go for a two or three day's cruise in the frigate, in hopes of falling in with some native craft with which i can make an arrangement for them to return here with me, and aid in carrying off all these poor creatures. these five storehouses and the barracoon will hold them all pretty comfortably. two of the storehouses had better be given up to the women and children. we will make a stockade round the buildings, with the ends resting in the water, and get the guns from those batteries and put them in position here. with the help of those on board the schooner, a stout defence can be made to an attack, however formidable. i shall leave mr. playford in command with forty men on shore; mr. glover will be in charge of the schooner with five-and-twenty more. the frigate will remain for a couple of days at her present anchorage, and i will send as many men as we can spare ashore to help in finishing the work before she sails. "in the first place there must be a barrack run up for the men on shore between the barracoon and the storehouses. it must be made of stout beams. i don't mean squared, but young trees placed side by side so as to be perfectly musket-proof. the palisades should be made of strong saplings, wattled together, say, ten feet high. a hundred and fifty sailors, aided by three hundred and fifty able-bodied negroes, should make quick work of it. the schooner's crew can see to the removal of the guns from the batteries and their establishment upon platforms behind the palisade. i should divide the twelve guns into four batteries, three in each. the armourer shall come off in the morning to get out the spikes, and the carpenters shall come with their tools." "there are a dozen cross-cut saws among the things that we have brought down, sir." "that is good. how many axes are there?" "four dozen, sir." "good! i will send all the hatchets we have on board. i think, mr. hill, that you had better take up your position on board the schooner until we sail. how about water? that is a most important point." "the slaves have brought down a large number of staves, sir. they are evidently intended for sugar hogsheads; they are done up in separate packets. i should say there were a hundred of them." "that is satisfactory indeed. i will send the cooper ashore, and with a gang of the black fellows he will soon get them all into shape. i see that they have relied upon the stream that comes down from the hills for their supply. one of the first moves of anyone attacking the place would be to divert its course somewhere up in the hills. however, with such a supply as these hogsheads would hold, we could do without the stream for weeks. the twenty marines who came ashore with lieutenant boldero will remain as part of the garrison." the work was at once begun. the sailors looked upon it as a pleasant change from the ordinary routine of life on board ship, and threw themselves into it vigorously, while the blacks, as soon as they understood what was wanted, proved themselves most useful assistants. accustomed in their african homes to palisade their villages, they knew exactly what was required. some, with their hoes, dug a trench four feet deep; others dragged down the poles as the sailors cut them, erected them in their places, and trod the earth firmly round them. others cut creepers, or split up suitable wood, and wove them in and out between the poles; and, by the time darkness fell, a surprising amount of work had been accomplished. one of the storehouses was turned over to those who could not be berthed on board the schooner, most of the slaves preferring to sleep in the open air, which to them was a delightful change after being cooped up for weeks in the crowded hold of a ship, or in the no less crowded barracoons. sentries were posted as soon as it became dark, but the night passed off without an alarm, and at daybreak all were at work again. the launch returned to the frigate when work was knocked off, and came back with a fresh body of men in the morning, and with the carpenters, coopers, and all the available tools on board. by the evening of the third day the work was completed. four banks of earth had been thrown up by the negroes against the palisade, and on each of these three guns were mounted. the hut for the garrison had been completed. the hogsheads were put together and filled with water, and a couple of hundred boarding-pikes were put ashore for the use of the negroes. nat had been fully employed, with the schooner's crew, in removing the guns from the batteries, and placing them on the platforms constructed by the carpenters on the top of the earthworks. "it is quite possible," the captain said to mr. playford, "that this creek is used by pirates as well as slavers. they may come in here to sell goods they have captured suitable for use in the islands, such as cotton cloths and tools, and which it would not pay them to carry to their regular rendezvous. it will be great luck if one or two of them should put in here while i am away. it would greatly diminish the difficulty we have of getting the slaves away." "that would be fortunate indeed, sir. even if two came in together we could give a good account of them, for as the palisade is mostly on higher ground than the huts, we should only have to slue the guns round and give them such a warm welcome that they would probably haul down their flags at once." "yes. you had better tell mr. glover to run up the spanish flag if any doubtful-looking craft is seen to be making for the entrance, and i should always keep a couple of signallers up on the cliff, so as to let you know beforehand what you might have to expect, and to see that there is nothing showing that could excite their suspicions, until it is too late for them to turn back." doubtless what was going on in the inlet had been closely watched from the woods, for in the evening of the day on which the frigate sailed away scattered shots were fired from the forest, and the sound of the beating of tom-toms and the blowing of horns could be heard in the direction of the plantation whose buildings they had destroyed. the lieutenant had gone off to dine with nat, and they were sitting on deck smoking their cigars when the firing began. "i almost expected it," he said. "no doubt they have been waiting for the frigate to leave before they did anything, as they would know that at least half of those who have been ashore would re-embark when she left. i have no doubt the scoundrels whose place we burnt have sent to all the planters in this part of the islands to assemble in force to attack us. if they have seen us making the palisade and mounting the guns, as no doubt they have done, they certainly will not venture to assault the place unless they are in very strong force, but they can make it very unpleasant for us. it is not more than eighty yards to the other side of the creek, and from that hill they would completely command us. you will scarcely be able to keep a man on deck, and we shall have to stay in the shelter of the huts. of course on this side they would scarcely be able to annoy us, for they would have to come down to the edge of the trees to fire, and as we could fire through the palisade upon them they would get the worst of it." "we might row across in the boats, sir, and clear the wood of them if they became too troublesome." "we should run the risk of losing a good many men in doing so, and a good many more as we made our way up through the trees and drove them out, and should gain nothing by it, for as soon as we retired they would reoccupy the position. no; if they get very troublesome i will slue a couple of guns round and occasionally send a round or two of grape among the trees. that will be better than your doing so, because your men at the guns would make an easy mark for them, while we are farther off, and indeed almost out of range of their muskets." the firing soon died away, but in the morning it was reopened, and it was evident that the number in the wood had largely increased. bullet after bullet struck the deck of the schooner, and nat was obliged to order the greater part of the crew to remain below, and to see that those who remained on deck kept under the shelter of the bulwark. presently a sharp fire broke out from the trees facing the palisade, and this was almost immediately replied to by the blue-jackets and marines. the fire of the assailants soon slackened, and nat thought that it had only been begun with the object of finding out how strong a force had been left behind. presently two of the guns on shore spoke out, and sent a volley of grape into the wood in which his own assailants were lurking. it had the effect of temporarily silencing the fire from that quarter. this, however, was but for a short time. when it began again it was taken up on the other side also, the party which had made the demonstration against the palisade evidently considering that the schooner, which lay midway between the two shores, was a safer object of attack than the stockade. as the bulwark now offered no shelter, all went below. two of the men were about to pull up the boat which was lying at the stern, and nat went to the ladder to take his place in it, when he was hailed from shore. "you had better stay where you are, mr. glover, until it gets dusk. you would only be a mark for every man with a musket, up in the trees above us, and, so far as i can see, there is nothing we can do until they begin work in earnest." "very well, sir," nat shouted back, "i will come off after it gets dusk." firing continued all day, but died away at sunset, and soon afterwards nat went ashore. "this is very awkward," the lieutenant said. "it is most unpleasant being potted at all day by fellows who won't show themselves, but i can't see that we can help it. by the noise and jabbering that breaks out at times, i should think that there must be some hundreds of them on this side alone, and we shall have to wait till they begin in earnest. their leaders must know that they can be doing us no harm by their distant fire, and they must sooner or later make an attack on us. you see they have a strong temptation. they must have seen that none of the slaves have been taken away, and as there are five hundred of them, and i suppose they are worth from twenty to forty pounds a head, it is a big thing, to say nothing of the stores. then i have no doubt they are thirsting for revenge, and although they must see that they will have to fight very hard to take the place, they must try without delay, for they will know that the frigate will be back again before very long, and will probably bring some craft with her to carry away the slaves. so i think we must put up with their fire till they harden their hearts and attack us in earnest. they will make the attack, i expect, about the centre of the palisade, for your guns would cover both our flanks. if we are hard pressed i will light a port fire, and you had better land with twenty of your men, leaving five to take care of the ship and work a gun or two should they try to take us in flank." "i should not be surprised if they tried to-night. shall i bring ten of the men on shore at once, sir?" "well, perhaps it would be as well. forty men are not a very large force for this length of palisade and to work some of the guns at the point where they may attack us, and i expect their first rush will be a serious one, and we shall have all our work cut out for us. there is one thing; we can rely, in case of their making a way in, on the slaves. by this time they quite understand that we are friends and that the people who had been firing on us are their enemies, and i believe they would fight like demons rather than fall into their hands again. i have torn up a bale of white calico and have given a strip of it to each man to tie round his head, so that we can tell friend from foe and they can recognize each other in the dark. the enemy won't reckon on that, and will think that they have only a small body of whites to deal with. do you notice how silent the woods are now? i think we may take that as a sign that they are preparing for mischief." "the sooner it comes the better. have you plenty of port fires, mr. playford?" "yes, a large boxful came on shore with the last boat yesterday." nat went off again, and picked out ten men to land with him. "get the other boat down," he said to the petty officer. "you will understand that if any attack is made on the flanks of the work you are to open fire at once upon them with grape. if a blue light is burned at the edge of the water ten men are to land instantly. you will remain in charge of the other five. so far as we know they have no boats, but they may have made a raft, and may intend to try and take the schooner, thinking that the crew will probably be on shore. so you must keep a sharp look-out on the other side as well as this. light a blue light if you see a strong party coming off, and we will rejoin you at once." he again landed with the ten men he had chosen. "i have six men on watch," the lieutenant said, "and have put one of the blacks with each. i fancy their ears are sharper than ours are, and they will hear them coming before our men do." having nothing to do, nat went into the barracoon and the other houses in which the slaves were placed. the contrast between their condition now and when he had seen them four days before, when they had first been found, was striking indeed. now they were clean, and looked picturesque in their bright calico clothes. the look of dull and hopeless misery had passed away, and it seemed to him that with the good and plentiful food they had received they were already perceptibly plumper. they would have risen as he entered, but he signed to them to keep their places. they now had room to lie down in comfort, and while some sat chatting in groups others moved about. they were evidently proud of their arms, and some of them, seizing their pikes or hatchets, made signs how they would fight their enemies. a ship's lantern was burning in each hut. in the women's huts the scene was still more interesting. the little children ran up to nat with a new-born confidence in white men. some of the women brought up babies to show him, and endeavoured to make him understand that these would soon have died had it not been for the sailors. the windows and doors stood open, and the evening breeze cleared the huts of the effluvium always present where a number of negroes congregate together. the sight of the poor creatures enraged nat still more against the slavers, and made him long for them to begin their attack. "it is quite pleasant to see them," he said as he joined mr. playford. "they are wonderfully changed in this short time. one would hardly have thought it possible. what will become of them?" "i expect we shall take them to jamaica, and that there they will be let out as free labourers to the planters. you see there is no law against the slave-trade, though public opinion is so strong on the subject at home that i have no doubt such a law will be passed before long. so, of course, we have not captured the slaves because of their being slaves, but simply as we should capture or destroy other property belonging to an enemy. then, too, many of the slavers act as pirates if they get the chance, and there can be little doubt that a considerable quantity of the goods we found are the proceeds of piracy. besides, you must remember that they fired at us before we fired at them. so we have plenty of good reasons for releasing these poor beggars. you see these seas swarm with scoundrels of all kinds, and it is quite safe to assume that all ships that cannot show that they are peaceful traders are engaged in nefarious business of some kind or other." chapter iv a sharp fight mr. playford and nat were still talking when a sailor came up to him with one of the negroes. "what is it, tomkins?" the lieutenant asked. "well, sir, this 'ere black seems to hear something; he keeps pointing up into the wood and whispering something in his own lingo and looking very excited, so i thought i had better bring him here to you." "quite right, tomkins; no doubt he does hear something, their ears are a good deal better than ours are. i will go up with you." accompanied by nat, mr. playford went up on to the bank of earth that had been thrown up against the palisade, and found that the negroes there were all in a state of excitement, pointing in various directions and shaking their pikes angrily. "they are coming, there is no doubt of that," he said. "i should say, by the motions of the blacks, that they are scattered through the wood. well, we are ready for them. you had better get your slow matches alight, my lads; don't take the covers off the vents until the last moment, the dew is heavy." they were joined now by lieutenant boldero. "i think i can hear them," he said. "yes. i should not have noticed if it had not been for the blacks, but there is certainly a confused noise in the air." listening attentively, they could hear a low rustling sound, with sometimes a faint crack as of a breaking stick. "as soon as we think that they have got to the edge of the trees we will throw a fireball out in that direction, and then let them have it. we must keep them from getting closer if we can; when they once get near the foot of the palisade we shall not be able to depress our guns enough to fire upon them." in a short time there was no question that a large number of men were making their way down through the wood. the blacks were now brought out from the houses and ranged along at the foot of the bank, where they were ordered to stay for the present, as were they to man the line they would be exposed to the assailants' bullets, while powerless to do any service until the latter began to attempt to scale the stockade. "they must be gathering at the edge of the trees now," the lieutenant said at last. "now, tomkins, light that fireball and heave it over." the ball, which was formed of old junk, was about the size of a man's head. the material had been smeared with tar mixed with sulphur, and tomkins held in his hand the lanyard attached to it. he applied a slow match to it, and it broke into a blaze at once. swinging it round his head, he hurled it far in front of him. by its light as it fell a crowd of figures could be seen gathered along the edge of the forest. a fierce yell broke from them, and loud shouts were raised by the leaders ordering them to charge, but before they could get into motion four guns poured a storm of grape among them, followed directly afterwards by the contents of four others. an appalling din of yells and shrieks was heard, but without an instant's hesitation a score of figures in european dress darted forward, followed by a mass of blacks, behind whom came another thirty or forty europeans or mulattoes driving the negroes before them. "pick off the whites!" lieutenant boldero shouted to the marines, and a dropping fire of musketry was at once opened. the distance, however, from the edge of the trees to the palisades was but some fifty yards; the light was dim and uncertain, and in a minute from the first shot being fired the assailants were swarming along the foot of the palisade. there was no hesitation, and it was evident that the men who led the attack had made every preparation. a number of the assailants carried ladders; these were placed against the wall, and the whites and mulattoes swarmed up, closely followed by the negroes. so sudden and unexpected was this assault that in several places they obtained a footing inside the palisades, but with a wild yell the slaves at once rushed up the bank and fell upon them. at the same moment the boom of the schooner's guns told that they had made out parties of the enemy advancing against the flanks of the works. the arrival of the slaves soon changed the position. the assailants were cut down, run through, or forced to leap down over the stockade that they had just crossed. in spite of the shouts of the lieutenant, the slaves, thirsting for vengeance, leapt down after them, and fell with such fury upon the assailants that these, seized with a panic, fled. at the edge of the trees, however, the efforts of the whites checked the flight. guns and pistols were discharged for the first time, and a fierce fight presently raged. "we must go down and lend them a hand," the lieutenant said. "keep your men here, mr. glover, to get the guns loaded again; i will take my blue-jackets and the marines. light a port fire or two, else, in spite of their white head-gear, we shall be hurting our friends." the sailors and marines soon scrambled down the ladders, and, led by their officers, rushed forward with loud cheers. their arrival at once decided the fortune of the fray. rushing through their black allies, they fell with sword and cutlass, musket and bayonet, upon the europeans, whose pistols had given them a decided advantage over the slaves, but who could not stand the charge of the marines and seamen. these pursued them for some little distance, but when beyond the range of the lights of the stockade lieutenant playford halted them. the slaves, however, continued the pursuit for some time, and then they, too, returned, having overtaken and killed many of their flying enemies. "there is nothing more to be done till daylight," mr. playford said. "indeed, i do not think that we shall hear any more of these fellows, who, to do them justice, fought well. our guns must have done a good deal of execution, though they would have done much more had they not been so close; the bullets had hardly begun to scatter. however, we shall see in the morning. it is lucky that we armed the slaves, or it would have gone very hard with us. you see, we had half our men at the guns, and the others were too thinly scattered along the line to be able to defend it against so determined an attack. i expect they never calculated on the slaves being armed, and thought that they had only forty or fifty men to deal with. after the lesson that they have had i don't think they will molest us again, unless there are any troops in the neighbourhood that they can bring up." the palisades were recrossed and sentries set; grog was served out to the seamen and marines; the slaves were mad with delight, and danced and sang songs of triumph for some time. as soon, however, as the lieutenant motioned them to return to their huts they did so at once. many of them were wounded more or less severely, but they seemed to think nothing of this, being too much pleased with the vengeance they had taken to care aught for the pain. nat prepared to return to the schooner with his men, none of whom were, however, seriously hurt, as they had been held in reserve. altogether, three sailors and a marine had been killed and six severely wounded. "are you going on board, mr. playford?" "no; i shall stay ashore till morning. i do not think that there is the remotest chance of the attack being renewed; however, it is clearly my duty to stay here." as soon as it was daylight nat went on shore again, and with ten of his own men, ten marines, and a hundred of the slaves, went over the ground to collect the wounded, and learn the loss of the assailants. all the wounded sailors had been carried into the fort when the fight ceased. six spaniards and nine mulattoes lay dead either on the earthen rampart or at the foot of the palisade. all of them were pierced in several places by pikes, or mutilated with blows of axes. round them lay some twenty plantation negroes, and thirty others had fallen at the edge of the wood, shattered by the discharges of the cannon or killed in the hand-to-hand conflict; among them were twelve of the released slaves. not a single white or mulatto was found alive. the party pursued their way for a quarter of a mile into the wood. here and there were scattered the bodies of the assailants who had been overtaken by their pursuers. the latter had done their work thoroughly, for not a single man was found to be breathing. when they came to a point beyond which the slaves by signs apprised them that they had not gone, they returned, collecting and carrying down the bodies of the dead as they went. they found on their return that two trenches, four feet deep and thirty feet long, had already been dug, at the edge of the forest and as far from the camp as possible. in one of these the bodies of the spaniards and mulattoes were laid, and in the other that of the negroes. the earth was then filled in. "it has been an unpleasant job, but a necessary one," lieutenant playford said, when he knew that the work was done, and the whole party re-entered the fort. "in a climate like this the place would have been uninhabitable in a couple of days if we had not buried them all." in the afternoon two fresh graves were made, and the fallen sailors were reverently laid to rest in one, the dead slaves in the other. water was brought up in buckets by the negroes from the edge of the creek, and all signs of the conflict on the rampart and at the foot of the palisade either washed away or covered with earth. then matters resumed their former aspect. early the next morning the look-out on the cliff ran down and reported that a large brigantine was just entering the inlet. mr. playford shouted the news to nat. "i will send off the marines to you," he said. "i will remain here with the blue-jackets." the spanish flag was at once run up to the peak. in two or three minutes the boat with the marines came alongside. they and the greater part of the sailors at once lay down on the deck, while the few who remained on foot took off their straw hats and white jumpers, tied handkerchiefs round their heads, and gave themselves as unseamanlike an appearance as possible. ten minutes later the brigantine appeared round the point; there was scarce a breath of wind, and she had two boats towing her. a flag hung from her mast-head, and as nat turned his glass upon it he exclaimed to boldero, who, having removed his coat and cap, was standing by his side: "it is the black flag; the fellow must be pretty sure of his welcome or he would never venture to haul it up." in the meantime the guns ashore had been slued round, and were now pointed on a spot somewhat ahead of the schooner. she came slowly along until within some four or five lengths of the latter, then there was a sudden shout on board, followed by a tremendous hubbub. it was clear that the line of palisades surrounding the huts had been noticed and the guns seen. the brigantine was crowded with men. she carried twelve guns in her ports, and a long swivel eighteen-pounder in her bow. there was now no longer any motive for concealment, the marines and seamen leapt to their feet with a cheer, and a moment later the schooner's two foremost guns, which would alone bear on the boats, spoke out, while almost at the same moment two of those on the rampart sent a shower of grape into them. both boats sank immediately, those of the crews who were uninjured swimming to the brigantine. contradictory orders were shouted on board the pirate. one by one her guns on the port side answered those on the ramparts. "get ready, my lads!" nat shouted, "she will be alongside directly." the impetus of the schooner's way was indeed sufficient to take her slowly but surely forward, and the pirate slightly changed his course so as to bring her outside the schooner. playford saw what his object was, and the remaining guns poured their charges of grape across the deck of the brigantine, committing terrible havoc. before they could be loaded again she was alongside the schooner, and so covered by her from the fire of the guns on shore. as the vessels came abreast of each other at a distance of two or three feet only, nat and the young marine officer leapt on to the pirate's deck followed by their men. the resistance of the pirates was desperate. although they had suffered much loss from the fire of the guns, they were still numerically stronger than their assailants, and, fighting as they did with the desperation of despair, they not only held their ground, but pushed their assailants back towards the bulwark. [illustration: the guns on the rampart send a shower of grape into the pirate.] for three or four minutes the fight continued without any marked advantage to either party; the pistols of the seamen and pirates and the muskets of the marines were empty, and they were fighting hand to hand. then slowly the advantage turned against the pirates, but the issue was still undecided when there was a loud cheer, and mr. playford with fifteen sailors leapt on the deck of the pirate from the other side, the approach of the boat having been unnoticed in the heat of the fray. the pirates now broke; their captain had fallen, and, outnumbered and hopeless, some threw down their arms, while others jumped overboard. those who surrendered were at once bound and battened down in the hold of the schooner, some eight or ten only gained the opposite shore and took to the woods. the victory had not been a bloodless one. five of the frigate's crew had been killed, and there were few among nat's command who were not more or less severely wounded. "it was a sharp fight, mr. glover," mr. playford said. "it was indeed, sir. at one time they fairly drove us back, but i think that we should have beaten them even if you had not brought help to us." "i am sure you would," the lieutenant said warmly. "i could see as i boarded that although the men in front were fighting hard, those in the rear were hanging back as if they had had enough of it. still, you might have lost more men than you did before you finished with them if we had not turned up. you see, fighting with pirates is quite a different thing from fighting with any other opponents. these fellows know well enough that there is no mercy for them, and that they have nothing before them but to fight until they die, or to be tried and hanged. the veriest coward would fight till the last with such an alternative as that before him. i would rather fight a hundred and fifty french or spanish seamen than a hundred pirates. she is a fine roomy craft that we have taken, and i think we shall now be able to carry off all these blacks. no doubt it will be a close pack for them, but for a short voyage that will not matter. now let us see to our wounded. after that is done we can get off the hatches and have a look round below. of course she may have come in here for water, but it is likely that she has at least some booty in her hold." this proved to be the case. she was half full of goods of a more or less valuable kind, and these, by the marks on the bales and boxes, had evidently formed part of the cargoes of three ships. two days later the _orpheus_ was seen returning along the coast, and nat was at once sent off by the lieutenant with his written report of what had taken place since she had sailed. the gig reached the side of the frigate just as the anchor was let go. "i see your right arm is in a sling, mr. glover," the captain said as he handed him the report, "so i suppose that you have had some fighting." "yes, sir, we have had some pretty sharp fighting." "what is your wound?" "only a chop with a cutlass, sir." "oh, you came to hand-to-hand work, did you?" nat gave no answer, for the captain had opened the report and was now running his eye down it. "very satisfactory," he said, as he handed it to the first lieutenant. "an attacking force handsomely repulsed and a pirate captured. very good work indeed, very good. i see mr. boldero was wounded, mr. glover." "yes, sir, he was hit on the head with a pistol-shot. fortunately the ball glanced off the skull. he was stunned for a time, but is now nearly himself again." "here is some work for you, dr. bemish," the captain said. "mr. playford reports that ten of the cases are serious. i am going ashore in my gig at once, and will take you with me. you had better send the cutter at once, mr. hill, to bring off the wounded. you may as well return in your own boat, mr. glover, mr. curtis can go in charge of the cutter. mr. needham can go with me." nat at once returned to his boat. he was overtaken by the captain's gig when half-way up the inlet. he rowed to the schooner, while the gig made straight for the landing-place where the lieutenant was standing. "i congratulate you, mr. playford," the captain said as he stepped ashore. "you seem to have had a pretty busy time of it since we have been away. i certainly did not think they would attempt to attack you when you had those guns in position, and i did not reckon on the pirate. she is a fine brigantine; the schooner looks quite small beside her." "yes, sir, she is over three hundred tons. her broadside guns are all twelve-pounders, and she carries an eighteen-pounder as a swivel. she had a crew of seventy men, of whom only eight or ten got ashore, the rest were all accounted for except twelve, who are in irons below. the credit of capturing her, sir, really belongs to mr. glover, for although i went off to his assistance he would have taken her without my aid, though the pirates were still fighting strongly." "well, it has been a very successful business altogether, mr. playford. the capture of the brigantine is specially fortunate, as i have failed to come across any native craft as i had hoped to do, but with this extra accommodation we shall be able to manage to carry off all the slaves. i see by your account that mr. glover had the marines as well as his own twenty men." "yes, sir, i sent lieutenant boldero and fourteen marines on board; he had lost six either killed or seriously wounded in the attack here. i own that i had hardly calculated upon the brigantine getting alongside the schooner. i thought that when we had smashed up her boats, which i made certain we should do, she would be so completely at our mercy that, being becalmed, she would haul down her flag; but she had sufficient way on her to take her alongside the schooner, and her captain put her there so cleverly that i could not fire at her except through the schooner. i saw at once that the whole position was changed, for if he had captured the schooner he might have put all his men into the boats and made a dash for shore; and as i had so few men fit for work it would have been awkward, though with the aid of the blacks i have no doubt i should have driven them off." "then i suppose your discharge of grape did not do him very much harm?" "not so much as it ought to have done, sir. you see the first two guns we fired destroyed his boats. the other guns were all too weakly handled to be trained on the pirate as he forged ahead, and as far as i could see not one of them did any serious execution among his crew. yesterday i told off four negroes to each gun, and kept them at work all day learning how to train them under the direction of the sailors. if i had thought of that before we should have swept his decks with such effect that when she got alongside the schooner mr. glover's party would have had easy work of it." "you could hardly think of everything, mr. playford, and you certainly did right in sending the marines off to the schooner directly you had news that this brigantine was entering the inlet. no doubt if you had wished to sink her it would have been better to have kept them on shore to help work the guns, but as she is a valuable prize, and we wanted her badly to help carry away the slaves, you were quite right not to try to damage her. you say she is half full of plunder?" "yes, sir, and there were nearly eight hundred pounds in money and thirty-four watches and some jewellery found in the captain's cabin." "she is a valuable capture, and i should think the admiral would buy her into the service. she is just the sort of craft that we want. the schooner would be too small to tackle one of these heavily-armed pirates with their crowds of men. so your slaves fought well?" "that they did, sir. if it had been daylight i doubt whether any of the whites who led the attack would have escaped. of course they had no particular animosity against the negroes, but i believe that they would have followed the whites and mulattoes half across the island." "well, do you think that the two craft will carry all the slaves?" "hardly, sir; the schooner can stow a hundred and fifty. of course it will be close work, but there will be room for that number to lie down, and with the hatches both open they will be all right. by rearranging the cargo a bit, two hundred could sleep in the hold of the brigantine. that would still leave rather over one hundred and fifty." "well, we must give up part of the hold of the frigate to them," the captain said, "there is no help for it. there are about that number of women and children, are there not?" "yes, sir." "they had better go off in the frigate, then. of course, the prisoners will be sent off too--i will pay a visit to the brigantine, and then go off myself, and will send the boats in as soon as i get there. you may as well be getting the men on board at once. as soon as they are all off, you will, of course, set fire to all the sheds here, but you may as well send off a boat-load of stores suitable for them to the frigate, and will, of course, victual these two craft. i shall send you another forty men to fill up the vacancies that have been caused, and to furnish a crew for the brigantine, of which, of course, you will take the command. you and the schooner will keep in close company. the marines will return to the ship. mr. needham will be your second on the brigantine." "how about the guns, sir? they are all old pieces, and scarcely worth carrying away." "yes, but i won't leave them here to be used for defending this place again. you had better take them off their carriages, spike them, get them into the boats, and heave them overboard, well out in deep water. do you think that you will be able to get everything done before dark, mr. playford?" "yes, sir, it is only nine o'clock now, and if you will send a strong working party, in addition to those who will be taking the slaves on board, to help with the stores and guns, i have no doubt that i shall be able to get the work done well before sunset." "very well. mr. hill will come on shore as soon as i return to the frigate." the work went on without ceasing all day, and the pinnace, which had been recovered and repaired before the frigate sailed, and the launch, went backwards and forwards to the frigate with the women, children, and stores, while the boats of the brigantine and schooner carried the men to those craft, as soon as the stores for the voyage, and the bales of cotton and other goods that would be useful, had been taken off. when the two large boats had finished their work they were employed in carrying out the guns, which had, before the slaves embarked, been brought down by them to the edge of the water. by three o'clock all was finished, and the last boat-load of the sailors rowed out to the prizes, after having set fire to all the huts. these were soon in a blaze, to the delight of the negroes, who danced and shouted for joy. half of these were sent below at once, as they crowded the decks to such an extent as to render it impossible for the sailors to work. those who remained were ranged in rows by the bulwarks from end to end of the craft; then the anchors were got up, and the sails dropped and sheeted home. the wind was very light, but was sufficient to give steerage-way, and with the british ensign flying at the peak the two vessels sailed out of the inlet and joined the frigate, which began to make sail as soon as they were seen issuing from the narrow mouth. glad indeed were all on board the three vessels when, after a voyage unmarked by any adventure, they entered port royal, for although the negroes, feeling confident that they were in good hands, had been docile and obedient, they were still terribly in the way. though all had been made to take a bath every morning, the odour in the crowded prizes was almost overpoweringly strong. on arrival, the negroes were landed and lodged in some large government storehouses near the fort. each was presented with ten yards of cloth on leaving for the shore, and they were, before being housed, permitted to sort themselves, so that families and friends might be together. interpreters explained to them that it would be impossible to send them back to their friends in africa, but that they would be apportioned out among the plantations of the island. the wages they were to receive were explained to them, and they were told that a government official would visit each plantation in turn, and would listen to any complaints that might be made as to their food and treatment, and at the end of three years all who wished it could either change masters or take up a piece of land, build a hut, and cultivate it on their own account. the poor creatures were well satisfied with this. they were overjoyed at being united to their relations and friends, and to know that they would still be together; and were assured that they would be well cared for, and in time be as much their own masters as if at their villages in africa. the schooner was sold; the brigantine was, as the captain had expected, bought into the service; mr. playford was offered and accepted the command of her. mr. normandy took his place as second lieutenant of the _orpheus_, and mr. marston received his promotion and the post of third officer. as the _cerf_--which was the name of the brigantine--was to be considered as a tender of the frigate, those on board her were still borne on her books. curtis and glover were appointed to her, with a petty officer and forty men. the pirates were tried and executed, with the exception of one, who was a mere lad. he had, he asserted, been forced to join the pirates--being spared by them when the rest of his comrades had been murdered, as they had lost their cook's mate, and required someone to fill his place. this, however, would not have saved his life had he not promised to lead his new captors to the chief rendezvous of the pirates, which had so long eluded the search that had been made for it. he acknowledged, however, that he was not acquainted with its exact position. he had sailed in and out four or five times, and had only a general idea of its position, but asserted that he should certainly know the island if he saw it. a fortnight after reaching port royal, the frigate and brigantine sailed in company. the indications given by the boy pointed to an island lying a short distance off the northern coast of venezuela. there were originally, he said, four vessels working together, three brigantines and a large schooner, one of which had arrived from france only a short time before the _cerf_ sailed on her last voyage. the entrance to the pirates' stronghold was on the south side of the island, and was, he said, so well concealed that vessels might sail past the place a thousand times without noticing it. there were two batteries at the water's edge, inside the entrance, each mounting twelve eighteen-pounder guns that had been taken from prizes. the channel here was not more than fifty yards across. a very heavy boom was at all times swung across it just above the batteries, and this was opened only when one of the craft entered or left. there was, however, he said, a spot on the outer side of the island where a landing could be effected, at a little ravine that ran down to the shore. this was thickly wooded, and some large trees growing at its mouth almost hid it from passing vessels. at other points the shore was steep, but there was so much vegetation on every ledge where trees or bushes could obtain a foothold, that from the sea it would seem that the cliffs were not too steep to scale. the prisoner had been placed on board the _cerf_, which, as soon as she was fairly at sea, was altered as far as possible in appearance by a white band with ports painted along her sides; a false stem of an entirely different shape from her own was fastened to her, her light upper spars sent down and replaced by stumpy ones, and other changes made that would help to alter her appearance. were she recognized by the pirates as she sailed past their island it would at once be suspected that one of the men recently captured had revealed the rendezvous, and that she was cruising near it to obtain an exact idea of the best mode of attack before other craft came up to assist her. they had no doubt that the pirates had already received news of the surprise and capture of the brigantine. some of the men who escaped would doubtless have made for the nearest port, and hired a negro craft to take them to their own island, which they would have reached before the _orpheus_ arrived at port royal with her prizes. the pirates would therefore be on their guard, and would either have deserted their head-quarters altogether or have added to their defences. the sight of their late consort would confirm their fears that their whereabouts had become known, and it was therefore of importance that her identity should not be suspected. changed as she now was, she might be taken for a man-of-war brigantine. her height out of water had been increased by four feet by painted canvas fastened to battens. she had ten ports painted on each side, and looked a very different craft from the smart brigantine that had sailed away from the island. it had at first been suggested by mr. playford that she should be disguised so as to look like a trader, but captain crosbie had decided against this. "there are," he said, "three of these pirates, and even two of them might together be more than a match for you. by all accounts they are each of them as strong as you are in point of armament, and would carry at least twice as many men as you have. even if you beat them off it could only be at a very great cost of life, and i certainly should not like you to undertake such an enterprise unless you had at least double the strength of men, which i could not spare you. by going in the guise of a vessel of war they would not care to meddle with you. they would know that there would be no chance of booty and a certainty of hard fighting, and of getting their own craft badly knocked about, so that it will be in all respects best to avoid a fight. they may in that case not connect you with us at all, but take you to be some freshly-arrived craft. you had best hoist the stars and stripes as you pass along the coast." when the changes were all effected the ships parted company. the brigantine was to sail east until within a short distance of grenada, then to cruise westward along the coast of the mainland; thus going, there would be less suspicion on the part of those who saw her that she was coming from jamaica. a rendezvous was appointed at the island of oruba, lying off the mouth of the gulf of venezuela. their prisoner was french, and he was very closely questioned by lieutenant playford, who spoke that language well. he said that they always sailed north to begin with, then sometimes they kept east, and certainly he heard the names of guadeloupe and st. lucia. at other times, after sailing north they steered north-west, and came to a great island, which he had no doubt was san domingo. it was not in this craft that he sailed, he was only transferred to her with some of the others for that cruise only. after they had once made either the western islands or san domingo, they cruised about in all directions. "the great point is," mr. playford said to the midshipmen after a long talk with the prisoner, "that at starting they generally hung about these islands, guadeloupe, st. lucia, and so on, for some time, and it was considered their best cruising ground, though also the most dangerous one, as we have always some cruisers in those waters. that would certainly place the island somewhere off the north coast of caracas. he declared that the first day out they generally passed the western point of an island of considerable size with some high hills. the only island that answers to that account is, as you see in the chart, margarita. therefore i feel convinced that the pirate hold is in one of these groups, off caracas, either chimana, borrshcha, or these two islets called piritu islands. altogether, you see, there are over a dozen of these islands scattered along near the mainland. "it is quite out of the general course of trade, as nothing would go into that bay except a craft bound for san diego, or this place marked barcelona, lying a short distance up the river. they would take care not to molest any of the little traders frequenting these ports, and might lie in an inlet in one of these islands for years without their being ever suspected, unless perhaps by some of the native fishermen, who probably supply them with fish and fruit from the mainland. anyhow, i don't suppose a british cruiser is seen along that coast once a year." chapter v a pirate hold a fortnight later the _cerf_ passed along under easy sail between the island of margarita and the mainland. she was now getting very close to the spot where, if the prisoner was right, the pirates' hold lay. the stars and stripes was hanging from the peak, and with her high bulwarks and ten ports on each side no one would have suspected that she was not, as she seemed, an american man-of-war, heavily armed. passing close to another island, they headed more south into the bay as they neared caracas. every foot of the islands was closely scanned. five miles farther, they came abreast of the chimana isles, and pointing to one of these that lay nearer the shore than the others, the prisoner exclaimed that he was certain that that was the island. "i am sure of it," he exclaimed, "both from the look of the island itself, and from that high range of mountains on the mainland to the south-east." "you are quite sure?" "certain, captain; there are the large trees i spoke of growing down close to the water. it is behind them that there is a little ravine by which one can climb up." no alteration was made in the ship's course, but she continued her way until sunset, when she dropped anchor off the mouth of the river la pasqua, some twenty miles west of the islands. as soon as it was dark curtis was sent off in a gig manned by six rowers. the oars were muffled; the orders were to row round the island within an oar's length of the shore, and to find the entrance to the channel, which, if the prisoner was right as to the place, should be on the side facing the mainland. pierre, the french lad, was taken with them. it was a long row to the island, but the gig was a fast one, and, at three o'clock in the morning, she returned with the news that pierre's information had been correct. they had found the opening but had not entered it, as mr. playford had given strict orders on this point, thinking it probable that there would be a sharp look-out kept in the batteries, especially as the supposed cruiser would certainly have been closely watched as she passed. an hour later the anchor was got up and the _cerf_ sailed for oruba, off which she arrived three days later. there were no signs of the frigate, and indeed the _cerf_ had arrived at the rendezvous before the time fixed. at daybreak on the third morning the topsails of the _orpheus_ were made out from the mast-head, and four hours later she and the _cerf_ met, and mr. playford went on board the frigate to report. "this is good news indeed," the captain said when he heard that the haunt of the pirates had been discovered. "of course you have taken the exact position of the island, for we must, if possible, take them by surprise?" "yes, sir; it lies as nearly as possible in 64° 30' west longitude and 10° 22' north latitude." "we will lay our course east, mr. playford, for, of course, you will keep company with us. the water is deep all along the coast, and there seems to be from thirty to thirty-eight fathoms to within a mile or two of the coast. i shall lay my course outside the windward islands as far as blanquilla, thence an almost due south course will take us clear of the western point of margarita and down to this island. we will discuss our plan of attack later on." on the morning of the third day after leaving oruba the island of blanquilla was sighted. the frigate made the signal for mr. playford to go on board, and on entering the captain's cabin he found him and mr. hill examining the chart. "you see, mr. playford, we are now as nearly as possible a hundred miles north of the island; with this wind we should pass the point of margarita at about four o'clock in the afternoon; if it freshens we will take in sail, i want to be off the island say three or four hours before daybreak. you will send that french lad on board when you go back; as soon as we anchor he will go in the gig with mr. hill to reconnoitre and make sure that there is no mistake about the place. when he finds that it is all right he will come back. the boats will be in the water, and the men on board in readiness, and will at once start, so that the landing may, if possible, be effected just at daybreak at this ravine on the north of the island. at the same hour you will sail in and take up your place opposite the mouth of the harbour, and fight anything that tries to come out. "it is quite possible that as soon as our party attack the place on the land side any craft there may be there will cut their cables and try to make off. on no account try to enter; the batteries would blow you out of the water. you will start as soon as the boats leave the ship, and will therefore have light enough for you to go in and to avoid making any mistake, for you see there are half a dozen islands lying close together. there is no objection to their seeing you, and indeed i should be rather glad if they do, for in that case they are the less likely to discover the landing-party, and though they must see the frigate they will think that she is only lying there to cut them off if they try to escape. they will be manning their batteries and getting everything ready to give you a warm reception, and i hope that we shall drop upon them as if out of the clouds. "mr. hill will command the landing-party, which will consist of a hundred and fifty seamen and the thirty marines, which, with the advantage of surprise, ought to be sufficient. as you report that the island is less than a mile long and not much more than half a mile across, the landing-party will soon be at work. after they have landed, mr. hill will divide them into two parties, and will endeavour to make his way round the inlet, keeping up among the trees, and then rush down upon the batteries. when he has captured these he will fire three guns as a signal to you. you will have your boats in readiness, and will at once tow the schooner in, and, on reaching the boom, bring her broadside to bear upon any craft there, and generally aid the landing-party with your guns. if, by good luck, the three craft we have been so long looking for are all there you will have a strong force to tackle; you may certainly take it that their crews will together mount up to three hundred men, and it is likely that there may be a hundred others who form what we may call the garrison of the place when they are away." "very well, sir." the two vessels headed south under easy canvas, passed the point of margarita at the hour that had been arranged, and then taking in still more sail proceeded slowly on until, about one o'clock in the morning, the island could be made out with the night-glasses. then both were laid to, captain crosbie having forbidden anchoring, in the first place owing to the great depth of water, and in the next because, although the island was three miles away, the chain-cable running out might be heard at night if the pirates had anyone on watch on the hill. nat, whose watch it was, saw the gig shoot away from the side of the frigate. an hour later and there was a bustle and stir on board the _orpheus_, and all her boats were lowered. at five bells the crew began to take their places in them, and soon afterwards the gig returned. the watch below were called up and sail was made, and at half-past three the boats started, and the _cerf_ was headed towards the land. dawn was just breaking when they reached the island. all was still. it had been arranged that, unless discovered, the attack on the batteries was not to be made until five o'clock, and just at that hour the _cerf_ arrived off the narrow entrance to the port. half an hour before, a musket had been discharged on the hill above them, and it was clear that their coming had been observed; but as no sound of conflict could be heard inland there was every reason to suppose that the pirates had no suspicion of a landing having been effected on the other side. "that is what i call being punctual," nat said to curtis as two bells rang out just as they opened the passage. a light kedge anchor was dropped, and as this was done a patter of musketry broke out from the hill above them. their action showed that the arrival of the brigantine was no matter of chance, but that she was there expressly with the intention of attacking the pirates' stronghold, and those who had been watching her, therefore, saw that any further attempt at concealment was useless. in the night the canvas band had been taken down, as there was no longer any reason for concealing the identity of the brigantine. the musketry fire only lasted for a minute, for suddenly a roar of battle broke out within a hundred yards of the mouth of the entrance. the sailors burst into a loud cheer. it was evident that the landing-party had met with complete success so far, and had approached the batteries unobserved, and that a hand-to-hand fight was going on. above the cracking of pistols the cheers of the seamen could be plainly heard, but in two or three minutes the uproar died away, and then three guns were fired at short intervals. the boats were already in the water, the kedge lifted, and the crews bending forward in readiness for the signal. "take her in, lads!" the lieutenant shouted, and the schooner's head at once began to turn towards the inlet. a moment later two broadsides were fired. "there are two of their craft in there!" curtis exclaimed. "now our fellows have carried the batteries they have opened fire on them." as he spoke there was another broadside, which was answered by a hurrah from all on deck. it was clear that they had had the good luck to catch all the pirates at once. three minutes' rowing and the boom was in sight. mr. playford called to one of the boats to take a rope from the stern to the battery on the right-hand side, and ordered the others to cease rowing. "we have way enough on her!" he shouted. "as soon as you get near the boom take her head round to port, and carry the rope to shore. you can fasten it to the chain at the end of the boom." as he gave the order a gun spoke out from the battery on the right, followed almost immediately by one on the left. "they are slueing the guns round!" nat exclaimed. "we shall be having our share of the fun in another minute or two." they could now obtain a view into the piece of water inside the passage. it was nearly circular, and some three hundred yards across. two brigantines and a schooner were lying in line, within fifty yards of the opposite shore. a large range of storehouses stood by the water's edge, while the hillsides were dotted with huts, and dwelling-places of larger size. by the time that the brigantine was got into position by the side of the boom the pirates had loaded again, and several shots struck her. her guns were already loaded, and those on board poured a broadside into the brigantine at the end of the line. the sailors in the battery were working with might and main to slue all the guns round to bear upon the pirates. on the hillsides above them a scattered fire of musketry was being kept up, and mr. hill hailed the schooner. "mr. playford, will you land a party of fifteen men on each side to clear the hills of those rascals? i don't think there are many of them, but they are doing us a good deal of damage, for they can hardly miss us closely packed as we are here." "ay, ay, sir. you hear the orders, gentlemen. mr. curtis, you land with fifteen men on the starboard side, and do you, mr. glover, take the party that lands to port. clear the scoundrels out--give no quarter!" the boats had just returned. the two midshipmen leapt into them, and a few strokes took them ashore. "up the hill, lads!" nat shouted. "don't fire until you are at close quarters. give them one volley if they are together, then sling your guns, and go at them with the cutlass!" there was but little fighting, however, for there were only ten or twelve pirates on either side, as their main force was distributed between the batteries and the ships. they were therefore very easily driven off, five or six of them being killed and the rest flying with all speed towards their village, where those who had escaped from the batteries were already going off in boats to the ships. the two midshipmen therefore returned to the schooner. "don't come on board!" mr. playford shouted. "see if you can free one end of the boom. if so we will go in and engage one of those craft." it was found that the boom was fastened at nat's side, and the chain was soon unwound from the stump of a large tree. then the two boats together got hold of the end of the boom and swung it round so that the schooner could pass. the enemy kept up a heavy fire upon them while they were doing this, and just as the job was completed, curtis's boat was smashed to pieces by a round shot. the breeze was very light, but it was in the right direction. "shall we tow, sir?" nat called to his commander. "certainly not. get your men on board at once." the sails, which had been loosely furled, were dropped again, and the brigantine stole past the batteries, which saluted her with a rousing cheer, while the guns were worked with redoubled energy to keep down the fire of the pirates. the _cerf_ was swept with round shot and grape by the guns of the three piratical craft, but the distance to be traversed was so small, and the fire from the battery to which the pirates working their guns were exposed was so heavy, that the men fired wildly, and the _cerf_ suffered less than might have been expected while crossing the intervening two hundred yards of water. she was steered straight for the schooner, and as her bowsprit ran in between the pirate's masts the crew, who had been crouching forward, leapt down on to her deck, headed by their commander and the two midshipmen. the pirates, although they had suffered heavily, were still in sufficient force to offer an efficient resistance, but their courage had been shaken by the suddenness of the attack. they had lain down to sleep with the assurance that the port was unknown and unsuspected, that the batteries that guarded it could sink any hostile ship that attempted to enter, and their dismay when these batteries were attacked and carried by an enemy who seemed to spring out of the earth, and their only retreat cut off, was overwhelming. already the heavy guns of the battery had done terrible execution. two of the guns on that side had been dismounted, and a third of the crew killed; consequently, although a small portion of the number led by their captain fought desperately, and were killed to the last man, the majority leapt overboard at once and swam ashore. leaving ten men in charge of the prize, the lieutenant called all the rest back on board the _cerf_, which remained in the position in which she had run head on to the schooner, and she was now able to bring her broadsides into play upon the brigantines, the pieces forward raking them from stem to stern, while the batteries continued their terrible fire. in a few minutes the pirates began to take to the boats, which were lying by their sides just as they had come off from the shore. once begun, the movement spread rapidly. the boats were soon crowded, and those who could not find places in them leapt overboard. "take the boat and a dozen men, mr. curtis, and haul down the black flag of the craft to starboard; and you, mr. glover, take one of the prize's boats and do the same to the other brigantine." they turned to execute the order when all on board the _cerf_ were hurled to the deck--one of the brigantines had blown up with a tremendous explosion, that brought most of the huts on the hillside to the ground, carried away both masts of the _cerf_, and drove fragments of wreckage high into the air, whence they fell partly in the pool, partly on shore. fortunately for the _cerf_ only a few fragments of any size struck her deck, the pieces for the most part falling in a wider circle. numbers of the pirates who had just landed from their boats were killed, and many more were injured by being hurled down on to the rocks, dazed and half-stunned. those on board the _cerf_ who had escaped severe injury rose to their feet. not more than twenty-five did so. lieutenant playford lay dead, crushed under a mast; curtis had been hurled against one of the guns and his brains dashed out; ten of the sailors had been killed either by the falling masts or by being dashed against the bulwarks; twelve had fallen under the enemy's fire as the _cerf_ crossed the pool; twelve others were hurt more or less either by the enemy's missiles or by the shock. it was three or four minutes before the silence that followed was broken. then mr. hill hailed across the water: "_cerf_ ahoy! have you suffered much?" "terribly," nat shouted back; "lieutenant playford and mr. curtis are both killed. we have only twenty-five men in any way fit for service left." "if you have got a boat that will swim send it ashore." nat looked over the side, the boat had been stove by a falling fragment; then he crossed to the prize, and found that one of the boats was uninjured. four men were just getting into it, when mr. hill hailed again: "let them bring a rope with them, mr. glover; we will tow you over here." the end of a hawser was put into the boat, and the men rowed with it to the battery. "mr. glover!" the lieutenant again hailed. "yes, sir." "i am sending the boat back again. i think that had they put a slow match in the magazine of the other brigantine it would have exploded before this. however, you had better remain where you are for a quarter of an hour, to be sure; then, before you move, board the brigantine and flood the magazine. otherwise, as soon as you have left, some of these desperadoes might swim off to her and put a match there." "very well, sir, i will go at once if you like." "no, there is no use running any unnecessary risk. you had better flood the schooner's magazine first." "ay, ay, sir." taking half a dozen hands with buckets, nat went on board the prize and soon flooded the magazine; then he and those who were able to help did all they could for the wounded, several of whom, who had only been stunned, were presently on their legs again. when the quarter of an hour had passed he asked for volunteers. all the survivors stepped forward. "four men will be enough," he said. "bring buckets with you." it was not without a feeling of awe that nat and the four sailors stepped on to the deck of the brigantine, for although he was convinced that had a match been lighted the explosion would have taken place long before, as it was now five-and-twenty minutes since the crew had deserted her, neither he nor the men had entirely recovered from the severe shock of the explosion. he led the way below; all was quiet; the door of the magazine was open, but there was no smell of burning powder, and they entered fearlessly. "all right, lads; now as quick as you like with your buckets." an abundance of water was thrown in; then, to make quite certain, nat locked the door of the magazine, and put the key in his pocket. a cheer broke from the men in the battery as he and his companions again took their places in the boat and rowed to the _cerf_. he was hailed again by mr. hill. "i have changed my mind, mr. glover; now that i know there is no risk of another explosion, i think perhaps you had best remain where you are. we will give you a pull to get you free of the schooner, then you had better range the _cerf_ alongside of her; keep your guns and those of the brigantine both loaded with grape; send your boat ashore to fetch off the wounded." "i have two boats now, sir; one of the brigantine's was left behind, and is uninjured." "then send them both ashore, the sooner we get the wounded off the better. i am going to move forward with all my men; we have spiked the guns here, and if they should come down into the batteries again you can clear them out. you will, of course, help us, if we meet with strong resistance, with your guns on the shore-side." "ay, ay, sir." the two boats were sent ashore, and the wounded came off with dr. bemish. as soon as they all came on board nat said: "i will leave you with the wounded here, doctor, with four of my men to help you. we are so littered up that we could hardly work the guns, and as you see, three of them were dismounted by the explosion; besides, the prize alongside would hamper us, therefore i will take the rest of the men on board the brigantine." "i think that will be a very good plan, my lad," the doctor replied. "i quite agree with you, that with the spars and wreckage on one side and the prize on the other, you are practically helpless." the men were at once set to work bringing up powder cartridges from the magazine; grape and round-shot they would find on board the brigantine. in ten minutes the guns of that craft were reloaded. the two bodies of men from the batteries had by this time reached the storehouses. not a shot had been fired, but a minute later there was a loud word of command, followed by a fierce yell, and in a moment both parties were engaged, a heavy fire being opened upon them from every spot of vantage on the hillside in front of them. "now, my lads, give them a dose of grape!" nat shouted. "i expect they are two to one to our fellows still. train them carefully." gun after gun sent showers of grape among the hidden foe, who were for the most part lying behind the cactus hedges of the gardens that surrounded the huts. the three forward guns assisted mr. hill's party, while the others aided that commanded by needham. although but four men to a gun, the sailors worked so hard that the pieces were discharged as rapidly as if they had been manned by a full complement, and their effect was visible in the diminution of the enemy's fire, and by the line of smoke gradually mounting the hill, showing that the pirates were falling back, while the cheers of the sailors and marines as they pressed steadily upwards, rapidly plying their muskets, rose louder and louder. near the upper edge of the cleared ground the pirates made a stand, but the fire of the guns proved too much for them, and they took to the forest. presently a sailor ran down to the shore. "the first lieutenant says, sir, will you please continue your fire into the forest. he is going to cut down all the hedges and fire the huts, so that they will have to pass over open ground if they attack again." "tell mr. hill i will do so," nat shouted back. it was not long after the fire had been turned in that direction before the puffs of smoke that darted out from the edge of the forest ceased altogether. the sailors could now be seen slashing away with their cutlasses at the lines of cactus hedge, while the huts that still stood were speedily in flames. numbers of women and children now came down to the shore, where they were placed in charge of six of the marines and a non-commissioned officer. a quarter of an hour later, while nat was watching what was going on on shore, one of the men touched him. "look, sir, they are going down to the batteries!" the men were at once ordered across to the guns on the other side, and these opened with grape upon two bodies of pirates, each some seventy or eighty strong, who were rushing down to the batteries. the discharge of the six guns did terrible execution, but the survivors without pausing dashed down to the works. cries of disappointment and rage broke out from them on finding the guns spiked, and before they could be reloaded they ran up the hill again, and were in shelter in the forest. "i fancy that is about the end of it," nat said to the petty officer standing by his side. "i don't think that above fifty of either party got safely away." "not more than that, sir. i expect it has taken the fight out of them." "it was a hopeless attempt, for although, if the guns had been loaded, they might have sunk us, our fellows on shore would soon have been upon them again, and it would have come to the same thing." "yes, sir, the same thing to the pirates, but not the same thing to us." "no, you are right there; those twenty-four guns loaded with ball would have sent us to the bottom in no time. you see, our men only used grape before, and aimed at the decks." mr. hill now hailed from the shore again: "mr. glover!" "ay, ay, sir!" "have the goodness to send your boat ashore, i want to send a note off to the captain. on their way the men must stop at the boats on the other side of the island, and tell the boat keepers to bring them round here at once." four men were sent ashore in the boat, and one of the petty officers took his place in the stern, with a hasty note which the first lieutenant had written in pencil stating that the loss had been very heavy, that the work of rooting out the pirates had not yet been completed, and that he should be glad of some more men to occupy the village while he searched the woods. the boat started at once, and twenty minutes later the captain's gig shot into the cove. as soon as the report of the first gun was heard on board the frigate, and there was no longer any motive for remaining at a distance, her head had been turned to the island, and the boat had met her but half a mile away from the entrance. after reading the note, captain crosbie sent one of the gigs to order the boats round to the inlet, and proceeded in his own boat to investigate the state of affairs, ordering the _cerf's_ boat to row ahead of the frigate, which was to work in under very reduced sail, sounding as she went, and was, if the water was deep enough, to anchor off the mouth of the cove. "then you found all the pirates here, mr. hill?" the captain said as he landed. "yes, sir, but they blew up one of their craft when they left her." "yes, of course we heard the report; it shook the frigate as if she had struck on a rock. it must have been tremendous here." "yes, sir, she must have had an immense deal of powder in her magazine; the shock was something terrible. although we were over there in that battery, every one of us was thrown to the ground and several were killed. two of the guns were dismounted." "it was a veritable battle for a time, mr. hill. it sounded like a naval engagement on a large scale." "yes, we had twenty-four guns in the batteries all at work, and the guns of the _cerf_, while the three pirates had the same number in their broadsides, besides two heavy swivel-guns." "you say the loss is heavy. what does it amount to?" "i cannot tell you exactly, sir. there were twenty-five killed on board the _cerf_, in addition to mr. playford and mr. curtis. the two officers and about half the men were, mr. glover reported, killed by the explosion, which, as you see, dismasted her." "dear me! that is heavy indeed, and i most deeply regret the death of the two officers." "so do i indeed, sir. mr. playford was an excellent officer, and as good a fellow as ever walked. mr. curtis would have made, i am sure, a good officer in time. i hardly thought he would when he first joined, but he was improving greatly, and he showed great courage in working to remove the boom under a very heavy fire from the pirates, which sunk his boat under him." "your division, mr. hill--what are your casualties?" "we took the batteries almost without loss, sir, but in the duel with the pirates we lost in the two batteries fourteen killed; nine more were killed by the explosion; we sent eighteen off to the _cerf_ all seriously wounded; as to contusions and minor hurts, i should say that there is not a man who escaped them." "well, well, that is a heavy bill indeed; forty-eight men killed and two officers--why, we should probably have lost less in an action against a frigate of our own size! however, we have destroyed this nest of pirates, and have captured three of their four ships, the other is blown up. now, what is the state of things here?" "there are, i believe, some hundred and fifty or two hundred of the pirates still on the island. they are divided into two parties, and the last firing you heard was when they rushed down into the batteries, thinking, no doubt, to take revenge by sinking the brigantine and the two prizes. mr. glover opened fire upon them with grape with great effect. when they got into the battery they found that i had spiked the guns, which i did when i left them, thinking they might make just such a move. i sent off to you, sir, in order that the storehouses and buildings might be held while we cleared the wood on one side down to the mouth of the cove. when we have done that we can do the same on the other side." "did you have any casualties in taking the village?" "several wounded, sir, none killed. mr. glover drove them out with grape, and so rendered our work comparatively easy. i am sorry to say that almost the last shot fired by them hit mr. needham high up in the left arm. the doctor came ashore a few minutes ago, after attending to the wounded sent on board the _cerf_. he examined the arm, and tells me that the bone is completely smashed, and that he must amputate it half-way between the elbow and shoulder." "that is bad indeed. however, it is better than if it had been his right arm. mr. harpur," said the captain to the midshipman who had come ashore with him, "take the gig off and meet the boats. tell the launch and pinnace to go alongside the frigate, and request mr. normandy to send mr. marston ashore with fifty more men. what on earth are we to do with these poor creatures?" he went on to the first lieutenant as the gig rowed away. "of course we must take them to jamaica. theirs is a terrible position. no doubt they have all been captured in the prizes the villains have taken, and most of them must have seen their husbands or fathers murdered before their eyes. some of them may have been here long enough to become accustomed to their lot, many of them may have been captured lately. what is to become of them i don't know. "you have not opened any of the storehouses yet?" "no, sir, we have been pretty busy, you see. we cut down all the cactus hedges round the huts high up on the hill, so as to keep the pirates from working down and making a fresh attack upon us. as to the other houses, i have given strict orders that no one is to enter them. the men have piled arms and are lying down by them; many of them have not completely recovered from the shock of the explosion, and all are bruised more or less by being hurled on to the rocks or against the guns. i fancy the doctor will have his hands full for many a day." "well, you must pick out twenty or so from those most fit for duty. they can join the men i sent for and finish the business. the rest can be on guard here, in case the party on the other side take it into their heads to make an attack." chapter vi the negro rising while waiting for the arrival of the reinforcements, captain crosbie went on board the _cerf_. the wounded had all been carried below, where cots had been slung for them. after their wounds were dressed, he went round saying a few words to each, enquiring into the nature of their injuries. no attempt had been made to remedy the confusion on deck, except that the bodies of those that could be moved had been laid side by side. that of mr. playford and the others who had been crushed by the falling masts still lay beneath them, as the four men left on board were unable to do anything to extricate them until help arrived. the captain then went on board the prize. "mr. hill has spoken in the highest terms of the service that you have rendered, mr. glover, though i have not yet heard the full details. as the only surviving officer of the _cerf_, you had better, when you have time, draw out a full report for me of the work done by her. it will be another half-hour before we again commence operations against the pirates, and i shall be obliged if you will go on board the _cerf_ with your men and endeavour to get the body of mr. playford and the others from underneath the masts. nothing more can be done at present, but it is painful that they should be lying there. i fancy that with hand-spikes you will have no very great difficulty in raising the butt of the mast high enough to draw the bodies from under it. as soon as you have done that, bring the men back here. when the advance begins you will shell the wood ahead of it." "we will put you ashore first, sir; this is the only boat we have that will float." captain crosbie on landing went among the women, who were between seventy and eighty in number. some burst into tears when he spoke to them, others seemed dazed and quite unconscious that they were being addressed. feeling almost unmanned by the moving spectacle, captain crosbie was relieved when the two boats filled with men entered the mouth of the cove. as soon as they came alongside, the men leapt out in high spirits at the prospect of having a share in the fray. mr. hill had already picked out twenty of his own party. "i will myself take the command here, mr. hill. i don't wish to interfere with the credit that you will gain by this affair, therefore i leave the arrangement of your party in your hands." mr. hill marched the seventy men straight up the hill. "you will march straight on, mr. marston, until you reach the edge of the cliff, then you will return. see that the men are placed at regular intervals. you will then face to the right and the line will advance. no quarter will be given, except to men who throw down their arms and beg for it. i do not suppose that many will do so, as they know what their fate will be if they are taken to port royal. we have reason to believe that there cannot be more than eighty or so on this side, but if they keep in a body and make a rush at the line they will no doubt be able to break through. however, that we must risk, and i hardly think that they will attempt it, for they know that they must sooner or later fall into our hands. they will only starve if they conceal themselves. some may prefer death in that way, or may think that after we have left they may manage to get taken across to the mainland in native fishing-boats. however, search the ground closely. these men are steeped in blood; they have been the scourge of these seas for the past five or six years, and have never yet shown mercy." mr. hill then placed himself in the centre of the line, while mr. marston again took his place on the right. it was not until they had worked round nearly to the entrance that opposition was met with; then they came upon a spot where a mass of rock cropped up among the trees, and as they approached this a sharp fire of musketry broke out. mr. hill ordered the two ends of the line to advance so as to form a semicircle round the rock. when they were in position he gave the word to charge, and with a cheer the sailors dashed forward. led by their officers, they scrambled up the rocks like cats, discharged their muskets into the pirates grouped on its summit, and then threw themselves upon them cutlass in hand. in three minutes all was over; not a man asked for mercy, but all died fighting desperately to the end. four of the sailors were killed, several severely wounded. these were carried or helped down to the shore, and the rest of the party then scattered through the woods; but the closest search failed to discover a single man in hiding, although only some fifty of them had been accounted for. returning to the point from which they had started, the party then proceeded to search the forest at the other side of the cove. here, however, they met with no resistance. a few dead were found, but the forest was deserted. after searching in vain for some time it was concluded that the survivors had probably gone down the face of the cliff and hidden there in caves or in thickets in places that could only be reached by men well acquainted with the ground. after two hours' vain search, mr. hill led the party down to the shore again. while he had been away the captain had had the storehouses opened. these were filled with booty of all kinds, the plunder of at least fifty ships, as they judged by the chronometers, the marks on bales, and other articles. here were thousands of cases of wine, ranges of barrels of rum, hogsheads of sugar, coffee, and other colonial produce, quantities of bales of cotton cloths used for the slaves, furniture of all kinds, enormous numbers of trunks and boxes containing wearing apparel, bales of silks and satins, and an immense amount of table-linen. in the centre of one of the storehouses was a chamber constructed of stone four feet thick with an arched roof. the entrance was closed by two iron doors, one within the other, and these were so strong that it was necessary to drag up a six-pounder cannon to batter them in. when at last an entrance was forced, the strong-room was found to contain upwards of seventy thousand pounds in coin, hundreds of watches, and a large amount of jewellery, much of which was of spanish manufacture, and a great many church vessels and ornaments of silver. it was evident that, although no doubt a certain proportion of the spoil had been divided at the time of capture, the main bulk had been stored there for division some day when the haunt should be finally abandoned. the sailors now set about examining the bodies of the pirates who had been killed on the shore by the explosion. it was found that in almost every case they wore belts under their clothes, and that these contained from ten to a hundred pieces of gold. a systematic search was then made, and, in all, the money found upon the dead pirates amounted to six thousand pounds, which was added to the store taken from the treasury. the work of emptying the storehouses, getting up jury-masts on board the _cerf_, and doing the absolutely necessary repairs to her and the prizes occupied three days. the women had been placed in the brigantine after the craft had been thoroughly washed down and scoured, and she had been taken out and anchored near the frigate, to which the wounded had all been conveyed as soon as the fight was over. on the evening of the third day the storehouses and other buildings still standing were all burned, the cannon were taken on board the frigate, and the next morning the four vessels got up sail and started in company for jamaica. nat was left in command of the _cerf_ with fifteen men. low was in command of the schooner with twelve men. mr. marston had charge of the captured brigantine with fifteen men, all that could be spared from the diminished crew of the frigate. nat had had time, when the long day's work was over, to row off every evening to see needham, whose arm had been amputated an hour after the fight was ended. he was, the doctor said, going on well, and was in very good spirits. "this is sure to give me my step," he said to glover. "i shall have served my time in six months, and marston's rank will of course be confirmed, now that poor playford's death has made the vacancy permanent. you have another year to serve, have you not, glover?" "yes, rather more. however, of course this affair will help me too, as soon as i have passed." "it ought to, old fellow, considering you were the only officer left on board the _cerf_, and that you unfastened the boom under that tremendous fire, to say nothing of carrying the schooner and running the risk of being blown up when you went on board the brigantine. you will get your swab as soon as you have passed. you see it has been a big thing; fifty-eight men killed and a hundred and four put down as wounded; and the breaking up of this pirate's nest makes it the most important affair there has been out here for years. the other ships on the station will all feel quite jealous of us. there will be a goodish bit of prize-money, too, which is not to be despised. over eighty thousand pounds in gold and, i should say, over twenty thousand pounds in goods, makes even a midshipman's share something considerable. how is your arm, glover?" "well, it has been hurting me a bit. i am not conscious of having used it particularly, but i suppose when i was thrown down by that explosion it must have got wrenched somehow." "well, if i were you i would ask dr. bemish to have a look at it." glover did so. it was black and blue from the shoulder down to the elbow, and very tender to the touch. "i don't think anything is broken," the doctor said, "but it has been a very close shave. at any rate, it is just as well that i should put on splints and bandage it, and you must take to your sling again and keep to it for some time. it is not tender above the shoulder, is it?" "no, doctor; i think it is all right there." "that is lucky. you ought to go on the sick-list." "i cannot do that, sir. it would be giving up the command of the brigantine, and i would put up with anything rather than that." they had fine weather and a leading wind to jamaica, and their arrival there with the two captured prizes and the news that the piratical haunt had been completely destroyed, created quite a sensation, which was heightened by the rescue of so many females from the hands of the pirates. some fifteen of these found friends in the island, and the scene when they were handed over to them was painful in the extreme. a third of the number were french, and there were also some eighteen spaniards. all were temporarily taken in and cared for by families at port royal, and were sent off as soon as opportunity offered either to the islands for which they had been bound when captured, or to their friends in europe. mr. hill, in his report, had done full justice to the work done by the _cerf_, and had mentioned nat's going on board the brigantine to drown her magazine, and the great service that he had rendered in covering the advance of the sailors by the guns of that craft, and in inflicting such heavy punishment upon the two parties that had attempted to possess themselves of the batteries, and the admiral sent for him and personally congratulated him on his work. "i will see that as soon as you have passed, mr. glover, you shall have your commission as acting lieutenant. i have not forgotten what captain crosbie told me of your gallant action at cape françois." mr. hill was at once appointed to the command of a frigate whose captain had died of yellow fever, and received the rank of commander pending its confirmation from home; and mr. philpot, second lieutenant of that frigate, was appointed first lieutenant of the _orpheus_ in his place. the schooner and the _cerf_ were sold, for the latter had suffered so much damage forward by the fire concentrated upon her by the pirates' ships that she was considered unfit for further service. the other brigantine was bought into the service. the plunder taken was sold by auction, and the proceeds, together with the sum fetched by the three prizes, brought the total up to one hundred and five thousand pounds, a larger sum than had ever been captured by any vessel on the station. the new brigantine was re-christened the _falcon_, and mr. low was placed in command, with two midshipmen from other ships on the station under him. she was not, like the _cerf_, a tender to the _orpheus_, as the frigate could no longer spare a crew for her, having, in addition to the loss in action, been obliged to send thirty men to hospital on shore. the brigantine was therefore manned by drafts from other ships of war on the station. needham was also left on shore, being promoted at once to the rank of lieutenant, which left nat for the time senior midshipman of the _orpheus_, which was now directed to cruise in the neighbourhood of hayti, where complaints had been received of vessels being missing. two months after leaving jamaica the _orpheus_ again put in to cape françois. nat was still wearing his arm in a sling. there had been a good deal of swelling and inflammation, but this had now abated, and in his opinion his arm was perfectly well again, but the doctor insisted that he should as a precautionary measure still use the sling. the frigate needed some repairs, having carried away some spars in a hurricane a week previously, and on the day of their arrival the captain sent for nat, and said kindly: "we shall be here for a week, mr. glover, and the doctor thinks that another run among the hills will do you good, therefore you can go and stay with your friends there until we sail again. if you return this day week that will do. you have stuck to your work well, for doctor bemish said that for the first month at least you ought to have been on the sick-list, and at any rate you deserve a holiday for your share in that fight." on landing nat went first to monsieur duchesne's office. the planter had but just driven in, and his horse and trap were still standing at the door. the negro driver gave a friendly grin as he saw him. "glad to see you, sah, bery glad; eberyone will be glad. hope you all well, sah?" "thank you, cæsar. all well at the plantation, i hope?" and he went into the office, where he was most warmly received by monsieur duchesne. "i had been told that your ship came into port at daybreak, my dear monsieur glover, and i should have come off to ask after you as soon as i had answered my letters, and to carry you off if the captain would give you leave. but i see your arm is still in a sling. you have not hurt it, i hope?" "i hurt it in that fight we had with the pirates. i dare say you heard of it." "everyone has heard of it," the planter said. "it was splendid, and there is not one here who does not feel grateful indeed to your ship for having rid us of all those scoundrels, who have been doing us so much harm for years. you have not hurt it much, i hope?" "it was bad for a bit, but it is all right again now. the doctor orders me to keep to the sling for some time longer, though i am sure there is not the least necessity for it." "and now about your leave, shall i go off to the ship, think you?" "the captain himself gave me leave this morning for a week without my even asking for it." "that is good news indeed. my carriage is at the door; i fortunately told cæsar to wait, as there are some things to take back. my wife and myra will be delighted to see you, they talk of you always, and will be glad indeed to have you with them again. my boy has gone out to buy the matters required by madame, he will be back in a few minutes." a quarter of an hour later nat was on his way out to the plantation, where he was received with a welcome of the warmest kind by madame duchesne and her daughter. both were greatly concerned at finding that his arm had again been injured. "it is hard indeed," myra said, "that i should be so well and strong again, and that you should still be suffering for what you did for me." "i do not think," he said, "that that business has really anything to do with the last one. a pirate ship blew up close to us; the shock was tremendous. the masts of the brigantine i was in snapped off as if they had been carrots, everyone on deck was thrown down, twelve were killed outright, and the rest of us were all a great deal bruised and hurt. the doctor said that he thought my arm might very well have been broken even had it not been for that accident, and as i came off better than most of the others, i certainly have no reason to complain. it is really quite well again now, and i can use it for almost all purposes. i consider it absurd that i should wear this sling, and would take it off at once, only the doctor made me promise that i would generally wear it; indeed, on board i always took my arm out when i wanted to use it, and he said himself that a certain amount of exercise was good for me." monsieur duchesne came home as usual just at sunset. nat noticed that at dinner he was evidently preoccupied, though he endeavoured to join in the conversation as cheerily as usual. after the ladies had left the table he said: "you may have noticed that i am _distrait_, monsieur glover, but it is an anxious time for all of us on the island, and has been so, indeed, for some time. you see we are divided into three classes: there are the pure whites, the mulattoes, and the negroes, and even these are subdivided. there are the old settlers, men who, like myself, belong to noble french families, and who, i hope, keep up the best traditions of our country; there are the poor whites, landless men who are discontented with their position, and hate those who are better off, while they stand aloof from the mulattoes. these, again, are equally divided. many of them are rich men with plantations. they send their sons and daughters over to france to be educated, and take it much amiss that we, who are of pure blood, do not associate with them. then, again, there are the negroes, who number no fewer than five hundred thousand, while we whites are but forty thousand. we went on well enough together until the states general met in france. it was a bad affair that, for us as well as for france. from that time there has been a ferment. we sent over deputies, eighteen of them, but the assembly only allowed six to take their seats, and while they snubbed us, the young mulattoes were treated with the greatest favour. "then came the news that the assembly had passed a declaration asserting all men to be free and equal. you may imagine what a shock this was to us. some of the mulattoes, in their excitement, took up arms to show that they were free, but they were easily put down. however, when the national assembly heard of the excitement and dissatisfaction caused among the french in all their colonies, they made another decree authorizing each colony to elect its own legislative assembly. our assembly here lost their heads on finding power in their hands, and passed a constitution which practically renounced all allegiance to france. some riots broke out, and things would have been very serious had not, on the eleventh of october last year (1790), a decree been passed by the national assembly modifying the former one. however, on the fifteenth of may they passed another, declaring all people of colour in the french colonies, born of free parents, entitled to vote for members of the colonial assembly, and to be elected to seats themselves. "when the news came here six weeks ago, you can imagine the excitement. meetings were held, and it was even proposed to throw off allegiance to france and to hoist the british flag instead of ours. happily calmer thoughts came, and matters cooled down, but there can be no doubt that the state of affairs is critical. the mulattoes, who outnumber the whites, do not know how to contain themselves with joy, and disputes between them and the whites take place daily. then there are the negroes. you see, the decree does nothing for them. it is hard to know what the negroes think, even whether they care that they are not to have a vote is not known to us. it is clear that it would be of little advantage to them, and, you see, no one who was not out of his mind could think of giving a vote to them, for their vote would be five times as large as that of the whites and mulattoes together. we should have an assembly composed entirely of slaves, and these slaves would at once vote that all the land and property in the island should be divided among themselves. what think you of that, monsieur glover?" "it would be madness indeed," nat agreed. "then, you see, even if they did not do that they would declare themselves free, and we should all be ruined. _sapristi!_ it makes one's blood cold to think of such a thing. but, nevertheless, the negroes are like children, they can be led by a little talk, and among them there are men of some intelligence who could work the rest up to a state of madness. i do not say that this will come--heaven defend us from such a calamity!--still, monsieur, you will comprehend that we all feel as if we were sitting on the edge of a volcano. such strange things happen. what may not occur next? you will understand that i do not talk of these things before my wife and child. they, of course, know about the past, but as for the future they do not trouble themselves at all. i have spoken to some of my friends, and they laugh at the idea of the slaves rising. they say, truly enough, that they are far better treated here than in your british colonies. but then there has been no revolution in england. people have not been stirred up to a state of excitement. the nation has not lost its head, as in france. i say that it is possible there may be trouble with the slaves." "not here, surely, monsieur? your negroes seem to me to be contented and happy, and i am sure they are well treated." "that is undoubtedly so; but, as i told you, the negroes are like children, they will laugh one minute and scream with rage the next. there is never any saying what they may do. i can hardly bring myself to think that such a thing could happen, but i have taken to carrying pistols in my pockets, and i have stored some arms in that closet in the hall; at least i should have them handy, and i doubt not that the house servants will remain true, and i hope many of my slaves. it is for this that i have gathered the arms together." "but surely you would have warning?" "at the first whisper i should, of course, drive my wife and child down to the town, where we should be safe, for there the whites are strong, and we have no fear of an attack. however, we must trust that such a thing may never happen, or that if it does, it may be in the far distance. but come when it will, everyone should receive warning in plenty of time to make all preparations. it seems to me impossible that a plot of any magnitude could be passed from end to end of this island, and be known to so vast a number of negroes, without some of them warning their masters of the danger, for there are tens of thousands who are almost like members of their masters' families." "i should say it is quite impossible that any extensive plot could be hatched without its being known in a very short time to everyone," nat agreed; "and in any case, although those who live far in the interior of the island might have reason to fear, should the negroes break out, i can hardly think that, within little more than an hour's drive from the city, you need feel any uneasiness whatever." "no, i feel that there ought to be no trouble here, at any rate unless there is a successful insurrection in other parts of the island; no doubt that would be infectious elsewhere. but the negroes near the town would be the last to join in such a movement, for they might be sure that the whites there would take speedy vengeance on all within their reach. however, let us think no more of it at present; my wife and myra will be wondering what we can find to talk about so long." nat lay awake for some time that night thinking of what monsieur duchesne had said. he had heard vaguely, while he was there before, of the manner in which the revolution in france had affected the island, but it was a subject that was little discussed at the planter's. having all the feelings and prejudices of the old _noblesse_ of france, he had from the first been opposed to the popular movement in paris, and had held himself altogether aloof from the demonstration on the island. the subject was painful to him, and he had seldom alluded to it in his family circle. it seemed to nat inconceivable that any general movement could be planned among the blacks without warning being received by the planters. when he went out next day he looked with more attention than before at the slaves working on the plantations. it seemed to him that their demeanour was quieter than usual; the mulatto overseers seemed to pay less attention to them, and he was surprised to come upon three of them talking earnestly together, whereas, hitherto, he had always seen them on different parts of the estate. on the following morning, the 23rd of august, monsieur duchesne started as usual soon after seven o'clock, for the heat was now intense, and it was dangerous to be out after the sun had obtained its full power. an hour later nat was sitting in the verandah behind the house with madame duchesne and myra, when an old negress ran out; her eyes were wide open with terror and excitement, and her face was almost pale. "madame and mam'selle must fly and hide themselves!" she exclaimed. "nigger come in half an hour ago wid news dat slabes rise last night in many places all ober de country and kill all de whites. dinah hear dat all people expect dat, only not for anober two days. oberseers de leaders now. dey come here quick wid all de field hands. not a moment to be lost. fly for your libes!" "impossible!" madame duchesne exclaimed, as she and myra sprang to their feet alarmed, but incredulous. "it may be true, madame," nat exclaimed. "for god's sake run with myra in among the shrubbery there; i will join you in a moment. if it is a false alarm all the better; but it may be true, and there is not a moment to lose. do you hear those shouts?" a burst of yells and shouts rose in the air a short distance away. "run! run!" nat exclaimed as he dashed into the house, rushed to the closet in the hall, seized two brace of pistols, a sword, and half a dozen packets of cartridges for the pistols, and then ran out into the verandah just in time to see the white dresses of the ladies disappear into the shrubbery close to the entrance of the verandah. some wraps which they sometimes put on to keep off the evening dew when they were sitting out of doors were hung up close by him. hastily snatching these off their hooks, he dashed off at full speed, for the tumult was now approaching the front of the house. the ladies had stopped just within the cover of the bushes. "run!" he cried; "there is not a moment to lose. they will be searching for us as soon as they find that we are not in the house." the belt of foliage extended all round the garden, and, keeping inside, they ran to the other end. fortunately, adjoining the garden was a plantation of sugar-cane which had not yet been cut, for although the greater portion of the cane is cut in april, freshly made plantations planted at that time are not fit to cut until the autumn of the following year. the canes were ten feet high, and as the rows were three feet apart, there was plenty of room to run between them. scarcely a word was spoken as they hurried along. the plantation was some four hundred yards across; beyond it stretched another of equal size, extending to the edge of the forest. the canes here, which had been cut four months before, were three feet high; at other times many negroes would have been at work hoeing the ground round the roots, but when nat looked out cautiously from the edge of the higher canes not a soul was to be seen. "i think it is perfectly safe," he said; "but you had better put on the dark wraps, your light dresses would be seen a long distance away. we had better move a short distance farther to the right before we attempt to go straight on. if you will walk one after the other, treading in each other's steps, i will take off my shoes and follow you; that will destroy your traces, and the marks of my bare feet might be taken for those of a negro. please do not lose a moment," he said, as he saw that madame duchesne was about to speak; "there will be time to talk when we get into the forest and settle what we had best do." they had gone but a few yards when nat's eye caught sight of a hoe lying on the ground a short distance along one of the rows of the young canes. he ran and fetched it, the others stopping while he did so. then as he went along he carefully obliterated his footsteps, and continued to do so until when, after walking thirty or forty yards farther, he turned into the young plantation. the surface of the ground was almost dust-dry, and between the rows of the growing canes a track had been worn by the feet of the slaves, who every two or three days hoed round the roots; here, therefore, there was no occasion to use the hoe, as the ground was so hard that his feet left no marks upon it. in a few minutes they entered the wood and went in some little distance; then they stopped. they could still hear the yells of the negroes, who, nat doubted not, were engaged in plundering the house, after which he felt sure that there would be an eager search for the fugitives. the ground had been rising all the way. "i see you need a few minutes' rest," he said to madame duchesne, who was so much shaken that it was evident she could walk but little farther. "i will go back to the edge of the wood and see if there are any signs of their following us." just as he reached the open ground there was a louder outburst than usual of exulting cries; he saw a column of smoke rising from the trees, and knew that the negroes had set the house on fire. he returned at once to the ladies. madame duchesne had sunk on the ground. myra was kneeling beside her. "we must go on, madame," he said; "the scoundrels have fired the house." she rose to her feet. "i am better now," she said with a calmness that greatly pleased nat. "it seemed a dream at first. what does it all mean, nat?" for she as well as her daughter had come to address him by that name. "i fear it is a general rising of the blacks throughout the island," he replied. "monsieur duchesne told me last night that he thought such an event might possibly take place, but he made sure that if it occurred we should have ample warning. by what your old nurse said it must have been an arranged thing, to take place on the twenty-fifth, but something must have hurried it. i think, to begin with, we had better go half a mile farther into the forest. we can talk as we go." "had we not better make straight for the town?" "i think not, though of course i will do whatever you believe to be best; but there are a score of plantations between us and the town, and i have no doubt that the slaves will have risen everywhere. besides, if your own negroes fail to follow our track, they will make sure that we have gone in that direction, and will be on the look-out for us; therefore i think that for the present we had better remain in the forest." "but how can we live here?" she asked. "there will be no difficulty about that," he replied; "there are plenty of plantations of yams, and i can go down and dig them up at night. the young canes will quench your thirst if we fail to hit upon a spring, but we know that there are several of these among the hills, for we pass over five or six little streamlets on our way to the town." "i am sure nat will look well after us," myra said confidently; "besides, mamma, i am certain that you could not walk down there. you know you never do walk, and i cannot recollect your walking so far as you have done to-day." this indeed had been the chief reason why nat had decided that they had better stay in the forest at present, although he had not mentioned it. like all creoles--as whites born in the islands were called in the french west indies--madame duchesne was altogether unaccustomed to exercise, and beyond a stroll in the garden when the heat of the day was over, had not walked since her childhood. the heat, indeed, rendered a journey of any kind next to impossible during the greater part of the day. they had slaves to do their bidding, to wait on them, fetch and carry, and consequently even in the house they had no occasion for the slightest personal exertion. madame duchesne, being of a naturally more energetic temperament than are creoles in general, was less indolent than the majority of the ladies of the island, but was wholly incapable of taking a walk of which english ladies would have thought nothing. she was already greatly exhausted by the excitement and the fatigue of their hasty flight, and to nat it seemed at once that it was hopeless for her to think of attempting the journey of fifteen miles across a rough country. the forest grew thicker as they advanced, and after walking for half an hour madame duchesne declared that it was impossible for her to go farther. nat was indeed surprised that she had held on for so long. she had been leaning on his arm, and he felt the weight becoming heavier and heavier every step. she was bathed in perspiration, her breath came in gasps, and he himself proposed a halt, feeling that she was at the end of her strength. chapter vii in hiding "the first thing to do," nat said, after he had seen that madame duchesne was as comfortably seated as possible, "is to find some sort of hiding-place. we may be sure that the negroes will search everywhere for you, and that, released from work and having nothing to do, they will wander about the woods, and one of them might come upon us at any moment. therefore, unless we can find some sort of shelter, i dare not leave you for a minute." "but why should you leave us?" myra asked. "we must eat and drink," he said. "i must endeavour to discover what is going on elsewhere; i must, if possible, obtain a disguise, and endeavour to find out what are the intentions of the blacks, and ascertain whether it will be possible to obtain help from the town; and i can begin to do nothing until i feel that you are at least comparatively safe. there is no doubt, madame duchesne, that our position is a very painful one, but we have a great deal to be thankful for. if the rising had taken place in the night, as no doubt it did at the plantations where the negroes began their work, we should all have been murdered without the chance of resistance. now, we have escaped with our lives, and have the satisfaction of knowing that monsieur duchesne is safe in the town, and will assuredly do his best to rescue us; but that can hardly be yet. cape françois is no doubt in a state of wild panic, and will in the first place be thinking of how it can best defend itself." "there are, of course, many other planters there in the same position as your husband. each will be thinking of his own people; nothing like a general effort will be possible. at any rate, it seems to me that it must be some time before any operations can take place to put down the insurrection. if one could but get hold of some messenger one could trust, and could let monsieur duchesne know that you are for the present safe, it would be an immense relief to him; but so far as we know at present that old nurse is the only one of your slaves who is faithful, and even if i could find her and get her to carry a note or a message, it is unlikely in the extreme that she would be permitted to pass on into the town. however, as i say, the first thing is to discover a hiding-place where you would be comparatively safe, and before i go to find a messenger i will look round for some clump of undergrowth where nothing but close search could find you. i think that those bushes we see across there would do for the moment. you cannot remain here, for you would be seen at once by anyone who came along within fifty yards of you. i will go and see at once whether it would do." without waiting for an answer he hurried away. on examination he found that the place was more suitable than he had expected. a great tree had once stood there, and had been sawn off close to the ground. round this a clump of bushes had sprung up, growing so thickly that it was impossible to see into the centre save by pushing aside the bushes and entering the little circle. he hastened back. "it will do excellently for our hiding-place for the present," he said, "and the sooner we are inside the better." he assisted madame duchesne to her feet, led her to the bushes, and then bent some of them very carefully aside. the ladies made their way in, and he followed them, seeing that each of the saplings fell back in its natural position. "there, madame," he said, "unless anyone took it into his head to push in as we have done we are absolutely safe. but it will be better that you should keep your dark cloaks on. i do not think that anyone could see through this thick screen of leaves, but it is as well to be on the safe side." "you won't leave us at present?" "certainly not," he said. "after it gets dark i shall make my way down to the house. i must get a disguise of some sort; it does not matter much what it is, for i expect the slaves will be dressing up in the clothes they have stolen, no matter what they are. with some charred wood i can blacken my face and hands. no doubt anyone would see at once on looking at me closely that i was not a negro, but at a distance i should pass." "you would make a better mulatto than you would a negro," myra said. "so i should; as they are all shades of colour, i should not have to be very particular." "if we had dinah here with us," myra said, "she could make you some dye. she knows all about berries and roots, and generally doctors any of the women who may be ill; she would know for sure of some berries that would stain your skin." "well, i must see if i can find her, myra. if not, i must use the charcoal, but certainly the other would be much the safer; and, you see, thanks to my long stay with you before, i have got to speak french very fairly now." the day passed slowly. occasionally they heard shouts lower down in the forest, but these did not come near them, and after a time died away. "i thought they would hardly come up as far as this," nat said; "negroes are not given to work unless they are obliged to, and they will find it so pleasant doing nothing that they are hardly likely to give themselves the trouble to search very far for us. besides, doubtless they have other things to think about. they will know that their work has only begun when they have burnt their masters' houses, and killed all the white people they can lay their hands upon, and that until they have taken possession of the towns they are not masters of the island. no doubt, too, they carried out the wine before they burnt the house." "besides," myra said, "there is the rum store; there are at least a hundred barrels there." "yes, i did not think of that. well, i expect that before this the greater part of them are drunk, and i don't suppose there will be a sober man left to-night. that will make it an easy business for me to find out what they are doing, and to get hold of the things that will be useful to you. i am more afraid of the mulattoes than of the negroes." "do you think that they would join the blacks?" "i have no doubt at all about it--i feel sure they have done so. i saw three of them talking together yesterday; they were paying no attention to the slaves, and i thought then that it was rather peculiar. besides, we know that these lower class of mulattoes are as hostile to the whites as the negroes are, if not more so, and i have no doubt they have had a good deal to do with exciting the slaves to revolt. and now, madame duchesne, i will go down through the woods and get you some sugar-cane, and look for a stream." madame duchesne protested, but she was accustomed to have every want supplied as soon as expressed, and she was suffering much from thirst after the excitement and effort. "you really require something," nat went on. "you see, if i go down after dark i may be away for two or three hours, and were you to wait till then you would be in a fever with thirst. it is evident that the negroes have all left the wood, therefore there can be no risk in my going down and cutting a dozen of the young canes." "if you go," she said firmly, sitting up as she spoke, "you must leave me two of your pistols--they are double-barrelled, are they not?" "yes, madame." "well, leave two. if the negroes come and begin to search this place i shall shoot myra first and then myself, for death would be a thousand times preferable to falling into the hands of these wretches." "i think you are right there," nat said gravely, "and if i thought that there would be the slightest fear of their coming i would not leave you. i shall not be away a quarter of an hour. i will leave my jacket and cap here, and tie a handkerchief round my head, so that should i by any chance come across a searcher, he will not recognize me until i am close enough to silence him. i shall take the sword as well as the other brace of pistols; it will be useful for cutting down the canes." taking off his jacket and waistcoat, and tying his handkerchief round his head, he made his way through the bushes, and then started at a fast run down the hill, keeping, however, a sharp look-out as he went. as he expected, there were no signs of the blacks. as he reached the edge of the wood, and cut the canes, he could hear the sound of distant yells in the direction of the house. "the brutes have got at the rum," he said. "if i had but half a dozen blue-jackets, i believe i could clear the lot out. i do hope," he went on, as he started on his way back, "i shall be able to lay my hand on something to eat, and get hold of a bottle or two of wine. madame will never be able to get on on yams and sugar-canes, accustomed as she has been to every luxury. myra will be all right, she is a regular young brick." as he neared the clump of bushes he cried out cheerily: "all right, madame, i have got the canes, and have not caught sight of a negro." an exclamation of relief followed. madame duchesne and myra were both standing as he entered, each with a pistol in her hand. "i was not alarmed by your footstep," she said, "for anyone who was searching for us would come along slowly and stealthily; but i thought you might be pursued." "if i had been," nat laughed, "you may be very sure i should not have brought them this way, but would have given them a dance all over the place, and then slipped away and come back here." "i know that," she said earnestly, "but i am nervous and shaken." "very naturally, too," nat said: "you felt very much as i did when, after that explosion, i went on board the other pirate to drown the magazine. i believe that if anyone had given a shout close to me i should have tumbled headlong down on the deck. i think, now, we are perfectly safe till to-morrow. by the noises i heard down by the house i should say that most of the slaves are drunk already, and you may be sure that they will not think of starting to look for us till to-morrow. now, if you will take my advice, you will try to sleep a bit." accustomed to sleep for two or three hours during the heat of the day, madame duchesne was indeed feeling so drowsy that she could with difficulty keep her eyes open, and she now in the course of a few minutes was breathing quietly and regularly. "now, myra, do you watch by your mother while i go and look for water. that tiny stream that crosses the road a quarter of a mile above your house must come down not far from here, and it is essential that we should be near it." "but it is near water that they are most likely to look for us." "i did not think of that, myra; of course it is. well, then, we must move over this hill and hide up in the next little valley we come to. there is a road that turns off half a mile above your house. i never went far along it, but it seems to go right up into the heart of the hills." "i never went up it either, nat, but i have heard my father say there were a good many small clearings up among the hills, some with twenty slaves, some with only two or three." "then, when i come back from seeing how things are going on at the house, we had better make for that road, keeping along down at the end of the plantation until we come to it. it will be much better to keep straight along there till we pass some little valley where there is a stream, than to wander about in the wood; and we shall be farther away from those who may be looking after us. if your mother sleeps for two or three hours she will be able to go some little distance to-night." myra shook her head doubtingly. "we must get her on," he added, "even if we have to carry her. it is all very well for us, because i am as hard as nails, and you do a lot of walking for a white girl here, but your mother is not strong. you saw how terribly exhausted she was when she got here, and it is quite likely that she may knock up altogether; therefore it is essential to get her into shelter. we are safe for to-day, but to-morrow we may have the negroes all over the hills, and it will have to be a wonderfully good hiding-place to escape their search." "but do you feel sure that they have risen on all the other plantations?" "i have not the least doubt that they have risen on every plantation in this neighbourhood. your slaves were wonderfully well treated, and would not have joined unless they had known that it was a general rising. you know the old nurse said that it was to have been on the twenty-fifth, which means, of course, that it was a great plot all over the island. of course in some places they may not have got the news yet, and may not rise for a day or two, but you may be sure that all around here it has been general." "but why should they want to kill us?" "because they are really nothing but savages. though they have in many cases been slaves for generations, still there are always fresh slaves arriving; and the others know that their fathers, like these, were captured and sold to the whites, that they had terrible times in the slave-ships, and are on some plantations treated like dogs, and are bought and sold just like cattle. i don't wonder at it that, now they have got a chance, as they think, they should take vengeance for all the ills they have suffered. when they are at war with each other in africa they kill or enslave all who fall into their hands--men, women, or children--and you may be sure that they will show no mercy here. when i was down at the edge of the wood to cut those canes i could see smoke rising from a dozen points lower down. it is possible that some besides ourselves got warning in time, but i am afraid very few can have escaped; for you see, once beyond the line of wood, which does not go more than a mile or two further, there will be no hiding-places for them. there is only one comfort, and that is, the news must have got down to the town in a very short time, and there is no fear of your father driving out and being taken by surprise. my greatest hope lies in that old nurse of yours. she could do more in the way of helping us than we could do ourselves. she could go and get things, and hear what is going on. she is old, but she is a strong woman still, and could help to carry your mother, and attend to her if she is ill." "do you think she is going to be ill?" myra asked anxiously, looking at her mother. "i sincerely trust not, myra, but i own that i am afraid of it. she is breathing faster than she did, and she has moved restlessly several times while we have been talking, and has a patch of colour on each cheek, which looks like fever. however, we must hope for the best. anyhow, i shall bring dinah up here if possible." so they talked till the sun went down. madame duchesne still slept, but her breathing was perceptibly faster. she occasionally muttered to herself, and scarcely lay still for a moment. "i will be going now," nat said at last; "it will be pitch dark by the time i get down to the house; it is dark already here. you have the pistols, myra, but you may be quite sure that no one will be searching now. i may have some difficulty in finding these bushes when i come back, but i will whistle, and when i do, do you give a call. i hope i shall bring dinah back with me." "oh, i do hope you will. she would be a comfort to us." nat heard a quaver in her voice, which showed that she was on the point of breaking down. "you must not give way, myra," he said. "you have been very plucky up to now, and for your mother's sake you must keep up a brave heart and hope always for the best. i rely upon you greatly. we may have many dangers to go through, but with god's help we may hope to rejoin your father. but we must be calm and patient. we have been marvellously fortunate so far, and shall, i hope, be so until the end. when i find out what the negroes intend to do we shall be able to decide upon our course. it may be that they will pour down from all the plantations within thirty or forty miles round and attack the town, or it may be that they will march away into the mountains in the interior of the island, in which case the road to the town will be open to us. now, good-bye; i will be back as soon as i can." "do not hurry," she said. "i will try to be brave, and i don't mind waiting, because i shall know that you are trying to get nurse, and of course it may be difficult for you to find her alone." "good-bye, then," he said cheerfully, and passing through the bushes he went rapidly down the hill. on reaching the cane-field he again took off his shoes. he did not hurry now. it was a tremendous responsibility that he had upon his shoulders. he thought nothing of the danger to himself, but of how madame duchesne and her daughter were to be sheltered and cared for if, as he feared, the former was on the edge of an attack of fever, which might last for days, and so prostrate her that weeks might elapse before she would be fit to travel. "i must get dinah at all costs," he said to himself. "she knows what will be wanted, and will be a companion to myra when i have to be away." as he neared the place where the house had stood he heard sounds of shouting and singing coming from a spot near the storehouses, where a broad glow of light showed that a great bonfire was burning. he kept in the shrubbery until near the house, and then stepped out on to the grass. the house was gone, and a pile of still glowing embers alone marked where it had stood. nat approached this, found a piece of charred timber that had fallen a short distance from it, and proceeded to blacken his face and hands. then he turned towards the fire. as he had expected, it was not long before he came across the figure of a prostrate man, who was snoring in a drunken sleep. the stars gave sufficient light for him to see as he bent over him that he was a negro. he had attired himself in what when he put them on were a clean nankeen jacket and trousers, a part of the spoil he had taken in the sack of the house. without ceremony nat turned him over, and with some trouble removed the garments and put them on over his own. then he took the red handkerchief that the negro had bound round his head and tied it on, putting his own bandana in his pocket. "now," he said to himself, "i shall do, provided i keep away from the light of that fire. the first point is to find where dinah has gone. i know she has a daughter and some grandchildren down at the slaves' huts. i should think i have most chance of finding her there." turning off, he went to the huts, which lay two or three hundred yards away from the house. as he did so he passed near the houses in which the mulatto overseers lived. there were lights here, and he could hear the sound of voices through the open windows. "i will come back to them later on," he said, "i may hear something of their plans; but dinah is the most important at present." he was soon among the slave huts. no one was about, the women being mostly up at the fire with the men. he looked in at the door of each hut he passed. as he was still without shoes his movements were noiseless. in a few of them women were cooking, or putting their children to bed. at the last hut of the first row which he visited an old negro woman was rocking herself in great grief, and two or three children were playing on the floor. nat knew that he had come to the end of his search, by the blue cotton dress with large white spots that the woman wore. he went in and touched her. "dinah," he whispered, "come outside!" she gave a little start of surprise, and then said to the children: "now, you stop here, like good childer, aunt dinah is agoing out. if you keep quiet she tell you story when she comes in." [illustration: "it was not long before he came across the figure of a prostrate man."] then she went out with nat without any appearance of haste. by long connection with the family she spoke french fairly well, whereas the negro patois, although mostly composed of french words, was almost unintelligible to him. "tank de lord dat you hab come back, marse glober. dinah fret terrible all day. am de ladies well? whar you hide dem?" "they are up in the wood, dinah. i am greatly afraid that madame duchesne is going to have fever, and you are sorely wanted there. myra said she was sure that you would come when you knew where they were." "for suah me come, massa," she said. "what madame and mam'selle myra do widout dinah? so you black your face?" "yes, but i want some juice to make my face yellow like a mulatto. anyone could see that i was not a negro in the daylight." "dat so. me bring 'tuff wid me. what you want beside?" "we shall want a bottle or two of wine if you can get them, and a jug of fresh water, and anything you can get in the way of eatables, and i should say a cooking pot. those are the principal things." "dere am plenty ob boxes of wine up near house. dis black trash like rum better, leave wine for de mulattoes; dey bery bad man dose. where you go now, marse glober? me take some time to get de tings." "it would be a good thing, too, if you could get hold of enough cotton cloth to make dresses for them." the old woman nodded. "plenty ob dat, sah. storehouses all broke open, eberyone take what him like. dis dreadful day, almost break dinah's heart." "it has been a terrible day, dinah, and i am afraid that the same bad work is going on everywhere." "so dey say, marse, so dey say. where you go now, sah?" "i am going to the overseers' huts to hear what their plans are. where shall i meet you, dinah?" "me take tings to bush just where you and de ladies ran in. me make two or tree journeys, but me be as quick as can." "do; it is anxious work for myra there, and i want to get back as soon as i can. her mother is asleep, and even if she wakes i do not think she will be able to talk much." "me hurry, sah, but can't get 'tuff to stain you skin to-night. find berries up in de wood to-morrow." "there is one other thing, dinah. can you tell me where to find a hand-barrow? i expect we shall have to carry your mistress." "me know de sort ob ting dat you want, sah, dey carry tobacco leabes on dem. dere are a dozen ob dem lying outside de end store." "all right, dinah, i will take one as i go past. now i will go." so saying, he turned and made his way to the overseers' house. he crept softly along to a lighted window. when in a line with it he stood up for a minute, knowing that those inside would not be able to see him, there being a screen of trees just behind him. the three mulattoes whom he had seen talking together in the field on the previous day were seated round a table. on it were placed two or three wine-glasses. all were smoking. "to-morrow we must get those drunken black hogs to work," one said, "and have a regular search through the woods. everything has gone well except the escape of madame and her gal. someone must have warned them. the house niggers all agree that they were in the verandah behind just before we came up, talking with that english lad. of course they will be found sooner or later, there is nowhere for them to run to. the thing is, we want to find them ourselves. if anyone else came upon them they would kill them at once." "yes, and you will have some trouble if you find them, monti," one of the other men said. "these blacks have been told that every white must be killed. it is easy enough to work these fellows up into a frenzy, but it is not so easy to calm them down afterwards." "no, i am quite aware of that, christophe, and that is why i did not press the search to-day, and why i was not sorry to find that they had got away." "you see, we have arranged that when the whites are all killed i am to marry madame, that paul is to take the young one, and that we are to divide the place equally between the three of us." "if the negroes will let us," the one called monti said. "i expect they will want to have a say in the business." "yes, of course, that is understood. no doubt there will be trouble with them, and there is no saying how things will turn out yet. at any rate we will make sure of the women. i have gone into this more for the sake of getting the girl than for anything else." "we have made a good beginning everywhere, as far as we have heard, but you must remember that it is only a beginning. even suppose the whites of the town do nothing, and i fancy we shall hear of them presently, they will send over troops from france." "they can do nothing against us up in the mountains," christophe said scornfully. "that may be," the other said quietly; "but at any rate there are the blacks to deal with. they have risen against the whites, but when they have done with them we need not suppose for a moment that they are going to work for us. luckily, here it has been the order that no slave is to be flogged without duchesne's approving of it, and the result is that we are for the present masters of this plantation, but we have heard that at some of the other places the overseers as well as the whites have been killed. the order has gone through the island that all the whites, including women and children, are to be killed, and if we were to come across the women when we have forty or fifty of the blacks with us i don't think there would be a chance of our saving them. these negroes are demons when their blood is up. they know, too, that they have gone too far to be forgiven, and will believe that their safety depends upon carrying out the orders faithfully. it seems to me that we are in a rather awkward fix. if we don't take the blacks out to-morrow we sha'n't find them, if we do take them out they will be killed." "we ourselves may find them," paul said. "yes; and if you do, they will have that english lad with them." "we can soon settle him," christophe growled. "well, i don't say we couldn't; but you know how he fought that hound, and there was a report two days ago, from the town, that they have attacked the red pirate's stronghold, taken it, and destroyed his four ships. i grant that as we are three to one we shall kill him, but one or two of us may go down before we do so. now, i tell you frankly that as i have no personal interest in finding those two women, i have no idea of running the risk of getting myself shot in what is your affair altogether. any reasonable help i am willing to give you, but when it comes to risking my life in the matter i say, 'no, thank you.'" the others broke into a torrent of savage oaths. "well," he went on calmly, "i am by no means certain that the english boy would not be a match for the three of us. we should not know where he was, but he would see us, and he might shoot a couple of us down before we had time to draw our pistols. then it will be man against man; and i know that girl has practised shooting, so that the odds would be the other way. now, i ask you calmly, is it worth it?" "what do you propose, then?" paul asked sulkily, after a long silence. "i say that we had better wait till we can get hold of some of these blacks; a little money and a little flattery will go a long way with them. we can tell them that we have private orders that, although most of the whites have to be put to death, a few are to be kept, among them these two. we shall elect a president and generals, and it is right that they should have white women to wait on them, just as the whites have been having blacks. that is just the sort of thing that will take with these ignorant fools. then with, say, ten men we might search the woods thoroughly, find the women, and hide them up somewhere under your charge; but we must go quietly to work. a few days will make no difference. we know that they can't get away. the men of the plantations lower down have undertaken to see that no whites make their way into the town. but it will not do to hurry the negroes, they are sure to be either sullen or arrogant to-morrow. some of them, when they get over their drink, will begin to fear the consequences, others will be so triumphant that for a time our influence will be gone." "that is the best plan," christophe said. "you have the longest head of us three, monti. for a time it will be necessary to let the blacks have their own way." nat, while this conversation went on, had been fingering his pistol indecisively. his blood was so fired by the events of the day, and the certainty that hundreds of women and children must have been murdered, that he would have had no hesitation in shooting the three mulattoes down. indeed he had quite intended to do so, in the case at any rate of paul and christophe, when he learned their plans; the advice, however, of the other, who was evidently the leading spirit, decided him against this course. it was unlikely that he would be able to shoot the three, for at the first shot they would doubtless knock the candle over; besides, it was better that they should live. evidently they would in some way persuade the great mass of the negroes not to trouble themselves to search the wood, and some days must elapse before they could get a party together on whom they could rely to spare the women and take them as prisoners. if they did so, and, as they proposed, put them in some hut in charge of paul and christophe, he would have a fair chance of rescuing them, if he succeeded in getting away at the time they were captured. at any rate, if they carried out their plans they would have some days' respite, and he could either take madame duchesne and myra a good deal further into the hills, or might even be able to get them into the town. the mulattoes now began to talk of other matters--how quickly the insurrection would spread, the towns that were to be attacked, and the steps to be taken--and he therefore quietly made off, and waited for dinah at the place agreed on. it was not long before she arrived with her first load. "i am here," he said as she came up. "now, what can i do? i had better come and help you back with the other things. we can carry them in the hand-barrow." "yes, sah. i'se got dem all together, de tings we talked of, and tree or four blankets, and a few tings for de ladies, and i'se taken two ob de best frocks i could find in de huts. i'se got de wine and de food in a big basket." "all right, dinah; let us start at once, i am anxious to be back again as soon as possible." in ten minutes they returned with all the things. the basket of wine and provisions was the heaviest item. the clothes and blankets had been made up into a bundle. "me will carry dat on my head," dinah said, "and de barrow." "no, i can take that, dinah, that will balance the basket; besides, you have that great jug of water to take. now let us be off." after twenty minutes' walking they approached the spot where the ladies were in hiding, but it was so dark under the trees that nat could not determine its exact position; he therefore whistled, at first softly and then more loudly. then he heard a call some little distance away. he went on until he judged that he must be close, and then whistled again. the reply came at once some thirty yards away. "here we are, myra," he said; "nurse is with me." an exclamation of delight was heard, and a minute later he made his way through the bushes. "mamma is awake," the girl said, "but she does not always understand what i say; sometimes i cannot understand her, and her hands are as hot as fire. i am glad dinah is here." "you can't be gladder'n me, mam'selle. i hab brought some feber medicine wid me, and a lantern and some candles." "would it be safe to light the lantern?" myra asked. "quite safe," nat said; "there is no chance whatever of anyone coming along here; besides, we can put something round the lantern so as to prevent it from being seen from outside. you have brought steel and tinder, i hope, dinah?" "of course, marse, lamp no good widout; and i hab got sulphur matches, no fear me forget them." "give them to me, dinah, i will strike a light while you attend to your mistress." dinah poured some water into a cup and then knelt down by madame duchesne. "here, dearie," she said, "dinah brought you water and wine and tings to eat. here is a cup of water, i am sure you want it. let me lift you up to drink it." she lifted her and placed the cup in her hands, and she drank it off eagerly. "is that your voice, dinah?" she said after a pause. "yes, madame; i'se come up to help to take care ob you. marse glober come and tell me whar you were, so you may be suah that me lose no time, just wait to get a few tings dat you might want and den start up." "i think i am not very well, dinah." "jess a little poorly you be. bery funny if you not poorly abter sich wicked doings. now de best ting dat you can do is to go to sleep and not worry." "give me another drink, dinah." "here it is, dis time a little wine wid de water and a little 'tuff to make you sleep quiet. den me double up a blanket for you to lie on and put anober over you, and a bundle under your head, and den you go to sleep firm. no trouble to-night; to-morrow morning we go on." madame duchesne drank off the contents of the cup. she was made as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and it was not long before her regular breathing showed that the medicine that dinah had administered had had the desired effect. "now, myra," nat said, "we will investigate the contents of the basket. i am beginning to get as hungry as a hunter, and i am sure that you must be so too." "i am thirsty," the girl said, "but i do not feel hungry." "you will, directly you begin. now, dinah, what have you brought us?" "dere am one roast chicken dar, marse glober. dat was all i could get cooked. dere are six dead ones. i caught dem and wrung their necks jest before i started. dey no good now. dere is bread baked fresh dis morning before de troubles began, and dere is two pine-apples and a big melon." "bravo, dinah! you have got knives?" "yes, sah, four knibes and forks." "we could manage without the forks, dinah, but it is more comfortable having them. now we will cut the chicken up into three. it looks a fine bird." "i'se had my dinner, sah; no want more." "that is all nonsense, dinah," he said. "i am quite sure that you did not eat much dinner to-day, and you will want your strength to-morrow." dinah could not affirm that she had eaten much, and indeed she had scarcely been able to swallow a mouthful in the middle of the day. the meal was heartily enjoyed, and they made up with bread and fruit for the shortness of the meat ration. "now you two lie down," nat said after they had chatted for an hour. "i am accustomed to night watches and can sleep with one ear open, but i am convinced that there is not the slightest need for any of us keeping awake. when the lantern is out, which it will be as soon as you lie down, if all the negroes came up into the woods to search for us i should have no fear of their finding us." dinah, however, insisted upon taking a share in watching, saying that she was constantly sitting up at night with sick people. finding that she was quite determined, nat said: "very well, dinah. it is ten o'clock now. i will watch till one o'clock, and then you can watch till four. we shall be able to start then." "it won't be like light till five. no good start troo wood before that. i'se sure to wake at one o'clock. i'se accustomed to wake any hour so as to give medicines." "very well, dinah; i suppose you must have your way." myra and the nurse therefore lay down, while nat sat thinking over the events of the day and the prospects of the future. he had said nothing to the negress of the conversation that he had overheard, as on the way from the house they had walked one behind the other and there had been no opportunity for conversation, and he would not on any account have myra or her mother know the fate that these villains had proposed for them. he wondered now whether he had done rightly in abstaining from shooting one of them, but after thinking it over in every way he came to the conclusion that it was best to have acted as he did, for they clearly intended to do all in their power to save mother and daughter from being massacred at once by the negroes. "even if the worst comes to the worst," he said to himself, "they have pistols, and i know will, as a last resource, use them against themselves." chapter viii a time of waiting dinah woke two minutes before one o'clock, and nat at once lay down and, resolutely refusing to allow himself to think any more of the situation, was soon fast asleep. "it am jess beginning to get light, marse glober," the negress said when, as it seemed to him, he had not been five minutes asleep. however, he jumped up at once. "it is very dark, still, dinah." "it am dark, sah, but not so dark as it was. bes' be off at once. must get well away before dem black fellows wake up." "how is madame duchesne?" "she sleep, sah; she no wake for another tree or four hours. dinah give pretty strong dose. bes' dat she should know noting about it till we get to a safe place." "but is there any safe place, dinah?" "yes, massa; me take you where dey neber tink of searching, but good way off in hills." myra by this time was on her feet also. "have you slept well, myra?" "yes, i have slept pretty well, but in spite of the two blankets under us it was awfully hard, and i feel stiff all over now." "how shall we divide the things, dinah?" "well, sah, do you tink you can take de head of de barrow? dat pretty heaby weight." "oh, nonsense!" nat said. "madame duchesne is a light weight, and if i could get her comfortably on my back i could carry her any distance." "dat bery well before starting, marse glober, you tell anoder story before we gone very far." "well, at any rate, i can carry a good deal more than one end of the barrow." "well, sah, we put all de blankets on de barrow before we put madame on it, and put de bundle of clothes under her head. den by her feet we put de basket and oder tings. dat divide de weight pretty fair." "but what am i to carry, nurse, may i ask?" "you just carry yourself, dearie; dat quite enough for you. it am a good long way we hab to go, and some part of it am bery rough. you do bery well if you walk dat distance." "that is right, myra," nat agreed. "we don't want to have to carry both you and your mother, and though you have walked a good deal more than most of the girls of your own class you have never done anything like this." in a few minutes the preparations were completed. madame duchesne was laid on the barrow, and the basket and other things packed near her feet. dinah took up the two front handles, nat those behind, and, with myra walking by the side, they started. "which way are we going, dinah?" "me show you, sah. we go up for some way, den we come on path; two miles farder we cross a road, and den strike into forest again by a little valley wiv a tiny stream running down him. after walk for an hour we cross ober anoder hill all cohered wiv trees and find soon anoder stream, quite little dere; hab a mile we follow him, den we find a place where we 'top. we long way den from any plantation, dat quite wild country." "then how do you know the place, dinah?" "me'se not been dere for thirty years, marse glober, me active wench den, twenty year old, me jest marry my husband, he dead and gone long ago. he hab a broder on anoder plantation; dere bery bad oberseer, he beat de slabes bery much. jake he knock him down with hoe, and den take to de hills; my husband know de place where he hide, and took me to it one night, so dat i could find it again and carry food to him, cause he not able to get away, hab to work on plantation. me had a little pickanniny and could 'teal away widout being noticed, and me went dere seberal times; den oberseer killed by anoder slabe, and de master, who was good man, he come out to enquire about it. when he heard how de slabe had been treated, he bery angry and say it sarbe oberseer right. when i heard dat i spoke to de ole marse, de grandfather ob dis chile you know, he bery good man, like his son, and he went to de plantation and got de marster to promise dat if jake came back to work again he should not be punished. and he kept his word. dat is how me came to know ob dis place. since dat time me know dat many slabes hab hidden dere. now dat de slabes are masters, for suah dey not want to go near dat place, and neber dream dat madame and mam'selle myra know of dat place and go and hide dere." by the time that they reached the path daylight had fairly broken. "we are not likely to meet anyone here, i hope, dinah?" "no, sah, de blacks in de plantations dey go down by the road we shall cross--suah to do dat to get quick the news ob what am going on in oder places. if one come along here, dey see you black, and tink you nigger like demselves. mam'selle must slip into de bush, now she got dat gown on, no one s'pect her being white a little way off. den if dere is only one or two, you shoot dem as soon as dey come up, if dar many of them--but dere no chance ob dat--must make up some story." "i am afraid that no story would be any good, dinah; if they came close they would see at once that i am not a negro. however, we must hope that we sha'n't meet anyone." nat felt his arms ache a good deal before they arrived at the road they had to cross, and he would have proposed a halt, but he was ashamed to do so while dinah was going on so steadily and uncomplainingly, though he was sure that her share of the weight was at least as much as his. he was pleased when, as the path approached the road, she said: "put de barrow down now, marse glober. you go down on de road and see dat no one is in sight, but me not tink dere am any danger. i know dat dey rose at all dese little plantations up here yesterday; dere is suah to be rum at some ob dem, and dey will all drink like hogs, just as dey did at our place, and won't be stirring till de sun a long way up." in a minute he returned. "there is no one in sight, dinah." "dat is all right, sah, now we hurry across; once into de wood on de ober side we safe, den we can sit down and rest for a bit." "i sha'n't be sorry, dinah. you were quite right, my arms have begun to ache pretty badly." the negress laughed. "me begin to feel him too; dese arms not so young as dey were. de time was i could hab carried de weight twice as far widout feeling it." when a few hundred yards in the wood they stopped for a quarter of an hour, had a drink of wine and water, and ate a slice of melon and a piece of bread. "now we manage better," dinah said as they stood up to continue the journey. "we hab plenty of blankets," and taking one she tore off a strip some six inches wide and gave it to nat, and then a similar strip for herself. "now, sah, you lay dat flat across your shoulders, den take de ends and twist dem tree or four times round de handle, just de right length, so dat you can hold dem comfor'ble. i'se going to do de same. den you not feel de weight on your arm, it all on your shoulders; you find it quite easy den." nat found, indeed, that the weight so disposed was as nothing to what it had been when it came entirely upon his arms. they soon descended into the little valley dinah had spoken of, and she at once emptied the rest of the water out of the jug. "no use carry dat," she said, "can get plenty now wheneber we want it." "how are you feeling, myra?" nat asked presently. "i am beginning to feel tired, but i can hold on for a bit. don't mind about me, please, i shall do very well." she was, however, limping badly. after going to the end of the little dip they crossed the dividing spur, and presently struck the other depression of which dinah had spoken. "there is no water here, dinah; i hope it has not dried up." "no fear ob dat, sah. in de wet season water run here, but not now; we find him farder down." the little valley deepened rapidly, the sides became rocky and broken, and to nat's satisfaction they presently came to a spot where a little rill of water flowed out from a fissure in the rock. "how much farther, dinah?" "a lillie quarter ob a mile." the sides of the valley closed in rapidly, and in a few minutes they entered a ravine where the rocks rose perpendicularly on each side, the passage between being but seven or eight feet wide. "we jest dere now, dearie," dinah said to myra, who was now so exhausted that she could scarce drag her feet along. another three or four minutes and she stopped. "here we are," she said. nat looked round in surprise; there was no sign of any opening in the rock. "it up dere," dinah went on, pointing to a clump of bushes growing on a ledge. "up there, dinah?" "yes, sah; easy for us to climb up. you see where dere are little steps made?" a casual observer would not have noticed them. they were not cut but hammered out of the rock, and appeared like accidental indentations. "i see that we can climb up," he said, "but how we are to get the litter up i have no idea." "no, sah, dat difficult. i'se been tinking it ober. only possible way is to take madame off de barrow and carry her up. you go up once or twice, and you see dat it am not so hard as it seems. dese lower holes not deep, but dose higher up much deeper, can get foot well into dem." "i had better go up and have a look, dinah," and nat started to ascend. he found that, as she had said, it was much easier than it looked. the first four or five steps, indeed, were so shallow that he could not get much foothold, but above there were holes for the feet some six or eight inches deep, and three or four feet apart, these being hidden from the sight of anyone passing below by a projecting ledge beneath. the holes were much wider than necessary, the corners had been filled with earth and tufts of coarse grass planted there, and these completely hid the openings from sight. he soon reached the clump of bushes. behind them was a fissure some three feet wide and four feet high. he crawled into this, and found that it widened into a cave. he was here able to stand up, remaining motionless for a minute or two until his eyes became accustomed to the dim light. then he saw that it was of considerable height, some twelve feet wide and about twenty feet deep. this was indeed an admirable place of refuge, and he felt sure that no one, unless previously acquainted with its existence, would be likely to discover it. he went to the entrance and looked out. myra was sitting down by the side of a little pool. she had taken her shoes and stockings off, and was bathing her blistered feet. "this is a splendid place, myra," he said; "certainly nobody is ever likely to find us here. the only difficulty is to get your mother up." he at once rejoined them below. "the difficulty, dinah, is that the face of the rock is so steep that one cannot stoop forward enough to keep one's balance with the weight on one's back. the only possible way that i can conceive is to fasten madame duchesne firmly to the barrow by these strips of blanket that we have been using. we can tear several more from the same blanket. it will want at least half a dozen lashings to keep her firmly down, then we must knot the other blankets to make a strong rope. i will go up with the end and pull when i get to the top. you can take the lower handles, and by holding them on a level with your shoulders you can steady the thing as it comes up. you won't want to lift, i can pull her weight up easily enough, all that you have to do is to steady it." "dat will do bery well, sah." six strips of blanket were wound round madame duchesne as she lay on the hand-barrow; one was across her forehead so as to prevent her head from dropping forward, one was under the arms, and two more round the body, the other two were over her legs. the baskets and other things had been taken from the barrow. it was now lifted on to one end to see if there was any sign of the body slipping. however, it remained firm in its upright position. the blankets had already been knotted by nat, whose training enabled him to fasten them so securely that there was no risk of their slipping. then he ascended to the top of the steps and took his place on the little platform on which the bushes were growing. "now," he said, "i will raise it a few inches to see that it is properly balanced." he had already seen that the proposal that dinah should steady it from below was not feasible. although the first step was immediately below the bushes, the others varied considerably, some being almost in the same line as those next to them, so that two-thirds of the way up the holes were six feet to the right of the spot from which they had started, having evidently been so constructed that from below, had anyone noticed them, they appeared to go away from the bushes, to which, from the last hole that could be seen from below, there was no communication whatever. the ledge, however, although scarce noticeable from the bottom of the ravine, was really some eight inches wide, and from this but one step was necessary to gain a footing on the platform. dinah, standing below, steadied the barrow as high as she could reach the ends of the handles, and nat then, leaning over, managed to raise it to his level without doing more than scraping the face of the rock as it rose. dinah was on the ledge to receive it and pass it up to him, and nat had soon the satisfaction of seeing it laid safely down in the cave. myra was then got up without any difficulty. she clapped her hands as she entered the cave. "this is splendid, nat! i never dreamt that there could be such a safe hiding-place." "it had to be, mam'selle," dinah said, "for dey hunt runaway slabes with blood-hounds. slabes dat escape here keep all de way in de water. de bit between de pools is all bare rock, not nice to walk on, but bery good for scent, dat pass off in very short time, den walk down here in dis water dat you see below us. eben blood-hounds cannot smell track in water. if dey came down here might smell de steps, but neber come here." "could they come up the other way, dinah?" "you go and look for yourself, sah, but mind you be careful." the wrappings had now been taken off madame duchesne, and the blankets replaced beneath her. she was still apparently sound asleep. dinah took up the jug and went to the entrance, nat followed her. "you have not given her too strong a dose i hope, dinah?" "no, sah, no fear ob dat, she soon wake now. i shall sprinkle water in her face, and pour a lillie wine down her troat, you see she wake den." "will she be sensible, dinah?" "not at first, sah. she 'tupid for a bit, abter dat it depend on feber. if feber strong, she no sensible, talk to herself just as if dreaming; if feber not very strong she know us, but more likely not know us for some time. me got feber medicine, neber fear. feber come on too quick to be bery strong. when feber come on slow, den it seem to poison all ober, take long time to get well; when it come on sudden like this, not like to be bery bad." "well, we must have patience, dinah, and hope for the best. now i will go down with you and fetch all the things up." as soon as these were all housed in the cave, nat said to myra, "i will explore down the stream and see what chance there is of anyone coming up that way. dinah evidently thinks that there is no fear of it, but i should like to see for myself." fifty yards farther on there was a sharp widening of the ravine, and here some trees and thick undergrowth had taken root, and so overhung the little stream that nat had difficulty in making his way through them. he remembered dinah's warning, and advanced cautiously. suddenly he stopped. the stream fell away abruptly in front of him, and, advancing cautiously to that point, he stood at the edge of an abrupt fall. a wall of almost perpendicular rock rose on each side, and the streamlet leaped sheer down fifty feet into a pool; as far as he could see the chasm remained unbroken. "splendid," he said to himself; "no one coming up here would be likely to try farther. the bushes regularly interlace over the water, and there seems no possible way of climbing up, at any rate, within a quarter of a mile of this place, and for aught i know this ravine may go on for another mile. any party coming up would certainly conclude that no slave could approach this way, and they would have to make a tremendous detour over the hills and get to the point where the valley comes down to the cave. it is certainly a grand hiding-place. i suppose when it was first discovered those bushes did not grow in front of it; likely enough they were planted on purpose to hide the entrance, and the place may have been used by escaped slaves ever since the spaniards first landed on the island and began to persecute the unfortunate natives. unless some of the negroes who know of it put the mulattoes up to the secret, they may search as much as they like but will never find us. i must ask dinah whether there are many who know of it." on returning to the cave he found that madame duchesne had wakened from her long sleep. she was, however, quite unconscious; her eyes were opened, and she was muttering rapidly to herself. myra was sitting beside her with the tears streaming down her cheeks. "you must not be alarmed," he said. "dinah told me she would be so when she woke up, but she thinks that though the attack of fever will be a sharp one, it will not last very long. it is not, as is the case with new-comers on the island, the result of malaria, or anything of that sort, but of agitation and fatigue." "hab you been down de stream, marse glober?" dinah asked. "yes, and you were quite right. there is no fear whatever of any one coming to look for us from that direction. are there many negroes who know the secret of this place?" "bery few," she said. "it am tole only to men who are going to take to de hills, and who can't go farder, 'cause perhaps dey been flogged till dey too weak to travel many miles. each man who is tole has to take a great oath dat he suah tell no one except anober slabe running away, or someone who hab to go to take food to him; dat is how i came to know. jake had been tole when dey knew he going to run away. he tole his broder, my husband, cause he had been flogged so bad he could not go to de mountains. den my husband tole me, 'cause he could not get away wid de food. i neber tell anyone till now, cause dere no occasion for it; slabes treated too well at our plantation to want to run away. but dere am no doubt dat dere am slabes in oder plantations dat know of him, but me no tink dey tell. in de first place dey take big oath, and dey suah to die ef dey break dat; in de next place, because dey no tell dem mulattoes, because some day perhaps dese will be oberseers again, and den de secret of de cave be no longer ob use." "that is good, dinah; those scoundrels i overheard talking the other night will no doubt ask if any of the negroes know of any place where we should be likely to hide, and if no one knows it but yourself they would be able to get no information, and it is hardly likely that they would ask the negroes of another plantation. now, what is the first thing to be done, dinah?" "de first ting, sah, is to gader sticks to make fire." "all right. i will go up the ravine and bring down a bundle of dry sticks from the forest. i will get them as dry as possible, so as not to make a smoke." "no fear of anyone see smoke, massa. we no want great fire, and smoke all scatter before it get to top of de trees up above." "well, i will get them at once," he said. "i will pluck two of the fowls while you are away," myra said. "i want to be doing something." "when you come back, sah, i will go out and gader berries to make colour for your face. when you hab got dat done, not much fear of your being known." "you will have to get something to colour my hair, too," nat said. "i never could pass as a mulatto with this yellowish-brown hair." "dat for true," dinah assented. "i'se brought 'tuff to make dat, but had no time to look for berries for skin. when you come back we make fire first; me want boiling water for de med'cine me make for madame." "yes, of course, that is the first thing," nat said. "and when you go anywhere to get provisions, dinah, it would be a good thing if you could get us a few yards of cord; it would be very handy for tying up faggots, and would be useful in all sorts of ways." "me will see about dat, sah. me forgot 'im altogeder when me came away, else would have brought a length; but you will find plenty ob creepers dat will do bery well to tie up faggots." "so i shall, dinah; i forgot that," and nat started at once. in an hour he was back again with a huge bundle of dry wood. "where would you light it?" he asked. "jest inside entrance, sah. dis good wood dat you hab brought, make bery lillie smoke." after a little water had been boiled and dinah had stewed some herbs and chips of wood she had brought up with her, the two fowls were cut up and the joints spitted on the ramrod of a pistol and grilled over the fire, as in this way they would cook much more rapidly than if whole. as soon as they were ready the party made a hearty meal. the medicine was by this time cool, and madame duchesne was lifted up and the cup held to her lips. she drank the draught without difficulty. her face was now flushed, and her hands burning hot. "what will that do, dinah?" "dat most de bark of a tree dat will get de feber down, sah. i'se going to gib her dat ebery two hours; den when we see dat de feber abate, we give her oder stuff to trow her into great sweat; abter dat she get better. now, while i am away, mam'selle, you boil water, cut up half ob one of dem pine-apples, and when de water boil take 'im off de fire and put de pine-apple in; and let 'im cool, dat make bery nice drink for her. now me go and find dem berries." dinah was away two hours, and returned with an apronful of brown berries; and with these, after nat had washed all the black from his face and hands, he was again stained, as was myra also. she had rather a darker tinge given to her than that which was considered sufficient for nat. "it make you too dark, sah; yo' light eyes show too much. mam'selle hab brown eyes and dark hair, and me make her regular little mulatto girl. when get handkerchief round her head, and wid dat spot gown on, no one 'spect her ob being white." "you have brought in a great supply of berries, dinah?" "yes, sah; put on stain fresh ebery two or tree days." when it became dusk the candle was taken out of the lantern, lighted, and stuck against the side of the cave. dinah opened a bag and took out a handful of coffee berries, which she roasted over the fire in a small frying-pan which she had brought in addition to the pot. when they were pounded up between two stones, some sugar was produced, and had it not been for madame duchesne's state myra and nat would have really enjoyed their meal. then dinah took from the basket a bundle of dried tobacco leaves, rolled a cigar for nat and one for herself. "dat is what me call comfort," she said, as she puffed the weed with intense enjoyment. "bacca am de greatest pleasure dat de slabes hab after their work be done." "it is a nasty habit, dinah. i have told you so a great many times." "yes, mam'selle, you tink so. you got a great many oder nice tings a slabe not got, many nice tings; but when dey got bacca dey got eberyting dey want. you no call it nasty, marse glober?" "no; i like it. i never smoked till after i got that hurt from the dog, but not being able to do things like other fellows, i took to smoking. i like it, and the doctor told me that it was a capital preventive against fever." "do they allow smoking on board ship, nat?" "well, of course it is not allowed on duty, and it is not allowed for midshipmen at all; but of an evening, if we go forward, the officers on watch never take any notice. and now about to-morrow, dinah. of course i am most anxious to know what the news is, and whether this rising has extended over the whole of the island, and if it is true that everywhere they have murdered the whites." "yes, sah, me understand dat." "then i want, if it is possible, to send a line down to monsieur duchesne to let him know that his wife and daughter have escaped and are in a place of safety. he must be in a terrible state. the question is, how would it be possible to send such a note?" "me tink dat me could manage it, sah. my grandson pete bery sharp boy. me tink he might manage to get down to de town, but de letter must be a bery lillie one, so dat he can hide it in him woolly head. he might be searched, and dey kill 'im for suah if dey find he take letter to white man. he sharp as a needle, and often take messages from one of our slabes to anoder on plantation eber so far away. me quite suah dat he bery glad to carry letter for mam'selle--make him as proud as peacock. when dey in der senses all de slabes lobe her because she allus speaks kindly to dem. he go suah enough, and bring message back." "it is lucky that i have a pencil with me," nat said, and drawing out a pocket-book he tore out a leaf. "now, if you will tell me what to say, myra, i will write in your name." he went over to the candle. "you must cut it very short, you know. i will write it as small as i can, but you must not send more than one leaf." _dearest papa_, myra dictated, _we have got away. dinah warned us in time, and mamma, nat, and i ran up through the shrubbery and the cane-fields to the forest. when it got dark--"after dark_" nat put in, "you must not use more words than is necessary "--_nat went down, found dinah, and brought her up, and they brought lots of things for us, and next morning carried mamma to this place, which is in the mountains and very safe. mamma has got fever from the fright we had, but dinah says she will not be ill long. we are both dressed up in dinah's clothes, and nat and i have been stained brown, and we look like mulattoes. do not be anxious about us; the negroes may search everywhere without finding us. nat has a brace of pistols, and mamma and i have one each, and he will take care of us and bring us down safe as soon as dinah thinks it can be done. i hope to see you again soon._ _your most loving_ _myra._ "that just fills it," nat said as he rolled it up into a little ball. dinah looked at it doubtfully. "i'se feared dat too big to hide in him wool," she said; "it bery kinky." "never mind that. he must manage to straighten it out and sew it somewhere in his clothes. what time will you start, dinah?" "me start so as to get down to de plantation before it get light. me can find de way troo de wood easy 'nuff. it bery different ting to walk by oneself, instead ob having to carry madame and to take 'tickler care dat she goes along smoove and dat de barrow doesn't knock against anyting. best for me to be back before anyone wake up. me don't suppose anyone tink of me yesterday. me told my darter chloe dat she say noting about me. if anyone ask her, den she say: 'mover bery sad at house being burnt down and madame and mam'selle run away. i tink she hab gone away to be alone and hab a cry to herself, cause as she nurse both ob dem she bery fond of dem, and no like to tink dat perhaps dey be caught and killed.' but me no 'spect dat anyone tink about me; dey hab oder tings to tink of. if i had run into wood when you run dere, dey know dat i give you warning and perhaps show you some place to hide, but abter you had gone i ran in again and met dem outside wid de oder house servants. i top dere and see dem burn de house, and den walk down to chloe's house and talk to oder women; so no one tink dat i know more 'bout you dan anyone else." "that was very wise, dinah. now mind, what we particularly want to know is not only what the negroes have done, but what they are going to do. are they going to march away to the hills, or are they going to attack the town?" dinah nodded. "me see all about dat, sah. now, mam'selle, don't you forget to gib your mamma de medicine ebery two hours!" "i sha'n't forget, dinah." dinah took up the basket. "me bring up bread and more chicken, and more wine if dey hab not drunk it all. now keep up your heart, dearie; eberyting come right in de end," and with a cheerful nod she started on her errand. "your nurse is a trump, myra," nat said. "we should feel very helpless without her, though of course i should do what i could. when she comes back to-morrow i will go out myself. i hate to sit here doing nothing when all the island is in a blaze." "i wish i knew what has become of the family of madame bayou. her daughter julie is my greatest friend. you know them well, nat, for we drove over there several times when you were with us, and madame bayou and julie often spent the day with us. of course they were not quite of our class, as monsieur bayou is only superintendent to the count de noe, who has been in france for some years; but he is a gentleman by birth, and, i believe, a distant relation of the count's, and as they were our nearest neighbours and julie is just my age we were very intimate." "yes, of course i remember them well, and that coachman of theirs. i generally had a talk with him when they were over at your place. he was a wonderfully intelligent fellow for a negro. he told me that he had been taught by another black, who had been educated by some missionaries. he could read and write well, and even knew a little latin." "yes, i have heard papa say that he was the most intelligent negro he had ever met, and that he was very much respected by all the negroes round. i know m. bayou had the greatest confidence in him, and i can't help thinking that even if all the others broke out he would have saved the lives of the family." "if you like i will go down and see to-morrow evening. i agree with you that it is likely he would be faithful, but he may not have been able to be so. however much he may be respected by the other blacks, one man can do very little when a crowd of others half mad with excitement are against him; and i suppose after all that it would be only natural that his sympathies should be with men of his own colour, and being so exceptionally well educated and intelligent he would naturally be chosen as one of their leaders. however, he may have warned the family, and possibly they may be hiding somewhere in the woods just as we are. i should hope that a great many families have been saved that way." "will it be necessary to keep watch to-night, nat?" "no, i do not think there is any risk. even the negroes who know of this cave will not think of looking for us here, as they would not imagine we could be acquainted with its existence. i think we can safely take a good night's rest, and we shall be all the better for it." it was not till nearly daylight on the second day after starting that dinah returned. "me not able to get away before," she said. "in de first place me hab to wait till boy come back wid answer. here 'tis," and she pulled a small pellet of paper from her hair. myra seized it and flattened it out. _thank god for the good news. i have been nearly mad. at present can do nothing. we expect to be attacked every hour. god protect you both._ there was no signature. monsieur duchesne was evidently afraid that, were the note to fall into the hands of the revolting leaders, a fresh search would be instituted by them. "dat boy bery nearly killed," dinah said. "he creep and crawl troo de blacks widout being seen, and get close to de white men out guarding de place. dey seize him and say he spy, and bery near hang him; den he took out de paper just in time, and said it for massa duchesne; den dey march him to town, woke up massa, and den, ob course, it was all right. it too late to come back dat night, but he crawl out and lie close to where dose black rascals were watching. directly it get dark he get up, he crawl troo dem, and run bery hard back, and directly he gib me paper i start back here." "that was very good of him," myra said; "when these troubles are over, dinah, you may be sure that my father will reward him handsomely." "me suah of dat, mam'selle. he offer him ten louis, but jake say no, if he be searched and dat gold found on 'im dey hang 'm up for suah. marse say bery good, do much more dan dat for him when dese troubles ober. and now, dearie, how is madame going on?" and she went to the side of madame duchesne, put her hand on her forehead, and listened to her breathing. she turned round with a satisfied nod. "feber nearly gone," she said; "two or tree days she open eyes and know us." "and how did you get on, dinah?" "me hab no trouble, sah; most ob de black fellows drunk all de day long. nobody noticed dat dinah was not dere. some of de women dey say, 'what you do all day yesterday, dinah?' and me say, 'me ill, me no like dese doings.' dey talk and say, 'grand ting eberyone be free, eberyone hab plenty ob land, no work any more.' i say, 'dat so, but what de use ob land if no work? where dey get cloth for dress? where dey get meal and rice? dey tink all dese things grow widout work. what dey do when dey old, or when dey ill? who look after dem?' some ob dem want to quarrel; oders say, 'dinah old woman, she hab plenty sense, what she say she say for true.' me tell dem dat me no able to 'tand sight ob house burnt, no one at work in fields, madame and darter gone, no one know where--perhaps killed. dinah go and live by herself in de wood, only come down sometimes when she want food. she say dat to 'splain why she go away and come back sometimes." "a very good idea, very good," nat said warmly; "the women were not wrong when they said you had plenty of good sense. and now, dinah, what is the news from other parts of the island?" the old nurse was at the moment standing partly behind myra, and she shook her head over the girl's shoulder to show that she did not wish to say anything before her, then she replied: "plenty ob talk, some say one ting some anoder; not worf listen to such foolishness." chapter ix an attack on the cave dinah lay down for a short sleep. it was far too late for nat to start for count de noe's plantation, and when it was broad daylight, he went down to the pool for a bathe. when he returned, dinah was standing at the entrance. she held up her hand to signal to him to stay below. she came down the steps, and sat down with him on a stone twenty or thirty yards up the stream. "mam'selle hab gone to sleep again," she said; "now we can talk quiet." "and what is your news, dinah?" he asked. "marse glober, it am jest awful. it seem to dinah dat all de black folk in dis island am turned into debils--from eberywhar de same story--eberywhar de white massas and de ladies and de childer all killed. dat not de worst, sah, dey not content wid killing dem, dey put dem to horrible tortures. me can't tell you all de terrible tings dat i'se heard; me jest tell you one, dat enough for you to guess what de oders are. dey caught one white man, a carpenter, dey tied 'im between two planks and dey carry 'im to his saw-pit and dey saw 'im asunder. in one place de niggers march to attack town, and what you tink dey take for dere flag? a lilly white baby wid a spear run troo him. as to de ladies, me can no speak of de awful tings me hab heard. you quite right to gib pistol to madame and mam'selle, dey do well shoot demselves before dese yellow and black debils get hold of dem. me neber tink dat me hab shame for my colour, now i hab shame; if me could lift my hands and ebery mulatto and black man in dis island all fall dead, me lift dem now, and me glad me fall dead wid de rest." "this is awful, indeed, dinah; as you say the negroes seem to have become fiends. i could understand it in plantations where they are badly treated, but it is certain that this was quite the exception, and that, on the whole, they were comfortable and happy before this trouble began. i know they were on monsieur duchesne's estate, and on all those i visited when i was here before. i do not say they might not have preferred to be free." "what good dat do dem, sah? if free, not work; dey worse off dan when slabes. where dey get close? where dey get food? what dey do when dey get old? look at dinah, she allus comfor'ble and happy. she could work now tho' she old, but she hab no work to do 'cept when she like to dust room; she get plenty ob good food, she know well dat howeber old she live, massa and madame make her comfor'ble. suppose she like de oders, and stop down at de huts, what den? who gib de ole woman food? who gib her close? who gib her wine and medicine? no, sah, dis am bad business all troo--terrible bad for white men, terrible bad for black men, terrible bad for eberyone. "next you see come de turn of de white man. dey come out from de towns, plenty guns and powder, dey attack de blacks, dey shoot dem down like dogs, dey hunt dem troo de hills; dey show dem no mercy, and dey don't deserve none, massa. it would hab been better had big wave come swallow dis island up, better for eberyone; white man go to white man's heaben, good black man go to heaben, either de same heaben, or de black man's heaben. now, suah enough, dere no heaben for dese black men who hab done dese tings, dey all shut out; dey no let dem in 'cause dey hab blood on dere hands, me heard priest say dat st. peter he sit at de gate. well, sah, you bery suah dat st. peter him shake him head when black fellow from dis island come up and ask to go in. all dis dreadful, massa;" and the tears ran plentifully down the old nurse's cheeks. "it won't be as bad as that, dinah," nat said soothingly. "there must be a great many who have taken no part in this horrible affair, and who have only risen because they were afraid to hang back." "don't you whisper word to mam'selle myra 'bout dese tings, marse glober." "you may be sure that i shall not do so, dinah; but certainly i shall, whenever i leave her, tell her not to hesitate to use her pistol against herself." "if de negroes find dis cave, you trust to me," the negress said firmly. "i'se heard dat it bery wicked ting to kill oneself. bery well, sah, me won't let madame and mam'selle do wicked ting. dinah got long knife hidden, if dey come dinah kill bofe ob dem, den dey no do wicked deed. as to dinah, she poor ole negro woman. better dat st. peter say to her, 'you no come in, dere blood on hands,' dan dat he should say dat to de two white ladies she hab nursed." nat's eyes were moist, and his voice shook at this proof of the old woman's devotion, and he said unsteadily: "st. peter would not blame you, dinah. he would know why there was blood on your hands, and he would say, 'come in, you have rendered to your mistresses the last and greatest services possible.'" after breakfast dinah washed his shirt, his white nankeen trousers, and jacket, and, as he had not a red sash to wind round his waist, he took the ornaments and slings from his sword-belt and put this on. "you pass bery well, sah, for mulatto man; de only ting am de hat. dat red handkerchief bery well when you pretend to be negro, but not suit mulatto, and dinah will go see what she find at dose plantation on de hills." "no, dinah, you must not run risks." "no risk in dat, sah. dinah known bery well at most of de plantations round. i'se got a name for hab good medicines for febers, and ointments for sores, and women dat hab childer ill bring dem down to me from all parts. bery simple for me to go round and say dat now de house gone and de ladies and all, me not like to stay down dere and be trouble to my darters. plenty for 'em to do to keep demselves and der childer. me going to trabel round de country and nurse de sick and sell my medicines. suah to meet some woman whose child me hab cured; ask her if she know anyone who hab got straw-hat--dere suah to be straw-hats in planters' houses--me say dat a mulatto hab lost his, and not able to go down to town to buy one, and told me would gib me dollar if i could get him good one. me try to get someting for sash too." "that would be almost as difficult as the hat, dinah." dinah shook her head. "plenty ob women got red shawl, sah; most all got red handkerchief. buy one shawl or six handkerchief, bring dem home, cut dem up, and sew dem together; dat make bery good sash. you no trouble, massa; you keep quiet here all day and look abter madame. i'se sure to be back before it time for you to start." dinah indeed returned just as the sun was sinking. she carried a small bundle in one hand, and a broad-brimmed straw-hat in the other. "well done, dinah!" nat exclaimed as he returned after sitting for a couple of hours on the rocks near the fall, and found her in the cave. "how did you get the hat?" "jess as i said, sah; me found one woman who allus bery grateful to me-for sabing her chile. i tell her i want straw-hat. she said she could get me one, two, or tree hats in de house ob mulatto oberseer. she 'teal one for me. most of de men down in de plain, so she take basket and go up to de house garden--ebery one take what dey want now. she get some green 'tuff, as if for her dinner; den she go round by mulatto man's house, she look in at window and see hats; she take one, put 'im in basket and cober 'im ober, den bring um back to me. she had red shawl; she gib it me, but i make her take dollar for it. me hide de hat under my dress till me get away into de woods again, den me carry um. now, sah, put um on. dat suit you bery well, sah; you pass for young mulatto man when i got dis shawl cut up and sewn togeder. you please to know dat madame open her eyes lillie time ago, and know mam'selle and dinah. me gib her drink ob pine-apple juice wid water in which me boil poppy seeds; she drink and go off in quiet sleep; when she wake to-morrow i 'spect she able to talk." "i don't like your going, nat," myra said when, the shawl having been converted into a sash, he put his pistols into it. "we have heard, you see, that the bayous were not killed in the first attack, and i do not see that you can learn more." "i should not run the risk, such as it may be, merely to ask that question. but i think that their coachman, toussaint, must have saved them. i want to see him; possibly he may have made some arrangements for getting them down to the coast, and he might be willing to allow you and your mother to go down with them. of course she would have to be carried, but that might not add much to the difficulty." receiving general instructions from dinah as to the shortest route, he started, without giving time for myra to remonstrate further. after two hours' walking he approached the plantation of count noe. the house was, of course, gone. seeing a negro girl, he went up to her. "which is the house of toussaint?" he asked. she pointed to a path. "it am de first house you come to," she said; "he used to live at de stables, but now he hab de house ob one of de oberseers who was killed because he did not join us." on reaching the house indicated he looked in at the window, and saw the person he was looking for sitting at a table reading. he was now a man of forty-eight years old, tall in stature, with a face unusually intelligent for one of his race. his manners were quiet and simple, and there was a certain dignity in his bearing that bespoke a feeling that he was superior to the race to which he belonged and the position he occupied. nat went round to the door and knocked. toussaint opened it. "have you a letter for me?" he asked quietly, supposing that his visitor had come with a message to him from one of the leaders of the rebellion. nat entered and closed the door behind him. "then you do not remember me, toussaint?" the negro recognized the voice, and the doubtful accent with which his visitor spoke french. "you are the young english officer," he exclaimed, "though i should not have known you but for the voice. i heard that you were at monsieur duchesne's, and it was believed that you had fled to the woods with his wife and daughter. i am glad that they escaped." "i have come from them, toussaint--at least from the daughter, for the mother has had an attack of fever. she heard that the family here had also escaped, and she said at once that she felt sure you had aided them." "i did so," the negro said quietly; "they were the family i served, and it was my duty to save them; moreover, they had always been kind to me. they are safe--i saw them down to the coast last night. i risked my life, for although the slaves round here respect me and look upon me as their leader, even that would not have saved me had they suspected that i had saved white people from death." "but you are not with them, toussaint, surely?" the negro drew himself up. "i am with my countrymen," he said; "i have always felt their position greatly. why should we be treated as cattle because we differ in colour from others? i did my duty to my employers, and now that that is done i am free, and to-morrow i shall join the bands under françois and biassou. i regret most deeply that my people should have disgraced their cause by murders. of the two thousand whites who have fallen fully one half are women and children, therefore there could have been but one thousand men who, if they had been allowed to go free down to the town, could have fought against us; and what are a thousand men, when we are half a million? it has been a mistake that may well ruin our cause; among the whites everywhere it will confirm their opinion of our race that we are but savages, brutal and bloodthirsty, when we have the opportunity. in france it will excite those against us who were before our friends, and french troops will pour into the islands, whereas, had the revolution been a peaceful one, it would have been approved by the friends of liberty there. it is terrible, nevertheless it makes it all the more necessary that those who have some influence should use it for good. now that the first fury has passed, better thoughts may prevail, and we may conduct the war without such horrors; but even of that i have no great hope. we may be sure that the whites will take a terrible vengeance, the blacks will retaliate; it will be blood for blood on both sides. however, in a case like this the lives of individuals are as nothing, the cause is everything. i have myself no animosity against the whites, but many of my countrymen have just cause for hatred against them, and were any to try to interfere to prevent them from taking the vengeance they consider their right, it would cause dissension and so prejudice our chances of success. you can understand, then, that i shall hold myself aloof altogether from any interference. i am sorry for the ladies, but now that i have done my duty to my late employers, i have a paramount duty to discharge to my countrymen, and decline to interfere in any way." "then all i can say is," nat said sternly, "that i trust that some day, when you are in the power of your enemies, there will be none to give you the aid you now deny to women in distress." so saying, he turned and went out through the door, and before morning broke arrived again at the cave. not wishing to disturb the others, he lay down outside until the sun was up, then he went along the stream for some distance and bathed. as he returned, myra was standing on the ledge outside the entrance. "welcome back!" she called out. "what news have you brought?" "good news as far as your friends are concerned. toussaint has got them down to the coast, and sent them to cape françois in a boat." "that is good news indeed," she cried. "oh, i am glad! now, what is the bad news?" "the only bad news is that the negro declined to help you in the same way. he is starting this morning to join some bands of slaves up in the hills." "that is hardly bad news," she said, "for i never supposed that he would help us. there was no reason why he should run any risks for our sake." "i hoped that he would have done so, myra; but at the same time, as he evidently regards the success of the blacks as certain, and expects to become one of their leaders, one can understand that he does not care to run any risk of compromising himself." "mamma is better this morning," myra said; "she has asked after you, and remembers what happened before her fever began." "that is good indeed. as soon as she gets strong enough to travel we will begin to think how we can best make our way down to the town." four days later, dinah, on her return from a visit to the plantations, said that there had just been some fighting between the whites coming out from cape françois and the slaves. they said that a ship had arrived with some french troops, and that all the white men in the town were coming out, and that they were killing every negro they found. the women and children from the plantations in the plains were all flying into the woods. "then it strikes me, dinah, that our position here is a very dangerous one. you may be sure that the slaves will not be able to stand against the whites and the soldiers, and that numbers of them will go into hiding, and it is very likely that some who know the secret of this place will come here." "yes, sah, i'se not thought ob dat; but, sure enough, it am bery likely dat some ob dem may do so. what you tink had best be done? if de slabes all running into de wood de danger of passing troo would be much greater dan it hab been. and eben if madame could walk, it would be bery great risk to go down--great risk to 'top here too. what you tink?" "i don't know what to think, dinah; there is one thing, it is not likely that many of them would come here." "no, sah; dose who know about de cave would know dat not more dan eight or ten could hide here--no use to bring a lot ob people wid dem." "that is what i think, dinah; they will keep the secret to themselves. now against eight or ten of them, i am sure that i could hold this place, but some of them, when they found they could not get in, would go back again and might lead a strong party here, or might keep watch higher up, and starve us out. and even if the whites beat them out of all the plantations, they would not know where to look for us, and would have too much on their hands to scatter all over the hills. if we are to join them it must be by going down." "dinah might go and tell dem, sah." nat shook his head. "i am afraid, dinah, that their passions will be so much aroused at the wholesale murder of the whites that they will shoot every black they come across, man or woman, and you would be shot long before you could get close enough to explain why you had come. no, i think the only thing to be done, as far as i can see, is that you should go down from time to time to let us know how things are going. i do not think that the whites are likely to get very far along the road. you may be sure that when the troops started from the town news was sent at once to the leaders, and it is likely that they will move a great number of men down to oppose them, and will likely enough drive them back. however, the great thing for us is to know where they are and what they are doing. it is likely that now the whites have advanced there will no longer be any watch kept to prevent people, in hiding like ourselves, from going down to the town; if you find out that that is so, we will put madame on her barrow again, and carry her down. of course we should have to chance being met when going through the forest, but we must risk that." "yes, i tink dat de only plan, sah." accordingly, dinah started again the next morning. nat felt very anxious, and took up his place near the entrance to the cave. myra was busy seeing to the cooking and in attending upon her mother. about four o'clock he thought he heard voices, and, crawling cautiously to the mouth of the cave, he looked out through the bushes. eight men were coming along; six of them were negroes, and the other two were the mulatto overseers whose conversation he had overheard. he called softly to myra: "don't be alarmed, myra, we are going to have a fight, but i have no fear whatever of their taking us. only one can attack at once, and he can only come slowly. there are eight of them; you may as well bring me the two other pistols. i would not take them if i thought there was the smallest chance of these fellows getting up here. go and tell your mother not to be frightened, and then do you come and sit down behind me. i will hand the pistols to you to load. there are only eight of these fellows, and if there were eighty, we could hold the cave; even if they got up to the platform they could only enter, stooping, one at a time. go at once to your mother, they will be here directly." "how much farther is this place?" the mulatto christophe asked. "right dar behind dat bush," the negro said; "you go up by dem steps." "it is a splendid hiding-place, paul." "yes. no one who did not know of it would have a chance of finding it. there is someone there now; don't you see a light smoke rising behind the bush?" "so there is! i should not be surprised if the woman duchesne and her daughter are there. it is certain that someone must have helped them off, or we should have found them long ago." "well, it will be a rare piece of luck if they are there." the negroes had already noticed the smoke, and were talking excitedly together. it had not occurred to them that any fugitives could have discovered the place, and they were only concerned at the thought that the cave might be already fully occupied. "hullo, dar!" one of them shouted. "how many ob you up dar?" no answer was returned. he shouted again, but there was still silence. "i s'pect dar only one man," he said to his comrades. "most likely him gone out to look for food. bery foolish leab fire burning;" and he at once proceeded to climb the steps, followed by two others. nat grasped the handle of his pistol. he determined that in the first place he would make sure of the two mulattoes. they were by far the most dangerous of his foes, and if they escaped they would, he had no doubt, keep watch higher up, capture dinah on her return, and cut off all retreat from the cave. it was time to act at once, and, taking a steady aim at paul, he fired. with a shriek the mulatto fell backwards. before the others could recover from their surprise nat fired again, and christophe fell forward on his face in the water. he passed the pistol back to myra, and grasped another. he had expected that the negroes would at once fly, and two of them had turned to do so, when the highest climber shouted down: "come on, all ob you! what you want run away for? perhaps only one man here, he want to keep de cabe all to himself; we soon settle with him. dis cabe de only safe place." nat could easily have shot the man, but he determined to direct his fire against those below. if he shot those climbing the others would escape, and it was of the greatest importance that no one should do so. the negroes had snatched the pistols from the belts of the fallen mulattoes, and several shots were fired at the bush. nat drew back for a moment as the negroes raised their arms, and then discharged the two barrels of his pistol with as deadly an effect as before, and seized the third weapon. the remaining negro below dropped behind a fallen rock. at the same moment the man who was evidently the leader of them sprang on to the ledge. nat's pistol was ready, and as the negro bounded forward he fired. the ball struck him in the chest, and he fell like a log over the precipice. in his fall he struck one of his comrades, and carried him down on to the rocks below. the other seemed paralysed with fear, and uttered a shriek for mercy as nat, who from his position could not see him, sprang to his feet; but the tales that he had heard from dinah of the atrocities perpetrated had steeled his heart to all thoughts of mercy, and taking a deliberate aim nat shot him through the head. he had still a pistol left charged. myra had not yet loaded the first he had handed to her, for it was but some twenty seconds from the time that the first shot had been fired. nat caught up the sword, and at once made his way down the steps. he ran towards the rock behind which the last of the negroes had thrown himself. as he did so the man leapt to his feet, and the two pistols cracked at the same moment. nat felt a sharp pain in his side. his own shot had missed, and a moment later the negro was rushing at him with uplifted knife. [illustration: "he fell like a log over the precipice."] for the moment nat forgot that he had another shot left, and, dropping the pistol, shifted his sword to the right hand, and before the negro's knife could fall he ran him through the body. there was now but one foe left. he lay stunned below his fallen comrade, and nat saw from the manner in which one of his legs was doubled under him that it was broken. he could do no harm, but he would assuredly die if left there alone. nat pressed his lips together, and having picked up his pistol, he put it close to the man's head and fired. looking up, he saw myra run out with a pistol in her hand. "it is all right, myra. thank god none of them have got away." "are you hurt?" she asked, breathlessly. "i will come up," he said; "i am hit in the side, but i don't think that it is at all serious." he found, however, as he ascended the steps, that it gave him acute pain every time he moved. the girl was white and trembling when he joined her. "don't be frightened, myra," he said, "i am sure that it is nothing serious. it struck a rib and glanced off, i think, and at the worst it has only broken the bone. you go in and attend to your mother." "i shall not do anything of the sort," she said. "you come in, and i will look at it; it must want bandaging, anyhow." nat felt that this was true, and, following her into the cave, he let her take off his jacket. the wound was a few inches below the arm. "it is lucky that it was not a little more to the right," he said; "it would have done for me. don't look so white, myra, a miss is as good as a mile. it is as i thought, is it not?--just a glancing wound." "yes," the girl said. he felt along the rib. "yes," he said, "there is no doubt that it is broken; i can feel the ends grate, and it hurts me every time i breathe. this is where it is, just where the cut begins; the wound itself is nothing." "what shall i do?" she asked quietly. "tear a strip or two off the bottom of your petticoat, then sew the ends together to make a long bandage, and roll a little piece, so as to make a wad about an inch wide. is the wound bleeding?" "yes, very much." "fold a piece four or five thick, and lay over that the other wad so as to go up and down across the rib. now, if you will give me a little warm water and a piece of rag, i will bathe the wound while you are making the bandage." "i will bathe it," the girl said. "i am sure it would hurt you to get your hand round." in ten minutes the operation was completed. "i am so sorry that i cannot help," madame duchesne murmured, as myra sat down to sew the strips together. "there is nothing that you could do, thank you," nat said cheerfully. "myra is getting on capitally. i shall soon be all right again." when everything was done, he said, "you are a trump, myra, you have done it first-rate." then the girl, who had gone on as quietly as if she had been accustomed to such work all her life, broke down, and, bursting into a fit of crying, threw herself down by the side of her mother. nat would have attempted to soothe her, but her mother said, "leave her to me, she will be all the better for a good cry." nat went down again to the stream, picked up the four pistols the creoles had carried and unwound their sashes, thinking that these would be better than the make-shift that he wore. as he did so two small bags dropped out. he opened them; both contained jewels, some of which he had seen madame duchesne wearing. "that is a bit of luck," he said to himself. "no doubt directly they entered the house these scoundrels made one of the women show them where madame's jewel-case was, and divided the contents between them. when dinah comes we must get these bodies down the stream. i could do it myself were it not for this rib, but it would not be safe to try experiments. what a plucky girl myra is! most girls would have been ready to faint at the sight of blood. i will wait a few minutes before i go up so as to give her time to pull herself together." in ten minutes he went up again. "madame," he said, "i have something that i am sure you will be very glad to get back again. i took off the sashes of those rascally mulattoes, and these two bags fell out of them. what do you think they contain? some of your jewels." madame duchesne and myra both uttered exclamations of pleasure. "they are family jewels," myra said, "and my father and mother both prize them very much. how strange they should have been on these men!" "the two mulattoes were two of your overseers, and no doubt ran straight up and seized them directly they entered the house." she saw that her mother wished to speak, and leaned down over her, for madame duchesne could not as yet raise her voice above a whisper. "turn them out," she said, "and see how many are missing." although nat had seen madame duchesne in full evening dress two or three times when parties of friends had assembled at the house, and had noticed the beauty of her jewels, he was surprised at the number of bracelets, necklaces, brooches, and rings that poured out from the bags. some of the larger articles, which he supposed were ornaments for the hair, were bent and crumpled up so as to take up as little space as possible. myra held them up one by one before her mother's eyes. "they are all there, every one of them," the latter whispered. "your father will be pleased." "the greater part of these," myra said to nat, "were brought over when the baron duchesne, our ancestor, came over here first, but a great many have been bought since. i have heard mamma say that each successor of the name and estate has made it a point of honour to add to the collection, of which they were very proud, as it was certainly the finest in the island; and besides, it was thought that if at any time hayti should be captured, either by the spanish or your people, or if there should be trouble with the blacks, it would be a great thing to have valuables that could be so easily hidden or carried away." "then they have thought all along that there might be a rising here some day?" "yes. i have heard my father say that when he was a boy he has heard his grandfather talk the matter over with others, and they thought that the number of slaves in the island was so great that possibly there might some day be a revolt. they all agreed that it would be put down, but they believed that the negroes might do terrible damage before enough troops could be brought from france to suppress it." "they thought rightly," nat said, "though it has been a long time coming; and the worst of it is that even if it is put down it may break out again at any time. it is hardly reasonable that, when they are at least ten to one against the whites and mulattoes together, men should submit to be kept in slavery." "but they were very well off," myra said. "i am sure they were much better off than the poorer whites." "from what i have seen of them i think they were," nat replied, "but you see people do not know when they are well off. i have no doubt that if the last white man left the island, and slavery were abolished for ever, the negroes would be very much worse off than they were before, and i should think they would most likely go back to the same idle, savage sort of life that they live in africa. still, of course, at present they have no idea of that. they think they will be no longer obliged to work, and suppose that somehow they will be fed and clothed and have everything they want without any trouble to themselves. you see it is just the same thing that is going on in france." "well, now, what are you going to do next, nat?" "i shall load the pistols. i have got four more now. then i shall take my place at the mouth of the cave again. i hope that when dinah comes she will bring us news that will enable us to move away. the fact that this party was coming here for refuge shows that the blacks are growing alarmed, and perhaps have already suffered a defeat, in which case the way will be clear for us. if not, i must get her to help me clear the place down below, it will not be difficult. what have you got on the fire?" "there is a fowl that i have been stewing down to make the broth for mother. i have another cut up ready for grilling." two hours later nat, to his surprise, saw dinah hurrying down the ravine, for he had not expected her until evening. he stood up at once. she paused when she caught sight of the bodies lying below the cave. "it is all right, dinah," he shouted. "we have had a bit of a fight, but it only lasted for a minute or two, and except that i got a graze from a pistol-ball, we are unhurt." "de lord be blest, sah!" she said as she came up. "eight ob dem, and you kill dem all, sah?" "yes; one could hardly miss them at that distance. i am glad to say that none of them got away. you are back earlier than i expected." "yes, sah; me found out all de news in good time, and den, as eberyone say hurricane come on, i hurry all de way to get here before he come." "well, come up, dinah. madame is going on very well. you know those two mulattoes?" "me know dem, sah; dey bery bad men, dey lead de black fellows to de attack." "well, it is well that they came up here, for they had, hidden in their sashes, all madame's jewels." "dat am good news, sah," the old woman said as she joined him, "dat powerful good news. madame didn't say anyting about jewels, but dinah tought of dem, and what a terrible ting it would be if she had lost dem! dat good affair." "so you think that we are going to have a storm, dinah?" "sartin suah, sah; bery hot las' night, bery hot dis morning, and jest as me got to top of hill me saw de clouds coming up bery fast." "i didn't notice the heat particularly. of course it is very shady in this deep gorge, and one does not see much of the sky." "dis bery good place, sah--better dan house, much better dan forest. me was despate frighted dat storm would come before me got here." "i was wanting you to help me put the bodies into the stream, dinah." "no need for dat, sah; when storm come wash dem all down--no fear ob dat." she went into the cave, and nat followed her. "me hab good news for you, ma'am. de whites come out strong from de town wid regiment of troops and de sailors from english ship; de blacks hab a fight down in de plain, but dey beat dem easy. den yesterday de bands of françois come down from de mountains, get to our plantation in de evening; dey bery strong, dey say dar am ten thousand ob dem. dey s'pect de whites to come and attack to-morrow. to-day dey clearing out all de plantations on de plain. de black fellows say dey cut dem all to pieces." "there is no fear of that," nat broke in. "so you think that they will fight in the morning?" "no, sah, me no tink dat; me suah dat as soon as de whites see de hurricane coming dey march back fast to de town; no can stand hurricane widout shelter. you had better light de lantern, it am getting as dark as night." nat went to the entrance. looking up, he saw a canopy of black cloud passing overhead with extraordinary rapidity. almost instantaneously there came a flash of lightning, nearly blinding him, accompanied by a tremendous clap of thunder. he turned hastily back into the cave. "it is lucky that you arrived in time, dinah; if you had been ten minutes longer you would have been caught." he stopped speaking, for his voice was drowned in a tremendous roar. he was about to go to the mouth of the cave again, but dinah caught hold of his jacket. "no, sah, you mustn't go; if you show your head out beyond de cabe, de wind catch you and whirl you away like leaf, nobody neber see you no more. we safe and comfor'ble in here. we just got to wait till it all over. dat wind strong enough to trow down de strongest trees, blow down all de huts, take de roof off de strongest house. we not often hab hurricanes in dis island, but when dey come, dey come bery bad. dose ten tousand black fellows down at de plantation dey hab a bery bad time ob it to-night, dey wish demselves dead afore morning." "it is very bad for the women and children too, dinah." "yes, sah, me hab not forgotten dat; but most ob dem will hab gone, dey run away when dey hear dat de whites coming out of town. dey know bery well dat de whites hab good cause to be bery angry, and dat dey shoot eberyone dey catch." "but they will be just as badly off in the woods as they would be in their huts, dinah. have your daughter and her children got away?" "no, sah, dey wur going jest as i started, but i told dem dat hurricane coming, and dat dey better stay in de clearing; and dey agreed to hide up in de little stone hut at end of garden where dey keep de tools and oder tings. de roof blow off, no doubt, but de walls am low and strong. dey hab bad time dere, but dey safe." with dinah's assistance, nat fixed a blanket at the point where the narrow entrance widened out, to keep out the swirls of wind which from time to time rushed in, propping it in its place by the hand-barrow on which madame duchesne had been brought up. myra had finished cooking the fowls just as her nurse arrived, and they sat down to their meal heedless of the terrific tempest that was raging outside. chapter x afloat again "there will be no occasion to keep watch to-night, dinah." "not in de least, sah; de water six feet deep, no one could get in." as talking was out of the question, the party lay down to sleep soon after they had finished their meal. it was some time, however, before nat closed his eyes. it seemed to him that as soon as the storm was over, and the water low enough for them to pass up the ravine, no time should be lost in attempting to make their way down into the town. the troops would no doubt set out again as soon as possible, and a battle might be fought before nightfall. that the negroes would be beaten he had no doubt, and in that case other parties of fugitives might make for the cave. it was likely that, until the battle was fought, there would be but few negroes in the forest; those who had remained there during the storm would go down into the full glare of the sun to dry and warm themselves. doubtless, too, françois, the negro leader, would have sent messengers off as soon as he arrived, ordering all able-bodied men in the plantations for miles round to come in to take part in the battle, and their chances of meeting with any foes as they descended to the plain would be slight. it would undoubtedly be a serious matter to carry madame duchesne for so long a distance; for they had ever since leaving the plantation been going farther away from the town, and he calculated that it must be at least twenty-five miles distant. he did not think that it would be possible to do the journey in a day; but once down on the plains they might find some building intact, in which they could obtain shelter for the night. at last he fell off to sleep. when he awoke the din outside had ceased, and the silence seemed almost oppressive. he got up, pushed aside the blanket, and looked out. the stars were shining, and the wind had entirely lulled. the bottom of the ravine was still full of water, but he felt sure that this would speedily drop; for the depression above the gorge was not an extensive one, and the water that fell there would speedily find its way down. he lit a fresh candle and placed it in the lantern, as the last, which had been renewed by dinah early in the night, was burning low. he pulled down the blanket, for although the air was fresh and cool at the entrance, the cave was oppressively warm. it was two hours before day began to break; by this time the torrent had subsided and the stream ran in its former course, and it was clear that in another hour it would be possible to make their way along by the side. as he was turning to go in, dinah joined him. "i tink, marse glober, de sooner we go de better." "that is just what i have been thinking. there are not likely to be many of the slaves about in the wood to-day; you see a number of trees have blown down from above, and just below, the ravine is almost choked with them." "no, sah, many will be killed in the forest, and de rest frighted 'most out of der lives. if de whites come out and fight to-day, and de black fellows are beaten, all dose who know of dis place suah to come to hide here." "that was just my idea." "how your side, sah?" "it seems rather stiff and sore, dinah. however, that can't be helped. that sash you made me will come in very handy for carrying madame, and we sha'n't have the weight of the other things we brought up. i am afraid it will be impossible to do the journey in one day, but i dare say we shall light upon a shelter down on the plains." "yes, sah. me put de pot on de fire at once, and as soon as we hab breakfast we make a start; but before we go me must stain you all again--got glenty ob berries left." madame duchesne had already been consulted. she would much rather have remained until strong enough to walk, but on her old nurse's showing her that it would be at least a fortnight before she could walk even a mile, and pointing out the danger there was in delay, she agreed to start whenever they thought fit. the jewels were placed in dinah's capacious pocket, as, if they fell in with any strong party of negroes, she would be less likely to be searched than the others. in an hour all the preparations were completed; one pistol was given to madame duchesne and another to her daughter. dinah took charge of a brace, and nat wore the other two brace in his sash. he still wore his uniform under his nankeen suit, and his naval cap was in the bundle that formed madame duchesne's pillow. she lay down on the hand-barrow, all the blankets being placed under her, with the exception of one which was thrown over her, and she was let down the precipice in the same way as she had been brought up. dinah this time followed nat's example, and used one of the mulattoes' sashes as a yoke to take the weight off her arms. madame duchesne was placed as far forward on the barrow as possible, so as to divide the weight more equally between her bearers. on raising her, nat found to his satisfaction that it hurt him but little. in the week that had elapsed since she was seized with the fever, madame duchesne had lost a good deal of weight, the store of provisions had, too, greatly diminished, and the sash took so much of the weight off his arms, that as he walked in a perfectly erect position there was little strain thrown upon the broken bone. it was only when he came to a rough place and had to step very carefully that he really felt his wounds. myra looked anxiously at him from time to time. "i am getting on capitally," he said. "do not worry about me; at present i scarcely feel that unfortunate rib." "mind, if you do feel it, nat, you must give up. dinah will take your place, and i will take hers. i am sure that i can carry that end very well for a time." "i will let you know when i want a change," nat said. "now, you go on ahead, and as soon as we get out of this hollow use your eyes sharply." they saw no one going up the valley or crossing the open ground. when, however, they entered the forest on the other slope, they saw for the first time how terrible had been the force of the hurricane. in some places over acres of ground every tree had fallen, in others the taller trees only had been levelled or snapped off, while others again had boughs wrenched off, and the ground was thickly strewn with fallen branches. all this added greatly to the fatigue of travelling. detours had to be constantly made, and the journey down took them double the time that had been occupied in the ascent. when approaching the road they had to cross, they sat down and rested for half an hour. "you are looking very white, nat," myra said; "i am afraid that your side is hurting you terribly." "it certainly hurts a bit, myra, but it is of no consequence. it was going on very well until i stumbled over a fallen branch that gave it rather a twist." "you let me bandage 'im again, marse glober. we will go off and set dis matter right." when a short distance away nat stripped to the waist. myra had done her best, but the old nurse possessed considerable skill in such matters, and strength enough to draw the bandage much tighter than she had done. "better make it a bit longer," she said, and taking a pair of scissors from her pocket cut off a strip some fifteen inches wide from her ample petticoat, and wound this tightly round the other bandage. "dere, sah, dat make you 'tiff and comf'able." "it does make me stiff," nat said with a smile; "i almost feel as if i had got a band of iron round me. thank you; i shall do very well now." the old nurse dressed him carefully again, and they rejoined the others. "that is ever so much better," nat said to myra; "the bandage had shifted a little, and dinah has put it on fresh again, and added a strip of her own petticoat." the journey was then resumed, and, with an occasional halt, continued until late in the afternoon, by which time they were well down on the plain. during the latter part of the day they had heard at first scattered shots and then a roar of musketry about a couple of miles on their right. it continued for half an hour, and then the heavy firing ceased; but musket shots could be heard occasionally, and higher up on the hill than before. "the negroes have been beaten," nat said, "and our men are pursuing them. perhaps they will make another stand at the point where the road runs between two steep banks." this indeed seemed to be the case, for half an hour later a heavy fire broke out again. it was but for a short time--in ten minutes it died away, and no further sound was heard. darkness was now falling, and they presently arrived at some buildings that had been left standing. they were storehouses, and had not been fired at the time when the planter's house was burned, but had probably been used by the negroes as a barrack, until the advance of the troops on the previous day had compelled them to take a hasty flight. the litter was now laid on the ground. madame duchesne had dozed off many times during the day, and was now wide awake. "are you going to light a fire, dinah?" "no, madame; marse glober and me tink it too dangerous. not likely any ob dese black fellows 'bout, but dere might be some hiding, best to be careful. we hab a cold chicken to eat, and dere is some chicken jelly in de lillie pot for you, and we hab bread, so no need for fire to cook, and sartin no need for him afterward, we all sleep first-rate. madame not heaby, but road bery rough, and little weight tell up by end ob de day. dinah getting ole woman, marse glober got rib broken--both bery glad when journey done. mamzelle she tired too; twelve mile ober rough ground a long journey for her." "my feet ache a little," myra said, "but otherwise i do not feel tired. i felt quite ashamed of myself walking along all day carrying nothing, instead of taking turns with you." there was but little talking as they ate their meal in the darkness. neither nat nor the old nurse had said a word as to their feelings as they walked, but both felt completely exhausted, and it was not many minutes after they had finished their supper before they were sound asleep. at daybreak they were on their feet again, feeling better after the long night's rest, and happy at the thought that this day's walk would take them to home and safety. nat now threw off his disguise, placed his cap upon his head, and appeared as a british officer, though certainly one of considerably darker complexion than was common; but he thought there was less danger now from slaves than from parties of maddened whites, who had been out to their former homes and might shoot any negroes they came upon without waiting to ask questions. myra also discarded the negro gown. "i think that i looked more respectable in that," she said with a laugh, "than in this draggled white frock." "it has not been improved, certainly, by its week's wear, myra; but just at the present moment no one will be thinking of dresses. now let us be off. we shall be on the road soon, and in an hour or two will be in the town." [illustration: the journey to the coast.] it seemed easy work after the toil of the previous day. they bore to the right until they fell into the main road, both because it would be safer, and because nat hoped that he might meet someone who could inform monsieur duchesne--who he had no doubt would have gone out with the column--that his wife and daughter were in safety, and that he would find them at his house in the town. they had, indeed, gone but a short distance along the road when four men on horseback galloped up. they drew rein suddenly as they met the little party, astonished to see, as they thought, a mulatto girl in front, a negro woman carrying a litter on which was another mulatto woman, and which was carried behind by a young mulatto in the uniform of a british naval officer. had they met them out in the country they would probably not have troubled to ask questions, but, travelling as they were along the road towards the town, and from the direction where the column had been fighting, it was evident that there must be some mystery about it. "who are you?" one of them asked nat in a rough tone. "i am an officer of his britannic majesty's frigate _orpheus_, at present, i believe, in the port; this lady on the stretcher is madame duchesne; this young lady is her daughter, mademoiselle myra duchesne; this negress, the faithful nurse of the two ladies, has saved their lives at the risk of her own." one of the horsemen leapt from his saddle. "pardon me for not recognizing you, mademoiselle," he said to myra, lifting his straw-hat; "but the change that you have made in your complexion must be my excuse for my not having done so. i trust that madame, your mother, is not seriously ill." "she has been very ill, monsieur ponson," she replied. "she has just recovered from an attack of fever, but is very weak indeed." "i saw your father three days ago. he had then just received your message saying that you were in safe hiding. he was, of course, in a state of the greatest delight. he went out with the troops yesterday." "if you see him, sir, will you be kind enough to tell him that you have met us, and that he will find us at his house in town?" "i will certainly find him out as soon as i reach the troops. is there anything else that i can do?" "nothing, thank you, sir. is there, nat?" "no, unless one of the gentlemen would ride back with us, so as to prevent us from being stopped by every party we meet and having to explain who we are." "i will do so, sir," the youngest of the horsemen said. "i dare say i shall be able to join our friends at the front before there is any more fighting, for the messenger who came in yesterday evening brought the news that the blacks had been so completely defeated, that it was thought likely they would make straight off into the mountains in the interior." "thank you very much, sir; it will be a great comfort to us to go straight on. we are anxious to get madame duchesne into shelter before the sun gets to its full power. my name is glover. may i ask yours?" "it is laurent." the other three horsemen, after raising their hats in salute, had now ridden on. "how did you get on through the hurricane, monsieur glover?" "we scarce felt it. we were in a cave with a very small entrance, and after the first outburst slept through it in comfort." "it is more than any of us did in the town," the other said with a laugh. "it was tremendous. i should say that half the houses were unroofed, and in the poor quarters many of the huts were blown down, and upwards of twenty negroes were killed." "do you think, monsieur laurent," myra said, moving across to him, "that we are likely to meet any people on foot whom we could hire?" "no, i hardly think so, mademoiselle. all the gentlemen in the town who could get away rode out with the troops, and the rest of the whites are patrolling the streets armed, lest the negroes employed in the work of the port should rise during the absence of the troops. why do you ask, mademoiselle?" "because monsieur glover had a rib broken by a pistol-ball the day before yesterday, and i am sure it hurts him very much to carry my mother." the young man leapt from his horse. "monsieur," he exclaimed, "pray take my horse. i will assist in carrying madame duchesne." "i do not like"--nat began, but his remonstrance was unheeded. "but i insist, monsieur. please take the reins. you can walk by the side of the horse or mount him, whichever you think will be the more easy for you." so saying, he gently possessed himself of the handles of the litter, placed the sash over his shoulders, and started. it was indeed an immense relief to nat. the rough work of the preceding day had caused the ends of the bone to grate, and had set up a great deal of inflammation. he had been suffering acutely since he started, in spite of the support of the bandage, and he had more than once thought that he would be obliged to ask myra to take his place. he did not attempt to mount in the young frenchman's saddle, for he thought that the motion of the horse would be worse for him than walking; he therefore took the reins in his hand, and walked at the horse's head behind the litter. the pain was less now that he was relieved of the load, but he still suffered a great deal, and he kept in the rear behind the others, while myra chatted with monsieur laurent, learning from him what had happened in the town, and giving him a sketch of their adventures. as they passed the house of madame duchesne's sister, the invalid said that she would be taken in there, as she had heard from monsieur laurent that their own house was partially unroofed. myra ran in to see her aunt, who came out with her at once. "ah, my dear sister," she cried, "how we have suffered! we had no hope that you had escaped until your husband brought us the joyful news three days ago that you were still in safety. come in, come in! i am more glad than ever that our house escaped without much damage from the storm." although the house was intact, the garden was a wreck. the drive up to the house was blocked by fallen trees, most of the plants seemed to have been torn up by the roots and blown away, the lawn was strewn with huge branches. two of the house servants had now come out and relieved those carrying the litter. "ah, monsieur glover," continued madame duchesne's sister, "once again you have saved my niece; my sister also this time! of course you will come in too." "thanks, madame, but if you will allow me i will go straight on board my ship. i am wounded, though in no way seriously. still, i shall require some medical care, for i have a rib broken, and the journey down has not improved it." "in that case i will not press you, monsieur. dr. lepel has gone out with the column, and may not be back for some days." "good-bye, madame duchesne!" nat said, shaking the thin hand she held out to him. "i will come and see you soon, and hope to find you up by that time. now that your anxiety is at an end you ought to gain strength rapidly." "may heaven bless you," she said, "for your goodness to us!" "that is all right," he said cheerfully. "you see, i was saving my own life as well as yours; and it is to you, dinah," he said, turning and shaking her hand, "it is to you that we really all owe our lives. first you warned us in time, then you took us to a place of safety, and have since got us food and news, and risked your own life in doing so. "good-bye, myra; i hope that when i see you again you will have got that dye off your face, and that you will be none the worse for what you have gone through." the girl's lip quivered. "good-bye, nat. i do so hope your wound will soon heal." "you are fortunate, indeed, in having escaped," monsieur laurent said as they turned away. "from all we hear, i fear that very few of the whites, except in plantations quite near the towns, have escaped. it is strange that the house servants, who in most cases have been all their lives with their masters and mistresses, and who have almost always been treated as kindly as if they were members of the family, should not have warned them of what was coming." "i should think that very few of them knew," nat replied. "they were known to be attached to their masters and mistresses, and would hardly have been trusted by the others. i cannot think so badly of human nature as to believe that a people who have been so long in close connection with their masters should, in almost every case, have kept silent when they knew that there was a plot to massacre them." "well, i will say good-morning," monsieur laurent said. "i want to be back with the troops. i was detained yesterday, to my great disgust, to see to the getting-off of a freight, and i should not like to miss another chance of paying some of the scoundrels off." nat made his way slowly and carefully--for the slightest movement gave him great pain--to the wharf. one of the frigate's boats was ashore. the coxswain looked at him with surprise as he went down the steps to it. "well, i'm jiggered," the man muttered, "if it ain't mr. glover!" then he said aloud: "glad to see you back, sir. the ship's crew were all glad when they heard the other day that the news had come as how you were safe, for we had all been afraid you had been murdered by them niggers. you are looking mighty queer, sir, if i may say so." "my face is stained to make me look like a mulatto. whom are you waiting for?" "for mr. normandy." "well, how long do you expect he will be?" "i can't say, sir. it is about a quarter of an hour since he landed, and he said he would be back in half an hour; but officers are generally longer than they expect." "well it won't take you above ten minutes to row off to the ship and back. i will take the blame if he comes down before that. i have been wounded, not badly, but it is very painful. i want to get it properly dressed." "all right, sir, we will get you on board in no time." "give me your arm. i must get in carefully." the men stretched to their oars, and in five minutes nat was alongside the _orpheus_. he had heard, as he expected, that dr. bemish had gone with the party that had been landed, but his assistant was on board. the first lieutenant was on deck. he saw by nat's walk as he went up to report his return that something was the matter. "are you ill or wounded, mr glover?" "i am wounded, sir. i had a rib broken by a pistol-ball, and i have had a long journey, which has inflamed it a good deal." "go down at once and have it seen to; you can tell me your story afterwards. have the ladies who were with you got safely down also?" "yes, sir." the lieutenant nodded, and nat then went below and placed himself in the hands of the assistant surgeon. "my word, glover, you have got your wound into a state!" the latter said after he had examined him. "what on earth have you been doing to it? it seems to have been a pretty clean break at first, and it wouldn't have bothered you above three weeks or so, but the ends have evidently been sawing away into the flesh. why, man alive, what have you been doing?" "i have been helping to carry a sick woman down from the hills," nat said quietly. "if it had been level ground it would not have hurt so much, but on rough ground strewn with branches one could not avoid stumbling occasionally, and although it had been bandaged before i started the wad slipped and the thing got loose, and after that it was like walking with a red-hot needle sticking into me." "so i should say. well, i will put you into a berth in the sick-bay at once. fortunately we have some ice on board and i will put some of it on the wound and try to get the inflammation down." in a short time he returned with a basin of ice and a jugful of iced lime-juice. nat took a long drink, and then turned so that the ice could be applied to the wound. "you must keep yourself as still as you can. i sha'n't attempt to bandage you at present, there is really nothing to be done till we have got the inflammation down." "i will lie quiet as long as i am awake, but i cannot answer for myself if i go off to sleep, which will not be long, for i am as tired as a dog. to-day's walk would have been nothing if i had been all right, it was the pain that wore me out." "i don't suppose you will move. you may be sure that that rib will act like an alarm, and give you warning at once if you stir in the slightest." having seen nat comfortable, the young surgeon went up on deck. "how do you find mr. glover?" the first lieutenant asked. "he says that it is only a broken rib." "well, sir, it was only a broken rib at first, now it is a broken rib with acute inflammation round it. there is a flesh wound about four inches long where the bullet struck, broke the rib, ran along it, and went out behind. that would not have been anything if he had kept quiet; as it is, it is as angry as you could want to see a wound. but that is not the worst, the two ends of the bone have been rubbing against each other with enough movement to lacerate the flesh, with the natural result that a wonderful amount of inflammation has been set up round it." "but how did he manage it?" "it seems, sir, that he has been carrying, or helping to carry, a sick woman down from the mountains, and he says the ground was very rough and strewn with boughs, so that one can understand that he got some terrible shakes and jolts, which would quite account for the state of his wounds." "i should think so. when monsieur duchesne came off with the news that his wife was safely hidden, and that glover was with her, he said that his daughter, who had written the note, reported that her mother was ill. no wonder he has got his wound in such a state if he has, as you say, aided to carry her down all that distance. he must have had a brush with the negroes." "that must have been before he started, sir; for he said that the bandage shifted, so his wound must have been bound up before he set out." "it was a gallant thing for a lad to undertake--a most gallant action! why, it must have been torture to him." "it must indeed, sir." "he is not in any danger, i hope?" "not unless fever intervenes, sir. no doubt with rest and quiet and the use of ice we shall succeed in reducing the inflammation; but it is likely enough that fever may set in, and if so there is no saying how it may go. i shall be glad to have doctor bemish back again to take the responsibility off my hands." late that afternoon monsieur duchesne came on board to thank nat. he was not allowed to see him, as the doctor said that absolute quiet was indispensable. he had had a full account from myra of the adventures through which the little party had gone, and he retailed this to the lieutenant and doctor in the ward-room. "a most gallant business altogether," the first lieutenant said when he had finished, "and certainly the most gallant part of it was undertaking to carry madame duchesne when practically disabled. but i can understand, as you say, that directly the negroes were defeated by the force that went out against them, some of them would have made for that cave, and it was therefore absolutely necessary to get away before they came. however, i hope that we need not be anxious about him; he has gone through three or four scrapes, any of which might have been fatal. there was that fight with the dog; then he was in the thick of that business with the pirates, and was blown up by the explosion, and half his crew killed. he has had some marvellous escapes, and i think we may feel very hopeful that he will get over this without serious trouble. it was lucky indeed his finding your family jewels on two of those scoundrels that he shot." "it would have been a great loss, but it is such a little thing in comparison to the saving of my wife and daughter, that i have scarcely given it a thought. i shall do myself the pleasure of calling again to-morrow morning to know how he is." "do so, monsieur; you will probably find captain crosbie here. i had a note from him an hour ago, saying that he was returning, and would be here by eight o'clock. the negroes having been defeated, and the safety of the town being ensured for a while, he does not consider that he would be justified in joining in the pursuit of the blacks among the hills." nat was not aware of the return of the landing-party until the next morning, when on opening his eyes he saw dr. bemish by his side. "you young scamp," the latter said, shaking his finger at him, "you seem determined to be a permanent patient. as soon as you recover from one injury you are laid up with another. so here you are again." "it is only a trifle this time, doctor." "umph, i am not so sure about that. macfarlane tells me that, not content with getting a rib broken, you go about carrying one end of a stretcher with a woman on it across ground where it was difficult, if not impossible, to move without ricking and hurting yourself. so that not only have you set up a tremendous amount of inflammation round the wound, but you have so worn the ends of the bone that they will take three times as long knitting together as they would have done had they been left alone." "i am afraid that is all true, doctor," nat replied with a smile; "but, you see, i thought it better to run the risk of inflammation, and even this terrible rubbing of the end of the bones you speak of, than of being caught by these fiendish negroes, and put to death by the hideous tortures with which they have in many cases slowly murdered those who fell into their hands." "it must have hurt you badly," dr. bemish said, as, after removing the dressing that had, late the evening before, been substituted for the ice, he examined the wound. "it did hurt a bit, doctor, but as four lives depended upon my being able to hold on, there was nothing for it but to set one's teeth hard and keep at it. how does it look this morning?" "what do you think, macfarlane? you can form a better opinion than i can, as i have not seen it before." "the inflammation seems to have abated a good deal." "in any case we will syringe the wound thoroughly with warm water. there are doubtless some particles of bone in it, and until these are got rid of we can't hope that it will heal properly. i will get that large magnifying-glass from my cabin." for half an hour the wound was fomented and washed. "as far as i can see it is perfectly clean now," dr. bemish said, after carefully examining it with the glass. "we will put a compress on, with a wet cloth over it, which must be damped with iced water every half-hour. when we quite get the inflammation down, glover, which will, i hope, be in two or three days, we will bandage it tightly, and i will buy you a pair of stays on shore, and lace you up so that there shall be no chance of your performing any more pranks with it, and then i fancy you will be able to come up on deck, if you will promise to keep yourself quiet there." "well, that is better than i expected, doctor." "have you any message to send to your friends? because i am going ashore now to see them. monsieur duchesne was off yesterday afternoon, but macfarlane very properly refused to let him see you." "tell him he can't see me for some days, doctor. i do so hate being made a fuss over." "i will keep him away for a day or two anyhow," the doctor laughed. "he gave the ward-room a full history of your affair, so you won't have the trouble of going over it again." "that is a comfort," nat growled. "how long is the _orpheus_ likely to stop here, doctor?" "ah, that is more than i can say! at any rate the captain will not leave until he gets orders from jamaica. the _æolus_ has just come into port, and the captain will send her off at once with despatches to the admiral, saying what has taken place, and how he landed a force to protect the town, and went out with a party to attack the insurgent blacks. he will ask for instructions, as they have no french vessel of war here, and the land force is insufficient to defend the place if attacked in earnest, especially as there is a considerable negro population who would probably rise and join the insurgents if these made an assault upon the town. the general hope on board is that we shall get orders to stay here, or at least to cruise on the coast. now that we have broken up that nest of pirates, things are likely to be dull here for some time, though i have little doubt that ere very long we shall be at war with the french. according to the last news, which arrived since you left us, that national assembly of theirs is going farther and farther, and its proceedings are causing serious alarm throughout europe, for they are altogether subversive of the existing state of things. it is to its measures that this terrible insurrection here is due, and the first consequence of what is really a revolution in france will be the loss of her most valuable colony. i suppose you have heard that something like two thousand whites have been murdered. i have no doubt that now they have recovered from the first shock, the french here will take a terrible vengeance; but though they may kill a great number of the negroes, i doubt if it will be possible to reduce half a million blacks to submission, especially in an island like this, with mountain ranges running through it where cannon would be absolutely useless, and the negroes could shelter in the almost impenetrable forests that cover a large portion of it." chapter xi a first command for another couple of days no one was permitted to see nat, but at the end of that time the wound assumed a healthy aspect, and he was allowed to receive visits. captain crosbie himself was the first to come down. "i am very glad to hear so good an account of you, mr. glover," he said cordially; "you have done us credit again, lad, and have rendered an inestimable service to monsieur duchesne and his family. although it can hardly be considered as in your regular course of duty, i shall certainly forward a narrative of your adventures to the admiral. the next time we go to port royal you had better go in for your examination, and if you pass i have very little doubt that acting rank will be given to you at once. your aiding to carry down that lady, when yourself wounded, was really a very fine action, for doctor bemish tells me that you must have suffered intensely. monsieur duchesne is most anxious to see you, but the doctor has told him that it will be better for him to wait until you are well enough to go ashore, when you can go and see them all together." "thank you, sir, i would much rather do that. but really the person to be thanked is the old negress who gave us warning in time to escape, went down and fetched food, despatched a message to monsieur duchesne, and got an answer back, and who did as much as i did in carrying her mistress down." "doubtless she behaved very well, mr. glover, but that does not alter the fact that you did so also. and, as even you will admit, she had no hand in the fight in which you killed eight of these scoundrels." "it was not much of a fight, sir. i had such an advantage in position that i really did not like shooting them, in spite of what i had heard of their doings; but it was our lives or theirs, and i knew that if one of them got away he would bring down a score of others, and they would speedily have starved us out." "at the present time," the captain said sternly, "mercy to these villains would be misapplied; the lesson must be a terrible one, or there will speedily be an end to white rule in the island. another thing is, that were this revolution to succeed, we might expect similar outbreaks in our own islands. now i will leave you. your comrades will come in to see you, but their visits must, for the present, be short." nat progressed rapidly. in three days the water-dressings were given up and he was tightly bandaged, and over this, rather to his disgust, the doctor insisted upon his wearing a pair of stays. "it is all very well, glover," doctor bemish said in answer to his remonstrances, "but we know what you are. you are as active as a cat, and would be constantly forgetting yourself, and springing to do something; but these things laced tightly on will act as a reminder, and will also bind you so closely together that, while you will have the free use of your limbs, your ribs will be held as if in a vice. you will have to keep them on until the bone has fairly knit, and you have every reason to be thankful that this is the only inconvenience you have to suffer from an expedition which might have cost you your life." four days later doctor bemish said: "i think you can go ashore to-day. of course you must be careful, especially, getting in and out of the boat, but if you do that and walk slowly, i do not think it will do you any harm. madame duchesne is up and going on nicely, and they are most anxiously expecting you, and indeed duchesne said yesterday, that if i did not let you go on shore to-day, he would come on board to see you." "but i feel like a hog in armour in these stays, doctor." "never mind that, lad, you would be almost as bad if you took them off, for i should have to put on twice as many bandages, and to pull them ever so much tighter. i have told the captain that i am letting you go ashore, and have also told mr. philpot, so that is all settled. i shall be going off myself in an hour, and will take you with me, and keep an eye over you until you get to their gate." "one would think that i was a small boy going to be taken to school," nat laughed, stopping, however, abruptly. "there! you see," the doctor said, "that gave you a twinge, i know; you must be careful, lad, you must, indeed. there is no objection to your smiling as much as you like, but there is nothing that shakes one up more than a hearty laugh. that is why at other times laughing is a healthy exercise, but with a rib in the process of healing, it is better not to indulge in it." "well, i shall be ready when you are." nat accomplished the journey without pain. "won't you come in, doctor?" he asked when they arrived at the gate. "no, glover; this will be a sort of family party. i have warned duchesne not to throw himself on your neck, and have told him that you are to be looked at and not touched." with an uneasy smile nat left him at the gate and walked up the drive. they were evidently on the watch for him, for the door opened almost immediately, and monsieur duchesne ran down. "mon cher!" he exclaimed, "the doctor has said that i must not touch you, but i can scarce refrain from embracing you. how can i thank you for all that you have done?" "but, monsieur, i have done next to nothing. i shot some negroes who had not a chance of getting at me, and i helped dinah to carry madame down. we owe our safety to dinah, who was splendid in her devotion, making journeys backwards and forwards, to say nothing of giving us the warning that enabled us all to escape in time." "dinah was splendid!" monsieur duchesne admitted. "but i can do nothing for her. i have told her that she shall have a house and plenty to live on all her days, but she will not leave us. i have made out her papers of freedom, but she says, 'what use are these? i have been your servant all my life, and should be no different whether i was what you call a free woman or not.' what pleased her most was that i have given freedom to her grandson who brought the message down here, and am going to employ him in my stable, and that she has received a new black silk gown. she has got it on in honour of your visit, and if it had been a royal robe she could not be more proud of it." they had by this time arrived at the door, and monsieur duchesne led nat to the drawing-room, where his wife was lying on a sofa, and myra standing beside her. the yellow dye had now nearly worn off their faces. madame duchesne was still pale, but she looked bright and happy. nat went up to her and took her hand. "i am truly glad to see you up again," he said. "it has all ended well," she replied with tears in her eyes. "it seems like a bad dream to me, especially that journey. how good and kind you were! and i know now how terribly you must have suffered." "it hurt a bit at the time, madame, but one gets accustomed to being hurt, and it all went on so well that it was not worth grumbling about." "ah, you look more yourself now, myra!" and he held out his hand to her. "embrace him, my dear, for me and for yourself. twice has he saved your life, and has been more than a brother to you." myra threw her arms round nat's neck and kissed him heartily twice, while her eyes were full of tears. "i have not hurt you, i hope," she said as he drew back. "not a bit, and i should not have minded if you had," nat said. then he sat down, and they talked quietly for some time. "i am going out to-morrow again," monsieur duchesne said, "it is the duty of every white to join in punishing these ungrateful fiends. i hear that they have been beaten badly near port-au-prince. some of the negroes are, we find, remaining quietly on the plantations, and these, unless they have murdered their masters, will be spared. no quarter will be given to those taken in arms. at any rate we shall clear all of them out of the plains near the bay, and drive them into the mountains, where we cannot hope to subdue them till a large number of troops arrive from home." so vigorously, indeed, did the whites pursue the negroes, that in a fortnight after the outbreak it was calculated that no fewer than ten thousand blacks had fallen, many of them being put to death by methods almost as cruel and ferocious as those they had themselves adopted. they were still in such vast numbers that it was evident that it would be impossible to overpower them until troops arrived from france; and, indeed, the farther the french columns penetrated into the mountains, the more severe was the resistance they met with, and on several occasions the whites were repulsed with heavy loss. a truce was therefore agreed upon, it being arranged that neither party should attack the other until its expiration. there being, therefore, no occasion for the _orpheus_ to remain longer at cape françois, she sailed for jamaica. nat's wounds continued to go on well. he was still stiff, and felt the advantages of the encircling stays so much that he no longer objected to wear them. as it was likely that, until matters were finally settled, the _orpheus_ would be constantly cruising on the coast of hayti, and that he would ere long see his french friends again, the parting was not a sad one; and, indeed, nat was by no means sorry to get under way again to escape the expressions of gratitude of monsieur duchesne and his wife. two days after arriving at port royal, nat received notice that a court, composed of three captains of vessels then in port, would, on the following day, sit to examine midshipmen who had either served their time or were within a year of completing it. he at once sent in his name. as he had read hard during the time he had been unfit for service, he had no fear of not passing the ordeal, and at the conclusion of his examination he was told by the president of the court that he had passed with great credit. on returning to the frigate, he found a note from the admiral requesting him to call upon him on his return from the court, and he at once proceeded to the flag-ship. "i have heard a great deal of you, mr. glover," the admiral said when he was ushered into his cabin. "first of all i heard the story from your captain of the gallant manner in which you, at the risk of your own, saved a young lady's life at cape françois, when attacked by a savage hound, and were seriously injured thereby. then i received captain crosbie's official report of the share you took in the attack upon that formidable nest of pirates, the report being supplemented by his subsequent relation to me of the whole facts of the affair. your conduct there also did you very great credit, and, had you passed, i should at once have given you acting rank. now you have again distinguished yourself, though scarcely in a manner which comes under my official knowledge. i should be glad to hear from you a detailed account of the affair." when nat had finished his narration, he said, "you have scarcely done justice to yourself. your captain and dr. bemish were dining with me last night, and the latter said that, wounded as you were, the work of carrying that french lady down to the coast must have been an intensely painful one, as was shown by the state of your wound when he examined it. in all these matters you have shown courage and conduct, and as i hear that you have now passed, i shall take the first opportunity of giving you acting rank. you speak french fluently?" "i speak it quite fluently, sir, but as i have only picked it up by ear, i cannot say that i speak it well." "however, the fact that you speak it well enough to converse freely may be useful. hayti is likely to be in a very disturbed state for some time. there can be little doubt that the negroes in the other islands are all watching what takes place there with close attention, and that there is a possibility of the revolt spreading. at present there is no saying what the course of events may be. already the governor here has received letters from several french residents expressing their desire that we should take the island, as they believe that the french revolutionary government will make no serious effort to put down the rising. of course, at present, as we are at peace with france, nothing whatever can be done. at the same time, it is important that we should obtain accurate information as to what is going on there, and what is the feeling of the negroes and of the mulatto population, and we shall probably have several small vessels cruising in those waters. the _falcon_, under the command of lieutenant low, who also belonged to the _orpheus_, has been for some weeks on the southern coast of the island. i intend to have three or four other craft at the same work soon, and on the first opportunity i shall appoint you to one of them." nat expressed his warm thanks, and retired. three or four days later he received an intimation that the prize _arrow_, a schooner of a hundred and fifty tons, would at once be put into commission, and that the admiral had selected him for her command. this was far more than nat had even hoped for. from the manner in which the admiral had spoken, he thought that he would be appointed to a craft of this description, but he had no expectation whatever of being given the command. with the intimation was an order for him to again call upon the admiral. "it is a small command," the admiral said when nat expressed his thanks for the appointment. "we cannot spare you more than twenty-five hands, a quarter-master, and two midshipmen. you will have mr. turnbull of the _leander_ as your first officer, and mr. lippincott of the _pallas_. she has carried six guns hitherto, but you will only take four. these, however, will be twelve-pounders; before, she had only nines. naturally, it is not intended that she shall do any fighting. of course, if you are attacked you will defend yourself, but you are hardly a match for any of these piratical craft except quite the smaller class--native boats manned by bands of desperadoes. your mission will be to cruise on the coast of hayti, to take off white fugitives should any show themselves, and to communicate if possible with the negroes, find out the object they propose to themselves, and report on their forces, organization, and methods of fighting. in all this great care will be necessary, for they have shown themselves so faithless and treacherous that it is impossible to place any confidence in their promises of safe-conduct. in such matters it is impossible to give any advice as to your conduct, you must be guided by circumstances; be prudent and careful, and at the same time enterprising. the schooner is a very fast one. she has been a slaver, and has more than once shown her heels to some of our fastest cruisers. therefore, if you come across any piratical craft too big to fight, you will at least have a fair chance of outsailing her." greatly delighted, nat returned to the _orpheus_. "so, you are going to leave us, mr. glover," the captain said when he came on board. "i congratulate you, but at the same time we shall be very sorry to lose you, and i hope that when there is a vacancy we shall have you back again. you fully deserve your promotion, and have been a credit to the ship." the next day nat moved his effects ashore. there was but little leave-taking between him and his comrades, for it was certain that they would often meet at port royal. he spent his time for the next fortnight in the dockyard seeing to the refitting of the schooner. the superintendent there had heard of the affair with the dog, and of the manner in which he had saved the lives of the french lady and her daughter, dr. bemish being an old friend of his. he was, therefore, much more complaisant than dockyard officials generally are to the demands made upon them by young lieutenants in command of small craft. indeed, when the schooner was ready for sea nat had every reason to be proud of her. she had been provided with a complete suit of new canvas, all her woodwork had been scraped and varnished, the running rigging was new, and the standing rigging had also been renewed wherever it showed signs of wear. her ballast, which had before been almost entirely of iron ore, was now of pig-iron, and in view of the extra stability so given she had had new topmasts ten feet higher than those she had before carried. "i should advise you to keep your weather eye lifting, mr. glover," captain crosbie said when nat paid his farewell visit to the frigate; "that craft of yours looks very much over-sparred. if you were caught in a squall with your topsails up the chances are you would turn turtle." "i will be very careful, sir," nat said; "although, now she has iron ballast, i think that even with the slight addition in the height of the spars she will be as stiff as she was before in moderate breezes, while she will certainly be faster in light winds." "that is so," the captain agreed; "and of course it is in light winds that speed is of the most importance. there can be no doubt that in the hands of a careful commander a large spread of canvas is a great advantage, while in the hands of a rash one a craft can hardly be too much under-sparred." turnbull, nat's first officer, was a quiet young fellow, a few months junior to nat. he was square in build, with a resolute but good-humoured face, and nat had no doubt that the admiral had selected him as being likely to pull better with him than a more lively and vivacious young fellow would be. from the first day they met on board he was sure that he and turnbull would get on extremely well together. the latter carried out his suggestions and orders as punctually as he would have done those of a post-captain, going about his work in as steady and business-like a way as if he had been accustomed for years to perform the duties of a first officer. one evening nat had asked him and lippincott to dine with him at an hotel, and ordered a private room. "i think," he said when the meal was over and the waiter had placed the dessert and wine on the table and had retired, "that we are going to have a very pleasant cruise. i am afraid we sha'n't have much chance of distinguishing ourselves in the fighting way, though we may pick up some of those rascally little craft that prey on the native commerce and capture a small european merchantman occasionally. with our small crew we certainly cannot regard ourselves as a match for any of the regular pirates, who would carry vastly heavier metal, and crews of at least four times our strength. the admiral expressly warned me that it was not intended that the _arrow_ should undertake that sort of business. our mission is rather to gain news of what passes in the interior, pick up fugitives who may be hiding in the woods, and act in fact as a sort of floating observatory. any fighting, therefore, that we may get will be if we are attacked. in that case, of course, we shall do our best. i am sure we shall be a pleasant party on board. of course in a small craft like this we shall mess together. it is necessary, for the sake of discipline, that when we are on deck we should follow the usual observances, but when we are below together we shall be three mess-mates without any formality or nonsense." the two juniors remained on their ships until the schooner was out of the hands of the dockyard men. according to custom, nat did not join until they and the crew had gone on board and spent a day in scrubbing the decks and making everything tidy and ship-shape; then the gig went ashore to fetch him off. as he rowed alongside he could not help smiling at seeing the sentries at the gangway and the two young officers standing there to receive him. however, with an effort he recovered his gravity, mounted the short accommodation ladder, saluted the flag, and returned the salutes of his officers and men. on board the frigate he had been an inconsiderable member of the crowd, now he was monarch of all he surveyed. then the crew were formed up, and according to custom he read his commission appointing him to the command, and the articles of war. "now, my men," he said when he had brought the meeting to an end, "i have, according to rule, read the articles of war, a very necessary step when taking command of a vessel of war with hands collected from all parts, and many of them coming on board one of his majesty's ships for the first time; but it is a mere formality to a crew composed of men like yourselves, who will, i am perfectly sure, do your duty in storm and calm, and who will, should there be any occasion for fighting, show that, small as our number is, we are capable of taking our own part against a considerably larger force. i and my officers, will do all in our power to make the ship a comfortable and pleasant one, and i rely upon you to show your zeal and heartiness in the service." the men replied with a hearty cheer. most of them belonged to the _orpheus_. these had already told the others of their captain's doings in hayti and in the attack on the pirate island, and said how popular he was on board. "i think we are going to have a good time," one of the others said as they went forward. "we ain't likely to capture anything very big in this cockle-shell, and i look upon it as a sort of pleasure ship." "you will see, if he gets a chance he will take it," one of the men from the _orpheus_ said. "i was with him in that fight against the pirates, and i tell you i have never been in anything hotter. i was one of those who volunteered to go with him to drown the magazine of the brigantine next to us, and i tell you i never felt so scared in my life. he was just as cool as a cucumber, though he had been knocked silly by that explosion a quarter of an hour before. he is the right sort, he is; and though i expect he has got orders not to tackle anything too big for us--he is not the sort of chap to run away if he can find the smallest excuse for fighting." in the meantime nat had gone below with the two midshipmen. the accommodation for officers was excellent. there was a large cabin aft which had been handsomely fitted up by the late captain. off this on one side was his state-room, on the other those for the two officers; beyond these were the steward's cabin and pantry on one side, and a spare cabin which had been given to the quarter-master on the other. nat had engaged a negro as cook, and his son, a lad of seventeen or eighteen, as cabin steward, and had sent on board a small stock of wines. he ordered the boy to open a bottle and to put glasses on the table, and they drank together to the success of the cruise. they had just finished when the quarter-master came down. "the admiral is signalling for us to send a boat to him, sir." "lower the gig at once!" and he and the officers followed the quarter-master on deck. "mr. lippincott, you had better go with it." in half an hour the midshipman returned with a despatch. nat broke the seal. it had evidently been dictated by the admiral to his clerk, his signature being at the foot. _news has just arrived that the french assembly has cancelled the act placing the mulattoes on the same footing as the whites, and the former have in consequence risen and have joined the blacks. the situation must be most precarious for whites in the island. get up sail at once and make for cape françois. cruise between that port and the south-eastern limit of hayti. do what you can to aid fugitives._ "we are to be off at once," he said to mr. turnbull. "please get up the anchor and make sail. there is fresh trouble in hayti; the mulattoes have joined the blacks." the quarter-master's whistle sounded, and the crew sprang into activity. the capstan was manned, and the men ran to loosen the sails, and in ten minutes the _falcon_ was on her way. "matters were bad enough before," nat said when, having seen that the sails were all set and everything in good order, his two officers came aft. "a few mulattoes, overseers and that class, rose with the negroes, but the great bulk of them, having got what they wanted, joined the whites or stood neutral; but now that they have thrown in their lot with the blacks the prospect seems almost desperate. however it turns out, there is no doubt that the island is ruined, and the whites who were lucky enough to escape with their lives will find that instead of being rich men they are penniless. it is a horrible business altogether. i shall be glad when we get to cape françois and can get news of what is really going on." nat was delighted at the speed shown by the schooner. the breeze was light, and she felt the full advantage of her added spread of canvas. she was a very beamy craft of light draught, and scarcely showed a perceptible heel under the pressure of the wind, fully justifying his opinion as to the improvement to be effected by the substitution of iron ballast for that which she had before carried. turnbull and lippincott were no less pleased, and the whole crew felt proud of their little craft. "she can go, sir, and no mistake!" turnbull said, as they stood aft looking upwards at the sails and down into the water glancing past her sides. "it would take a fast craft indeed to overhaul her; her sails are splendidly cut!" "yes, i tipped the man who is at the head of the sail-making gang a five-pound note to take special pains with them, and the money would have been well laid out if it had been fifty times as much; for it will make the difference of a point at least when she is close-hauled, and that means getting away from a fellow too big for us, instead of being overhauled by him." "yes," turnbull said with a smile, "and might enable us to keep out of reach of his bow-guns, while we hammered him with our stern-chaser." "yes, it might have that effect," nat replied with an answering smile. "what is she going through the water now, quarter-master?" "a good seven knots, sir." "that is fast enough. the _orpheus_ would not be making more than six in such a light breeze as this." towards sunset the wind fell until it scarcely seemed that there was a breath on the water, but the schooner still crept along at two and a half knots an hour, although her sails scarcely lifted. the crew had already been divided in watches. turnbull took the starboard, and lippincott the larboard watch. "i hardly know myself," nat laughed, as they sat together in the cabin after dinner. "except when i was on the sick list, this is my first experience of not having a night watch to keep. however, i expect i shall be up and down, and at any rate call me if there is the slightest change in the weather. we know what she can do in a light wind now, but we won't risk anything until we have seen how she carries her sails in a sharp blow." somewhat restless under the extent of his responsibility, nat was on deck several times during the night. there was, however, no sign of change. the _arrow_ was still stealing through the water with the wind abeam. the two midshipmen, equally impressed with the responsibility of being in command of a watch, were on the alert, and the look-out was vigilant. the wind freshened again when the sun rose. at noon there were white-heads on the water, and the schooner, heeling over a bit now, was doing nearly nine knots. the three officers all took an observation, and to their satisfaction found that they were within half a mile of each other. at the present moment, however, there was no doubt as to their situation, for the high land near cape dame marie lay clearly in sight over the bowsprit, while behind them the hills over morant point lay like a dim haze. "if we had had this wind the whole way," nat said regretfully, "we should have been well in the bay by this time. still, we must not grumble; we have made a hundred knots. the mid-day gun fired just as we got under way, and, considering that for twelve hours we had no wind worth speaking of, i think we have done very well. indeed, if the wind will hold like this, we shall be near port by noon to-morrow; but we can't reckon on that, it is sure to fall before sunset, and besides, the winds are generally baffling and shifty when we once get into the bay." by three o'clock the wind had already begun to fall, and by five they were lying almost becalmed off the westerly point of the island. for the next two days the wind was very light, and it was late in the afternoon of the second when they dropped anchor off cape françois. nat at once went ashore, and as usual received a warm welcome from the duchesnes. madame had now quite recovered from the effect of her adventure, as also had myra. "i did not know that the _orpheus_ was in port, or else we should have been expecting you." "she is not in port, madame. i arrived in his majesty's schooner _arrow_, which i have the honour to command." "then you are captain glover now? i must be very respectful," and myra made a deep curtsy. "it will be a good many years before i shall have the right to be addressed by that title. i have passed my examination as lieutenant, and have now acting rank, which will no doubt be confirmed by the authorities at home, and i may be addressed as lieutenant without any breach of etiquette. still, of course, it is a grand thing to get a command, and so much greater chance of distinguishing oneself. however, as she is but a small craft, and carries only twenty-five men, we are not in a position to do any great thing in the way of fighting, though of course we may overhaul and capture some of these native craft that are nominally traders, but are ready to capture any small vessel they may come across. my mission really is to obtain news of what is passing in the island. we have received word at kingston that the mulattoes have risen and joined the blacks, and i have been sent off at once to learn the real state of things." "unhappily the news is true," monsieur duchesne said. "there have already been several fights, in some of which we have got the best of it, in others we have been driven back to the towns. it is impossible for the look-out to be darker than it is. it seems to us that our only hope is that england will consent to take over the sovereignty of the island, and send a force large enough to put down the insurrection. some of the planters here have already lost heart, and have sailed for jamaica, bermuda, and other british ports. i have no intention of following their example at present. i am, as you know, a merchant as well as a planter, and although, of course, all trade is at an end now, it must spring up again in time. fortunately, we feel confident that this town can resist any assault. the french man-of-war that came in after you sailed landed a dozen of her guns, and we have erected four batteries. there were, too, a good many old guns in the town, which have also been put into position; and as we have half a french regiment here, and fully five hundred whites who can be relied on, we have small fear of being overpowered. i am glad to say that before the man-of-war left, the great majority of the negroes were expelled from the town and their quarter burnt down, so that we have no fear of being attacked from within as well as from without. that was really our greatest danger, and has been hanging over us night and day ever since the beginning of the rising." "are the mulattoes and negroes acting together?" "in some cases, but as a rule they keep apart. there is no love lost between them, and the only bond of union is hatred of us. the blacks, curiously enough, have declared against the republic, and call themselves the royalist army. they consider, and very naturally, that the republic, while giving rights to the mulattoes, has done nothing for them, and therefore, as the republic has declared against the king, they have declared for him. do you think that the english government will accept our offer to transfer ourselves to british rule?" "i do not see that they could do so, sir. at present we are nominally at peace with france, although everyone sees that war must come before long, but until it is declared we could scarcely take over a french possession; nor do i think there are anything like troops enough in our islands to undertake such a serious operation as this would be. your people could not give us much help. the negroes, though calling themselves royalists, are fighting only for liberty, and would gain nothing by a mere change of masters, knowing as they do that the slaves are certainly no better treated in our islands than in those of france." "that is what i thought," monsieur duchesne said. "certainly nothing short of an army of thirty thousand strong could hope for success, and i doubt, indeed, whether in so large and mountainous an island even that number could do much. of course fully half of it is spanish, which complicates matters a great deal; but we may be sure that if the negroes of this end are successful, those under the spaniards will very soon follow their example. if the worst comes to the worst, i shall of course leave the island. whether i should settle in one of your islands or make england my residence i cannot say. some of my countrymen have gone to america, but i should put that out of my mind. i think i should prefer england to remaining out here, for there might be similar risings in jamaica and elsewhere; as to france, it is out of the question. "france has gone mad. i know that many of our good families have sought refuge in england, and we should at least find society congenial to us. happily, we are in a condition to choose for ourselves; my ancestors have been wise men, and have long foreseen that what has actually occurred might possibly take place. each in succession has impressed his views upon his son, and it has become almost a family tradition among us, and one upon which we have often been rallied. for with few exceptions all here seem to have regarded the state of things as being as unchangeable as scripture says were the laws of the medes and persians. if this had been only a tradition, and had not been acted upon, it would not have benefited us now, but for six generations each of my ancestors has regarded it as a sacred duty to set aside nearly a tenth of his revenues as a provision when the troubles should come. this money has been chiefly invested in england and holland, and the interest on the accumulations of all these years has been reinvested. i believe that, although i regard such investments as were made in france as lost, we shall, when we reckon up matters, find that our income will be fully as large as that which i have drawn from my property and trade here." "i am very glad to hear it, monsieur duchesne. i have indeed, while i have been away, thought very often of what would happen to you and your family if you were forced to finally abandon your estate and leave the island." "i have reason to be grateful indeed, nat, to the forethought of those who have gone before me; it is strange that the same idea did not occur to others. one can see now that our people here have been living in a fool's paradise, totally oblivious of the fact that a volcano might at any moment open under their feet. are you going to remain here?" "oh, no! i am only making this a starting-place. my orders are to cruise along the southern coast, to render any assistance i can to the refugees, and if possible, to open communications with some of the chiefs of the insurgents and endeavour to find out what their plans are, and, should it be decided to accept the cession of the island when war with france breaks out, what the attitude of the blacks and mulattoes would be." "you will not be likely to pick up any refugees, for the whites are exterminated except in the towns; but should any of the smaller places be attacked you might render good service by receiving at least the women and children on board." that evening monsieur duchesne asked his brother-in-law, the doctor, and several other leading inhabitants, to his house, in order that nat might gather their views. he found that these in the main agreed with those of his host, except that they were hopeful that france would, as soon as the news arrived, despatch an army of sufficient force to put down the insurrection. after the last of the guests had departed, monsieur duchesne shook his head. "france will ere long require every soldier to defend her own frontiers; the saturnalia of blood in which she is indulging will cause her to be regarded as the common enemy of europe. i hear that already the emigrant nobles are pressing the various european courts to march armies into france to free the king and royal family from their imprisonment by the mob of paris, and ere long there will assuredly be a coalition which france will need all her strength to resist. england is certain to join it; and even had france troops to spare, she would find a difficulty in sending them here. so you will not change your mind and stay with us for the night?" "it is already nearly eleven, and i ordered the gig to be alongside at that hour. i certainly should not like to sleep out of the ship, though i have no doubt that my two young officers would see that everything went on right." on reaching the schooner, nat found that both turnbull and lippincott were still up. "it was such a lovely night that we have been smoking on deck until a few minutes ago; we were, of course, anxious to hear the news." at nat's order the steward brought hot water and glasses; three tumblers of grog were filled, and they sat for a couple of hours discussing the strange situation in the island. chapter xii a rescue the _arrow_ was one morning lying at anchor in a small bay on the south coast, when one of the sailors called nat's attention to a boy who had run down and was wildly waving his arms. nat caught up his telescope. "it may be a white boy," he said. "lower the gig! i will go myself in her. quick! he may be pursued." it took but a very short time to cross the quarter of a mile of water. the lad rushed in up to his chin to meet them, and was quickly hauled into the boat. his hands and face had been blackened, but this had so worn off that he merely presented the appearance of a sooty-faced white boy. he burst into a fit of convulsive sobbing as he found himself among friends. nat saw that it was useless to question him at the moment, so he told the men to row back at once to the schooner; then he half-carried him down to his own cabin, brought out a glass of wine, and gave it to him. "drink that up, lad," he said, "then you can tell me something about yourself." the boy put the glass with shaking hands to his lips and drank it down. "that is right, lad; now tell me something about yourself. what is your name?" "i am a girl, monsieur; my name is louise pickard. we have been hiding in the forest for six weeks--my father and mother, my sister, and ten frenchmen, who worked for us. we lived on fruit and what provisions the men could obtain by going down to the plantations at night. two days ago the negroes found us; they killed one of the men at once, and the rest of us they took. my sister and i were dressed as boys. they were going to kill us one by one; they burnt one of the men to death yesterday, and tied us to trees round and made us look on. this morning they killed another; they cut off his arms at the elbows and his legs at the knees, and then cut him about with knives till he died. then they shut us up together again. there was a little window, and my father pushed me through it. he had heard the negroes say that there was a vessel in the bay with white men in it. the hole was in the back of the house, and there were trees there, so that i managed to get off without being seen by the negroes. my father tried to get valerie through the same window, but she was too big. she is two years older than i am, and i could not have squeezed through had not my father pushed me. he told me to come down to the shore and take refuge with you." "how many of these black scoundrels are there?" nat asked. [illustration: the rescue of louise pickard.] "two or three hundred. the negroes are going to attack you to-night--there are some fishermen's boats at a village a mile or two along the shore. father told me to warn you. i did not like coming away, i would have liked to have died with the others; but it was so awful to look on at the tortures. if they would but have killed us at once, i would not have minded; but oh, monsieur, it was too terrible! can you not do something for them?" and she again burst into tears. "i will see what can be done," nat said, putting his hand kindly on her shoulder. "i am going up on deck now. this is my cabin," and he opened the door of his berth. "the steward will bring you some hot water, then you had better have a wash and get rid of that charcoal, for i suppose it is charcoal on your face. we can do nothing for you in the way of dress at present. but if you will take off your things and put them outside the door, i will get them washed at once, and you can lie down in my berth until they are dry. they won't take very long in this hot climate." the steward by his orders brought in a can of hot water. the girl retired with it to the cabin, and nat went on deck and told turnbull and lippincott what he had heard from her. "it is awful," the latter said. "can we do nothing, sir?" "that is the point, mr. lippincott. i feel that it is impossible for us to remain quiet while such devilry is being carried on among those woods. but you see the matter is rendered all the more difficult by the fact that we ourselves are going to be attacked to-night. our crew is weak enough already. if three or four boat-loads full of blacks were to fall upon us, we could not spare a man; while if we were to land, we should need every man for the job, and even then should be terribly weak. something has to be done, that is evident, and we have to hit upon a plan. now, let us all set our wits to work." at this moment the black steward came up from the cabin with a bundle. "the boy am put dese things outside him door, sah. wat am me to do wid dem?" "bring them along to the galley, sam. i must get your father to wash them. pomp," he went on to the cook, "have you got plenty of hot water?" "yes, sah; allus hab hot water." "well, look here, i want you and sam to set to work and wash these clothes at once. the boy i brought on board turns out to be a french girl, the daughter of a planter who is in the hands of the negroes up there. we must see to-morrow what we can do in the way of rigging her out properly, but for to-day we must manage with these things. get them as white as you can, and then hang them up to dry. i want her on deck again as soon as possible to give us information as to where her friends are confined." "all right, sah, we soon gets dese clean." "and you may as well heat up a basin of that turtle-soup we had yesterday. i expect she has had little enough to eat of late." then he went back to the quarter-deck. "it seems to me, sir," turnbull said, "that if the girl would go ashore with us as a guide, we might succeed. after it gets dark, put me and one of the hands on shore, with a saw and a bottle of oil to make it work noiselessly. then we could crawl up to this little window by which she got out, and cut away the wood--for no doubt it is a wooden hut--till the hole is large enough for all of them to get out." "that seems a good plan, turnbull, certainly; the only drawback is that probably before it gets dark the negroes will have discovered that the boy, as they consider her, has escaped, and will keep a sharp look-out on the others. then, too, although one or two might get out noiselessly and make their escape, the chances of ten people doing so would be much smaller, and if the attempt were detected you might only share their fate. if we had all the crew close at hand to cover their retreat it might be managed, great as would be the odds against us, but you see there is this boat attack to be guarded against. i don't think that i could allow you to run such a risk, turnbull." "still, something must be done, sir." "yes, we are agreed as to that," nat said, and going to the rail he stood there gazing at the shore for some minutes. "i have an idea," he said, suddenly turning round. "you see that point near the mouth of the bay, where the rock rises eight or ten feet straight out from the water's edge; there are trees behind it. it will be a dark night, and if we could get the schooner over there without their noticing it, as i think we could, we could probably lay her pretty close alongside, and when the boats came, the betting is that they would never find her. they would row about for a bit looking for us where we are anchored, and, not finding us, would come to the conclusion that we had got up sail and gone away after dark. in that way we could land our whole party." "i think that would do first-rate, sir." "of course there is a certain amount of risk of their discovering her," nat went on, "but we must chance that. we will send her topmasts down as soon as it is dark, so that they won't show against the sky-line, and boats might then row within twenty yards of her without noticing her, especially if we can get her in pretty close. it is just possible that we may be able to lay her right against the rock. the water is deep pretty close in, even opposite to us, for the girl was not more than four or five yards from the shore when she was up to her neck in water, and no doubt it is a good deal deeper than that, at the foot of those rocks. as soon as it is dark, mr. lippincott, you had better take the boat and sound along there. of course you will muffle your oars. it would be a great thing if we could get alongside. in the first place, the nearer she gets in the less likely that she would be to be seen, and in the next place it would be very important, if we are hotly pursued, to be able to get on board without having to use boats." "certainly," turnbull agreed. "when we have got her in her place," nat went on, "we will take a light anchor out fifty fathom or so, and put the hawser round the windlass, so that the instant we are on board, four men, told off beforehand, can run forward and set to work. once we are three yards out we should be safe from boarding, however strong their force may be. we will have the guns on that side loaded with a double charge of grape before we land, and once out we will give them a dose they will remember for a long time. now, we may as well tell the crew; they will be delighted at the prospect of a fight." the men were clustered together forward discussing whether anything was likely to take place, for the arrival of the boy, the fact that he had been taken down to the cabin aft and had not reappeared, and the evident anxiety of their officers, sufficed to show them that something unusual was on hand. when they came aft nat said, "my men, we are about to undertake an enterprise that will, i am sure, be after your own heart. the apparent boy we brought on board is a young french lady. her parents, sister, and seven white men are in the hands of the negroes, who each day murder one with horrible torture. now we are going to rescue them." a cheer broke from the men. "the job will be a pretty tough one, men, but you won't like it any the worse for that. there are, i hear, two or three hundred of those murderous brutes up there. of course, if we can get the prisoners out without a fight we shall do so, but i hardly think we shall be able to manage that. the matter is somewhat complicated by the fact that i hear that a boat attack is going to be made upon us to-night. now, we are certainly not strong enough to carry off this party and at the same time to leave enough men on board to defend the schooner. after it is dark, therefore, i intend to take her across to that rock over there, moor her as close to it as i can, and strike the topmasts. in that way we may hope that on a moonless night, as this will be, the boats will not find her, but will suppose that we have sailed away. however, of that we must run the risk. i shall take every man with me. of course, we shall batten the hatches down, and fasten them so that if they do find her it will give them as much trouble as possible, and we may possibly catch them at work as we return. "you will, of course, take muskets and a brace of pistols each, and your cutlasses. i have no doubt that we are being watched from the shore, therefore go about your work as usual. do not gather together talking, or give them any cause to suppose that we are intending to do anything. it is not likely that the escape of the girl has yet been discovered, for if they were watching among the trees up there they would hardly have noticed that the boat took an extra person from the shore. grease the falls of the gig, so that she can be lowered noiselessly, and muffle the oars. as soon as it is quite dark mr. lippincott will take soundings, in order to see how close into the rock it will be safe to take her." with another low but hearty cheer, expressing the satisfaction they felt at the prospect of a fight with the negroes, the crew went forward again. one of them set to work to grease the falls not only of the gig but of the other boats, in case these should also be required, two others cut up some old guernseys and lashed them round the gig's oars at the point where they would touch the thole-pins, others resumed their occupation of polishing the brass-work, while the rest sat down under the shelter of the bulwark and talked over the adventure on which they were about to engage. in an hour the girl's clothes were washed and dried. one of the crew who had served as an assistant sail-maker had at once, under nat's instructions, set to work to sew half a dozen flags together, and with these he had constructed a garment which, if primitive in design, was at least somewhat feminine in appearance. round the top was a deep hem through which was run a thin cord. by the aid of this it could be drawn together and gathered in at the neck. six inches from the top, two of the seams between the flags were left open, these were for the arm-holes. this primitive pinafore was to be drawn in at the waist by a belt. the man had chosen from among the signal flags those whose colours went best together, and though the result was extremely motley, it was yet a very fair substitute for a dress. the three officers could not help laughing as he brought it aft to show them. "that is very well contrived, jenkins," nat said. "i have no doubt the young lady will greatly prefer it to going about dressed as a boy." as the clothes were by this time dry, nat told sam to take them below with the new garment, to lay them down outside his state-room door, and then to knock and tell the young lady that they were there in readiness for her, and that as soon as she was dressed lunch would be ready. when he had done this he was to come up on deck again. a quarter of an hour later nat himself went down. the clothes had disappeared, and the girl, who was about thirteen years of age, came out. she had, with the exception of the coat, donned her former garments, and over these had put the flag pinafore. her arms were covered by those of the light flannel shirt, and the dress hung straight down all round. "it is a queer-looking thing," he said with a smile, "but it is the best we can manage in the emergency. here is a belt, if you strap that round your waist it will make the thing look more comfortable." the girl smiled wanly. now that her face and hands were clean, nat saw that she was a pretty little thing, and would have been prettier had not her hair been cut quite short. "we are going this evening," nat went on, "to try to rescue your parents and sister from those black fiends." she clasped her hands before her. "oh, sir, that is good of you!" "not at all. you don't suppose that we are going to remain here quietly, knowing that close by there are white people in the hands of those scoundrels. we shall want you to act as our guide. we are going to take a saw with us and cut away the wood round that hole you escaped by, and hope to get your friends out without the negroes seeing us. if they do, so much the worse for them. now, will you sit down while the steward lays the cloth for lunch?--it will be ready in two or three minutes; then i will bring the other two officers down to introduce them to you." he raised his voice: "sam! luncheon as soon as possible." the young negro was expecting the order, and ran in at once with a table-cloth and a plate-basket, and in two or three minutes the table was laid; then he went out and returned with the plates. "eberyting ready, sah; me bring down de soup when you gib de word." "give my compliments to mr. turnbull and mr. lippincott, and ask them to come down to lunch." the girl looked anxious and shy as she heard the footsteps coming down the companion, but an expression of relief came over her face as she saw that they were even younger than the officer she had already seen. "these are my officers, mademoiselle--mr. turnbull and mr. lippincott. their french is not of the best, but you must make allowance for them." the girl smiled and held out her hand to the two middies. the news that her parents and sister might yet be rescued had already greatly raised her spirits. "i do look funny, do i not?" she said. "i am sure you look very nice," turnbull replied. "it is quite a novelty for us to have a lady on board." "and are you both going to help bring my friends down?" "yes, we are all going. we will get them down, and i hope we shall have a chance of punishing some of the murderous niggers." "you mean you hope that there will be a fight?" she asked in a tone of surprise, as she took her seat on nat's right hand. "that i do," turnbull said heartily. "there is not a man on board who would not be sorry if we were to get down again without an opportunity of having a slap at the beggars." "mr. turnbull is a very bloodthirsty character," nat said gravely. "i don't know whether you have in french a history of jack the giant killer?" "i never saw such a book," she said, looking a little puzzled. "did he really kill giants?" "yes, jack did; he was wonderful that way. mr. turnbull has never been able to find any giants, but he means to take it out of the blacks." "i am sorry to say, mademoiselle," turnbull said, "that although when on the quarter-deck our captain's word may be received as gospel, he permits himself a very wide latitude of speech in his own cabin. the fact is, that whatever my disposition may be, i have never yet had any opportunity for performing any very desperate actions, whereas lieutenant glover has been killing his enemies by scores, fighting with wild beasts, attacking pirates in their holds, has been blown up into the air, and rescued ladies from slaughter by the negroes." the french girl turned her eyes wonderingly towards nat. "you need not believe more than you like, mademoiselle," he said with a laugh. "i am afraid that we are all given to exaggerate very much, but mr. turnbull is the champion fabricator." "but is it quite true that you are going to try to get my father and mother and sister away from the negroes?" "that is quite true," nat said earnestly. "we are certainly going to try to get them, and i think that we have a good chance of doing so. much will depend, of course, upon whether we can reach the hut where they are confined before being discovered. you see, we have only twenty-five men, or, counting us all, including the quarter-master, steward, and cook, thirty-one. it is a small force, and though we might bring all the prisoners off in safety if we once got them into our hands, it would be a serious thing if the negroes had time to rally round the hut before we got there. how does it stand, is it surrounded by trees?" "no, it is at the edge of the forest. there is a large indigo field in front, and it is there most of the negroes are. there may be some in the forest, but i did not see any as i came down here." "that is good. how many do you say there are?" "seven men, without counting my father." "we will tell eight of the sailors to carry up boarding-pikes, turnbull. unfortunately we have no spare firearms. however, boarding-pikes are not bad weapons, and as no doubt only a small portion of the negroes have guns, it will add a good deal to our strength if it comes to a hand-to-hand fight." "that it will," turnbull agreed. "that will bring us up to thirty-nine, and thirty-nine whites ought to be able to fight their way easily enough through this black mob, especially as we shall take them by surprise, and they won't know how many of us there are." as soon as it became dark, lippincott went off in the gig, and returned in half an hour with the news that there were six feet of water at the foot of the rock, and twelve feet ten yards away. "i think, sir," he said, "that we could get her in within three or four yards of the rock." "that would do excellently," nat said. "the carpenter had better set to work at once and nail three planks--we have got some down below fifteen feet long--side by side. let two of the hands help him. tell him, if he does not think that it will be stiff enough, to nail one of the spare oars on each plank." he had learned from the girl that many of the negroes sat up by their fires nearly all night, and that therefore there was no advantage in delaying the landing, and he was anxious to move the schooner as soon as possible, as the boats might appear at any time. everything was in readiness--the arms had been brought on deck, the muskets and pistols loaded, and as soon as the gangway was knocked together, which did not take many minutes, lippincott went off in the gig with a long hawser. as soon as he returned and reported that he had fastened it to a tree above the rock, the crew tailed on, and the schooner was noiselessly towed to her place. another hawser was taken on shore, and she was hauled broadside on until she lay, with only a few inches of water under her keel, within ten feet of the line of rock. the hatchways had all been securely fastened down, and an old chain was taken round the trunk of a large tree, and its ends shackled round the mainmast. this could be loosed almost instantaneously by the crew when they returned, but would much increase the difficulty that the negroes would encounter in getting the vessel away if they discovered her. the edge of the rock was but some three feet higher than the rail, and there was therefore no difficulty in ascending the gangway. when all had crossed, this was pulled up and pushed in among the bushes. they followed the shore till they reached the spot at which the girl had come down, as she would more easily find her way from there than from the place where they had landed. telling the others to follow in single file, nat took his place with the girl, at their head. "how far is it?" he said to her in low tones. "it is just at the top of the hill. we shall be there in less than a quarter of an hour." the sailors had been warned to walk with the greatest caution, and especially to avoid striking any of their weapons against the trees. they went slowly, for it was very dark in the forest. beyond the fact that she had come straight down the hill when she escaped, she could give no information about the way. "i did not look," she said; "i ran straight down. but i am sure that if we go as straight as we can up from the water, we shall come upon the plantation, and then i shall be able to tell you exactly where the hut is." keeping therefore upward, they went on until they reached level ground, and saw by the faint light ahead that they were nearing the edge of the forest. they stepped even more cautiously then until they arrived at the open ground. a dozen great fires blazed in various places in front of them, and they could hear the laughing and talking of the negroes. "it is more to the right," the girl said. "it is nearly in the corner of the field where you see that fire; that is close to the hut. they always keep a big fire there, and the leaders sleep round it. there are always two negroes on guard in front of the hut." "i expect they have got one behind now. of course they have found out by this time that you have escaped, and they must have known that it could only have been by that window." keeping well inside the line of trees, they crept along to the corner of the clearing. the two negroes had been instructed in the part they were to play, and as soon as they got well round behind the house the others halted, and knife in hand they crept through the trees, and then upon their hands and knees crawled forward. the others listened intently. the gabble of voices continued on the other side of the hut, and when a louder yell of laughter than usual broke out they saw a figure appear at one corner and look round, as if anxious to hear what was going on. suddenly two arms appeared from the darkness behind him. he was grasped by the throat and disappeared suddenly from sight. two minutes later sam came through the trees. "dat chile no gib de alarm, sah. can go on now and cut him window." the carpenter and the man told off to assist him at once ran forward, accompanied by the girl and nat, who went straight to the little window. he had told her that she must not speak, for her mother or sister might utter a sudden exclamation which would alarm the sentries on the other side. putting his face to the window, he said in a low voice, "i pray you be silent, the slightest sound might cost you your lives. we are here to rescue you; your daughter is safe and sound with us. now we are going to enlarge the window." low exclamations of delight told him that he was heard. the carpenter at once set to work, the man with him oiling his saw very frequently; nevertheless it seemed to nat to make even more noise than usual. suddenly, however, one of the prisoners began to utter a prayer in a loud voice. "that is papa," the girl whispered; "he used to say prayers every night." "it was a very good idea to begin now," nat said. "what with the row by the fires, and his voice inside, the guard are not likely to hear the saw." in ten minutes the window had been enlarged to a point sufficient for a full-sized person to get through. "now, madam, will you come first," nat said. "we will pull you through all right." one by one the captives were got out. there were still two men left when the door opened, and three or four negroes appeared with blazing brands. "we have come to fetch one of you out to give us a lillie fun. bake 'im some ober de fire." then he broke off with a shout of astonishment as he saw that the hut was almost untenanted, and he and the others were about to rush forward at the two men still there when nat thrust his arm through the opening. two shots cracked out, one after the other. the two leading negroes fell, and the others with a yell of terror rushed out of the hut. "quick, for your lives!" he said to the two men, one of whom was already half through the window. "we shall have them all on us in a few minutes." in a few seconds the men were out, and nat and the two seamen ran with them to the edge of the wood, to which the other captives had been passed on as soon as they were freed. by this time the air was ringing with yells and shouts. "now, men, move along a little farther so as to get a view of the fire, and then we will give them a volley." the negroes were rushing forward, yelling and shouting, when twenty-five muskets rang out with deadly aim, for the blacks were not more than thirty yards away. "load again, lads! that will sicken them for a bit," he shouted; and indeed the negroes with yells of astonishment and fear had run back, leaving some fourteen or fifteen of their number on the ground. "are you all loaded?" "ay, ay, sir." "then down the hill you go. have the three ladies gone on?" "yes, sir; the two blacks went down with them." "have the frenchmen got their pikes? that is good; now keep as close as you can together. they are coming up by scores, and will make a rush in a minute or so." as fast as they could the sailors and the rescued men made their way down the hill, but owing to the thickness of the trees it was impossible to run. they had gone but a short distance when there was an outburst of yells round them, and, looking back, nat saw a number of blazing brands. "you had better have kept in the dark," he muttered. "you would not have come so fast, but more of you would go back alive. don't hurry, men," he said; "take it coolly. take care of the trees. they are sure to come up to us, for they can see their way; but they won't be in such a hurry when we open fire again." they were half-way down the hill when he gave the order: "you four men next to me turn round and pick off some of those fellows with torches. the rest halt in case they make a rush." the four shots were fired one after the other. as many negroes fell. "are you ready, lads? four more fire!" the shots had an equal success. many of the negroes at once took refuge behind trees. "that will do, men; on you go again! don't make more noise than you can help. with all that yelling they won't be sure that we have moved." [illustration: "four shots were fired and as many negroes fell."] it was not, indeed, until they were down on the shore that the negroes again came up with them. then they burst out at several points from the trees, being uncertain of the exact course the retreating party had taken. "now, keep together in a body, men!" nat shouted in english, and repeated the same order in french. "march steadily forward. we have got to fight our way through them." now that the negroes saw how comparatively small was the number of their foes, they rushed upon them. "don't throw away a shot!" nat shouted. "now, let them have it!" the men who had already fired had loaded again, and as the negroes came up, a crackling fire broke out from the little party. "now, lads, at them with pistol, cutlass, and pike! we must get through these fellows ahead before others come up." with a loud cheer the sailors rushed upon the blacks, cutting and thrusting, the men who had been released fighting with desperate fury with their pikes, mad with the thirst for revenge for the horrible atrocities that they witnessed and the thought of the fate they had escaped. pistols cracked out continually, and it was not long before the negroes lost heart; and the sailors, at nat's order, flung themselves upon them and cut a way through. "straight on now, men! show them that you can run as well as fight. we shall have a hundred more of them down on us directly." there was no doubt of this; the yells that rose from the forest and the light of many brands showed that the whole of the negroes were hastening to join their comrades. nat had previously begged the two officers and the quarter-master not to use their pistols, and he, with them, ran in the rear line. a few only of the negroes pressed closely behind them; the rest, dismayed by the slaughter that had taken place, awaited the arrival of their comrades. "now, turn and let them have both barrels!" nat said; and the four men, facing round, levelled their pistols, and six of the leading negroes fell, while the others halted at once. "keep your other pistols," nat said; "we shall want them at the gangway." there was a shout of satisfaction as the men in advance caught sight of the schooner. the two negroes had already placed the gangway in position, and had crossed it with the three ladies and monsieur pickard, who had accompanied them. "over you go, men!" nat shouted; "they are close behind us." most of the men were across when a crowd of blacks came rushing along. sam and pomp had taken their station at the taffrail, and as the head of the mob came on their muskets flashed out, and the two leading men fell. then they opened fire with their pistols, and at the same moment nat and his three companions discharged their remaining pistols and then ran down the gangway, the sailors having by this time all passed over. the planks were at once pulled on board. "now, unshackle the chain and round with the capstan!" nat shouted. "the rest of you lie down behind the bulwarks." a moment later the chain was unshackled, and as the capstan rapidly revolved, the schooner's head receded from the shore. yells of rage broke from the negroes, and a scattered fire of musketry was opened. "now, turnbull, do you and lippincott each go to a gun, and when we are far enough off for them to bear on those rascals let them have it." a minute later the bow-gun was fired. it was too near for the shot to spread properly, but it cut a lane through the crowd, and half a minute later the second gun crashed out. by this time the sailors had all loaded their muskets again. "now for a volley!" nat shouted; "that will finish them; or i am mistaken." it was indeed decisive, and with yells of rage and pain the negroes darted into the forest behind them. as fast as the guns could be loaded, round after round of grape was fired among the trees. by this time the schooner was close to the kedge; this was hauled up and sail set, but the breeze was so light that the vessel scarcely moved through the water. the guns were again loaded with grape, and a keen watch was kept, as it was possible that the boats might not yet have arrived, having delayed putting off until it was thought that all on board would be asleep. in the meantime the wounds were examined. none of these was serious. only a small proportion of the negroes were armed with muskets, and these being among the crowd had for the most part been unable to fire; consequently only one man had been hit in the arm by a ball, while six or eight had received gashes more or less deep from the knives and other weapons of the negroes. "even if the boats have not been here," nat said to lippincott, "i don't think we shall have any trouble with them; they will have heard our guns, and, i dare say, the musketry firing, and will know that, now we are awake and on our guard, we should probably sink them before they reached us." half an hour passed, and then, as they got beyond the shelter of the island, they caught a little breeze, and the schooner began to slip through the water. nat called the men from the guns. "i don't think that we shall have any more fighting to-night," he said. "you have all done very well. we have certainly killed three times our own number, and we have successfully carried out the main object of our adventure. i have ordered the steward to serve out a good ration of rum all round, but i should advise you who have got wounds to keep your share for a few days." "it won't hurt us, sir," one old sailor said, and three or four other voices were raised in assent. "i did not suppose that my advice would be taken," nat said with a laugh to turnbull, "still, it was as well to give it; and i don't suppose that an extra allowance of grog will go far towards heating their blood." "not it," the middy replied; "rum is cheap out here, and i don't suppose that half a bottle would be considered by them as an excessive drink. how are you going to stow our passengers away? of course we will give up our cabins to the ladies." "i think the best plan will be for us to turn out altogether, turnbull; there will be our three state-rooms for the ladies, and the father can sleep on the sofa of the main cabin. we will have a screen put up forward of the steward's cabin, and have cots slung for ourselves there. of course we will take our meals with them aft. i don't think there are any spare hammocks, and the eight white men must make a shift to sleep on some old sails--it won't be for many days. well, sam, what is it?" "supper am ready, sah." leaving the quarter-master to take charge of the watch, they went below. they had not expected to see the ladies up, but they were all there. "monsieur pickard, i must introduce myself and my officers." "it needs no introductions, sir," the frenchman, a tall, thin man some fifty years of age, said in a broken voice; "my daughter louise has told me your names, and how good you have been to her. ah, monsieur, no words can express our obligations to you all! it was not death we feared, but such a death. even now we can scarce believe that this is all true, and that we have escaped from those fiends. in the name of my wife and my daughters and myself, i thank you with all my heart for what you have done for us. little, indeed, did we think, when we helped louise through that narrow window in order that she might warn you that you were going to be attacked, and with the hope that she might escape from the awful fate that awaited us there, that it would be the means of saving us all. we heard the negroes saying that the schooner was flying the british flag, but we had no idea that she was a vessel of war, thinking it was a small trader they were about to attack. but even had we known it, it would not have raised any hopes in our minds, for we should not have thought that, with so small a force as such a vessel could carry, her commander would think of attacking so great a number of men as, louise would have told you, had us in their power." "we are only too glad to have an opportunity of being of service to you and your family, monsieur pickard. indeed, had there been only these two officers and myself on board, i am sure that we should have made an attempt to release you; and should, i have no doubt, have succeeded in doing so without being discovered, as would have been the case to-night, had not they taken it into their heads to come into the hut just at that moment. and now, monsieur, for the sleeping arrangements. my cabin is at the service of madame, those of mr. turnbull and mr. lippincott, of the young ladies. we shall have cots slung for ourselves elsewhere; that sofa must serve for you, monsieur pickard. to-morrow, madame, we will place at your disposal whatever there is on board the ship for fabricating dresses for your daughters that will be less striking than that now worn by mademoiselle louise. we have a roll of white duck, from which, i have no doubt, they will be able to contrive a couple of white dresses." for the eldest girl, as well as louise, was in boy's clothes, as the pickards had fortunately had warning before the outbreak took place on their plantation, one of the men with them having overheard what was said at a meeting of the negroes, and in consequence they, the overseers, two white superintendents of the indigo works, a carpenter and mechanic, had during the night taken to the woods, madame pickard dressing her daughters in some clothes that they had in store, and which were cut down to fit them. "and now, ladies," nat went on, "i know that you will above all things be longing for bed, but i hope that you will each take a basin of soup and a glass of wine before you turn in, you must need them sorely. the steward will get your cabins ready for you. i am sure that mademoiselle louise will set you a good example; she recovered her appetite as soon as she learned that we intended to get you out." chapter xiii two captures the meal was a very short one, but the ladies, to please their rescuers, took a few spoonfuls of soup and a glass of wine. madame pickard and her elder daughter were too much worn out by anxiety and emotion to talk, monsieur pickard was no less moved, and the conversation was supported entirely by the three officers and louise. the young men hurried through their meal, and then, saying good-night to the others, went up on deck. "well, never did a thing turn out better," nat said as he lit his pipe; "it is a tremendous satisfaction that we have not lost a single man in the affair." "and it is no less a satisfaction," turnbull said, "that we have given a good many of those black brutes their deserts. it was a good fight for a bit." as they were smoking, the seven white men came up in a body. "we could not lie down, monsieur," one of them said, "till we had come to thank you for saving us from the most frightful deaths. we had given up all hopes even of obtaining a weapon and putting an end to ourselves, which we should certainly have done could we have got hold of a knife, after having been obliged to witness the tortures of two of our comrades. had you been but ten minutes later another of us would have been their victim. ah, monsieur! your voice, when you spoke at the window, seemed like that of an angel who had come to our relief." "how long had you been in the woods?" nat asked. "six weeks, monsieur, before the negroes found us. we had carried off some provisions with us, but these were all consumed, and we were obliged to go down to the plantation to search for food. we suppose that we were seen and followed, and the next night we were surrounded by the band you saw." "well, we are all very glad to have got you out of their hands, and you rendered good service when the blacks came down on us." "we had our revenge to take," the man said, "and not one of us but would have fought until he was killed." "you have had something to eat, i hope?" "yes, thank you, sir." "you had better turn in now. i don't suppose you have had much sleep of late." "poor beggars," turnbull said as the men walked away, "i wonder myself that they did not strangle each other, or hang themselves, or something. i am sure i should have done so rather than wait day after day till my turn came to be burnt alive, or to be cut to pieces gradually, or put to death by any other means of slow torture." "yes, turnbull, if one were quite sure that there was no possible hope of rescue or escape; but i suppose a man never does quite give up hope. this was an example, you see, of the unlikely happening." "what are you going to do next, glover?" "i don't know, i have hardly thought it out yet. you see, we can manage with this lot we have on board without much difficulty, and i don't know that i should be justified in going round to cape françois on purpose to land them. so far we have not been able to bring any news of value, and at any rate i think we might as well cruise about here a little longer. there is one thing, if we should fall in with anyone bigger than ourselves and have to fight for it, those fellows who have just gone below will be a valuable addition to our strength. when it comes to a hand-to-hand fight seven stout fellows might turn the scale." "yes, there is something in that, and i am glad you mean to keep them on board for a bit. i think the girls will be very good fun when they have a little got over what they have gone through. the young one is a jolly little thing, and her sister is very pretty, in spite of her short hair and boy's dress, though one had not much opportunity of forming an idea as to whether she had any fun in her." "i fancy it will be some time before she will feel inclined for a flirtation, turnbull," nat laughed. "what she has gone through, and what she has seen in the way of horrors, is enough to damp a girl's spirits for a very long time." in the morning the ladies did not appear at breakfast. "my wife is completely prostrated," monsieur pickard said, "and the two girls are shy and do not like showing themselves until they have made up a couple of dresses. your steward gave them the roll of white cotton early this morning and needles and thread, and both are very hard at work. i hope you will excuse them, they will come out and have breakfast here after we have done. may i ask where we are sailing now?" "we are sailing east, monsieur. i hope that it will not inconvenience you to be a few days on board. my orders are to cruise up and down the coast, and i wish therefore to go east as far as the boundary between the french and spanish portions of the island; after that i can go round into the bay of hayti and land you at port-au-prince or cape françois, whichever you would prefer." "it will make no difference whatever to us, and indeed i am sure that a cruise on your beautiful little ship will be the very best thing for my wife and daughters. they will have perfect rest and sea air, and it will not be necessary for them to tell over and over again the stories of their sufferings; but i lament that we should be putting you to such personal inconvenience." "i can assure you, monsieur, that you are putting us to no inconvenience whatever. we sleep just as well in our cots as in our berths, and the society of the ladies and yourself will be a very great pleasure to us, for as a rule we have very small opportunity in that way." "you speak our language very fluently, monsieur glover." "i am afraid that i speak it more fluently than grammatically. i had the opportunity of picking it up by ear last year, when i was staying for six weeks at the house of monsieur duchesne at cape françois." "we know him well, and his charming wife and daughter," monsieur pickard said, "for we have a house there, and generally go there for three months every winter. can it be that you are the officer who saved their daughter's life, when she was attacked by a fierce hound?" "yes, i had that good fortune." "i fear that they have fallen in this terrible insurrection. we have had no direct news from cape françois, but we heard that in their district all the plantations have been destroyed and the owners murdered." "i am happy to be able to tell you that they were saved. i was staying there at the time when the revolt broke out we were warned just in time by an old nurse, dinah." "i remember her," monsieur pickard broke in, "a tall old woman." "yes, monsieur duchesne himself was in town, and madame, myra, and i had just time to gain the forest. there we were joined by dinah, who did everything for us. madame was attacked by fever, but fortunately dinah knew of a very safe place of refuge. she did everything for us, fetched up provisions, concocted medicine, and after being ten days in hiding, we were able to get them down to the town." both the midshipmen had a fair knowledge of french, though they were not able to speak it with nat's ease and fluency. when the latter had finished, turnbull broke in: "mr. glover does not tell you, monsieur, that the cave they were in was attacked by six negroes, led by two mulattoes, and he shot them all, nor that he and the nurse carried madame duchesne down in a litter some twenty miles to the town, although he had one of his ribs broken by a pistol shot." "what is the use of talking about that?" nat said angrily. "the thing was done and there was an end of it. there has been a lot too much said about it as it is." monsieur pickard smiled. "monsieur glover is like my daughters at present, he is shy. he should not be so. it is right that we, his friends,--for we are his friends, now and for the rest of our lives,--should know what he is. ah, my wife and the girls will be pleased indeed to hear that their friends have escaped! they have often said how sorry they were that they had not seen the young officer who rescued their friend myra from the dog. it is strange indeed that he should afterwards have saved her and her mother from the negroes, and should now have so rescued us." that evening the girls appeared on deck in snowy-white dresses, simply made, but fitting admirably. "we have always been accustomed to cut out our own dresses," valerie said, laughing, when nat complimented her on the work. "the slaves did the sewing, but we fitted each other. of course at cape françois we had our dresses made for us, but on the plantation we were obliged to trust to ourselves." one morning, three days later, as they were at breakfast, nat stopped as he was raising a cup to his lips. "that is a gun!" he exclaimed. "there is another!" and with the two middies he ran up on deck. "there is a fight going on somewhere," he said as the sound of firing was again heard. "it must be six or seven miles away, somewhere beyond that headland. at any rate we will hold on and have a look at them. with this light wind it will take us from an hour and a half to two hours before we are up with them, so we may as well finish our breakfast in comfort." "what is it, monsieur glover! are those noises really the sound of guns?" "there is no doubt about it. there is a fight going on seven or eight miles away. we should hear the sound more plainly were it not that there is a headland between us and the vessels engaged." "who can they be?" madame pickard said. "a pirate and a merchantman, no doubt. none of the european nations are at war, but the seas swarm with piratical craft of one kind or another. the small ones content themselves with plundering native coasting vessels, the larger ones attack ships from or to europe. the _orpheus_, to which i belonged at that time, last year rooted out one of their worst nests. they had no fewer than four ships. we were lucky enough to catch one of them, and learned where the rendezvous was, and fortunately found the other three at home, and destroyed them and their storehouses." "are you going on in that direction now?" valerie asked. "yes, we are going to have a look at them. if the trader is making a good fight of it, our arrival may turn the scale; if we arrive too late and find the enemy too big for us, we can run away; in a light wind like this there are very few vessels that could catch us. it is probable that we should not interfere were it not for the possibility that we may be in time to save some of the passengers and crew of the merchantman. she must be a vessel of some size, judging from the sound of her guns. even if she has surrendered before we get there, and we find that we are in any way a match for the pirate, we might, after defeating her, save at least some of the captives. as a rule, these scoundrels, when all opposition has ceased, confine the prisoners in the hold, and after emptying the prize of everything valuable, scuttle her, and of course drown all on board. in that way all traces of their crime are lost, whereas if they killed them some of the bodies might float inshore, or if they burnt the ship the smoke might bring down any cruiser that happened to be in the neighborhood. "i am sorry that you are on board, ladies." "oh, do not think of us!" madame pickard exclaimed. "after the wonderful deliverance that we have had, i am sure that none of us would mind any risk if there is a chance of saving others in as dire peril as we were." the two girls and monsieur pickard warmly agreed. "please put us altogether out of consideration," the latter said. "even if we knew that it was probable we should all lose our lives we should not hesitate. we are not, i hope, any of us, afraid of death. it was the kind of death that we were terrified at." "i thank you all," nat said gravely. "i shall not fight unless i think that there is at any rate a fair chance of victory." on going on deck when breakfast was finished, nat ordered the magazine to be opened and ammunition brought up. the wind had freshened a little, and the schooner was going faster through the water; and in three quarters of an hour after hearing the first gun they neared the promontory. "i am afraid it is all over," nat said to the ladies, who had also come on deck; "there has not been a gun fired for the past two or three minutes. however, we shall soon see." on rounding the point they saw two vessels lying side by side, a mile and a half distant, and about a mile from shore. one was a barque, evidently a large merchantman; the other a brigantine. there was no question that the latter was a pirate, and the other her prize. the sailors, after a glance at them, turned their eyes anxiously towards nat for orders. the latter stood quietly examining the ships through his glass. "she mounts five guns a side, and i should say that they are about the same weight as our own," he said to turnbull; "and from the men swarming on her deck and that of her prize she must have nearly, if not quite, three times our strength, even counting the frenchmen in." "she is too big to fight squarely, sir," turnbull reluctantly agreed. "i am afraid she is altogether too tough a customer for us; and yet one hates the thought of leaving them to complete their devil's work on their prize." "yes, we can't think of doing that, mr. turnbull. the first thing to do will be to draw them off from her." "but they would be sure to leave some of their men in possession of her." "well, if they do, there will be so many the fewer for us to fight. we are within a mile now, i should say?" "yes, sir." "then train the two forward guns on them, and let them see that we mean fighting." a cheer broke from the sailors clustered round the guns as turnbull gave the order. "now, ladies," nat said, "you can stop to see the effect of our first shot, and then i must ask you to go down on to the lower deck. sam will show you the way and take some cushions down for you; you will be out of danger there." as he spoke, the two guns which were already loaded were fired, and the men gave a cheer as two white patches appeared on the side of the brigantine. "please hurry down, ladies," nat said, checking the entreaty which he saw they were going to make. "it won't be long before they answer us." "give them another round, lads!" he said, as they reluctantly obeyed his orders. "get them in if you can before he is ready." busy as they were, the pirates had not observed the schooner until her guns were fired. with shouts of alarm they ran back to their own ship, but these were succeeded by exclamations of anger and surprise when they saw how small was the craft that had thus intruded into the affair. by the captain's orders twenty of the crew, under his first mate, returned to the deck of the prize; a portion of the men ran to the guns, others threw off the grapnels fastening them to the prize. before they were ready to fire, two more shots from the schooner crashed into the brigantine, one passing through the bulwarks, killing three men and wounding several others with the splinters. the other struck her within a few inches of the water-line. the schooner at once bore up, discharging the guns on the starboard side as she came round, and laying her course as close to the wind as she could be jammed, showed her stern to the pirate. two of his guns forward were fired, others could not be brought to bear. the arrow was now almost retracing her course, for the wind was west-nor'-west, and she could just follow the line of coast. "here they come after us!" turnbull said, rubbing his hands, "as savage as bees whose hive has been disturbed." "now, mr. turnbull, get the two guns right aft, so as to fire over the taffrail. we must see if we cannot knock some of her spars away. as soon as you have moved the guns let all hands, except those serving them, go forward and lie down there. the weight of the guns will put her rather by the stern, and i don't want to let that fellow come any nearer to us. she is in her best trim now." as soon as the guns were ready they opened fire. the brigantine answered with her bow-chaser, but, as she was obliged to yaw each time she brought it to bear, she presently ceased firing. "we are gaining on her, sir," lippincott said, as he watched the pirate through his glass. "yes, and sailing fully a point nearer to the wind than she does. get a stay-sail fastened to a rope, and drop it over close to the bow. i don't want to run away from her. if she found that we were too fast for her she would give up the chase, and go back to the prize. i want her to gain just enough to encourage her to keep on. she is a fast craft, but we are faster. we shall be able to manage her, providing she does not knock away any of our spars." the start the schooner had made had at first widened the distance between them, and there was now a mile and a quarter of water separating them. the brigantine was hulled several times and her sails pierced, but her spars were still intact. she was permitted to gain until she was little more than half a mile astern, but the schooner had weathered on her, and was now nearly half a mile to windward. "if we had an open sea on this side instead of the land," turnbull said, "and were to cut away that sail, they would not see us again." "no; they must have come to the same conclusion. as it is, they no doubt think that our clawing out to windward is of no advantage to us. now, get another gun over to the larboard side. it is lucky that there is a spare port there. we must make an effort to knock one of his spars out, or he may cripple us." for by this time the brigantine had again opened fire. "let the three best shots we have got lay the guns on her mainmast. tell them to train them rather high, so that if they miss the mark they may cut one of the halyards, which will give us all the start we want." the guns were run into their position on the broadside. "don't hurry over it," nat said; "let each fire as his gun comes to bear." there was a crash and a cry as he spoke; a ball had gone through the arrow from side to side, tearing jagged holes through her bulwarks, one of the sailors being struck to the deck by a splinter. no one spoke, every eye being fixed on the guns. these were fired almost together. there was a pause for a second or two, and then a burst of cheering as the gaff of the great mainsail of the brigantine was seen to collapse. "it is hit close to the jaws," turnbull, whose glass was levelled on the pirates, exclaimed. "cut away that sail in the water!" nat shouted. "up with your helm, men, and bring her round. that is right," he went on as the schooner came up into the wind and payed off on the other tack. "now, slack away her sheets!" three guns were vengefully fired by the pirate, but the sudden change in the schooner's position disconcerted their aim, and the shot flew wide. without waiting for orders, the seamen at two of the guns ran them over to the starboard side, and, all working at the highest pressure, poured shot after shot into the brigantine, which answered but slowly, as numbers of the men had run aloft to get the sail down to repair damages. before she was under way again the schooner had left her a mile behind. she was now on her best point of sailing, while the brigantine was to some extent crippled by the mainsail setting badly, and by the time the headland was again passed the schooner was fully two miles ahead. her crew had for some time been puzzled at the action being so abruptly concluded, and turnbull had even ventured to say: "i should think, sir, we should have a fair chance with her now." "not a very good chance. we have been lucky, but with ten guns to our four, and her strong crew of desperate men, she would be a very awkward customer. we can think of her later on. my plan is to retake the prize before she can come up. it is not likely that they have killed the crew yet, and i expect the captain told those left behind to leave things as they were until he returned. we may scarcely be a match for the brigantine, but the prize and we together should be able to give a good account of ourselves." "splendid, sir!" turnbull exclaimed joyously; "that is a grand idea." "have the guns loaded with grape," nat said quietly, "and run two of them over to the other side. we will go outside the prize, bring our craft up into the wind, and shoot her up inside her, and give them one broadside and then board. tell the men to have their pistols and cutlasses ready, and distribute the boarding-pikes among the frenchmen." as soon as they rounded the point they could see by their glasses that there was a sudden commotion on the deck of the merchantman. "they did not expect to see us back first," lippincott laughed. "even now, i should think, they are expecting to see the brigantine close behind us in chase, and don't suspect what we are up to. don't head straight for her," he said to the helmsman, "take us a couple of lengths outside her." the pirates, indeed, were completely deceived, but when at last they saw that the brigantine did not appear, they ran over to the guns. it was, however, too late. two or three of these were discharged as the schooner passed, but beyond making holes in her sails no damage was done, and one of the schooner's guns poured in a volley of grape. when she was two or three lengths ahead her helm was put hard down. she flew round and just caught the wind on the other tack, gliding up alongside the merchantman, the three guns being discharged in succession as the two vessels touched. the grapnels were thrown, and the sailors and frenchmen leapt on to her deck headed by the three officers. nearly half the pirates had been killed or wounded by the four discharges of grape. the remainder made but a poor fight of it, and were cut down to a man. "off with the hatches, men!" nat shouted. "run down and release the crew." he himself ran aft into the saloon. here six gentlemen and eight or ten ladies were lying bound hand and foot. several of the men were wounded. nat at once cut the cords. [illustration: "the captain of the pirates shook his fist in defiance."] "you are safe," he said. "the ship has been retaken by his majesty's schooner _arrow_, but we have not done with the brigantine yet, and any of you who have weapons and can use them may lend a hand." without waiting to listen to the chorus of cries of gratitude, he ran out again. a minute later a number of seamen poured up on deck. many of them were wounded. "how many are there of you?" he asked an officer among them. "there are thirty of us," he said; "we had lost nearly half our crew before they boarded us. the captain was killed early in the fight, as was the first officer." "well, sir, set your men to load the guns at once. there is the brigantine just coming round the point. monsieur pickard, will you remain here with your party and help the sailors? get your sails sheeted home, sir!" he went on to the ship's officer. "is your vessel a fast one?" "yes, but she is not so fast as that brigantine." "that is of no consequence," nat said. "get every sail you can on her. now get twenty of our men on board again, mr. lippincott, and on second thoughts i will take five of the frenchmen. mr. turnbull, you will remain on board in command of this ship with the other five of our men. my endeavour will be to knock away one of her masts. do you keep as close as you can to us, and we will board her together, one on each side. if she knocks away one of our spars, i shall as far as possible come back to meet you, and if she follows us we will fight her together." "i understand, sir." "the moment we push off, get your head sails aback and put her on the wind so as to get out of our way. i shall fill her off on the other tack and then come round and join you. we will keep together until we see whether she means to fight or run. remember, the great thing is to knock a spar out of her." so saying, he leapt on to the deck of the schooner, and turnbull's voice was at once heard shouting the order, "haul aft the weather sheets of the jibs;" and in a minute the two vessels were gliding away from each other on opposite tacks. then the _arrow_ was brought round and followed the _thames_, which was the name of the merchantman. the brigantine was now three quarters of a mile away. suddenly she was seen to change her course. as she wore round she presented her broadside to the two vessels, and her five guns puffed out together. the reply, both from the merchantman and the _arrow_, followed almost simultaneously, and a cheer rang out from both ships as the pirate's bowsprit was seen to snap off. "place yourself two or three cables' length from his larboard quarter," nat shouted. turnbull, who had leapt on to the rail to see the result of the broadside, waved his hand. "down topsails!" nat shouted, "she will be handier without them." in a moment the two great sails came fluttering down. turnbull followed the example, and the men ran up the ratlines and furled some of the upper sails. deprived of her head sails, the pirate was unmanageable, and the two vessels speedily ran up and laid themselves a couple of hundred yards from his quarters and opened a steady fire. the pirates endeavoured to drag two of their guns right aft, but the volleys of grape poured into them were too much for them, and although their captain was seen to shoot two of the men, the rest ran forward. the helmsman deserted his now useless post. "give her one more broadside," nat shouted to turnbull, "and then run in and board." the captain of the pirates, mad with rage, leapt on to the taffrail and shook his fist in defiance. at that moment two rifles cracked out from the merchantman, and he fell forward into the sea. the effect of the storm of grape from the three guns of the schooner, and the four from the trader, among the men huddled up in the bow of the pirate was terrible, but knowing that their lives were forfeited if they were taken prisoners, none made a movement aft to haul down the black flag that still floated from the peak. in two or three minutes their antagonists were alongside; a volley of musketry was poured in, and then the crews of both ships leapt on to the deck. the pirates, who were now reduced to about thirty men, rushed to meet them, determining to sell their lives dearly. but the odds were against them; they missed the voice of their captain to encourage them, and when twenty of their number had fallen, the remainder threw down their arms. "let no man stir a foot to go below," nat shouted, remembering the explosion in the pirate's hold, and fearing that one of them might make straight for the magazine. he had not used his pistols in the fight, and now stood with one in each hand pointing threateningly to enforce the order. "mr. lippincott, take four men below and close and securely fasten the magazine." the middy ran down, and returned in two or three minutes to report that he had executed the order. "tie those fellows' feet and hands," nat said, "and carry them down into the hold." when this was done he was able to look round. the deck was a perfect shambles. the brigantine, as he afterwards heard, carried originally eighty hands. ten of these had been either killed or seriously wounded in the fight with the _thames_, and twenty had been killed on board that barque when she was retaken. forty lay dead or dying on the deck. one of the frenchmen had fallen, six of the sailors and three frenchmen had been severely wounded, turnbull somewhat seriously wounded, and lippincott slightly. monsieur pickard, and the male passengers on board the _thames_, had all joined the boarders. two of them had previously done good service with their rifles. had not the pirate leader been killed, the fight would have been even more desperate. one of the passengers was, fortunately, a surgeon. he at once set to work attending to the sailors' wounds, and after he had bandaged them he examined those of the pirates. these had for the most part been killed outright, and of the wounded there were but four or five with any prospect of recovery. these he first attended to, while the other passengers carried water to the dying men. "now, my lads," nat said, "clear the decks of the dead, and get up an awning and carry those who are alive into the shade." all the dead pirates were thrown over without ceremony, the body of the frenchman being laid down by his compatriots by one of the guns for proper burial in the evening. as soon as the fight was over, monsieur pickard--who, after the capture of the _thames_, had gone below to assure his wife and daughters that all was going on well, and that they had saved nine ladies and six gentlemen from the hands of the pirates--hurried down with the welcome news that the fight was over and the brigantine captured. "you can go up to the cabin," he said, "but don't come on deck till i come down and tell you that everything has been made clean and tidy. you will be glad to hear that, although we have several wounded, françois amond is the only man that has been killed." one of the passengers of the _thames_ had carried similar news to the ladies there. the crews of both were at once set to work to wash decks, and in an hour the holy-stones had obliterated the worst signs of the conflict, though it would require many more scrubbings before the stains of blood entirely disappeared. all this time the vessels had remained side by side, and the ladies now ventured on to the decks of the _thames_ and _arrow_. "what do you intend to do, sir?" one of the passengers asked nat. "i shall sail at once for jamaica," he said. "we shall want some more hands, and i must at present borrow a few from you, for my own men are not sufficiently strong to navigate my own craft and the prize. the wind is favourable, and if it holds as it is we shall be at kingston in forty-eight hours, so there will be no great loss of time." he then crossed to the _arrow_. "i must congratulate you most heartily on your success," madame pickard said. "it is wonderful indeed that you should have taken both these vessels. the pirate ship is, i should think, three times as big as you are, and the other looks a giant by her side." "yes, she is six hundred tons, and the brigantine is about three hundred. however, it has all gone very fortunately. in the first place, we have rescued some fifteen gentlemen and ladies, and twice as many seamen, from the death that they would certainly have met with; and in the next place, we have thrashed this pirate; we shall get both credit and prize-money, and a good sum for the recapture of the _thames_, which the chief officer has just told me carries a very valuable cargo. lastly, i am happy to say that, although several of the crew are injured, i have not lost a single life among them. i am sorry that one of your men fell in the fight." "but they have sadly spoiled the appearance of your ship," valerie pickard said. "there are three or four great holes along the side, and a ball has gone through your cabin, and the sails, which were so white and pretty, have lots of holes in them." "yes, we shall want a good many new cloths," he said; "but that is a very minor matter." "monsieur turnbull is hurt, i hear!" "yes, madame; happily it is not very serious--a blow which he only partly parried struck him on the shoulder. it looks a very serious wound, but the doctor says there is no need for any great uneasiness about him; and being seriously wounded in action has its advantages, as it always counts towards promotion. mr. lippincott has had one of his ears nearly slashed off, and is not pretty to look at at present, with his head done up in bandages, but the surgeon thinks that, as it was attended to so soon, it is likely that it will heal up." "and you have escaped altogether, monsieur glover?" louise said. "yes, for once i have had good luck. hitherto i have always come out of a fight more or less damaged; this time i have escaped without a scratch." "i should feel very proud if i were you," the girl said, "at having done so much with such a small ship--and you so young, too! why, you do not look more than a year or two older than valerie, and you have rescued us and all the people on the other ship, and taken a pirate and the vessel they had captured. it seems almost impossible. and you look so quiet and nice, too." "louise, you should not talk like that," her mother corrected. nat said gravely: "mademoiselle, do you know that you are talking to the commander of one of his majesty's ships on his own quarter-deck, where he is, as it were, the monarch of all he surveys, and might inflict all sorts of terrible punishments upon you for your want of respect?" the girl laughed merrily. "i am not afraid," she said, "not one little bit, and i don't see why you should mind being told that you are young and quiet-looking and nice, when you are." "i do not mind in the least," he said, "and certainly i am young; but i can assure you that my former captain would not tell you that i was quiet, for i had the reputation of being the most troublesome middy on board his frigate. but, you see, responsibility has sobered me, and i can assure you that there is a great deal of responsibility in commanding a small craft like this, which has nothing but her speed and her luck to rely on if she happens to fall in with a strongly-armed vessel." "how can you say that, monsieur," valerie said indignantly, "when you have taken this pirate, which is ever so much stronger than you are?" "there may be a little good management in it, but more luck, mademoiselle. if one of his shot had damaged me instead of one of mine damaging him, we should all have had our throats cut two hours ago." "i don't believe it," she said. "i believe that you would have beaten him anyhow." "ladies very often think what they wish," he said with a laugh, "and no doubt we should have fought to the last; but i can assure you that we should have had no chance with them, and the best i could have done for you would have been to have fired the last shot of my pistol into the magazine." "please don't talk about it," madame pickard said with a shudder. "and now i suppose that you have had fighting enough, and are going to carry us quietly into port?" "yes, madame, to jamaica; but if you would prefer to be landed at cape françois or port-au-prince i shall be happy to give you a passage back again." "we do not want to go there at all, but my husband will go to wind up his affairs, and sell his house there. we have been talking it over, and agree that we should never like to go back to the estate again. even if things did quiet down the memories are too terrible; and, besides, having once broken out, the blacks might do so again at any time." "i think you are perfectly right, madame; but i am afraid you will not get much for your estate." "my husband thinks that, although no white man would buy it, there are plenty of mulattoes who would give, not its real value, but a certain amount, for it. many of them are rich men who have already large plantations. ours was one of the most valuable on the island, and with the title from us a purchaser would not be afraid of being disturbed when the soldiers arrive and put down the insurrection; while, even if this should never be done, the negroes, with whom the mulattoes are now friends, would not interfere with him. my husband thinks that perhaps he will get a third of its value, which would be sufficient to keep us all comfortably in france, or wherever we may settle; but our best resource is that we have the whole of last season's produce stored in our magazines at port-au-prince." it was not until the next afternoon that the absolutely necessary repairs to the three vessels were completed, the holes near the water-line covered by planks over which pitched canvas was nailed, the ropes shot away replaced by new ones, and the brigantine's gaff repaired. then sail was hoisted again, and the three vessels set sail for kingston, where they arrived on the evening of the third day after starting. no little excitement was caused in the harbour when the _arrow_, with her sails and sides bearing marks of the engagement, sailed in, followed by the brigantine flying the british ensign over the black flag, and the _thames_ with the same flags, but with the addition of the merchant ensign under the black flag, following her. there were two or three ships of war in the port, and the crews saluted the _arrow_ with hearty cheers. the flag-ship at once ran up the signal for her commander to come on board, and, leaving lippincott to see to the operation of anchoring, nat ordered the gig to be lowered, and, taking his place in it, was rowed to the flag-ship. chapter xiv the attack on port-au-prince on mounting to the deck nat was at once taken to the admiral's cabin. "so you have been disobeying orders, lieutenant glover," he said gravely. "i hope not, sir. i am not conscious of disobeying orders." "i fancy you were directed not to engage more heavily-armed craft than your own." "i was, sir, but the circumstances were peculiar." "i never knew a midshipman or a young lieutenant, mr. glover, who did not find the circumstances peculiar when he wanted to disobey orders. however," he added with a smile, "let me hear the peculiar circumstances, then i shall be able to judge how far you were justified. give them in full. have you a written report?" "yes, sir, i have brought it with me," nat said, producing the document. "well, lay it down on the table. i don't suppose it is very full, and i am somewhat curious to hear how you brought in a pirate brigantine and a recaptured merchantman--so i understood your flags." nat related how he had heard the sound of guns on rounding a headland, and had seen the brigantine lying by the side of the barque she had evidently just captured; how he drew her off in pursuit of the schooner, partially crippled her, returned and retook the _thames_, released her crew, placed mr. turnbull in command, and how, between them, they had captured the brigantine. "a very smart action," the admiral said cordially when he had brought the narrative to a conclusion. "it does you very great credit, and fully justifies my appointing you to an independent command. what metal does the brigantine carry?" "five guns each side, all twelve-pounders like my own." "and you have only four?" "yes, sir." "very good indeed, very good! by the way, do you know any of the passengers on board the _thames_ personally? i observed three ladies on the deck as you came in. i should have thought that they would have had very much better accommodation on the trader than on board your little craft." "yes, sir; but they were on board the _arrow_ before our fight with the brigantine, and although the first mate of the _thames_ offered them a state cabin they preferred to stay on board, as it was such a short run here." "who are they, then?" "they are refugees, sir. i got them out of the hands of the negroes--three ladies, the husband of the elder one, and seven other white men." "is there any story attached to it, mr. glover? let me see, what do you say about it in your report?" and he opened it and read aloud: _i have the honour, sir, to report that, learning there was a white family in the hands of the negroes, i landed with a party and brought them off. they consisted of monsieur and madame pickard and their two daughters, and seven of their white employees. casualties--eight seamen wounded, none of them seriously._ "then comes the account of the other affair. now, please give me the details of this rescue business as minutely as possible." this nat did. "a very risky business, mr. glover, though i don't see how you could have acted in any other way. no british officer, i hope, could have been deaf to such an appeal; but if those boats had found the schooner when you all were away, your position would have been well-nigh desperate." "it would, sir, i quite felt that, but it seemed to me the only possible thing to do. of course, if i had known that the boats would have come early in the evening, i should have remained on board and beat them off before making a landing, although our chances of success would then have been much smaller. the party who were to attack in the boats were to have been composed of men from the plantation. their comrades would doubtless have come down to the shore to see us captured, and when they saw their friends beaten off they would have been on the watch, and not improbably, in their fury and disappointment, have massacred all the captives in their hands at once. but i thought it likely that the boats would not put off before they believed us to be asleep, and that i should therefore have time to go up to the plantation and fetch the captives down before they arrived. at any rate, by moving the schooner close inshore i hoped that the boats might not find her. there was no moon, and under the shadow of the rock it was next to impossible to see her, unless a boat happened to pass within a few paces. having struck the topmasts, the forest behind on steep ground prevented the masts from showing above the sky-line. it was, of course, the choice of two evils, and i took the one that seemed to me to give the greater promise of success." "you did excellently, the oldest officer in the service could not have done better. i shall be obliged if you will write as full and detailed an account of both affairs as you have given me. i shall send it home with your official report, and with my own remarks upon them. and now about the merchantman; she looks a fine barque. what is her tonnage?" "six hundred tons, sir. she is a nearly new vessel, and sails fast for a ship of that kind. her first mate told me that she has a very valuable cargo on board, principally, i think, tobacco, sugar, coffee, wax, copper, mahogany, and cedar from cuba. her passengers are all spanish." "she seems to be a valuable prize, and as recaptured from the pirates there will be a handsome sum to be divided, and it is fortunate for you and your officers that the little craft was commissioned independently, not as a tender to one of the frigates. as it is, except the flag's share, it will all fall to yourselves and your crew. how many men have you lost?" "none at all, sir; though, as you will see by my report, in the two affairs the greater part of them received more or less severe wounds. mr. turnbull was somewhat severely wounded, mr. lippincott nearly lost an ear, and i escaped altogether." "well, it was your turn, lieutenant glover. you have come back three times more or less severely hurt already. you say that the brigantine is fast?" "yes, sir. she is not so fast as the schooner in a light wind, nor so weatherly, but in anything like strong winds i have no doubt that she would overhaul us." "was there anything in her hold?" "there are a good many bales and cases, sir. i have not opened them, but by their marks they come from three different ships, which she had no doubt captured and sunk before we fell in with her. i questioned one of the prisoners, and he told me that it was only a month since she came out, and he declared that they had not yet chosen any place as their head-quarters. as others questioned separately told the same story, i imagine that it was true." "where did she hail from?" "she came from bordeaux. they said that she had taken out letters of marque to act as a privateer in case of war breaking out with us, but i fancy that she was from the first intended for a pirate, for it seems that she had only forty hands when she started, and picked up the others at various french ports at which she touched before sailing west. i should say, from the appearance of her crew, that they are composed of the sweepings of the ports, for a more villainous set of rascals i never saw." "well, it is fortunate that you should have stopped their career so soon. she might have given us a great deal of trouble before we laid hands on her. we have had comparatively quiet times since the _orpheus_ destroyed that nest of them, and if she had confined her work to homeward-bound ships it might have been months before we had complaints from home, and found that there was another of these scourges among the islands. i shall row around presently, mr. glover, and have a look at your two prizes. when you see my gig coming i shall be obliged if you will meet me on the deck of the brigantine." at four o'clock in the afternoon the watch on deck reported that the admiral's gig was being lowered, and nat immediately got into his own boat and was rowed to the brigantine, whose name was the _agile_. when the admiral approached, instead of making straight for the accommodation ladder, he rowed slowly round the vessel, making a very careful examination of the hull. when he came on deck, he said: "except for a few shot that hit her low down, and the general destruction of her bulwarks, no damage has been done to her." "no, sir, we aimed high, our great object being to knock away some of her spars. i don't think that her square sails will be of any use in the future, they are riddled with balls from our stern-chasers." "a new gaff and bowsprit, a new suit of sails, new bulwarks, and a few patches, and she would be as good as ever. what damage have you suffered?" "the schooner has half a dozen holes in her bow, sir, and a dozen or so in her sails, nothing that the dockyard could not set right in a fortnight." he then went below. "excellent accommodation," he said, after going round, "that is for a fair crew, but she must have been crowded indeed with eighty men. what should you consider to be a fair crew for her, mr. glover?" "twenty men, sir, if she were a simple trader; i should say from thirty-five to forty would be none too much if she were going to fight her guns." "now we will have a look at your craft. you may as well take a seat in my gig. yes," he went on, as he rowed round her as he had done with the brigantine, "now that the sails are furled she does not seem any the worse for it, except in the bow and those two holes in the bulwarks." monsieur pickard and the ladies were seated on the deck, and rose as the admiral came on board. "please introduce me to your friends, mr. glover." nat did so, and the admiral shook hands with them all. "i think i may congratulate you on your escape from a very terrible position." "yes, indeed," madame pickard said. "no words can express the gratitude we feel to monsieur glover, his two officers, and the crew. our position seemed hopeless, the most terrible of deaths and the worst of atrocities stared us in the face." "i have heard all about it, madame, and consider that lieutenant glover managed the whole business with great discretion as well as bravery. he has a bad habit of getting into scrapes, but an equally good one of getting out of them with credit to himself. this is the third time he has rendered signal services to ladies in distress, and i suppose i should add that he has in addition saved the lives of the ladies on board the barque lying astern. if there were a medal for that sort of thing he would assuredly deserve it. he ought to have been born six or seven hundred years ago, he would have made a delightful knight-errant. "what are the ladies like in the other ship, mr. glover?" "i have no idea, sir. i only saw them for a moment when i ran into the cabin and cut their bonds. i have only seen the gentlemen for a minute or two when they joined the boarders from the _thames_ under mr. turnbull, and i was much too busy to notice them." "have you not gone on board since?" "no, sir, i had nothing to go on board for, and i don't speak any spanish." "we tried to persuade him, monsieur l'amiral," valerie said, "but monsieur is modest, he has never let us thank him yet; and although he pretended that he only kept ahead of the other two because his ship was a faster sailer, it was really because he did not wish to be thanked." "but other people are modest too," the admiral said with a smile. "i have heard of two young ladies who came on board, and who would not stir out of their cabins until they had made themselves new dresses." the two girls both coloured up at the allusion, and monsieur pickard laughed. "now i will go below, mr. glover. she is very small by the side of the brigantine," he said, as he completed his visit of inspection. "i am not surprised that the pirates chased you after your impudence in firing at them, and that they thought they could eat you at a mouthful. now, we will pay a visit to the barque." to nat's great relief, he found that the passengers had all gone ashore. it was certain that they would be detained for some little time, as there would be legal formalities to be gone through, and repairs to be executed, and additional hands to be obtained; and, all feeling terribly shaken by the events that had taken place on board, and the loss in some cases of near relations, they had been glad to land until the ship was again ready for sea. the mate in charge handed to the admiral the ship's manifest and papers. "you have no seriously wounded on board?" the latter asked him. "because if so, i should advise you to send them ashore to the hospital at once." "no, sir. all who fell on the deck were thrown overboard by the pirates as soon as they obtained possession of the ship. i believe that they fastened shot to their feet to make them sink at once." the admiral nodded. "that is likely enough. dead bodies drifting ashore might cause inquiries to be made; their intention no doubt was to take all the most valuable part of the cargo out of the ship, and then to scuttle her with all on board." "are we likely to be detained here long, sir?" "not as far as we are concerned. we shall require you to sign in the presence of a magistrate here a formal document acknowledging that the vessel was absolutely captured, and in possession of the pirates, and that she was recaptured by his majesty's schooner the _arrow_, and to sign a bond on behalf of the owners to pay the legal proportion of the value of the ship and cargo to the admiralty prize court in london. you will, of course, take her home yourself, but i shall send a naval officer with you, as the ship and its contents remain the property of government until the charges upon her are acquitted. if we were at war with france we should retain her here until she could sail under convoy of a vessel of war homeward-bound, but there is no occasion for doing that now. i do not suppose that you will find much difficulty in obtaining mates and enough sailors to make up your complement here. scarcely a ship sails from the port without some of her men being left behind, either as deserters or through having been too drunk to rejoin. at any rate you had better be careful whom you pick, and if you should find a difficulty in obtaining men whose discharge-books show that they have hitherto borne a good character, i should advise you to ship eight or ten stout negroes. they are good hands at managing their own craft, and although they might not be of much use aloft, they are as a rule thoroughly trustworthy fellows, and quite as good for work on deck as our own men. i will give you an order on the dockyard for any repairs that you cannot get executed elsewhere. they will of course be charged for, but need not be paid for here, as they will go down in the account against the ship." fortunately the dockyard was not busy, and the _agile_ and the _arrow_ were the next morning taken into dock, and a strong gang of men at once set to work upon them. three days later a signal was made for nat to go on board the flagship. "i have received the report from the dockyard people, mr. glover," the admiral said. "they confirm our opinion that the _agile_ has not suffered any serious damage; that she is a new and well-built vessel, and well fitted for our service, and she will therefore be retained at the valuation they set upon her. here is your commission as her commander. having done so well in the little _arrow_, i have no doubt as to your ability and fitness for the post. she will carry forty hands. i shall give you two petty officers, a boatswain's mate and a gunner's mate. i had thought of giving you another midshipman, but i think it would be better that you should take a surgeon. three or four assistant surgeons came out last week, and i can very well spare you one. "i shall not give you one of the new arrivals, for it is better that these for a time should serve on larger ships, get accustomed to naval work, and learn the ordinary routine of duty on board. i shall, therefore, send you one from either the _theseus_ or the _limerick_, and fill up his place with a new-comer. your duties will be precisely the same as those assigned to you in the _arrow_, except that i shall not impress upon you the necessity for giving a wide berth to suspicious vessels. you will cruise on the coast of hayti, take off refugees, communicate, if possible, with chiefs of the insurgents, and see if there is any strong feeling among them in favour of annexation to england. you will be authorized, in case it is absolutely necessary in order to save the inhabitants of any coast town from slaughter from the blacks, either to help the garrison with your guns or to land a portion not exceeding half your crew to aid in the defence." "i am indeed greatly obliged to you, admiral, and assure you that i will do my best to merit your kindness and confidence." "it is to yourself rather than to me that you are indebted for what is virtually a step towards promotion. just at present i do not think that you are likely to have any opportunity of taking advantage of your increased force, as we have heard no complaints of pirates of late. we may hope that these scoundrels, finding that the islands are growing too hot for them, have moved away to safer quarters. at any rate, if there are any of them in these waters, they are likely to be among the northern cays, and are probably confining their depredations for a time to ships trading between europe and florida, or to vessels from here which have passed beyond the general limit of the seas we patrol." on nat's return to the dockyard, he delighted lippincott with the news of the exchange that they were to make. turnbull was in hospital, but the surgeons had reported that his wound was not so serious as it seemed at first, and that a fortnight's rest and quiet would go far to render him convalescent. the sailors, too, were glad to hear that they were going to be transferred to a craft in which they would be able to meet an enemy with confidence. they were also pleased to hear that there was to be no change in their officers, for they had unbounded trust in their young commander, and had from the first agreed that they had never sailed in a more comfortable ship. after seeing turnbull and acquainting him with the news, nat paid a visit to the pickards. they had landed on the evening of their arrival, and, after stopping a day in an hotel, had established themselves in a pretty house outside the town, which monsieur pickard had hired from a merchant who was on the point of sailing for england, and would be absent several months. monsieur pickard had, on arriving, gone to a merchant with whom he had business connections, and to whom he had frequently consigned produce for shipment to england or france when there happened to be no vessel in port-au-prince sailing for europe. he had obtained from him a loan on the security of the season's produce, which had, fortunately, been sent down to be warehoused at port-au-prince two or three weeks before the insurrection broke out. nat's friends, too, heartily congratulated him on obtaining the command of a larger vessel. "after the troubles and anxiety we have of late gone through, monsieur glover, we feel the comfort of being under the protection of the british flag, and shall enjoy it all the more now that we know that you are not going to sea again in that pretty little vessel, for if you fell in with another large corsair you might not be so fortunate as you were last time. as you have said, if an unlucky shot had struck one of your spars, you would have been at her mercy, and we know what that mercy would mean. i intend to stay here for a short time, till madame and the girls get quite accustomed to their new home, before sailing for port-au-prince; but whether i am at home or away you know how welcome you will be here whenever you happen to be in port. how long do you think it is likely to be before you are off?" "i was speaking to the superintendent of the dockyard before i came out, and he says that he will get the _agile_ ready for sea in three weeks' time. he cannot possibly manage it before; the hull could be ready in a week, but the suit of sails will require three times as long, though he has promised to take on some extra hands if he can get them. orders have, however, been given by the _thames_ to the chief native sail-maker of the place to patch some of the sails and to make several new ones, and he has taken up some of the best hands in the town. then, no doubt, whoever gets the command of the _arrow_ will be wanting her sails pushed forward, though that is not certain, for it is not unlikely that, now the _agile_ has been bought into the service, the _arrow_ will be sold. indeed, one of the principal merchants here would be glad to buy her as a private yacht if he had the chance, as he often has business at the other islands, and she is just the craft that would suit him. he said that by putting up shorter topmasts twelve men would be enough to sail her, and that he would exchange the guns for eight-pounders, as from what he had heard she could outsail almost any craft she was likely to meet with, and small guns would be quite sufficient to prevent any of these little native piratical craft from meddling with her. however, i think the superintendent will keep his word, and that in three weeks' time i shall be off." "i may possibly be at port-au-prince before you, then," monsieur pickard said. "i am thinking of chartering a small brig and going in her to port-au-prince, and bringing my goods back from there. now that the mulattoes are up in arms, the place cannot be considered as absolutely safe; and as i calculate they are worth from eight to ten thousand pounds, i think it will be well to get them over as soon as possible." "i quite agree with you, monsieur pickard, and should certainly advise you to lose no time. unless i get instructions to the contrary, i shall, in the first place, cruise round the shore of the bay of hayti." ten days later, indeed, monsieur pickard sailed in the brig that he had chartered. nat had called to say good-bye the evening before, and, to his embarrassment, was presented by him with a very handsome gold watch and chain, the former bearing the inscription that it was a small token of the deepest gratitude of eugene pickard, his wife and daughters, for having saved them from the most terrible fate. "it is only a little thing, monsieur glover," the planter said--"a feeble token of our gratitude, but something which many years hence will recall to your memory the inestimable service that you have rendered us." the superintendent of the dockyard kept his word, and in three weeks the _agile_ was afloat again, and the next morning twenty men drafted from the war-ships in the port were transferred to her. those of the _arrow_, with the exception of five still in the hospital, had shifted their quarters to her a fortnight previously. turnbull had rejoined the evening before. his arm was still in a sling, but otherwise he was quite convalescent. lippincott had that morning given up the bandage round his head, which had kept him almost a prisoner until now, for he had refused to go into the town until after nightfall with his head bound up, although nat had many times assured him that an honourable wound would not be regarded as any disadvantage by the young ladies at kingston. the assistant surgeon, james doyle, a cheery young irishman, also joined that morning. "it is glad i am to be out of all the ceremony and botheration on board the frigate," he said as he shook hands with nat, "and to be afloat on my own account, as it were. saunders, the surgeon, was enough to wear one out with his preciseness and his regulations; faith, he was a man who would rather take off a man's leg than listen to a joke, and it put me on thorns to hear him speak to the men as if they were every one of them shamming--as if anyone would pretend to be ill when he had to take the bastely medicines saunders used to make up for them." "i don't think you will find much shamming here, doctor, especially if the new hands are as good as the others; and i hope that your services will not often be required except in the matter of wounds." "no fighting means no wounds, and i am afraid that there is no hope of fighting," the surgeon said, shaking his head mournfully; "you and the _orpheus_ have pretty well cleared out the pirates, and it was a case of pure luck that you came across this craft the other day. but there is no doubt that the _orpheus'_ men have had all the luck, and the big ships' turn won't come till we have war with france. however, it may be that the luck will stick to you for a bit yet, for, by my faith, i shall before long have forgotten how to take off a limb or to tie up an artery for want of practice. we all envied you when you came in the other day with the two prizes behind you, both big enough to have eaten you up, and though we cheered, there was many a man who grumbled, 'bad cess to them, the _orpheus_' men have got all the luck.'" "but the _orpheus_ had nothing to do with it," nat laughed. "no, i know that; but you had been one of their men, and had, as i have heard, more than your share already of adventures." nat had received no further orders, and sailed that afternoon; two days later he was off the entrance of the great bay. he coasted along the shore as near as he could venture, always keeping a man on watch for signals made by anyone anxious to be taken off. when it became dark the anchor was dropped, so that no part of the shore could be passed without the ship being observed. it was on the seventh day after sailing that he arrived at port-au-prince. half an hour after he had anchored, monsieur pickard came off in a boat. "it is lucky that i lost no time," he said after the first greetings were over; "i got my last bale of goods on board the brig an hour ago, and we are going to warp her out at once so as to be under shelter of your guns." "why, what is the matter?" "there is news that a large force of mulattoes and negroes are coming down from the hills and will be here probably to-morrow morning. luckily a great part of the negroes were turned out of the town a fortnight ago. there are only two hundred soldiers here, and about as many white volunteers--little enough to defend the place if they attack us. no doubt they chose the moment because there is not a french war-ship of any kind in port. however, i think that all the white women and children are on board the ships. they are all crowded. i have about twenty on board the brig, and have rigged up a sail as an awning, and on such a warm night as this they will sleep better there than they would in a cabin. i can assure you that there was the greatest satisfaction when you were seen coming in. several of the captains had talked of towing their vessels out three or four miles into the bay, but as soon as it was certain that you were an armed ship, the idea was given up, as many of them were only half-laden; and it was felt that, of whatever nationality you were, you would prevent the negroes from coming off in boats to murder the women and children. of course i did not know that it was you until i made out your figure from the shore, but as soon as i did so, i told all i knew that they need not trouble about the safety of those on board ship, for i could answer for it that you would not hesitate to turn your guns on any boats that went out to attack them." "well, monsieur pickard, i cannot believe that the town will be taken, but at any rate i congratulate you on having got all your produce an board." "yes, it is a very important matter to us; we cannot calculate upon finding a purchaser for our house at cape françois at anything approaching its value at ordinary times. i have a couple of thousand pounds lying at my banker's, and although six months ago i would not have taken forty thousand for the estate and the slaves upon it, i suppose i may consider myself fortunate if i get half that sum, or even less, now. anyhow, if i get my crop here safe to jamaica, i need not worry myself as to the future." "if the place is attacked in the morning, monsieur, i have the admiral's authority to land half my men to aid in the defence; and though twenty men is but a small number, they may render some assistance. i intend to hold them in reserve, and to take them to any spot at which the insurgents may be pressing back the defenders. i shall be obliged if you will inform the officer in command of the troops and the civil authorities that they can count on my assistance to that extent. will you give them my advice to get all the available boats ranged along by the quay opposite to us, so that in case of the worst all can retreat there. i will cover their embarkation with my guns. lastly, i should advise the captains of all the ships in port to tow their vessels out and range them behind us, so that there may be nothing to interfere with our line of fire." "i will inform the committee of defence directly i go ashore, and they will doubtless send off at once to order the various ships to anchor at the spot you indicate. it will be a relief, indeed, to them all to know that you have undertaken their protection." "i will go ashore with you," nat said; "though i have landed here more than once i do not know the place well enough to be able to act quickly. i should like to see exactly where your batteries are placed, and where it is most likely that the negroes will make their chief attack." they went ashore and landed together, and walked to the house where the principal men of the town were assembled. "will you come in with me?" monsieur pickard asked. "no, i will leave you to explain what i propose to do and what i recommend that they should do. there is sure to be a lot of talk and discussion, and i do not wish to lose time. the sun will be setting in another hour, so i will make my round at once." passing through the town, nat visited the various batteries that had been erected, and decided that if the blacks were well led they would work round and attack the remains of the native town. the batteries had principally been erected round the european quarter, as if any enemy coming from the hills would be certain to make a direct attack, while the native quarter was almost entirely undefended, although with this once in the possession of the enemy the whole town would lie open to them. "it is clear that this is the real point of danger," he muttered. "fortunately, from where we are lying our guns can sweep the widest street that runs down through this quarter. i shall mention my ideas to pickard. no doubt he is still talking away at the meeting." he went back to the house. m. pickard and half a dozen other gentlemen were standing at the door. m. pickard at once introduced them to him. "my object in coming round here, gentlemen, is to tell you that in my opinion your defences, which are quite strong enough to protect the town against any body of negroes coming down on the easterly side, are wholly insufficient to repel an attack if made on the native town. i trust, therefore, that when the troops man the defences a considerable number of them at least will be so placed as to be ready to meet an attack from that side. there is practically nothing to prevent the negroes from entering there, and, as many of the mulattoes with them must be perfectly aware of the position of the batteries, they are scarcely likely to propose to make an attack upon them, knowing that the negroes would not be able to face an artillery fire, but would lead them round to attack the almost defenceless native portion of the town." "we have always reckoned upon their coming upon us by one of the main roads from the hills," one of the gentlemen said. "so i see, monsieur; but some of the mulattoes with them are men of considerable intelligence, and would be hardly foolish enough to try to break down the door that you have closed against them when they know that there is an open entrance at the back. if there is a man with the smallest spark of military genius about him he will commence the attack by a feint in considerable force against the batteries, and then, under cover of the smoke of your guns and his own--for i hear from monsieur pickard that they are said to have fifteen or twenty guns which they have taken at small places on the coast--will send round the main body of his force to fall on the native town. that is my opinion, gentlemen. i know very little of military matters, but it seems to me that is the course that any man of moderate intelligence would pursue, and i therefore should strongly advise that at least half your volunteer force should take post to defend the native town, and so give time to the remainder to come up and assist in the defence. i shall post my sailors in a position where they can best aid in the defence in this direction, and shall have the guns of my ship in readiness to open fire on the native town if you are driven back." "thank you, sir. we shall have another meeting late this evening, and i shall do my best to urge the committee to act as you suggest." nat returned on board the _agile_. already most of the ships in the port had anchored a short distance outside the brigantine, and a few that had kept on until the last moment taking their cargo on board were being towed by their boats in the same direction. turnbull and lippincott were anxiously awaiting nat's return. retiring into the cabin, he told them the result of his investigation of the defences and the position on shore. "i think we shall have hot work to-morrow," he went on. "if the negroes are not absolute fools they will not knock their heads against the batteries. there are twenty cannon in position, for the most part ships' guns, and as i hear that they have plenty of ammunition, and especially grape, they would simply mow the niggers down if they attacked them. there is only one battery with three guns covering the native town, and the blacks ought to have no difficulty in carrying this with a rush. we have learnt by experience that, whatever their faults, they can fight furiously, and are ready enough to risk their lives. thus, this battery may be taken in a few minutes. if a hundred of the volunteers held the huts behind it they might check them for a time, but as the negroes are several thousands strong the resistance cannot be long. the best point of defence will be that street facing us here. our guns will come into play, and it is there that i shall join the french as they fall back. "i shall get you, mr. lippincott, to row round this evening to all these craft near us, and to request the captains, in my name, to send all the men provided with muskets they may have, on board us, as soon as firing is heard. you will remain on board in charge, turnbull; with your arm in a sling, you are not fit for fighting on shore. with your twenty men you ought to be able to work the guns pretty fast. between their shots the men with muskets would aid. of course you would use grape. if their attack lulls in the least send a few round-shot among the houses on their side. pomp and sam had better go ashore with us and act as boat-keepers. i will take the boat higher up than those of the townspeople, for if a panic seizes them there would be a mad rush to get on board. we will go a couple of hundred yards farther, and the boat will lie a short distance out, and not come in close till they see us running towards it. in that way we can make sure of being able to get on board." "i should certainly have liked to land," turnbull said, "but i know that i am not fit yet for hard fighting." "i suppose you will be taking me along with you?" doyle said. "by all means come if you like, but i was not thinking of doing so." "it is not often that we get a chance of taking a share in the fun. as a rule, as soon as the guns are loaded and ready for action we have to go below, and to stop there bandaging and dressing wounds, with not a chance of seeing what is going on. this is just one chance in a hundred. i should be no good here, for there is no one to look after. i will take with me two or three tourniquets and some bandages, and perchance i may be the means of saving some poor boy's life; and while not so engaged i may have a slap at these murdering blacks. i am a pretty good shot, and when a man can bring down ten snipe out of every dozen, as i have done time after time in the ould country, he ought to be able to put a bullet into a black man's carcass." "if you are bent upon going, by all means do so. as you say, a tourniquet clapped on directly a man is wounded may save his life, and every additional musket will be a valuable addition to our strength." chapter xv the attack on port-au-prince it was just getting light on the following morning when the sound of a cannon was heard, and it was followed by several other shots, mingled with the rattle of distant musketry. the town woke up with a start. drums beat in the streets, and in a minute or two men armed with rifles and muskets poured out from their houses, and hurried to the rendezvous settled upon the night before. the firing came from the eastern side of the town, and the three batteries in that direction were all engaged. mingled with the report of the guns came the sound of a more distant cannonade, showing that the insurgents' artillery was also at work. among the shipping there was as great an excitement as in the town. on board every ship men were running up the ratlines to see if a view of the scene of action could be obtained from aloft. on the decks numbers of women, who had hastily thrown on their upper clothing, or wrapped themselves in shawls, listened anxiously to the sound of firing. scarce one but had a husband, brother, or son among the defenders of the place. there were ten vessels lying outside the _agile_, and from each of these boats presently put off to the brigantine, some with three or four men, others with as many as ten, all armed with muskets. "you will soon see how matters go, turnbull, and whether this is a real or only a feigned attack." the landing-party were in a few minutes ready to embark. each man carried fifty rounds of ammunition for his musket, and a dozen additional cartridges for his pistols. their water-bottles were slung over their shoulders, and each had a hunch of bread and of cold meat that had been boiled in the galley the night before in readiness. they took their places in the cutter and gig, and were soon rowed ashore to the point which nat had fixed on the previous evening. the various boats and lighters used in loading the ships had all been gathered at the quay facing the _agile_, and nat was pleased to see that his advice in this respect had been followed. the orders to sam and pomp, who were to remain one in each boat, were that they should push the boats out as far as the head-ropes--which had been lengthened for the occasion--would allow them, drop a small grapnel over the stern, and should then keep a sharp look-out. the moment the party were seen returning they were to pull up the grapnels, and haul on the head-ropes till the boats were alongside. both were armed, and the orders were that they were to shoot anyone who should try to force himself into either boat before the sailors came up. nat led his party to an empty house close to the street commanded by the _agile's_ guns. six of the sailors were placed as sentinels at the ends of streets running into this, the rest piled arms. "now, mr. lippincott, i shall be obliged if you will go and ascertain how the affair is proceeding, and whether the batteries are keeping the insurgents well in check. i am about to start for the battery on this side, where i shall get a fair view of the country round, and see how matters stand. "you will remain here, mr. thompson," he went on to the boatswain, "in charge of the party. i shall take newman with me in case i have any orders to send to you. will you come with me also, doyle?" the two officers, followed by an active young seaman, started. on arriving near the end of the native town, nat was glad to see a group of the volunteers in front of him. they saluted as he came up. "what force have you here, gentlemen?" he asked. "fifty men, captain." "it would have been better if it had been a hundred and fifty. if they come here in force you will not be able to keep them at bay long. where is your main body?" "they are gathered in front of the municipal offices in readiness to move wherever their services may be most required." "that is quite satisfactory. i was afraid that most of them might be at the batteries at the other side of the town, where the troops ought to be quite able to hold their own against the blacks." at this moment another gentleman, with a red sash over his shoulder, came up. he was the commander of the company stationed there. "i am afraid that we are rather out of it, monsieur," he said, after exchanging salutes with nat. "i am still more afraid, sir, that you are by no means out of it. i think that you will find that before many minutes are over you will be hotly engaged. i have come forward to tell you that my men are placed just on the other side of royal street, and to beg that if you are not able to maintain yourselves here--and if you are attacked, i am convinced that it will be in such force that you will be unable to do so--you will not endanger your force by holding on here too long, but will retreat to royal street, and there make a stand, occupying the houses on the other side of the street. the guns of my vessel are loaded and in readiness to sweep the street with grape as the negroes try to cross it; and we shall have in addition some forty or fifty men from the merchantmen outside her, who will aid in keeping them in check. if i might advise you, i should say that it would be well for you to write a note, now that you have time to do so, saying that you are attacked in overwhelming force, and are about to fall back to royal street, which you will, aided by my sailors and guns, hold to the last, and begging your commander to send his whole force up to support you. this you will, of course, keep until the attack comes, and will send off as soon as you perceive that your position here is untenable." "i think that is a very good suggestion," the officer said, "and shall carry it out at once." "i will go on to the battery," nat said; "from there i shall get a better idea of the situation." they had scarcely gone beyond the line of houses when a french soldier came running in. "what is your news?" nat asked him. "a great crowd of the enemy are coming, sir. the captain has sent me to beg the commander of the volunteers here to bring up his force to support him." "you will find him a hundred yards farther on. now, doctor, you will go forward and have a look." arriving at the battery, which was manned by twenty french soldiers under a young lieutenant, nat and the doctor mounted the parapet. the enemy were still half a mile away. they were in no sort of order, but were coming on in a confused mass. "there must be three or four thousand of them, lieutenant," nat said quietly. "you may check them a little, but you will never keep them out of the town if they come on with a rush. i suppose you are loaded with grape?" "yes, monsieur," the young frenchman said. he felt relieved at the arrival of the commander of the british ship of war, for he was feeling the responsibility of his position greatly. "i should let them get within four or five hundred yards," nat said quietly, "then fire your guns singly, loading as rapidly as possible. here come the volunteers; place five-and-twenty of them on each side of your battery. let them lie down, and open fire when the enemy are within two hundred and fifty yards. if they come on in spite of the fire, i should say that you had best all retire at the double. it will be of no use trying to hold the houses; they would only outflank you and cut you off. i have already arranged with the volunteers that they shall make a stand at royal street. i have a party of my sailors there in readiness to help them, and as the guns of my ship will sweep the street we should certainly be able to hold it until help arrives." "thank you, monsieur, i will do as you suggest." at this moment the volunteers came up at a run. "where do you wish me to place my men?" the captain said to the french lieutenant. "i shall be obliged if you will put half of them on each side of the battery. let them lie down there, and open fire when the enemy are within two hundred and fifty yards. if when they get within a hundred yards, your fire and ours does not stop them, we will then retreat together at the double. if we were once surrounded we should have no chance whatever. give your guns an elevation of five hundred yards," he said to his men. when this was done he looked inquiringly at nat. the other nodded. "yes, i think it is about five hundred yards." then he turned to the seaman: "go back as quickly as you can, newman, and tell mr. thompson that the blacks are coming, and that we shall probably be with him five minutes after you arrive. tell him also to send a man down as we had arranged to the wharf, to signal to the ship to be in readiness." as he spoke the first of the guns boomed out. a few seconds later the second was fired, and this was followed by the third at a similar interval. the cannon were old ship guns, and had been heavily charged with grape, and the destruction wrought upon the crowded mass of negroes was so great that they stopped suddenly. several of their leaders were seen to rush to the front waving and gesticulating, and with a wild yell the negroes again advanced. they had gone but fifty yards when the gun that was first fired spoke out again, followed quickly by the others. this time there was no pause in the advance. yelling furiously the negroes, who were armed with guns, discharged them at random. two more rounds were fired, and then the crakle of the rifles and muskets of the volunteers broke out. the centre of the negro line paused indecisively, but the flanks continued on their way without a check. "it is just as i thought," nat said to the doctor, who was loading and firing his piece rapidly. "do you see how their flanks are extending? one more round, lieutenant, and then we had best be going, or we shall be cut off from the town." again the three guns were discharged. the execution was terrible in the centre of the black line, but the flanks still kept on. "now, captain, get your men together," nat said to the civilian officer who was standing beside him; "if you go to the right i will go to the left. they won't hear our voices in this din." another half-minute and the soldiers and volunteers were running at the top of their speed, but keeping well together, towards the town. they had a hundred and fifty yards' start, and also the advantage that the blacks had been coming forward at a run for over half a mile. therefore, although the latter came on with yells of triumph and exultation, they did not gain on the little party. indeed, when they once entered the native town the french considerably increased their distance, for the negroes, fearing that they might fall into an ambush, came along more carefully. "post your men at the windows of the houses opposite to you," nat said to the french lieutenant. "did you send your messenger on?" he asked, as he ran up to the volunteer officer. the latter gave an exclamation of horror. "no, i forgot all about it." "so did i, or i should have reminded you of it. give it to one of the men now, and tell him to take it as hard as he can run. tell your men off in threes and fours to the houses opposite. i have no doubt we can keep them in check till help comes." thompson was waiting in the street as the party ran up. "where have you posted your men?" nat asked him. "i thought most likely that they would come down this street, so i put four men in each of the two houses facing it, seven are in the two houses facing the next street coming down, the rest are here." nat hurried up to the french officer. "my men are in the two houses facing this and the next street, will you occupy the houses next them, and tell the officer of the volunteers to scatter his men in twos and threes in the other houses. doctor, you had better join the party in the house facing the next street; and do you, mr. thompson, place yourself with five men in the house facing the street beyond. we shall have the brunt of it, for they are more likely to come by these streets than by those near the harbour, knowing, as they do, that our ship is lying anchored off there." it was three or four minutes before nat, from the window at which he had posted himself, saw a great body of negroes and mulattoes coming along the street facing him. "open fire at once, lads," he said. "take good aim; every shot ought to tell in that crowd, and our fire will let them know on board that the blacks are close at hand." yelling, shouting, and brandishing their weapons, the insurgents poured down. the fire from the next two parties had showed that the negroes were also advancing by the streets above. a minute later three black columns poured into royal street, and as they did so a fire broke out from every window facing them. then came a deep roar, and a storm of grape swept along the street; another and another followed, and with yells of surprise and fear the rioters rushed back into shelter, leaving the streets strewn with dead and dying. it was some minutes before they could rally, and in the meantime three of the guns of the _agile_ sent ball after ball among the houses to the west of the street. three times did the negroes attempt to cross the fatal road, but each time they fell back with heavy loss, which was specially severe in their last attempt, as the main body of the volunteers had now come up, entered by the backs of the houses and joined the defenders, and the fire of two hundred and fifty muskets played terrible havoc among the assailants. there was a pause in the fight now, and the ship's broadside continued to sweep the native town with balls while an occasional spurt of musketry fire broke out when the blacks showed themselves in any of the streets. suddenly from a score of houses in the native town smoke, followed speedily by flames, mounted up. "the scoundrels have fired the town," exclaimed doyle, who had now joined nat. "they see they have no chance of crossing here, and as they cannot plunder the place they have made up their mind to destroy it." "yes, and they are likely to succeed, doctor, the wind is blowing this way. half the native houses are roofed with palm leaves, and will burn like tinder. our only chance now is to drive the blacks out altogether and then fight the fire." he at once sent a sailor down with a flag to signal to the ship to stop firing, then he went out into the street. as soon as he was seen he was joined by the french lieutenant and the commander, with several officers of the volunteers, together with monsieur pickard. "i think, gentlemen," nat said, "that unless we take the offensive and drive the blacks out of the town there will be little hope of extinguishing the fire. the wind is blowing strongly in this direction, and there is not a moment to be lost if we are to save the town. the negroes must be thoroughly demoralized, they must have lost over a thousand men here and three or four hundred before they entered the town. it is quite likely that they have retreated already, but in any case i do not anticipate any serious resistance." the others at once agreed. the drums were beaten, and the volunteers, soldiers, and sailors poured out from the houses, and then, dividing into three columns, advanced down the streets through which the blacks had retired. they met with no resistance. a few negroes who had entered houses to gather plunder were shot down as they issued out, but with these exceptions none of the enemy were seen until the columns issued from the town, when the negroes could be seen retreating at a run across the plain. the french officer at once ran forward with his men to the little battery, and sent shot after shot among them, for they were still less than half a mile away. the sailors and volunteers slung their muskets behind them, and, running back, endeavoured to check the course of the flames. this, however, was impossible. the fire spread from house to house with extraordinary rapidity. the wind hurled the burning flakes on ahead, dropping many upon the inflammable roofs, and in twenty minutes the whole quarter west of royal street was in flames. nat was now joined by turnbull and all the crew, the two negroes, who had been sent off to the ship with the boats, alone remaining in charge of the vessel. "we have beaten the negroes, turnbull, but the fire will beat us. if this wind continues it will sweep the whole town away. it is useless to try and save any of these native houses. look at the burning flakes flying over our heads!" after a short consultation with the french officers they agreed that the only chance was to arrest the fire at the edge of the european quarter, and that the whole force should at once set to work to pull down the native houses adjoining them. the sound of cannon on the other side of the town had continued until now, but it gradually ceased, as the news reached the negroes there that the main attack, of whose success they had felt sure, had hopelessly failed, and it was not long before the troops from the batteries came up to assist the workers. their labours, however, were in vain. a shout of dismay called the attention of the men who, half-blinded with the dust and smoke, were working their utmost. looking round, they saw that the flames were mounting up from several of the houses behind them. the wood-work was everywhere as dry as tinder, and the burning flakes, which were falling thickly upon them, had set the houses on fire in a dozen places. "we can do nothing more, sir," the officer in command of the troops said. "the business part of the town is doomed. all that we could even hope to save are the detached houses standing in gardens and shrubberies." so it turned out. the flames swept onward until the business quarter, as well as the native town, was completely burnt out, and it needed all the efforts of the soldiers and inhabitants to prevent the private residences of the merchants and planters from being ignited by the burning fragments scattered far and wide by the wind. it was noon when the officers and crew of the _agile_, accompanied by m. pickard--who was, like all the rest blackened by the dust and smoke--returned on board. "well, that has been as hot a morning's work as i ever went through," turnbull said. "it is hard to believe that a battle has been fought and a town destroyed in the course of about five hours." "yes; i think on the whole we may be very well satisfied, turnbull, though i suppose the people who have lost their houses and stores will hardly see it in the same light. still, they saved their lives, and at any rate, monsieur pickard, you can be congratulated on having got all your goods on board just in time." "i am thankful indeed that it is so," the planter said. "i hope, of course, to get something for my estate. as to the house, after what we have seen here i cannot set much value on it. what has happened this morning may happen at cape françois to-morrow. they might not be able to take it, but a dozen negroes choosing their time when a strong wind is blowing, and starting the fires in as many places, might level the town to the ground. at any rate, i shall direct the captain of the brig to sail at once for kingston, and to deliver the cargo to my agent there, and shall proceed myself to cape françois. i wish to learn whether the bank there has sent off its funds and securities to some safer place, or is retaining them. in the latter case i shall withdraw them at once, and shall put up my estates for sale." "i will give you a passage, monsieur pickard. i have nothing more to stay here for, and shall sail up the coast to-morrow morning." "thank you very much; i accept your offer with gladness. i am anxious to close all my connection with this unfortunate island as soon as possible." in the afternoon the governor of the town, with the officer commanding the troops, the maire, and a deputation of the leading citizens, came off to thank nat for the assistance that his crew and guns had rendered. they brought with them an official document rehearsing these services, and saying that had it not been for the assistance they had rendered, the town would undoubtedly have been captured by the blacks, and probably all the whites on shore massacred, together with their wives and families, who had taken refuge on board the shipping. the commandant stated that this document would be sent to the british admiral at kingston. nat replied very modestly, saying that both the officers and men on board had rejoiced at being able to render a service in the cause of humanity, and that he was only acting in accordance with the orders he had received from the admiral to afford every aid in his power to the white population of the island. after this official visit many of the merchants, planters, and military officers came off individually to thank him for having saved their wives and families by the protection that he had afforded to the shipping, and by the aid given by his guns and the landing-party, which had alone saved the town from capture. at daybreak next morning the _agile_ got up her anchor and started for the north. the brig containing monsieur pickard's property had sailed the previous afternoon, and the rest of the shipping were preparing to start at the time the _agile_ got up anchor. all of them were crowded with fugitives, the women and children being now joined by many of their male relatives, who had lost almost all they possessed by the destruction of their homes and warehouses. the next morning the brigantine arrived at cape françois. the news she brought of the destruction of port-au-prince caused great excitement, as it was felt that the fate that had befallen one town might well happen to another. monsieur pickard at once went to the bank, where he found that the greater portion of the specie and all valuable documents had already been sent for safety to jamaica, and he received an order upon the bank there for the payment to him of the money he had placed on deposit in the bank, and of the various securities and documents that had been held in safe-keeping for him. he then went to pay a visit to monsieur duchesne, to whose house nat, who had landed with him, had gone direct. the family were delighted to see him. "you may expect another visitor shortly," he said. "monsieur pickard has come on shore with me; he has gone to the bank now, but said that he would come on here later." "then he has escaped," madame duchesne exclaimed. "we had hardly even hoped that he and his family had done so, for we knew that the blacks had risen everywhere in that part of the island." "yes, i am happy to say that he, madame pickard, and his two daughters, all got safely away; in fact, they all came off to my craft--not the _agile_, you know, but to the _arrow_; and i had the pleasure of taking them as passengers to jamaica, where the ladies still are." "that is good news indeed," myra said. "valerie is a great friend of mine. of course louise is younger, but i was very fond of her too. the year before last i spent a couple of months with them at their plantation; and, as i daresay they told you, they are always here for three or four months in the winter season." nat then told them what had taken place at port-au-prince, and how he and his men had taken part in the fight. "it is terrible news indeed," said m. duchesne; "and one can scarcely feel safe here. port-au-prince is the largest town in hayti, with the exception only of this, which is quite as open to the danger of fire. i think this will decide us on leaving. matters seem going from bad to worse. i don't know whether you know that three commissioners have arrived from france. so far from improving the state of things, they are making them worse every day. as far as can be seen, they are occupied solely in filling their own pockets; they have enormously increased the taxation, and that at a time when everyone is on the verge of ruin. no account is given of the sums they collect, and certainly the money has not been spent in taking any measures either for the safety of the town or for the suppression of the insurrection. i have wound up all my affairs here, and have disposed of our plantations. there are many who still believe that in time everything will come right again; i have myself no hope. even if we got peaceful possession of our estates, there would be no hands to work them. the freedom of all the blacks has been voted by that mad assembly in paris; and if there is one thing more certain than another, it is that the negroes will not work until they are obliged to, so the estates will be practically worthless. therefore i have accepted an offer for a sum which is about a quarter of what the estate was worth before, and consider that it is so much saved out of the fire." "monsieur pickard is of exactly the same opinion as you are," nat said, "and has come here principally for the purpose of disposing of his estate on any terms that he can obtain." "well, i do not think he will find any difficulty in getting about the same proportion of value as we have done. the rich mulattoes are buying freely, and, as i say, some of the whites are doing the same. ah, here he is! "ah, my dear pickard, we are glad indeed to see you, and to learn from our friend here that your wife and daughters are safe in jamaica." "we have been very anxious about you," madame duchesne said; "and myra has been constantly talking of your family." "it was the same with us, i can assure you, madame; and it is strange that we should first have obtained tidings of your safety from monsieur glover, and that you should also have obtained news of ours from him. still more so that while he has, as he said to us, been of some little service to you--but which, we learnt from one of his officers, seems to have been considerable--it is to him that we also owe our lives." "little service!" madame duchesne repeated indignantly. "however, we know monsieur glover of old. first of all he saved myra's life from that dog, and certainly he saved both our lives from the negroes. and did he save yours? he has just told us that you came on board with him, and that he took you to jamaica. still, that is not like what he did for us." "that is one way of putting it, madame," monsieur pickard said with a smile; "but as you say you know him of old, you will not be surprised at the little story that i have to tell you." "not now, monsieur pickard," nat said hastily, "or if you do i shall say good-bye to madame duchesne at once, and go straight on board." "you must not do that," madame duchesne said as he rose to his feet; "you have only just arrived, and we are not going to let you off so easily." "we will compromise," her husband said. "now, monsieur glover, you know that my wife and daughter will be dying of curiosity until they hear this story. suppose you take a turn down the town with me. i will go and enquire whether there is any ship likely to sail in the course of a few days or so for jamaica. then monsieur pickard can tell his story, and my wife can retail it to me later on. you see, monsieur pickard's wife and daughters are great friends of ours, and madame and myra naturally wish to hear what has happened to them during this terrible time." "very well," nat said with a laugh, "i don't mind accepting that compromise; but really i do hate hearing things talked over which were just ordinary affairs. but remember that monsieur pickard naturally will make a great deal more of them than they are worth, since, no doubt, the outcome of them was that he and his family did get out of the hands of the blacks in consequence. now, monsieur duchesne, i will start with you at once, so that madame and myra's curiosity may be satisfied as soon as possible." monsieur duchesne took nat first to call upon the three commissioners, who happened to be gathered in council. the commandant at port-au-prince had asked him to convey the report he had hastily drawn up of the attack on the town. this he had sent ashore as soon as he anchored; and the commissioners were discussing the news when nat and monsieur duchesne were shown in. "i thought, gentlemen," nat said, "that you might perhaps like to ask me questions upon any point that was not explained in the commandant's report, which was, as he told me, drawn up in great haste; for with four-fifths of the town laid in ashes, and the population homeless and unprovided with food, his hands were full indeed." "thank you, lieutenant glover. the report does full justice to your interposition in our favour, and indeed states that had it not been for the assistance rendered by yourself and the ship of war you command, the town would unquestionably have been carried by the insurgents, and that the whole of the whites, including the troops, would probably have been massacred. had this been done, it would undoubtedly have so greatly encouraged the rioters that we could hardly have hoped to maintain our hold even of this city." "i was only carrying out the orders that i received in landing to protect the white inhabitants from massacre, gentlemen." "in your opinion, is anyone to blame for the course events took?" "even had i that opinion," nat said, "i should certainly not consider myself justified in criticising the action of the officers and authorities of a foreign power. however, the circle of the town was too large to be defended by the force available, of whom half were volunteers, ready to fight most gallantly, as i can testify, but not possessing the discipline of trained troops. i do not think, however, that even had batteries been erected all round the town, the insurgents could have been prevented from effecting an entrance at some points, and setting fire to the houses. they advanced with great determination, in spite of the destructive grape fire maintained by the three guns of the battery. undoubtedly had the batteries been placed together on that side, as on the one at which it was thought probable that the attack would be made, the insurgents might have been repulsed, but it would have needed a much larger force than that in the town to man all those batteries. and i think it is by no means improbable that even in that case the town might have been burnt; for there were still a large number of negroes employed on the wharves and in the warehouses, and you may take it as certain that some of these were in close communication with the insurgents, and probably agreed to fire the town should their friends fail to effect an entrance. i can only say, sir, that the citizens enrolled for defence fought most gallantly, as did the small party of soldiers manning the battery on that side, and that when the fighting was over all laboured nobly to check the progress of the flames." several questions were put to him concerning the details of the fighting, and the measures that had been taken for the safety of the women and children, the part his own men played, and the manner in which the insurgents, after gaining a footing in the town, had been prevented from obtaining entire possession of it. at the conclusion of the interview, which had lasted for upwards of two hours, the commissioners thanked nat very cordially. "you see," monsieur duchesne said, when they left the governor's house, "they asked no single question as to whether you thought there was any danger of a similar catastrophe taking place here." "yes, i noticed they did not. if they had, i could have told them very plainly that, although the negroes suffered very heavily, yet the news that the second town in hayti had been almost destroyed would be sure to raise their hopes, and that i consider it extremely probable that some day or other this town will also be attacked, and no time should be lost in putting it into a state of thorough defence. i can't say that they impressed me at all favourably." "short as is the time that they have been here, they have managed to excite all parties against them. they have issued an amnesty, pardoning even those who have committed the most frightful atrocities upon us. they have infuriated a portion of the mulattoes by announcing the repeal of the decree in their favour. without a shadow of legal authority they have extorted large sums of money from those mulattoes who have remained quiet and are resident here, and seem bent upon extracting all that remains of their late fortune from the whites. one of them is frequently drunk and leads a scandalous life; another appears bent solely upon enriching himself; the third seems to be a well-meaning man, but he is wholly under the control of his drunken companion. if this is the sort of aid we are to receive from france, our future is hopeless indeed. and, indeed, no small portion of my friends begin to see that unless england takes possession of the island the future is altogether hopeless. the general opinion here is that it is impossible that peace can much longer be maintained between england and france, and they hope that one of the first steps england will take after war is declared will be to land an army here." "if the english government were persuaded that the mulattoes and negroes as well as the whites were favourable, i should think that the island might be annexed without difficulty; but unless all parties are agreed i cannot think that a force could be spared that could even hope for success. it would have been an easy task before the mulattoes and the slaves learned their own strength, but it is a very different thing now; and i should say that it would need at least five-and-twenty thousand men, and perhaps even twice that number, to reduce the island to submission and to restore peace and order. i cannot think that, engaged in a war with france, england would be able to spare anything like that force for a difficult and almost certainly a long series of operations here." by this time they had arrived at monsieur duchesne's house. "our friend has only just finished his story," madame duchesne said, as he entered. "what a story! what frightful sufferings! what horrors! and," she added with a smile, though her eyes were full of tears--"what 'little' service rendered by you and your brave crew! he has told it all, and of your fight afterwards with that terrible pirate, and how you have added to the list of those you have saved from terrible deaths some eighteen or twenty spanish gentlemen and ladies, and twice as many sailors." "yes, i have had wonderful luck," nat said; "and you see i have been well rewarded. i am only just out of my time as a midshipman, and i am in command of a fine ship, which, in the ordinary course of things, i could not have hoped for for another eight or ten years. i have gained a considerable amount of prize-money, and best of all, the friendship of yourselves and the family of monsieur pickard. and the real author of all this is mademoiselle myra, who was good enough to have that little quarrel with her aunt's dog just at the time that i happened to be passing." this raised a laugh, which in myra's case became almost hysterical, and her mother had to take her out of the room. "now, monsieur duchesne, i will take this opportunity of returning on board. i promised you that i would come ashore and dine with you this evening, but i must really make its fulfilment conditional upon your assuring me that there shall be no allusion to any of my adventures." [illustration: a message from toussaint l'ouverture.] "at any rate, i will impress upon my wife and daughter that the subject must be tabooed, and i have no doubt that they will do their best to avoid it, if they can keep away from the topic that cannot but be present in their minds. after hearing monsieur pickard's story--of which, as you must remember, i am at present wholly ignorant--you see that, intimate as the two families have been, it is not surprising that they should have been greatly affected by it, especially as for the last month they have been mourning for them as dead." chapter xvi toussaint l'ouverture the _agile_ only remained for two days at cape françois, but in that time nat had learned enough of the doings of the french commissioners to see that the position was becoming hourly more and more hopeless, and nought short of the arrival of a powerful army from france under a capable commander, without political bias and with supreme authority, or the taking over of the island by the english, could bring back peace and prosperity. he was, however, rejoiced to know that monsieur duchesne had already taken passages for himself, his wife and daughter, and the old nurse, to jamaica, and would leave in a few days; and that monsieur pickard had received and accepted an offer for his estate, which was at least as good as he had hoped for, and would also return to kingston as soon as the necessary documents could be prepared and signed. for some weeks the _agile_ cruised backwards and forwards along the coast of hayti without adventure. nat had endeavoured, but unsuccessfully, to open communication with the blacks under biassou and françois, the two chief negro leaders. it was seldom, indeed, that he caught sight of a human being except when cruising in the bay. the mountains along both the north and the south coast were thinly populated. the white planters and employees had perished to a man, and all the smaller villages had been deserted. st. louis, jacmel, fesle, and sale trou were occupied by small bodies of french troops, but most of the settlers had left; and the whole of the negroes had from the first taken to the mountains. the same was the case at port dauphin, port de paix, le cap, and st. nicholas on the north. it was at st. nicholas that he was for the first time able to open communication with the negroes. he had anchored in the bay, and, among the native boats that came off to sell fruit and fresh meat, was one in which a mulatto of shabby appearance was seated in the stern. as the boat came alongside he stood up, and said to turnbull, who was leaning on the rail watching the sailors bargaining with the negroes: "can i speak with the captain, sir? i have a message for him." "yes, i have no doubt that he will see you. come on deck." the man climbed up the side, and followed turnbull aft to where nat was sitting. "this man wants to speak to you, sir." "i am the bearer of a letter," he said, "to the english officer commanding this ship," and he handed him a very small note. it was as follows:- _sir,--as there are rumours that some of the people of this island have opened negotiations with the governor of jamaica, we, who represent the coloured people of this country, will be glad to have a conversation with you, and to learn from you what would probably be the conditions on which your country would be likely to accept the sovereignty of this island. what would be the condition of the coloured people here if they did so? should we be guaranteed our freedom and rights as men, or would it mean merely a change of masters? if you are willing to accede to this invitation, i will personally guarantee your safety, and that, whatever the result of our conversation might be, you shall be escorted in safety back to your ship. we are willing that you should be accompanied by not more than six of your sailors, for whose safety i would be equally responsible. the bearer of this will arrange with you as to the point and hour at which you would land._ this was signed "toussaint." nat remembered the name. "is the writer of this the man who was the coachman of monsieur bayou, the agent of the count de noé?" "the same, sir. he is now next in command to biassou and françois. he is greatly respected among the negroes, and is their chief doctor." "i have met him, and know that he is worthy of confidence. this is just what we have been wanting, turnbull," he said, handing the letter to him. "then you know this man?" turnbull said, after he had read it, and stepped a few paces away from the messenger, so as to be able to converse unheard by him. "yes, he is one of the few who remained faithful at the rising, concealed his master and family in the woods, and got them safely off. i had an interview with him, and endeavoured to get him to do as much for madame duchesne, but he refused, saying that he had done his duty to his master and must now do it to his countrymen. i had frequently spoken with him before. he bore a very high character, and was much respected by all the negroes in the plantations round. as you see, he writes and expresses himself well, and has, indeed, received a very fair education, and is as intelligent as an ordinary white man. i am quite sure that i can place confidence in him." "perhaps so, but the question is not whether he would be willing, but whether he would have the power, to ensure your safety. biassou is, by all accounts, a perfect monster of cruelty." "yes, they say he is the most fiendish of all these savage brutes. of course i must risk that. my instructions, as you know, are to open communication with the negroes, if possible, and ascertain their intentions. this is the first opportunity that has offered, and i can hardly expect a more favourable one." "you will take one of us with you, i hope." "no; if anything happens to me the _agile_ must have a captain, and you would want at least one officer." he returned to the mulatto. "shall i give you a message in writing, or will you take it by word of mouth?" "i do not want writing, sir; if i were searched, and it were found that i was an agent of toussaint, i should be hung at once. you give me a message, and i will repeat it." "tell toussaint that the commander of this ship is mr. glover, whom he will remember to have seen at monsieur duchesne's plantation and elsewhere, and who knows him to be an honourable man, and will therefore trust himself in the mountains relying upon his promise of protection. you understand that?" "yes, sir." "please repeat my words." the man did so. "how far is toussaint from here?" "six hours' journey among the hills." "then tell him that i will land to-morrow night, or rather the next morning, an hour before daybreak--that is to say, at about half-past four. that time will be best, because the boat will return to the ship before it is light enough for it to be seen. where do you propose that i shall go?" "you see that rock near the end of the point to the south?--it is about three miles from there. to the left of that rock is a sandy beach, which is a good place for landing. your escort will be there waiting for you." the mulatto bowed, and at once went over the side and got into his boat, while the two men who had rowed him out were still busy selling fruit to the crew. nat told sambo to go and buy some fruit, not because they really wanted it, for a supply had already been bought, but in order that, should any of the negroes in the other boats have noticed the mulatto coming on board, it would be supposed that he had done so in order to persuade the steward to deal with him. the next day four picked men were chosen to accompany nat. they were to take no muskets with them, but each was to carry, in addition to his cutlass, a pistol in his belt, and another concealed in the bosom of his shirt. the absence of muskets was intended to show the negroes that the party had no fear as to their safety. nat himself intended to carry only his sword, and a double-barrelled pistol in his belt. at four o'clock on the following morning, he and the four men took their places in the gig, and were rowed ashore to the point agreed on. as they landed a negro came down to meet them. "toussaint charged me to tell you, sir, that he has sent twelve men down, and that he has done so lest you should meet other parties of our people who might not know of this safe-conduct that he has given you." and he handed a document to nat. "he has done well," nat said. "i know that i can rely upon toussaint, but i myself have thought it possible that we might fall in with men of other bands, and i have therefore brought four of my sailors with me. i am ready to start with you whenever you choose." "we will go on at once. the hills are very close here, but it is best that we should be well among them before it is daylight, or we might be noticed by someone in the town. they would not concern themselves much with us, but your dress and that of the sailors would be sure to cause talk and excite suspicion among the soldiers." he went up to some negroes standing a short distance away and gave them an order. they at once started. he himself took his place by nat, and the sailors followed close behind. "you talk french very well," nat said. "yes, sir, thanks to toussaint. you do not remember me, though i should know you were it daylight, for i have seen you several times when you have been over at our plantation with mademoiselle duchesne. i was chief helper in monsieur bayou's stables. of an evening toussaint had a sort of school, and four or five of us always went to him, and i learned to read and write, and to talk french as the whites talk it and not as we do. he is a good man, and we all love him. there are many who think he will one day be king of the island; he knows much more than any of the others. but it may be that he will be killed before that, for biassou hates him because he does not like his cruel ways and speaks boldly against them, which no one else dare do, not even françois, whom we all regard as equal in rank to him. "there have been many quarrels, but biassou knows well enough that if he were to hurt toussaint there would be a general outcry, and that he and the men who carried out his orders would assuredly be killed. for all that no one doubts that he would get toussaint removed quietly if there was a chance of doing so, but we do not mean to give him the chance. there are twenty of us who keep guard over him. as for toussaint, he is not like the others, who, when there is nothing else to be done, spend their time in feasting and drinking. he is always busy attending to the wounded who are brought up to him, or the sick, of whom there are many, for the cold air in the mountains has brought down great numbers with the fever, especially those whose plantations lay on the plain, and who were accustomed to sleep in huts. very many have died, but toussaint has saved many, and were it needed he could have two hundred for his guard instead of twenty. "but indeed he thinks not of danger, his whole thoughts are taken up with his work; and he is often without regular sleep for nights together, so great is the need for his services." the ground at once began to rise rapidly, and before the day fairly broke they were high among the hills. when it became light nat examined the document toussaint had sent to him. it ran as follows:- _i, toussaint, do give notice to all that i have given this safe-conduct and my solemn promise for his safety to monsieur glover, a british officer, with whom i desire to converse on matters of importance._ then followed his signature and a great seal in red wax. "it was the one monsieur bayou used," the negro said. "toussaint brought it and the wax from his office, and uses it often, so that we may all recognize it when we see it--for, as you know, sir, there are scarcely any of our people who can read." after three hours' walking the man pointed out a wood near the crest of a high hill a mile distant. "toussaint is there," he said. "he accompanied us to that point in order that you should have less distance to travel." nat was by no means sorry at the news. the way had been very steep and difficult, and the sun had now gained great power. as they neared the edge of the wood, toussaint came out to meet him. "i am glad to see you, monsieur glover," he said quietly. "i learned from our people at cape françois that you had returned there with madame duchesne and her daughter, and i rejoiced indeed at your escape, which seemed to me marvellous, for how you avoided the search made for you i could not tell. they told me that madame duchesne was carried down on a litter, which must have greatly added to your difficulties. i hardly thought, monsieur, when i saw you last that we should thus meet again, i as one of the leaders of my people, you as commander of an english ship." "no; things change quickly, toussaint." the negro led the way to a rough hut constructed of boughs and trees in the centre of the clump. "you must need breakfast, and, as you see, it is ready for you. your men will be cared for." the breakfast was rough, but nat enjoyed it greatly. toussaint remarked that he himself had breakfasted an hour before, and he talked while his guest ate. "it is as well," he said, "that you should be down near the spot where you landed before it is dark, for the track is far too rough to travel after dark. i suppose you have ordered your boat to come to fetch you?" "yes, i ordered it to be there as soon as it could leave the ship without being seen from the shore; but i hardly thought that i should be able to return this evening, as your messenger told me that your camp was six hours' journey among the hills." "yes, my camp is there, and i too would like to return before nightfall. there are many who need my care, and i have already been too long away. now, monsieur glover, as to the subject on which i asked you to come to converse with me. we have heard that some of the planters have sent a deputation to jamaica asking the governor to send troops to take this island for england. we, as you doubtless know, are not for the republic. we call ourselves the royal army, seeing that the national assembly of france refuse to do anything for us. it is true that their commissioners at cape françois have issued a proclamation offering a free pardon to all who have been concerned in the insurrection, and freedom and equal rights to men of all colour. we do not believe them. the assembly care nothing for us. they passed a decree giving rights to the mulattoes, but in no way affecting us; and then, directly they found that the mulattoes were exercising their rights, they passed another decree reversing the first. one cannot expect good faith in men like these; they would wait till we had laid down our arms and returned to our plantations, and then they would shoot us down like dogs, just as they are murdering all the best men of their own country and keeping their king a prisoner. therefore we do not recognize the republic, but are for the king." "i fear there will soon be no king for you to recognize," nat said; "everything points to the fact that they are determined to murder him, as they have murdered every noble and every good man in the country." "i see that," toussaint said gravely, "but the number of those who know what is passing in france is small. however, we who do know, and are responsible for the mass who trust in us, must consider what is the best thing to do. do you think there will be a war between france and england?" "i think that if the king is murdered the indignation in england, which is already intense, will be so great that war is certain." "so much the better for us," toussaint said. "the more they fight against each other, the less will they be able to pay attention to hayti; but on the other hand the more likely will it be that the english will endeavour to obtain possession of this island. now, between the french and the english we have no great choice. we regard ourselves as french; we speak the french language, and have, ever since the colony was first formed, lived under the french flag. then, on the other hand, the french have been our masters, and we are determined that they shall never again be so. now as to your people. in their own islands they have slaves just as the french have here, and we have no intention of changing slavery under one set of masters for slavery under another. now, sir, do you think that if the english were to come here they would guarantee that slavery should never exist again in the island?" "that i cannot say," nat said. "i cannot answer for what the british parliament would do in that matter. the feeling against slavery is growing very fast in england, and i feel convinced that before long a law will be passed putting a stop altogether to the transportation of negroes from africa; but whether that feeling will, at any rate for a long time, so gain in strength as to cause parliament to pass a law abolishing slavery altogether in british dominions, is more than i can say. it would be a tremendous step to take. it would mean absolute ruin to our islands; for you know as well as i do that your people are not disposed for work, and would never make steady labourers if allowed to live in their own way. then you see, were slavery abolished altogether in this island, it would be difficult in the extreme to continue it in others." "but they would not find us as slaves here," toussaint said. "they would find us a free people, without masters, unattached to any plantation or to any regular toil; we should be like the caribs in jamaica. it would be as if they came to a land which foreigners had never visited. they would find a people with arms in their hands, and perfectly capable of defending themselves, but ready to accept the sovereignty of england on the condition that our personal liberty was in no way interfered with." "there is a great deal in what you say, toussaint, and to-morrow i shall sail for jamaica and explain exactly the line you take to the admiral. i may say that in coming to see you i do so in accordance with the orders that i received, to ascertain if possible the views of the leaders of this movement." "if these terms are refused," toussaint went on, "and your people invade the island, we shall leave you and the french to fight it out until we perceive which is the stronger, and as soon as we do so, shall aid the weaker. i do not say that we shall stand aloof up to that time, we shall fight against both, they would be equally our enemies; but if one were so far getting the better of it as to be likely to drive the other out, then in self-defence we should unite our forces against it. i may say that although we and the mulattoes are both fighting against the french, the alliance is not likely to be a long one. we all know that if they got the upper hand they would be far more cruel and more tyrannous than the whites have been. they have ever looked down upon us, and have treated us with far greater contempt than have the whites, who, to do them justice, were kindly masters, and especially treated their house servants well. there will therefore be four parties here all hostile to each other. you and the french will be striving for mastery, we for liberty, the mulattoes for the domination of the island and for their personal interest. the way i have pointed out is, in my opinion, the only one that can bring about peace. if your government and people will give us a solemn undertaking that in no case shall slavery ever be re-established, and that all men shall have equal rights, we will join you heart and soul. when i say equal rights i do not mean that they shall have votes. we are at present absolutely unfit to have votes or to exercise political power. i only mean that the law shall be the same for us as for the whites, that we shall be taxed on the same scale in proportion to our means, that the assembly shall have no power to make separate laws concerning us, and that, should they attempt to make such laws, they should be at once dissolved by the white authorities of the island." "i think your proposal a perfectly fair one, toussaint, and i have no doubt that any one who has, as i have, a knowledge of the situation here, would not hesitate to accept it. but i doubt whether public opinion at home is ripe for a change that would be denounced by all having an interest in the west indian islands, and declared by them to be absolutely destructive to their prosperity. however, you may be assured that i shall represent your offer in the most favourable light. i must ask, however, are you empowered by the other leaders to make it?" "i have talked the matter with françois, who is wholly of my opinion," toussaint said. "it is useless to talk to biassou; when he is not murdering someone he is drinking; but his opposition would go for little, except among the very worst of our people. he is already regarded with horror and disgust, and you may be assured that his career will ere long come to an end, in which case françois and i will share the power between us. at the same time i do not blind myself to the possibility that other leaders may arise. the men of one district know but little of the others, and may elect their own chiefs. still, i think that if i had the authority to say that the proposal i have made to you had been accepted, i could count on the support of the great majority of the men of my colour, for already they are beginning to find that a life of lawless liberty has its drawbacks. already we have been obliged to order that a certain amount of work shall be done by every man among the plantations beyond the reach of the towns, in order to ensure a supply of food. "the order has been obeyed, but not very willingly, for there can be no doubt that a portion of the men believed that when they had once got rid of the masters there would be no occasion whatever for any further work, but that they would somehow be supplied with an abundance of all that they required. the sickness that has prevailed has also had its effect. there are few, indeed, here who have any knowledge of medicine, and the poor people have suffered accordingly. when in the plantations they were always well tended in sickness, while here they have had neither shelter nor care. it is all very well to tell them that liberty cannot be obtained without sacrifices, and that it must be a long time before things settle down and each man finds work to do, but the poor people, ignorant as they are, are like children, and think very little of the future. the effect of centuries of slavery will take many years to remedy. for myself, although i believe that we shall finally obtain what we desire, and shall become undisputed masters of the island, i foresee that our troubles are only beginning. we have had no training for self-government. we shall have destroyed the civilization that reigned here, and shall have nothing to take its place, and i dread that instead of progressing we may retrograde until we sink back into the condition in which we lived in africa." at this moment a negro ran up. "doctor," he said, "there are a large number of our people close at hand, and i think i can make out biassou among them." "i fear that we may have some trouble, monsieur glover," toussaint said quietly, "but be assured that i and those with me will maintain my safe-conduct with our lives. biassou must have arrived at my camp after i left, and he must have heard there that i was going to meet an english officer, and has followed me. he was present when françois and i arranged to send a messenger to propose a meeting to you, and he then assented, but as often as not he forgets in the morning what he has agreed to overnight." he went apart and spoke to his men. twenty of them had accompanied him from his camp, and with the twelve who had formed the escort, and nat and the sailors, there were in all thirty-eight, and from the quiet way in which they took up their arms nat had little doubt that they would, if necessary, make a stout fight against biassou's savages. these arrived in two or three minutes. they had evidently travelled at the top of their speed, for their breath came fast, and they were bathed in sweat. their aspect was savage in the extreme. most of them wore some garment or other the spoil of murdered victims, some of them broad panama-hats, others had women's shawls wrapped round their waists as sashes, some had jackets that were once white, others were naked to the waist. a few had guns, the rest either axes or pikes, and all carried long knives. conspicuous among them was biassou himself, a negro of almost gigantic stature and immense strength, to which he owed no small part of his supremacy among his friends. he came on shouting "treachery! treachery!" words that were re-echoed in a hoarse chorus by his followers, who numbered about a hundred and fifty. at the threatening aspect of the new-comers, toussaint's men closed up round him, but he signed them to stand back, and quietly awaited the coming of biassou. the calmness of toussaint had its effect on biassou. instead of rushing at him with his axe, as it had seemed was his intention, he paused and again shouted "treachery!" "what nonsense are you talking, biassou?" toussaint said. "i am carrying out the arrangement to which you and françois agreed the other night, and am having an interview with this british officer." "when did i agree to such a thing?" the great negro roared. "last friday night we agreed that it was well that we should learn the intentions of the english, and that we should ascertain the position in which we should stand were they to come here." "i remember nothing about it, toussaint." "that is possible enough," the latter replied. "you know that it is no uncommon thing for you to forget in the morning what was arranged overnight. this officer has come here on my invitation and under my safe-conduct, and no man shall touch him while i live." "it is agreed," biassou said, "and all have sworn to it, that no white who falls into our hands shall be spared. such is the case, is it not?" he said to his followers; and they answered with a loud shout and began to press forward. "these men have not fallen into our hands," toussaint said, "they have come here on our invitation, and, as i have told you, with our safeguard." "it is all very well for you to talk, toussaint; i know you. you pretend to be with us, but your heart is with the whites, and you are here to conspire with them against us," and he raised his axe as if about to rush forward. "this is madness, biassou," toussaint said sternly. "have we not enough enemies now that we should quarrel among ourselves? you have done enough harm to our cause already by your horrible cruelties, for which every coloured man who falls into the hands of the whites has to suffer severely. beware how you commence a conflict; you may be more numerous than we are, but we are better armed, and even if you overpowered us in the end, you would suffer heavily before you did so." "i wish you no harm, toussaint, but for the last time i demand that these white men shall be given up to me." "and for the last time i refuse," toussaint said; and his men without orders moved up close to him. biassou stood for a moment irresolute, and then, with a shout to his men to follow him, sprang forward. in an instant nat threw himself before toussaint, and when biassou was within a couple of yards of him threw up his arm and levelled his pistol between the negro's eyes. "drop that axe," he shouted, "or you are a dead man!" the negro stood like a black statue for an instant. the pistol was but a foot from his face, and he knew that before his uplifted axe could fall he would be a dead man. "drop it!" nat repeated. "if you don't before i count three, i fire. one--two--" and the negro's axe fell to the ground. "stand where you are!" nat exclaimed, "the slightest movement and i fire! come up here, men!" the four sailors came up, cutlass in one hand and pistol in the other. "this man is your prisoner," he said. "keep him between you, one on each side and the other two behind. if he makes the slightest movement to escape, or if the blacks behind approach any nearer, send your four bullets into his brain." the men took up their stations as directed. "now, biassou," he went on, lowering his own pistol, "you can continue your conference with toussaint." [illustration: "drop it!" nat repeated.] "you see, biassou," toussaint said, "you have only rendered yourself ridiculous. i repeat what i said before, this officer is here in answer to my invitation sent to him after françois and you had agreed that it was advantageous to learn what the objects of the english were. if you question him you will find that it is as i say. we have had our conference, have expressed our views, and he will repeat what i have said to the british governor of jamaica; and i think that, whatever the result may be, it is well that the english should understand that we have resolved that, whether they or the french are the possessors of this island, slavery is abolished for ever here. he will return at once to the coast, and will then sail direct for jamaica. now, if you have any observation to make, i shall be glad to hear it." "i do not doubt what you say," biassou replied sullenly; "but it must be settled by what françois says when we rejoin him." "so be it," toussaint said. "and now, i pray you, let there be no quarrel between us. i have been forced to withstand you, because i was bound by a sacred promise. any divisions will be fatal to our cause. for the moment you may be in superior force, but another time those who love and follow me might be the more numerous. you well know that i am as faithful to the cause as you are, and we must both set an example to our followers, that while we may differ as to the methods by which success is to be gained, we are at one in our main object." "i admit that i was wrong," the great negro said frankly. "i drank more than was good for me before i started, and my blood has been heated by the speed with which we followed you. i am sober now, for which i have to thank," he added with a grim smile, "this young officer; though i own that i do not like his method. let us think no more of it;" and he held out his hand to toussaint, which the latter took. a shout of satisfaction rose from the negroes on both sides. the determined attitude of toussaint's men, the fact that they had four whites among them, and that almost all of them had muskets, had cooled the courage of biassou's followers, who, as soon as their leader was captured, saw that even if they gained the victory, it would be at the cost of at least half their number. there was no prospect of plunder or of any advantage, and they knew that, beloved and respected as toussaint was, it was very possible that those who did survive the fight would fall victims to the indignation that would be aroused at the news of an attack being made upon him. "now that it is all settled we may as well be starting for the coast, toussaint," nat said. "there is nothing more for us to arrange, and as our presence here might possibly lead to further trouble, the sooner we are off the better." "i will not ask you to stay," the negro said. "i do not think that we shall have any more trouble, but there is no saying. several of biassou's men have wine-skins with them, and a quarrel might arise when they had drunk more. i will send you down under the same escort as before." "i do not think that we shall need so many. i should not like to weaken you so far." "there is no fear for me," toussaint said decidedly. "arriving in hot blood they might have attacked me, but i am sure they will not do so now. they know well enough that i should be terribly avenged were they to do so. it is quite necessary that you should take as many men as before, for it is possible that some of biassou's men might steal away and follow you." a few minutes afterwards nat set out with his men and his guard of twelve blacks. it was still some hours before the time at which he was to be met by the boat. they therefore halted when within a mile of the shore, and there waited until it was dark. then he went on alone with the four sailors to the beach, and in a few minutes after they arrived there they heard the sound of the oars of the gig. "i am heartily glad to see you back again," turnbull said as nat stepped on to the deck. "lippincott and i have been horribly uneasy about you all day. did everything go off quietly?" "yes, except for two or three minutes, when that bloodthirsty scoundrel biassou came upon the scene with a hundred and fifty of his followers. there was very nearly a shindy then, but it passed off; for he did not like looking down the muzzle of my pistol at a few inches from his head, and my four men made him a prisoner until affairs had taken a friendly turn, which was not long after. for when the leader of a party is a prisoner, and his guards have orders to shoot him instantly if there is any trouble, it is astonishing how quick people are in coming to an understanding." "yes, i should say so," turnbull laughed. "however, as it has turned out well, and you have fulfilled your mission, it doesn't matter to us; and i hope that we have now done with this creeping alongshore work." chapter xvii a french frigate on arriving at kingston nat went on board the flag-ship, and reported to the admiral the particulars of his visit to toussaint. "he is evidently a long-headed fellow," the admiral said, "and from his point of view his proposal is a fair one; but i am afraid our people at home would never give such an undertaking. it would be impossible for us to have one island where the blacks were free, while in all others they would remain slaves. it would be as much as saying to them, 'if you want freedom you must fight for it;' and even if the people at home could bring themselves to pay the immense amount of money that would be required to emancipate the slaves by indemnifying their owners, it would nevertheless be the ruin of the islands, and all connected with them. however, i will take you ashore to the governor, after my clerk has made a copy of your report." "i have made two copies, sir." "all the better. then we will go at once." the governor heard nat's story, and received his report. "it is at least satisfactory," he said, "to have learnt from one of themselves what the views of the principal leaders are, and i consider that you have performed your commission exceedingly well, lieutenant glover, and, undoubtedly, at a great deal of risk to yourself. as to the matter of the communication, it will of course receive serious attention. it is far too important a business for anyone to give off-hand an opinion upon it. i fancy, sir, that you are likely to have more active work before long, for i think there is no doubt that war will very shortly be declared with france, and her privateers will be swarming about these seas." it was nearly six months before any special incident took place. no vessel had been missing since the capture of the _agile_, and it was evident that any pirates there might have been among the islands had moved to waters where they could carry on their trade with less interruption. the _agile_ cruised about among the islands, and although she had a pleasant time, officers and men alike grew impatient at the uneventful nature of their work. things were but little changed in hayti. biassou had been deprived of his command, and it was surmised that he had been murdered, but at any rate he was never heard of again. françois and toussaint commanded, but the former came to be so jealous of toussaint's popularity that the latter was obliged to retire, and to cross the frontier into the spanish part of the island. there he was well received, and showed great ability in various actions against the french, with whom spain was then at war. he and many other negroes had declared for spain, upon the singular ground that they had always been governed by a king, and preferred to be ruled by the king of spain rather than by a republic. with only six hundred men toussaint drove fifteen hundred french out of a strong post which they occupied in the spanish town of raphaelita, and afterwards took several other posts and villages. it was for these successes that he gained the name of l'ouverture, or opener, and the marquis d'hermona gave him the rank of lieutenant-general. the three french commissioners had returned to france, and had been succeeded by two others, santhonax and poveren, the former a ruffian of the same type as those who were deluging the soil of france with its best blood, and who made themselves odious to both parties by their brutality and greed. at last, at the end of february, 1793, came the news of the execution of the king of france, and the certainty that war was imminent. "now we shall have more lively times," turnbull said. "it has been dull enough of late." "there has been nothing to grumble at," the surgeon said. "what would you have? haven't we been sailing about like gentlemen, with nothing to do but to drink and sleep, and look at the islands, and take things easy altogether?" "don't you talk, doyle," turnbull said, laughing. "there is no one who has grumbled more than yourself." "that is in the cause of science," the irishman retorted. "how can i ever become a distinguished man, and show what is in me, and make all sorts of discoveries, if there is never a chance that comes in my way? there are my instruments all ready for use, they might as well be at the bottom of the sea. i hone them once a week, and well-nigh shed tears because of the good work they ought to be doing. it is all very well for you, turnbull, you won't forget how to kill a man when the time comes; but let me tell you that any fellow who doesn't know his a b c can kill a man, whereas it takes a man of science to cure him." "there is a good deal in that, doyle," nat said, when the laugh had subsided, "though i don't know that i considered it in that light before; but that, perhaps, is because i have tried one and never tried the other." "it's a fine thing," doyle said, "to be a surgeon. there you see a man with his legs shot off. if it was not for you he would die. you take him in hand, you amputate a bit higher up, you make him tidy and comfortable, and there he is walking about almost as well as if he had two legs; and although he is not fit for ship service again, he would be as good a man in a fight with a cudgel as ever he was. now i ask you fairly, what is there that you can do to compare with that?" "nothing in that way, i must admit," nat laughed, "well, you may be having an opportunity of showing your superiority before long. this is just the ground the french privateers are likely to choose. there are plenty of french ports for them to put into, hundreds of bays where they could lie hidden, and lots of shipping to plunder. no doubt they will be thick in the channel and down the straits, but our merchantmen will not think of going there unless in large fleets or under convoy of ships of war; while here, though they might be guarded on their way across the atlantic, they would have to scatter as soon as they were among the islands. well, we must look out that we are not caught napping. of course, until we get news that war is declared we can't fire upon a frenchman; while if one arrived with the news before we got it, he might sail up close by us and pour in a broadside." "at any rate we are likely to take some prizes," lippincott said, "for the instant we get the news we can pounce upon any french merchantman." "yes; those homeward-bound could hardly hear the news as soon as we do, while of those coming out many slow sailers will have left before war is declared, and may not be here for weeks after we hear of it. the great thing will be for us to put ourselves on the main line of traffic. as we have received no special orders we can cruise where we like. i should say that coming from france, they would be likely to keep down the coast of spain and on to madeira before they strike across, as in that way they would be altogether out of the line of the gulf stream. then, if they were making for hayti, they would probably be coming along west on or about the 20th parallel north; while, if making for guadeloupe or martinique, they would be some three or four degrees farther south. probably privateers would follow the same lines, as before commencing operations they would want to take in provisions and water, to learn where our cruisers are likely to be, to pick up pilots, and so on. so i should say that we can cruise about these waters for another fortnight safely, and then go through the caribbean islands and cruise some seventy or eighty miles beyond them, carefully avoiding putting into any of our own islands as we pass." "why should you do that?" turnbull asked. "because the chances are that we should find, either at barbados or st. lucia or dominica--or, in fact, at any of the other islands, one of our frigates, or at any rate, some officer senior to me; and in that case, as we have no fixed orders from the admiral, we might be detained or sent off in some direction that might not suit us at all." "good!" doyle said. "it is always a safe rule to keep out of the way of a bigger man than yourself. i have always observed that a captain of a man-of-war or of a frigate is sure to be down on small craft, if he gets a chance. it is like a big boy at school fagging a little one; he could do quite as well without him, but it is just a matter of devilment and to show his authority. heaven protect us against falling in with a frigate. if she were a frenchman she would sink us; if she were a britisher she would bully us." they reached the ground on which nat had decided to cruise. three days later the look-out at the mast-head shouted "sail ho!" the words acting like an electric shock to those on deck. "how does it bear?" "about east by north, sir. there are three vessels; i can only see their topsails at present. two of them are a bit bigger than the third. they look to me to be merchantmen. i should say the other, by the cut of his sails, is a frenchman." a low cheer broke from the men. "now, if that fellow brings news that war is declared, we are in luck," nat said. "either he is convoying two french merchantmen he has overtaken, or he has two british prizes he has picked up. if they are english, we shall not get so much prize-money; but then we shall have less difficulty with the privateer, if privateer she is, because she must have put a good many of her hands an board the prizes. so we can in either case count upon doing well. at any rate they are not likely to suspect that we are english, being french-built and french-rigged. even if they have a doubt, they will be satisfied as soon as they see the name on our bows. we will not get up any more sail." "i will go up and have a look at her," turnbull said; and slinging his glass over his shoulder he went aloft. "i think," he called down, after a long look at them, "that the middle ship is a good deal larger than she looks; and the others are carrying every stitch of canvas, but she has neither royals nor topgallant-sails. her yards have a wide spread, and i am inclined to think that she is a frigate or a large corvette--certainly a french one. as to the others, i cannot say with certainty, but i rather fancy they are english; in which case she has captured them on the way, and, being much faster than they are, has to go under easy sail to keep with them." "well, i hope she is not too big for us," nat said, as turnbull rejoined him. "what should you call too big, sir?" turnbull asked with a smile. "well, i should say that a fifty was too big." "i should think so indeed. a twenty-gun sloop would be a pretty formidable opponent." "yes, a twenty would about suit us, especially as she may have fifty of her men on board the other craft--that is, if they are her prizes. it is the men that i am more afraid of than the guns. two to one are no great odds in guns, especially as we generally work ours faster than the french do; but when it comes to a hundred and fifty men or so against forty, it may be very unpleasant if we get a spar knocked away and they come alongside of us. we may as well get the french flag up at once. with a good glass they could make it out a long way off. let the men have their breakfast, it is a bad thing to fight fasting." the men were not long over their meal; by the time they came on deck again the strangers were within five or six miles. the wind was in the north-east, and the _agile_ was almost close-hauled, while the others had the wind broad on their quarters. there was now no longer any doubt that the outside vessels were two large british west indiamen, and the fact that they were in company with what was undoubtedly a french frigate was regarded as absolute proof that war had been declared, and that the french ship of war on her way out to the colonies with the news had overtaken and captured the two british ships, which were probably sailing in company. as they approached, the _agile_ was luffed up more into the wind in order to pass between the frenchman and the prize within a few cables' length to starboard of him. "how many guns do you make her out to be, mr. lippincott?" "i think that she has eighteen guns on a broadside." "the odds are pretty strongly against us," nat said; "but we shall have the weather-gauge, that counts for a good deal. anyhow, we shall be able to annoy her, and possibly, if we hang on to her, the sound of firing will bring up one of our cruisers from barbuda or antigua." an awning which was stretched over the quarter-deck had not been taken down, and as the brigantine approached the french frigate, there was no sign that her intentions were not of a peaceable nature. the french ensign floated from the peak, the sailors on deck were lounging about, some with their jackets on, others in their shirts, and only a few with hats on seemed to be watching with idle curiosity the approaching vessels. nat and the officers retained their uniforms, for as only their heads and shoulders showed over the rail, there was nothing to distinguish them from those of a fine french privateer, for these generally adopted a regular naval dress. the two vessels were but fifty yards apart as they met. nat sprang on to the rail, and in reply to the hail from the frenchman, "what ship is that?" raised his cap in salute and shouted: "the _agile_ of bordeaux. have you any news from france, sir?" "yes, war has been declared with england." [illustration: nat sprang on to the rail.] "thank you, that is good news indeed," and he leapt down on to the deck. the vessels were both travelling at a speed of about eight knots an hour, and were already passing one another fast, when, as nat waved his hand, the french flag was run down, an english ensign already fastened to the halyards was simultaneously run up, and a moment later the five guns, which had previously been trained to bear aft and double-shotted, poured their broadside into the quarters of the french frigate. shouts of surprise and fury rose from her; no thought that the little craft so fearlessly approaching her was an enemy had crossed the mind of any on board, still less that if british she would venture to fire upon so vastly superior a foe. "about ship!" nat said, the instant the guns had been fired. the sail-trimmers were at their places, the _agile_ shot up into the wind, her head paid off, and she swept round on the other tack, crossing the stern of the frenchman, her guns on the starboard side sending their shot in through his stern windows, and raking his whole length as they were brought to bear; then she wore round on her heel, the guns on the larboard side were reloaded, and she again raked the frenchman. so far not a single shot had been fired in return. the din on board the frigate was prodigious, as the guns had to be cast loose, magazines opened, powder and shot carried up, and the sails trimmed to enable her to bear up so as to show her broadside to her puny foe. before she could do so the _agile_, true to her name, was again round. the frenchmen, confused by the variety of orders issued, were slow at their work, and as their opponent came up into the wind the brigantine was again astern of them, and raked them this time with heavy charges of grape. a chorus of shrieks and cries from the frigate told how terrible was the effect. "by st. patrick," the surgeon exclaimed to lippincott, "it is grand! but it looks as if the captain wasn't going to give me a chance, and all me instruments laid out ready for action." "never mind, doctor, you will be able to practise on the frenchmen," lippincott laughed. but the french captain knew his business, and putting his helm over again, ran off the wind, so that the two vessels were now on the same tack, with the _agile_ on her opponent's quarter. several of the french guns were now brought to bear, but their discharge was too hurried, and owing to the brigantine lying so much lower in the water, the shot flew between her masts or made holes in her mainsail. in a moment she was round again, and crossed her opponent's stern at a distance of some thirty yards, the word being passed along that the gunners were to aim at the rudder-post and to double-shot the guns. a loud cheer rose as two of the shots struck the mark. the frenchman replied with a volley of musketry from the marines gathered on her poop. three of the sailors fell, and several others were hit. the frenchman was, when the _agile_ delivered her last broadside, running nearly before the wind, and it was speedily evident that the injury to her rudder had been fatal, for although she attempted by trimming her sails again to bear up, each time she fell off, though not before some of her shot had hulled her active opponent. seeing, however, that he must now be easily outmanoeuvred, the frenchman made no further effort to change his course, but continued doggedly on his way, the topmen swarming aloft and shaking out more canvas. the _agile_ followed the frigate's example, and placing herself on her stern quarter, kept up a steady fire, yawing when necessary to bring all her guns to bear, the french replying occasionally with one of their stern guns. owing to the accelerated speed at which both vessels were now going, the indiamen had been left behind. half an hour later the frigate's mizzen-mast, which had been severely wounded by the first broadside, went over her side. cheer after cheer rose from the _agile_; her opponent was now at her mercy. she had but to repeat the tactics with which she had begun the fight. just as nat gave the order to do so, musket shots were heard in the distance. the crew of one of the merchantmen had been allowed to remain on deck, as, being under the guns of the frigate, there was no possibility of their attempting to overpower their captors. as soon, however, as it became evident that the frigate was getting the worst of it, they had been hurried below, and the hatches dropped over them. from the port-holes, however, they could obtain a view of what was going on ahead of them, and as soon as they saw the frigate's mast go by the board, they armed themselves with anything that would serve as weapons, managed to push up the after-hatch, and rushed on deck. the prize crew were all clustered forward watching the fight; a shout from the helmsman apprised them of their danger, and they rushed aft. they were, however, less numerous than the british sailors, and no better armed, for, believing that the frigate would easily crush her tiny assailant, they were unprepared to take any part in the fight. the contest was a very short one. knowing that the frigate was crippled, and that the brigantine would soon be free to return to them, the frenchmen saw that they must eventually be taken, and the officer in command being knocked senseless with a belaying-pin, they threw down their knives and surrendered. the other indiaman at once put down her helm on seeing that the british flag was being run up on her consort. "we must not let that fellow get away," nat said; "we can leave the frigate alone for half an hour. we will give him two more broadsides with grape through his stern windows, and then bear up after that lumbering merchantman. we shall be alongside in half an hour." in less than that time they were within pistol-shot of the west indiaman, and the prize crew at once hauled down their flag. the _agile_ went alongside, released the prisoners, who had been securely fastened in the hold, and replaced them by the french crew. the indiaman's officers had been allowed to remain on deck. "now, captain," nat said to the english master, "please keep every sail full and follow us. it will not be long before we settle with the frigate, and we shall then run down to barbados." the master, who was greatly surprised at the youth of the officer who had so ably handled his ship against an immensely superior foe, said: "allow me to congratulate you on the splendid way in which you have handled your vessel. i could scarcely believe my eyes when you opened fire on the frigate. it seemed impossible that you should have thought of really engaging such an opponent." "you see, we had the weather gauge of her, captain, and the brigantine is both fast and handy. but i must be off now before they have time to get into fighting trim again." in another half-hour he was in his old position under the frigate's quarter, and was preparing to resume his former tactics, when the french flag fluttered down amid the cheers of the _agile's_ crew, which were faintly repeated by the two merchantmen a mile astern. "i am heartily glad that they have surrendered," nat said to turnbull; "it would have been a mere massacre if they had been obstinate. now, will you go on board and see what state she is in. do not accept the officers' swords. they have done all that they could, but they really never had a chance after we had once got in the right position. order all unwounded men below. as soon as you return with your report as to the state of things, i will send you off again with twenty men to take command. you had better bring the officers back with you. mr. lippincott, hoist a signal to the merchantmen to lie to as soon as they get abreast of us." mr. turnbull returned in twenty minutes. "it is an awful sight," he said. "the captain and the two senior lieutenants are killed, and it was the third lieutenant who ordered the flag to be lowered. her name is the _spartane_. she carried a crew of three hundred men, of whom fifty were on board her prizes. she has lost ninety killed, and there are nearly as many more wounded, of whom at least half are hit with grape, and i fancy few of them will recover; the others are splinter wounds, some of them very bad. there are two surgeons at work. i told them that ours would come to their assistance as soon as he had done with our own wounded." the third lieutenant and three midshipmen, who were the sole survivors of the officers of the _spartane_, soon came on board. "gentlemen," nat said, "i am sorry for your misfortune, but assuredly you have nothing to reproach yourselves with. you did all that brave men could do, and did not lower your flag until further resistance would have been a crime against humanity." the officers bowed; they were too much depressed to reply. their mortification was great at being overpowered by a vessel so much inferior in strength to their own, and the feeling was increased now by seeing that their conqueror was a lad no older than the senior of the midshipmen. turnbull's cabin was at once allotted to the lieutenant, and a large spare cabin to the midshipmen. leaving lippincott in charge, with ten men, nat went with turnbull and the doctor on board the frigate, and the boat went back to fetch the rest of the crew. the merchantmen had been signalled to send as many men as they could spare on board the frigate, and not until these arrived did nat feel comfortable. of his own crew three had been killed and ten wounded; three of these were fit for duty, and formed part of lippincott's party, and the twenty he had with him seemed lost on board the frigate. although turnbull had had hawsers coiled over the hatches, the thought that there were nearly a hundred prisoners there, and that there were enough comparatively slightly wounded to overpower the two men placed as sentries over each hatchway, was a very unpleasant one. the arrival, however, of thirty of the merchant sailors, armed to the teeth, altered the position of affairs. the first duty was to clear the decks of the dead. these were hastily sewn up in their own hammocks, with a couple of round shot at their feet, and then launched overboard. those of the wounded able to walk were then mustered, and one of the french surgeons bandaged all the less serious wounds. after being supplied with a drink of wine and water, they were taken below, and placed with their companions in the hold. then the wreck of the mizzen was cut away, and the frigate was taken in tow by the _agile_, her own sails being left standing to relieve the strain on the hawsers. the two merchantmen were signalled to reduce sail, and to follow, and on no account to lose sight of the stern light of the frigate after it became dusk. nat returned, with four of his crew, to the _agile_, and four days later towed the _spartane_ into the anchorage off bridgetown, the chief port of barbados, the two west indiamen following. the _isis_, a fine fifty-gun frigate, was lying there. she had arrived on the previous day, having been despatched with the news of the outbreak of war. as her captain was evidently the senior officer on the station, nat was rowed on board. "are you the officer in command of that brigantine?" the captain asked in surprise. "yes, sir; my name is glover." "well, lieutenant glover, what part did your ship bear in the fight with that frenchman? i see by her sails that she was engaged. whom had you with you?" "we were alone, sir." "what!" the captain said, incredulously, "do you mean to say that, with that little ten-gun craft, you captured a thirty-six-gun frigate single-handed?" "that is so, sir." "well, i congratulate you on it heartily," the captain exclaimed, shaking nat by the hand with great cordiality. "you must tell me all about it. it is an extraordinary feat. how many men do you carry?" "we have forty seamen, sir, and two petty officers." "and what are your casualties?" "three killed and ten wounded." "what were the casualties of the frenchmen?" "ninety killed, including the captain and the first and second lieutenants and five midshipmen, and eighty-three wounded." "and how many prisoners?" "in all, a hundred and thirty, sir, of whom five-and-twenty are on board each of those merchantmen, which had been captured by the frigate. the crew of one rose and mastered their captors as soon as they saw the frigate's mizzen-mast fall, and knew that we must take her. the prize crew in the other struck their flag as soon as we came within pistol-shot of her. i shall be glad to receive orders from you as to the disposal of the prisoners. i have had thirty men from the merchantmen on board the _spartane_, for i could spare so few men that the prisoners might, without their assistance, have retaken her." "i will go ashore with you presently and see the governor, and ask whether he can take charge of them. if he cannot, you can hand over the greater part of them to me. i shall sail for jamaica this evening. as to the prize, i should advise you to see if you cannot get some spars and rig a jury-mast; there are sure to be some in the dockyard. while that is being done you can go through the formalities of inspecting the indiamen, for whose salvage you will get a very handsome sum. at any rate, if i were you i should keep them here until i was ready to sail, and then go with them and your prize to kingston. i should go in in procession, as you did here. it is a thing that you have a right to be proud of." "we need lose no time about the mast, sir. we stripped the gear off and got it on board the _spartane_, and towed her mast behind her, thinking that perhaps we might not get a suitable spar here. of course the lower mast will be short, but that will matter comparatively little. what is more serious is that her rudder is smashed." "i doubt whether you can get that remedied here. i should advise you to rig out a temporary rudder. i'll tell you what i will do--i will send a couple of hundred men on board at once under my second officer. that will make short work of it, and i am sure that there is not a man on board who would not be glad to lend a hand in fitting up a prize that has been so gallantly won." he called his officers, who had been standing apart during this conversation, and introduced nat to them, saying: "gentlemen, i never heard lieutenant glover's name until a few minutes ago, but i can with confidence tell you that no more gallant officer is to be found in the service; and when i say that, with that little ten-gun brigantine and a crew of forty men, he engaged the french frigate that you see behind her and forced her to strike, after a fight in which she had a hundred and seventy men killed or wounded, that he took a hundred and thirty prisoners, and recaptured those two west indiamen which were her prizes, i think you will all agree that i am not exaggerating. he is naturally very anxious to be off. the frigate's mizzen-mast is lying astern of her, and will make an excellent jury-mast, as all the gear is on board, and only requires shortening. her rudder is smashed, and a temporary one must be rigged up; and, knowing that all on board will be ready and glad to help when they hear what i have told you, i am going to send two hundred men off at once to lend a hand. will you take command, mr. lowcock? you will take with you, of course, the boatswain and his mates and the carpenters." "i should be glad to go too, sir," the first lieutenant said. "you and i will go together, mr. ferguson, after we have had a glass of wine and heard from mr. glover the details of this singular action." the order was at once given to lower the boats. the story that the french frigate and her two prizes had been captured single-handed by the brigantine speedily circulated, and the men hastened into the boats with alacrity. with them went the surgeon and his assistant to see if they could be of any help on board, while the captain, his first lieutenant, and nat went into the cabin, and the latter related the details of the action. "skilfully managed indeed, mr. glover!" the captain said when he had finished; "no one could have done better. it was fortunate indeed that your little craft was so fast and handy, for if that frigate had brought her guns to bear fully upon her she ought to have been able to fairly blow you out of the water with a single broadside. may i ask if this is your first action?" "no, sir; i was in a tender of the _orpheus_ frigate when she captured a very strong pirate's hold near the port of barcela in caracas, destroying the place and capturing or blowing up three of their ships." "i remember the affair," the captain said, "and a very gallant one it was; for, if i am right, the frigate could not get into the entrance, but landed her men, captured two of the pirates' batteries, and turned the guns on their ships, while a schooner she had captured a few days before sailed right in and engaged them, and was nearly destroyed when one of the pirates blew up. the officer in command of her was killed, and a midshipman was very highly spoken of, for he succeeded to the command, and gallantly went on board another pirate and drowned their magazine." "much more was said about it than necessary," nat said. the captain looked surprised. "by the way," the lieutenant broke in, "i remember the name now. are you the mr. glover mentioned in the despatches?" "yes, sir; but, as i said, the captain was good enough to make more of the affair than it deserved." "i expect that he was the best judge of that," the captain said. "well, after that?" "after that, sir, i had the command of a little four-gun schooner which was cruising along the coast of hayti to pick up fugitives, when i came across the brigantine i now command in the act of plundering a merchantman she had just captured. she left her prize and followed me. i was faster and more weatherly than she was, and having had the luck to smash the jaws of her gaff after a running fight of seven or eight miles, was able to get back to the prize and recapture her before the pirate came up. the crew of the prize came up and manned their guns, and between us we engaged the brigantine and carried her by boarding. on taking her into kingston the admiral gave me the command, and raised my crew from twenty to forty. we have now been cruising for four or five months, but not until we sighted the frigate and her prizes have we had the luck to fall in with an enemy." "well, sir," the captain said, "even admitting that you have had some luck, there is no question that you have utilized your opportunities and have an extraordinary record, and if you don't get shot i prophesy that you will be an admiral before many officers old enough to be your father. now, i am sure you must be anxious to get on board your prize as soon as possible, so we will take you to her at once." in a few minutes they were on the deck of the _spartane_. it was a scene of extraordinary activity. the lower mast had already been parbuckled on to the deck, where sheer-legs had been erected by another party. the mast was soon in its place, and the wedges driven in, the shrouds had been shortened, and men were engaged in tightening the lanyards. the topmast was on deck ready to be hoisted. the carpenters were busy constructing a temporary rudder with a long spar, to one end of which planks were being fixed, so that it looked like a gigantic paddle. as soon as this was completed, the other end of the spar was lashed to the taffrail. strong hawsers were then to be fastened to the paddle, and brought in one on each quarter and attached to the drum of the wheel. "now, mr. glover," the captain said, after watching the work for some little time, "i will go ashore with you to the governor; you ought to pay your respects to him. fortunately you will not require any assistance from him, for unless i am greatly mistaken these jobs will be finished this evening; the masts and rigging will certainly be fixed before dusk, and the carpenters must stick to their job till it is done. like all make-shifts, it will not be so good as the original, but i think it will serve your turn, for there is little likelihood of bad weather at this time of year. i suppose you intend to keep the merchant seamen on board? if not, i will spare you some hands." "i am much obliged, sir, but i think we shall do very well. it is a fine reaching wind, and we shall scarcely have to handle a sail between this and jamaica." "very well, i understand your feeling, you would like to finish your business without help. that is very natural; i should do the same in your place." "how about the merchantman's papers, sir?" "i shall tell the governor that i have ordered them to be taken to kingston, where there is a regular prize court, and therefore it will not be necessary to trouble with their manifests here." "then, if i have your permission, captain, i will row off to them at once and tell them to get under sail now; we shall overhaul them long before they get to jamaica. they mount between them six-and-twenty guns, and, keeping together, no french privateer, if any have arrived, would venture to attack them, especially as they cannot have received news yet that war is declared." "i think that would be a very good plan," the captain said, "for if you were to start with them it is clear that you would only be able to go under half sail. it is evident by your account that you are faster than the frigate, but with a reaching wind i suppose there is not more than a knot between you, and if the wind freshens you would find it hard to keep up with her." the visit was paid. the governor agreed that it would be better that the indiamen should sail at once. indeed, they had already started, and were two or three miles away before nat and the captain arrived at the governor's house. when on shore nat ordered two or three barrels of rum to be sent off in another boat to the frigate, and on its arrival an allowance was served out to all the workers. before nightfall, save that the mizzen-mast was some twenty feet lower than usual, and that her stern and quarters were patched in numerous places with tarred canvas, the _spartane_ presented her former appearance. when the majority of the crew had finished their work, the prisoners were transferred to the _isis_. two hours later the carpenters and boatswain's party had securely fixed the temporary rudder, and at daybreak the next morning the two frigates and the brigantine started on their westward voyage. chapter xviii another engagement the three vessels kept company until, on the third day after sailing, they overtook the two merchantmen. nat, supposing that the _isis_ would now leave them, went on board to thank the captain for the great assistance that he had given him. "i shall stay with you now, mr. glover. the news of the outbreak of war will be known at jamaica by this time, for the despatches were sent off on the day before we sailed from home, by the _fleetwing_, which is the fastest corvette in the service. she was to touch at antigua and then go straight on to port royal. i was to carry the news to barbados, so that it does not make any difference whether i reach kingston two hours earlier or later. there is a possibility that the french may have sent ships off even before they declared war with us, and as it is certain that there are several war-ships of theirs out here, one of these might fall in with you before you reach jamaica. therefore as my orders are simply to report myself to the admiral at kingston, i think it is quite in accordance with my duty that i should continue to sail in company with you." "thank you, sir. there certainly is at least one french frigate in the bay of hayti, and if she has received the news she is quite likely to endeavour to pick up some prizes before it is generally known, just as the _spartane_ picked up those merchantmen, and though possibly we might beat her off, i should very much prefer to be let alone." "yes, you have done enough for one trip, and i should much regret were you to be deprived of any of your captures." the _agile_ was signalled to prepare to pick up her boat, and nat was soon on board his own craft again. he ran up to within speaking distance of the _spartane_, and shouted to turnbull that the _isis_ was going to remain in company with them. turnbull waved his hand, for although he had not entertained any fear of their being attacked, he felt nervous at his responsibility if a sudden gale should spring up and the temporary rudder be carried away. it was a comfort to him to know that, should this happen, the _isis_ would doubtless take him in tow, for in anything like a wind the _agile_ would be of little use. however, the weather continued fine, and in five days after leaving barbados they entered kingston harbour. three hours before, the _isis_ had spread all sail, and entered, dropping anchor half an hour before the _agile_ sailed in in charge of the three large ships. the brigantine was heartily cheered by the crews of all the vessels in port, but it was naturally supposed that it was the _isis_ that had done the principal work in capturing the _spartane_. her captain, however, had rowed to the flag-ship directly they came in port, leaving mr. ferguson to see to the _spartane_ being anchored, and had given him a brief account of the nature of the procession that was approaching three or four miles away. "he is a most extraordinary young officer," the admiral said. "he first distinguished himself nearly three years ago by rescuing the daughter of a planter in hayti, who was attacked by a fierce hound, and who would have been killed had he not run up. he was very seriously hurt, but managed to despatch the animal with his dirk. since that time he has been constantly engaged in different adventures. he was in that desperate fight when the _orpheus_ broke up a notorious horde of pirates on the mainland, and distinguished himself greatly. he was up country in hayti when the negroes rose, and he there saved from the blacks a lady and her daughter, the same girl that he had rescued from the dog, and shot eight of the villains, but had one of his ribs broken by a ball. in spite of that, he carried the lady, who was ill with fever, some thirty miles across a rough country down to cape françois in a litter. "then i gave him the command of a little cockle-shell of a schooner mounting four guns, carrying only twenty men. hearing of a planter and his family in the hands of the blacks, he landed the whole of his crew, while expecting himself to be attacked by boats, and rescued the planter, three ladies, and six white men, and got them down on board, although opposed by three hundred negroes. then he captured the brigantine he now commands, and a valuable prize that she had taken, and you say he has now captured a french thirty-six-gun frigate, after a fight in which she lost in killed and wounded half her crew, and recovered two indiamen she had picked up on her way out." they went out on the quarter-deck, where the admiral repeated to his officers the story that he had just heard, and from them it soon circulated round the ship. some of the crew had just cleaned the guns with which they had returned the salute fired by the _isis_ as she entered the port on arriving for the first time on the station, but they were scarcely surprised when, as the brigantine approached, the first lieutenant gave the order for ten more blank cartridges to be brought up, and for the crew to prepare to man the yards. but the surprise of those on board the other ships of war and the merchantmen was great when they saw the sailors swarming up the ratlines and running out on the yards. "it is an unusual thing," the admiral remarked to the captains of the _isis_ and his own ship, "and possibly contrary to the rules of the service, but i think the occasion excuses it." the brigantine did not salute as she came into the port, as she was considered to be on the station. "what can they be doing on board the flag-ship?" nat said to lippincott. "i think they are going to man the yards. it is not the king's birthday, or anything of that sort, that i know of; but as it is just eight bells it must be something of the kind." as they came nearly abreast of the flag-ship, the signal, "well done, _agile_!" was run up, and at the same moment there was a burst of white smoke, and a thundering report, and a tremendous cheer rose from the seamen on the yards. "they are saluting us, sir," lippincott exclaimed. the ensign had been dipped in salute to the flag, and the salute had been acknowledged by the admiral five minutes before. lippincott now sprang to the stern, and again lowered the ensign. the admiral and all his officers were on their quarter-deck, and as he raised his cocked hat the others stood bareheaded. nat uncovered. he was so moved that he had difficulty in keeping back his tears, and he felt a deep relief when the last gun had fired, and the cheers given by his own handful of men and by those on board the prizes had ceased. for the next quarter of an hour he was occupied in seeing that the four vessels were anchored in safe berths. then, as the signal for him to go on board the flag-ship was hoisted, he reluctantly took his place in the gig, and went to make his report. the admiral saw by his pale face that he was completely unnerved, and at once took him into his cabin. "i see, mr. glover," he began kindly, "that you would much rather that i did not say anything to you at present. the welcome that has been given to you speaks more than any words could do of our appreciation of your gallant feat. i do not say that you have taken the first prize since war was declared, for it is probable that other captures have been made nearer home, but at any rate, it is the first that has been made in these waters. i was surprised indeed when captain talbot told me that he had a hundred french prisoners on board, and some fifty wounded. as he had not the mark of a shot either in his sails or in his hull, i could not understand, until he gave me an outline of what had taken place--of how he had become possessed of them. is your prize much injured?" "she has a good many shot-holes on each quarter, sir, and the stern lights and fittings are all knocked away. she suffered no very serious damage. she requires a new mizzen-mast; but there is not a hole in her canvas, which is all new, for we fired only at the stern, and it was just below the deck that her mast was damaged." "you have, i hope, written a full report of the engagement?" nat handed in his report. it was very short, merely stating that, having fallen in with the thirty-six-gun french frigate the _spartane_, convoying two prizes, he had engaged her, and after placing himself on her quarter, had raked her until her mizzen-mast fell, and her rudder was smashed; that, seeing that she could not get away, he had then returned to the prizes, which turned out to be the _jane_ of liverpool, of eight hundred tons burden, and the _flora_ of london, of nine hundred and thirty. the crew of the latter, on seeing that the _spartane_ was crippled, had risen and overpowered the prize crew. the other struck her colours when he came up to her. he then returned to the _spartane_, which struck her flag without further resistance. "i desire to bring to your notice the great assistance i received from lieutenant turnbull, whom i afterwards placed in charge of the prize, and from mr. lippincott. it is also my duty to mention that assistant-surgeon doyle has been indefatigable in his attentions to my own wounded and those of the _spartane_." then followed the list of his own casualties, and those of the _spartane_. "a very official report, mr. glover," the admiral said with a smile, when he had glanced through it. "however, the admiralty will wish to know the details of an action of so exceptional a character, and i must therefore ask you to send me in as complete an account of the affair as possible, both for my own information and theirs. now, i think you had better take a glass of wine. i can see that you really need one, and you will have to receive the congratulations of my officers. by the way, do you know anything of the cargoes of the two ships you retook?" "no, sir, i have really not had time to enquire. till we left barbados i was constantly employed, and on my way out i have kept close to the _spartane_ in order to be able to assist at once if anything went wrong with the steering-gear. i should wish to say, sir, that i feel under the deepest obligations to captain talbot for the great assistance that he and his crew have rendered me in getting up the jury-mast, and fitting up the temporary rudder. had it not been for that i might have been detained for some time at barbados." having drunk a glass of wine, nat went out with the admiral on to the quarter-deck. the officers pressed round, shook hands, and congratulated him. it did not last long, for the admiral said kindly: "the sound of our cannon, gentlemen, has had a much greater effect upon mr. glover's nerves than had those of his prize, and i think we must let him off without any further congratulations for to-day. besides, he has a long report to write for me, and a good many other things to see to." nat was glad indeed to take his place in the gig, and to return to the _agile_. he spent two hours in writing his report in duplicate. when he had done this he went ashore to the prize agent to enquire what formalities were needed with regard to the recaptured merchantmen; and having signed some official papers, he went up to monsieur duchesne's. monsieur pickard and his family had sailed months before for england, but the duchesnes were still in possession of the house they had hired. they enjoyed, they said, so much the feeling of rest and security that they were by no means anxious for a sea voyage; and indeed madame duchesne was still far from well, and her husband was reluctant to take her to the cold climate of england until summer had well set in. "ah, my dear nat," madame duchesne said, "we were hoping that you would be able to spare time to call to-day. my husband would have gone off to see you, but he knew that you had a great deal to do. all the town is talking of your capture of the french frigate, and the recapture of the two prizes that she had taken. several of our friends have come in to tell us about it; but of course we were not surprised, for your capturing the frigate with the _agile_ was no more wonderful than your taking the _agile_ with the _arrow_." "it was a lucky affair altogether, madame duchesne." "i knew that you would say so," myra said indignantly. "whatever you do you always say it is luck, as if luck could do everything. i have no patience with you." "i will endeavour not to use the word again in your presence, myra," nat laughed. "but i have no time for an argument to-day, i have only just run in for a flying visit to see how you are. i have no end of things to see to, and i suppose it will be some days before all the business of the prizes is finished, the frigate formally handed over, and the value of the indiamen and their cargo estimated. however, as soon as i am at all free i will come in for a long talk. you know that there is nowhere that i feel so happy and at home as i do here." it was indeed three days before he had time to pay another visit. "it is too bad of you, not coming to dinner," myra said as he entered. "we really did expect you." "i hoped that i should be able to get here in time, but ever since i saw you i have been going backwards and forwards between the ships and the shore, calling at the dockyard and prize court. to-day there has been a regular survey of the spartane. they were so long over it that i began to think i should not be able to get away at all." "you will be becoming quite a millionaire," monsieur duchesne said, "if you go on like this." "well, you see, we were lucky--i beg your pardon, myra--i mean we were fortunate. we had a very small crew on board the _arrow_, and as it was an independent command, the whole of the prize-money for the capture of the _agile_ and her prize was divided among us, with the exception of the flag share; and i found, to my surprise, that my share came to £2500. without knowing anything of the cargoes of the prizes that i have recaptured now, and what will be paid for the _spartane_, i should think that my share would come to twice as much this time, so that i shall be able before long to retire into private life--that is, if i have any inclination to do so." "but i suppose," madame duchesne said, "that if you marry you will want to settle down." "i am too young to think of such a matter, madame," nat laughed. "why, i am only just nineteen, and it will be quite soon enough to think of that in another eight or ten years. but there is no doubt that when the time comes i shall give up the sea. i don't think it is fair to a wife to leave her at home while you are running the risk of being shot. it is bad enough for her in time of peace, but in war-time it must be terrible for her, and it strikes me that this war is likely to be a long one. it seems to me that it is a question for a man to ask himself, whether he loves his profession or a woman better. if he cares more for the sea, he should remain single; if he thinks more of the woman, let him settle down with her." "that sounds very wise," monsieur duchesne said with a smile, "but when the time comes for the choice i fancy that most men do not accept either alternative, but marry and still go to sea." "that is all right when they have only their profession to depend upon," nat said. "then, if a woman, with her eyes open to the fact that he must be away from her for months, is ready to take a man for better or for worse, i suppose the temptation is too strong to be withstood. happily it won't be put in my way, for even if i never take another ship i shall have enough to live on quietly ashore." "now, you must tell us the story of the fight," myra said. "the story is told in twenty words," he replied. "she did not suspect that we were an enemy until we had passed her, and our broadside told her what we were. as the _agile_ is faster and much more handy than the frigate, we managed to keep astern of her, and, sailing backwards and forwards, poured our broadsides in her stern, while she could scarce get a gun to bear on us. we managed to cripple her rudder, and after this the fight was virtually over. however, she kept her flag flying till we shot away her mizzen, after which, seeing that she was at our mercy, and that her captain, two lieutenants, and more than half her crew were killed or wounded, she lowered her colours. now, really that is the whole account of the fight. if i were telling a sailor, who would understand the nautical terms, i could explain the matter more clearly, but if i were to talk for an hour you would understand no more about it than you do now." an hour later, nat went out with monsieur duchesne to smoke a cigar on the verandah, myra remaining indoors with her mother, who was afraid of sitting out in the cool evening breeze. "going back to our conversation about marriage, nat," monsieur duchesne said, "it is a question which my wife and i feel some little interest in. you see, it is now more than three years since you saved myra's life, after which you rendered her and my wife inestimable service. now, i know that in your country marriages are for the most part arranged between the young people themselves. with us such an arrangement would be considered indecent. if your father and mother were out here, the usual course would be for your mother to approach my wife and talk the matter over with her. my wife would consult with me, and finally, when we old people had quite come to an understanding, your father would speak to you on the subject. all this is impossible here. now, it seems to my wife and myself that, having rendered such inestimable services to us, and having been thrown with my daughter a good deal--who, i may say, without any undue vanity, is a very attractive young lady--you could scarcely be indifferent to her. "as you said, according to your british notions you are too young to think of marrying; and, at any rate, my wife has sounded myra, and the girl has assured her that you have never said a word to her that would lead her to believe you entertained other than what i may call a brotherly affection for her. now, i can tell you frankly, that one of our reasons for remaining here for the past six months has been that we desired that the matter should be arranged one way or the other. it has struck us that it was not your youth only that prevented you from coming to me and asking for myra's hand, but a foolish idea that she is, as is undoubtedly the case, a very rich heiress. before i go farther, may i ask if that is the case, and if you really entertain such an affection for my daughter as would, putting aside all question of money and of your youth, lead you to ask her hand?" "that i can answer at once, sir. ever since i first met her, and especially since i saw how bravely she supported that terrible time when she might fall into the hands of the blacks, i have thought of your daughter as the most charming girl that i have ever met. of course, i was but a lad and she a young girl--no thought of marriage at that time even entered my mind. during the past three years that feeling has grown, until i have found that my happiness depends entirely upon her. i felt, monsieur, that my lips were sealed, not only by the fact that she was an heiress and i only a penniless lieutenant, but because it would be most unfair and ungenerous were i, on the strength of any services i may have rendered, to ask you for her hand." "it is not on account of those services, much as we recognize them, that i offer you her hand, but because both her mother and herself feel that her happiness, which is the great object of our lives, is involved in the matter. in most cases, a young lady well brought up does not give her heart until her father presents to her an eligible suitor. this is an exceptional case. i do think that any girl whose life had been saved, as hers was, at the risk of that of her rescuer, and who, during a most terrible time, came to look up to him as the protector of herself and her mother, and who, moreover, was constantly hearing of his daring actions, and to whom her dearest friends also owed their lives, could not but make him her hero. i need not say that the subject has not been mooted to her, and it was because i desired the matter to be settled before we left for europe that we have lingered here. i am glad indeed that i now know your feeling in the matter. i am conscious that in giving her to you we are securing her happiness. i have, of course, ever since the day when you saved her from that dog, watched your character very closely, and the result has been in all respects satisfactory. now, i will go in and tell her that i will take her place by her mother's side, and that she may as well come out here and keep you company." in a minute myra stepped out on to the verandah. "it is cool and nice here, nat. i think it would do mother more good out here than keeping in the house, where in the first place it is hot, while in the second place it gives me the horrors to see the way the moths and things fly into the lights and burn themselves to death." "no doubt it is pleasanter here," nat said, wondering how he ought to begin. "that was very soberly said, nat," myra laughed. "one would think that it was a proposition that required a good deal of consideration." "it was a proposition that received no consideration. in point of fact, just at present, dear, my head is a little turned with a conversation that i have just had with your father." "what do you mean?" she asked. "i mean that i see before me a great and unlooked-for happiness, a happiness that i had hardly ventured even to hope for, but at present it is incomplete; it is for you to crown it if you can do so. your father has given his consent to my telling you that i love you. i do love you truly and earnestly, myra, but i should not be content with anything less than your love. i don't want it to be gratitude. i don't want any thought of that business with the dog, or of the other business with the blacks, to have anything to do with it." "they must have something to do with it," she said softly, "for it was owing to these that i first began to love you. it was at first, no doubt, a girl's love for one who had done so much for her, but since then it has become a woman's love for the one man that she should choose out of all. i love you, nat, i love you with all my heart." ten minutes later they went hand in hand into the house. monsieur duchesne had told his wife what had occurred in the verandah, and as they came in she rose and threw her arms round myra's neck and kissed her tenderly. "you have chosen wisely, my child, and have made us both very happy. we can give her to you, monsieur glover, without one misgiving; we know that in your hands her life will be a happy one. and now," she went on with a smile, "you will have to face that terrible problem you were discussing an hour since. you will have to choose between a wife and the sea." "the problem may be settled at once, madame," nat said with a smile. "at any rate, there is no occasion to choose at present," madame duchesne went on. "myra is but just past sixteen, and her father and i both think that it is as well that you should wait at least a couple of years before there is any talk of marriage, both for her sake and yours. after your brilliant services, especially in capturing the frigate, you are sure of rapid promotion, and it would be a pity indeed for you to give up your profession until you have obtained the rank of captain, when you could honourably retire. we shall leave for england very shortly, france is out of the question. as you said, you and my daughter are both young, and can well afford to wait." "that is so, madame, we quite acquiesce in your decision. as to your going to england, it is likely that i may be going there myself very shortly. the admiral hinted to-day that, as the dockyard people say that the _spartane_ can be ready for sea in ten days or so, he will probably send me home in her. he very kindly kept back my report of the action, and merely stated that the french frigate _spartane_ had been brought in in tow by his majesty's brigantine _agile_, together with two merchantmen she had captured on her way out, which had also been retaken by the _agile_, and said that he thought it was only fair that i should carry back my own report and his full despatch on the subject. of course i may be sent out again, or i may be employed on other service. at any rate i shall be able to get a short leave before i go to sea again. i have been out here now six years, and feel entitled to a little rest. i would certainly rather be employed in the mediterranean than here, for there is more chance of seeing real service." the next day nat received an order from the admiral to hand over the command of the _agile_ to lieutenant turnbull. lippincott, who would pass his examination and receive his step, was to act as first lieutenant, and a midshipman from one of the ships on the station was to be second officer. nat himself was ordered to superintend the repairs and fitting out for sea of the _spartane._ "i am awfully sorry that you are going, glover," turnbull said. "of course it is a great pull for me being appointed to the command, but i was very jolly and happy as i was. i don't think there ever was a pleasanter party on board one of his majesty's ships. however, of course it is a great lift for me. i shall try to keep things going as comfortably as you did." "i have no doubt that you will do that, turnbull, and you have an able ally in doyle." "doyle was inconsolable when i came on board yesterday and told him that you were going home in the _spartane_, and that i was to have the command." "it is the worst news that i have heard for many a day," doyle had said. "you are very well, turnbull, and i have no sort of complaint to make of you, but i am afraid that the luck will go with glover. it is his luck and not the ship's; whatever he has put his hand to has turned out well. i don't say that he has not done his work as well as it could be done, but there is no doubt that luck is everything. if one of the _agile's_ guns had knocked away a mast or spar from the _arrow_ it would have been all up with you; and again, had a shot from the frigate crippled us, she would have been after taking the _agile_ into a french port instead of our bringing her in here." "yes, but then you see that upon both occasions glover put his craft where it was difficult to get their guns to bear on her." "yes, yes, i know that; but that does not alter it a bit. if there had been only one shot fired, and had we been an unlucky boat, it would, sure enough, have brought one of the spars about our ears." "well, doyle, it may be that it was my luck, and not glover's, that pulled us through. you see, i should have been shot or had my throat cut by the pirates if we had been taken by them, so possibly i am the good genius of the boat; or it may be lippincott." "botheration to you!" the irishman said, as he saw by a twinkle in turnbull's eye that he was really chaffing him; "there is one thing certain, if you get wounded and fall into my hands, you will not regard that as a matter of luck." "well, at any rate, doctor, glover told me half an hour ago of a piece of luck in which none of us here can share. he is engaged to that very pretty french girl whom he is always calling on when we are in port." "i thought that was what would come of it, turnbull," lippincott said; "it would be rum if she hadn't fallen in love with him after all that he did for her." "i was greatly taken with her myself," the doctor said, "the first time she came on board, but i saw with half an eye that the race was lost before i had time to enter. besides, i could not afford to marry without money, and one of these poor devils of planters, who have had to run away from hayti with, for the most part, just the clothes they stood up in, would hardly make the father-in-law yours faithfully would desire. i wonder myself how they manage to keep up such a fine establishment here, but i suppose they had a little put away in an old stocking, and are just running through it. they are shiftless people, are these planters, and, having been always used to luxuries, don't know the value of money." turnbull burst into a fit of laughter in which lippincott joined, for in the early days of the cruise on the _arrow_ they had heard from nat how his friends had for generations laid by a portion of their revenues, and allowed the interest to accumulate, so that, now that the time had come for utilizing the reserve, they were really much richer people than they had been when living on their fine plantation. doyle looked astonished at their laughter. "my dear doyle," turnbull went on, "it is too comical to hear you talking of a shiftless planter--you, belonging as you do to the most happy-go-lucky race on the face of the earth. now, i will ask you, did you ever hear of a family of irish squires who for generations put aside a tenth part of their income, and allowed the interest to accumulate without touching it, so that, when bad times came, they found that they were twice as well off as they were before?" "begorra, you are right, turnbull; never did i hear of such a thing, and i don't believe it ever happened since the first irish crossed the seas from somewhere in the east." "well, at any rate, doyle, that is what the duchesnes have done, and i should think, from what glover says--though he did not mention any precise sum, for he did not know himself--but i should say that it must come to at least a hundred thousand pounds." "mother of moses!" the doctor exclaimed; "it is a mighty bad turn you have done me, turnbull, that you never gave me as much as a hint of this before. i should have been sorry for glover, who is in all ways a good fellow; still i should have deemed it my duty to my family, who once--as you know, is the case of almost every other family in the ould country--were kings of ireland. i should have restored the ancient grandeur of my family, built a grand castle, and kept open house to all comers--and to think that i never knew it!" "then you think, doctor," lippincott said, with a laugh, "that you only had to enter the lists to cut glover out?" "i don't go quite so far as that; but, of course, now the thing is settled for good, it would be of no use trying to disturb it, and it would hardly be fair on glover. but, you see, as long as it was an open matter, i might have well tried my luck. i should have had great advantages. you see, i am a grown man, whereas glover is still but a lad. then, though i say it myself, i could talk his head off, and am as good as those who have kissed the blarney stone at bewildering the dear creatures." "those are great advantages, no doubt, doyle; but, you see, glover had one advantage which, i have no doubt, counted with the lady more than all those you have enumerated. he had saved her life at the risk of his own, he had carried her, and her mother, through terrible dangers." "yes, yes, there is something in that," doyle said, shaking his head; "if the poor young fellow is satisfied with gratitude i have nothing more to say. at any rate, i have lost my chance. now, perhaps, as you know all about this, you might put me up to some other lady in similar circumstances, but with a heart free to bestow upon a deserving man." "i should not be justified in doing so, doyle. after what you have been saying about building a baronial castle, and keeping open house, it is clear that you would soon bring a fortune to an end, however great it might be; and, therefore, i should not feel justified in aiding you in any way in your matrimonial adventures." "it's a poor heart that never rejoices," the doctor said. "the tumblers are empty. sam, you rascal, bring us another bottle of that old jamaica, fresh limes, and cold water. it is one of the drawbacks of this bastely climate that there is no pleasure in taking your punch hot." one of the negroes brought in the materials. "now, doctor," turnbull said, "i know that in spite of this terrible disappointment you will drink heartily the toast, 'nat glover and mademoiselle duchesne, and may they live long and happily together!'" "that is good," doyle said as he emptied his tumbler at a draught; "nothing short of a bumper would do justice to it. hand me the bottle again, lippincott, and cut me a couple of slices off that lime. yes, i will take two pieces of sugar, please, turnbull. now i am going to propose a toast, 'the new commander of the _agile_, and may she, in his hands, do as well as she did in those of nat glover.'" three days later the _agile_ started on another cruise. nat spent his time in the dockyard, where he was so well known to all the officials that they did everything in their power to aid him to push matters forward, and a week after the brigantine had left the _spartane_ was ready for sea. nat had seen the admiral several times, but had heard nothing from him as to who were the officers who were to take the _spartane_ home, nor whether he was to sail as a passenger bearing despatches or as one of the officers. when he went on board the flag-ship to report that all was ready for sea, the admiral said: "mr. winton, first lieutenant of the _onyx_, is invalided home. he is a good officer, but the climate has never agreed with him, and, as his father has lately died and he has come into some property, he will, i have no doubt, go on half-pay for a time until he is thoroughly set up again. i shall therefore appoint him as first lieutenant of the _spartane_; mr. plumber, second lieutenant of the _tiger_, will go second. "i have decided, mr. glover, to give you the rank of acting commander. you captured the ship, and it is fair that you should take her to england. mind, i think it probable enough that the authorities at home may not be willing to confirm your rank, as it is but little over two years since you obtained your present grade. i feel that i am incurring a certain responsibility in giving you the command of a thirty-six-gun frigate, but you have had opportunities of showing that you are a thorough seaman, and can fight as well as sail your ship." "i am immensely obliged, sir," nat said hesitatingly, "but i have never for a moment thought of this, and it does seem a tremendous responsibility. besides, i shall be over two officers both many years senior to myself." "i have spoken to both of them," the admiral said, "and pointed out to them that, after you had captured the frigate with the little brigantine you commanded, i considered it almost your right to take her home. i put it frankly to them that, if they had any objection to serving under one so much their junior, i should by no means press the point, but that at the same time i should naturally prefer having two experienced officers with you instead of officering her entirely with young lieutenants junior to yourself. i am glad to say that both of them agreed heartily, and admitted the very great claim that you have to the command. mr. winton is anxious to get home, and knows that he might have to wait some time before a ship of war was going. mr. plumber is equally anxious for a short run home, for, as he frankly stated to me, he has for three years past been engaged to be married, and he has some ground for hope that he may get appointed to a ship on the home station. so as these gentlemen are perfectly willing to serve under you there need be no difficulty on your part in the matter. we will therefore consider it as settled. "i have made out your appointment as acting commander. i sincerely hope that you will be confirmed in the rank. at any rate, it will count for you a good deal that you should have acted in that capacity. here are your instructions. you will be short-handed; i cannot spare enough men from the ships on this station to make up a full complement. a hundred and fifty are all that i can possibly let you have, but i have told the masters of these two indiamen that they will have to furnish a contingent. i have been on board both the ships to-day. i addressed the crews, and said that you were going to take home the _spartane_ and were short of hands. i said that i did not wish to press any men against their will, but that i hoped that five-and-twenty from each ship would come forward voluntarily; that number had aided to bring the _spartane_ in here; they knew you, and might be sure that the ship would be a comfortable one; and i told them that i would give them passes, saying that they had voluntarily shipped for the voyage home on my guaranteeing that they should, if they chose, be discharged from the service on their arrival. more than the number required volunteered at once, but i asked the captain to pick out for me the men who had before been on board the _spartane_, and of whose conduct you had spoken highly. three merchantmen will sail under your convoy." nat went ashore after leaving the admiral, and naturally went straight to the duchesnes. "who do you suppose is going to command the _spartane_?" he asked as he went in. "i know who ought to command her. you took her, and you ought to command her." "well, it seems absurd, but that is just what i am going to do." myra clapped her hands in delight. "have they made you a real captain, then?" "no," he said with a laugh, "i shall be acting commander. that gives one the honorary rank of captain, but it may be a long time before i get appointed to that rank. the admiral has been awfully kind, but the people at home are not likely to regard my age and appearance as in any way suitable for such a position." "i am happy to say, nat, that we shall sail under your convoy. i have been settling all my affairs and making my arrangements for leaving, and have this morning definitely taken cabins in the _myrtle_. as the furniture is not ours, and we have not accumulated many belongings, knowing that we might be sailing at any moment, we can get everything packed by to-night and go on board to-morrow morning. the captain could not tell me at what hour we should sail. he said that it would depend upon the frigate." "i should like to start at eight if i could, but i cannot say whether everything will be quite ready. however, you had better be on board at that hour. it will be jolly indeed having you all so close to me." "shall we be able to see each other sometimes?" myra asked. "many times, i hope; but of course it must depend partly on the weather. if we are becalmed at any time you might come on board and spend a whole day, but if we are bowling along rapidly it would scarcely be the thing to stop two ships in order that the passengers might go visiting." it was twelve o'clock on the following day when the _spartane_ fired a gun, and at the signal the anchors, which had all been hove short, were run up, the sails shaken out, and the _spartane_ and the three vessels under her charge started on their voyage. chapter xix home the voyage home was a pleasant but not an exciting one. no suspicious sails were sighted until they neared the mouth of the channel. then two or three craft, which bore the appearance of french privateers, had at different times approached them, but only to draw off as soon as they made out the line of ports of the _spartane_. there had been sufficient days of calm and light winds to enable the duchesnes to frequently spend a few hours on board the frigate. nat had felt a little uncomfortable at first, but it was not long before he became accustomed to the position. of course he could not be on the same familiar terms with his officers as he had been on board the _agile_, but he insisted upon the first and second lieutenants dining with him regularly. "it will really be kind of you if you will," he said, "for i shall feel like a fish out of water sitting here in solitary state." and as he had drawn something on account of his prize-money and kept an excellent table, the two officers willingly agreed to the suggestion. "i have always thought, mr. winton," he said, "that there is a good deal more stiffness than is at all necessary or even desirable on board a ship of war. it is not so in the army. i dined several times at regimental messes at kingston, and although the colonel was, of course, treated with a certain respect, the conversation was as general and as unrestrained as if all had been private gentlemen; yet, of course, on the parade ground, the colonel was as supreme as a captain on his quarter-deck. at sea, the captain really never gets to know anything about his officers, except with regard to their duties on board a ship, and i don't think it is good, either for him or the officers in general, that he should be cut off from them as much as if he were an emperor of china." "i agree with you so far," mr. winton said. "i do think the reins of discipline are held too tautly, and that where the captain is a really good fellow, life on board might be much more pleasant than it now is; but with a bad-tempered, overbearing sort of man your suggestion would act just the other way." "well, we could easily put a stop to that," nat said, "if the admiralty would refuse to appoint bad-tempered and overbearing men to any command." the other laughed. "that would help us out of the difficulty, certainly; but i think that any change had better be deferred until they perceive, as every junior officer in the service perceives, that such men are a curse to themselves and everyone else, that they are hated by the whole crew, from the ship's boys to the first lieutenant, and that a ship with a contented and cheerful crew can be trusted at all times to do her duty against any odds." sailing south of the isle of wight, the _spartane_ came in through the nab channel. there she left her convoy, who anchored on the mother bank, while she sailed into portsmouth harbour, with the white ensign flying over the tricolour. as she entered she was greeted with loud cheers by the crews of the ships of war. as soon as she had picked up moorings nat landed at the dockyard, and, proceeding to the admiral's, reported himself there. "the admiral is away inspecting the forts in the needles passage," a young officer said. "captain painton might be able to give you any information that you require." "i only want formally to report myself before taking post-chaise to london." "perhaps you had better see him," the other said, a little puzzled as to who this young officer could be who was in charge of despatches. "i think i had." "what name shall i say?" "glover." the flag-captain was a short, square-built man, with keen eyes, and a not unpleasant expression, but bluff and hasty in manner. "now, mr. glover, what can i do for you?" he asked shortly. "well, sir, i hardly know the course of procedure, but as i want to start with despatches for london in a quarter of an hour i shall be glad to be able to hand over the ship i command, or, if it cannot be taken over in that summary way, to know whether my first officer is to retain charge of her until i can return from town." "and what is the vessel that you have the honour to command, sir?" captain painton said with a slight smile. "the _spartane_ frigate, a prize mounting thirty-six guns, that entered the harbour a quarter of an hour ago." the captain had an idea that this was an ill-timed joke on the part of the young lieutenant. "do you wish me to understand, sir," he said sternly, "that you are in command of that prize?" "that certainly, sir, is what i wish you to understand. i have brought her home from jamaica, and have the honour to hold the appointment of acting commander. there, you see, are the official despatches of which i am the bearer, addressed to the admiralty, and with the words 'in charge of acting commander glover.'" "and your officers, sir?" suppressing with difficulty an explosion of wrath at what he considered a fresh sign that the service was going to the dogs. "the first officer is lieutenant winton, the second lieutenant plumber." "very well, sir, i will go off myself at once. i will detain you no longer." nat at once hurried off, while captain painton went into the office of another of the officials of the dockyard. "the service is going to the dogs," he said. "here is a young lieutenant, who from his appearance can't have passed more than a year, pitchforked over the head of heaven knows how many seniors, and placed as acting commander of a thirtysix-gun frigate, french prize, sir. just look up the records of the lieutenants under him." "one is a lieutenant of fifteen years' service, the other of twelve." "it is monstrous, scandalous. this sort of thing is destructive of all discipline, and proves that everything is to go by favouritism. just at the outbreak of the war it is enough to throw cold water on the spirits of all who are hoping to distinguish themselves." ignorant of the storm that had been excited in the mind of the flag-captain, nat was already on his way, having as soon as he landed sent his coxswain to order a post-chaise to be got ready for starting in a quarter of an hour. it was eight o'clock when he dropped anchor, by nine he was on the road, and by handsomely tipping the post-boys he drew up at the admiralty at half-past four. "what name shall i say, sir?" the doorkeeper asked. "acting commander glover, with despatches from jamaica." the admiral looked up with amazement as nat was announced. the latter had not mounted the second epaulette to which as commander he was entitled, and the admiral on his first glance thought that the attendant must have made a mistake. "did i understand, sir, that you are a commander?" "an acting one only, sir. i have come home in command of the _spartane_, a prize mounting thirty-six guns. the admiral was good enough to appoint me to the acting rank in order that i might bring her home with despatches, and the report respecting her capture by the brigantine _agile_, of ten guns, which i had the honour to command." "yes, i saw a very brief notice of her capture in the _gazette_ ten days ago, but no particulars were given. i suppose the mail was just coming out when she arrived." "that was partly the reason, no doubt, sir; but i think the admiral could have written more, had he not in his kindness of heart left it to me to hand in a full report. i may say that i had the good fortune to recapture two valuable west indiamen that the _spartane_ had picked up on her way out." the admiral rose from the table and took down a thick volume from the book-case. at the back were the words, "records of service." it was partly printed, a wide space being left under each name for further records to be written in. "glover, nathaniel. is that your christian name, captain glover?" nat bowed. "an exceptionally good record. 'distinguished himself greatly in the attack by the frigate _orpheus_ on three piratical craft protected by strong batteries. passed as lieutenant shortly afterwards. appointed to the command of the schooner _arrow_, four guns, charged to rescue white inhabitants off hayti, and if possible to enter into communications with negro leaders and learn their views. in the course of the performance of this duty he landed with all his crew of twenty men, took off a french planter and family and eight other whites in the hands of a force estimated at three hundred and fifty blacks, and fought his way on board his ship again. later on engaged a pirate brigantine, the _agile_, of ten guns, which had just captured a spanish merchantman. after a sharp fight, took possession of the prize, and with the aid of her crew capture the _agile_.' and now with the _agile_ you have taken the _spartane_, a thirty-six gun frigate, to say nothing of recapturing two valuable west indiamen, prizes of hers. and i suppose, commander glover, if we confirm you in your rank and command, you will go forth and appear next time with a french three-decker in tow. from a tiny schooner to a frigate is a greater distance than from a frigate to a line-of-battle ship." "yes, sir," nat said with a smile; "but the advantage of quick manoeuvring that one gets in a small craft, and which gives one a chance against a larger adversary, becomes lost when it is a frigate against a line-of-battle ship. the _spartane_ is fairly handy, but she could not hope to gain much advantage that way over a bigger vessel." "i wonder the admiral had men enough to spare to send her home." "he could hardly have done so, sir, but fifty of the merchant sailors belonging to the recaptured prizes volunteered for the voyage, and were furnished by the admiral with discharges on arrival at portsmouth." "a very good plan, for it is hard work to get men now that we are fitting out every ship at all the naval ports. now, commander glover, i will detain you no longer. i shall carefully read through these despatches this evening, and shall discuss them with my colleagues to-morrow. i shall be glad if you will dine with me to-morrow evening at half-past six; here is my card and address." "i beg your pardon, sir, but i am altogether ignorant of such matters--should i come in uniform or plain clothes?" "whichever would suit you best," the admiral replied with a smile. "as you have only just arrived to-day from the west indies, and doubtless have had little time for preparations before you sailed, it is more than likely that you may not have had time to provide yourself with a full-dress uniform." "i have not, sir; and indeed, had i had time i should not have thought of buying one of my acting rank, which would naturally terminate as soon as the object for which it was granted was attained." "very well, then, come in plain dress. i may tell you for your information, that when invited by an admiral to his official residence you would be expected to appear in uniform, but when asked to dine at his private residence it would not be considered as a naval function, and although i do not at all say that it would be wrong to appear in uniform, there would be no necessity for doing so." as everyone dressed for dinner in the west indies for the sake of coolness and comfort, nat was well provided in this way. after his dinner at the golden cross he went to a playhouse. he had posted a letter to his father, which was written before he landed, directly he reached town, saying that he was home; that of course he could not say how long it would be before he would be able to leave his ship, but as soon as he did so he would run down into somersetshire and stay there until he received orders either to join another vessel or to return to the west indies. the next afternoon the papers came out with the official news, and news-boys were shouting themselves hoarse: "capture of a french frigate by a ten-gun british brig! thirty-six guns against ten! three hundred and fifty frenchmen against fifty englishmen! nearly half the monsieurs killed or wounded, the rest taken prisoners! glorious victory!" and nat was greatly amused as he looked out of the window of the hotel at the eager hustling that was going on to obtain one of the broadsheets. "it sounds a big thing," he said to himself, "but there was nothing in it, and the whole thing was over in less time than it takes to talk about it. well, i hope i shall either get off to portsmouth again to-morrow or go down to the dear old pater. i wish this dinner was over. no doubt there will be some more of these old admirals there, and they will be wanting to learn all the ins and outs, just as if twenty words would not tell them how it was we thrashed them so easily. they know well enough that if you have a quick handy craft, and get her under the weather quarter of a slow-moving frigate the latter hasn't a shadow of a chance." although not an official dinner, all the twelve gentlemen who sat down were, with the exception of nat, connected with the admiralty. the first lord and several other admirals were there, the others were heads of departments and post-captains. "before we begin dinner," the first lord said, "i have pleasure in handing this to you, commander glover. there is but one opinion among my colleagues and myself, which is that as you have captured the _spartane_ and have come home as her commander, we cannot do less than confirm you in that rank and leave her in your charge. you are certainly unusually young for such promotion, but your career has been for the past four years so exceptional that we seem to have scarcely any option in the matter. such promotion is not only a reward you have gallantly won, but that you should receive it will, we feel, animate other young officers to wholesome emulation that will be advantageous both to themselves and to the service in general." nat could scarcely credit his ears. that he might be appointed second lieutenant of the _spartane_ or some other ship of war was, he thought, probable; but the acme of his hopes was that a first lieutenancy in a smart sloop might possibly be offered to him. his two officers on the way home had talked the matter over with him, and they had been a little amused at seeing that he never appeared to think it within the bounds of possibility that his rank would be confirmed, although, as the admiral before sailing told them, he had most strongly recommended that this should be done, and he thought it certain that the authorities at home would see the matter in the same light. he had asked them not to give the slightest hint to nat that such promotion might be awarded to him. "you never can tell," the admiral said, "what the admiralty will do, but here is a chance that they don't often get of making a really popular promotion, without a suspicion of favouritism being entertained. beyond the fact that he has been mentioned in despatches, i doubt if anyone at whitehall as much as knows the young fellow's name, and the service generally will see that for once merit has been recognized on the part of one who, so far as patronage goes, is friendless." nat returned to portsmouth the following morning, and spent some hours in signing papers and going through other formalities. "the _spartane_ will be paid off to-morrow, captain glover," the port admiral said; "she will be recommissioned immediately. i hope you will be able to get some of the men to re-enter, for there is a good deal of difficulty about crews. so great a number of ships have been fitted out during the past four or five months that we have pretty well exhausted the seafaring population here, and even the press-gangs fail to bring many in." going on board, nat sent for the boatswain and gunners, and informed them that as he was to recommission the _spartane_ he was anxious to get as many of the hands to reship as possible. "i have no doubt that some of them will join, sir," the quarter-master said. "i heard them talking among themselves, and saying that she has been as pleasant a ship as they had ever sailed in, and if you was to hoist your pennant a good many of them would sign on." "i would not mind giving a couple of pounds a head." "i don't think that it would be of any use, sir. if the men will join they will join, if they won't they won't. besides, they have all got some pay, and most of them some prize-money coming to them, and it would be only so much more to chuck away if they had it. and another thing, sir, i think when men like an officer they like to show him that it is so, and they would rather reship without any bounty, to show that they liked him, than have it supposed that it was for the sake of the money." after the men had been paid off the next morning, he told them in a short speech that he had been appointed to recommission the _spartane_, and said that he would be glad to have a good many of them with him again. he was much gratified when fully two-thirds of the men, including the greater part of the merchantmen, stepped forward and entered their names. "that speaks well indeed for our young commander," the port admiral, who had been present, said to his flag-captain. "it is seldom indeed that you find anything like so large a proportion of men ready to reship at once. it proves that they have confidence in his skill as well as in his courage, and that they feel that the ship will be a comfortable one." it was expected that the _spartane_ would be at least a month in the hands of the shipwrights, and the men on signing were given leave of absence for that time. as soon as all this was arranged, nat took a post-chaise and drove to southampton. there he found the duchesnes at an hotel. their ship had gone into the port two days previously, but all their belongings were not yet out of the hold, and indeed it had been arranged that they would not go up to town till they saw him. they were delighted to hear that his appointment had been confirmed, and that he was to have the command of the _spartane_. "now, i suppose you will be running down to see your people at once?" myra said with a little pout. "i think that is only fair," he said, "considering that i have not seen them for six years. i don't think that even you could grudge me a few days." "yeovil is a large place, isn't it?" she asked. "yes; why do you ask?" she looked at her mother, who smiled. "the fact is, nat, myra has been endeavouring to persuade her father and me that it would be a nice plan for us to go down there with you and to form the acquaintance of your parents. of course we should stay at an hotel. we are in no particular hurry to go up to london; and as while you are away we shall naturally wish to see as much as we can of your people, this would make a very good beginning. and perhaps some of them will come back to london with us when you join your ship." "i think it would be a first-rate plan, madame, the best thing possible. of course i want my father and mother and the girls to see myra." "when will you start?" "to-morrow morning. of course we shall go by post. it will be a very cross-country journey by coach, and many of these country roads are desperately bad. it is only about the same distance that it is to london, but the roads are not so good, so i propose that we make a short journey to-morrow to salisbury, and then, starting early, go through to yeovil. we shall be there in good time in the afternoon. i shall only be taking a very small amount of kit, so that we ought to be able to stow three large trunks, which will, i suppose, be enough for you. of course we could send some on by a waggon, but there is no saying when they would get there, and as likely as not they would not arrive until just as we are leaving there; of course dinah will go on the box." at four o'clock, two days later, the post-chaise drove up to the principal hotel at yeovil. rooms were at once obtained for the duchesnes, and nat hired a light trap to drive him out to his father's rectory, some three miles out of the town. as he drove up to the house, three girls, from sixteen to two-and three-and-twenty, ran out, followed a moment later by his father and mother. for a few minutes there was but little coherent talk. his sisters could scarcely believe that this tall young officer was the lad they had last seen, and even his father and mother agreed that they would scarce have recognized him. "i don't think the girls quite recognize me now," he laughed. "they kissed me in a very feeble sort of way, as if they were not at all sure that it was quite right. indeed, i was not quite sure myself that it was the proper thing for me to salute three strange young ladies." "what nonsense you talk, nat," his eldest sister mary said. "i thought by this time, now you are a lieutenant, you would have become quite stiff, and would expect a good deal of deference to be paid to you." "i can't say that you have been a good correspondent, nat," his mother said. "you wrote very seldom, and then said very little of what you had been doing." "well, mother, there are not many post-offices in hayti, and i should not have cared to trust any letters to them if there had been. there is the advantage, you see, that there is much more to tell you now than if i had written to you before. you don't get papers very regularly here, i think?" "no, we seldom see a london paper, and the bath papers don't tell much about anything except the fashionable doings there." "then i have several pieces of news to tell you. here is a _gazette_, in which you will see that a certain nathaniel glover brought into portsmouth last week a french thirty-six-gun frigate which he had captured, and in another part of the _gazette_ you will observe that the same officer has been confirmed in the acting rank of commander, and has been appointed to the _spartane_, which is to be recommissioned at once. therefore you see, sisters, you will in future address me as captain." there was a general exclamation of surprise and delight. "that is what it was," the rector said, "that dr. miles was talking to me about yesterday in yeovil. he said that the london papers were full of the news that a french frigate had been captured by a little ten-gun brigantine, and had been brought home by the officer who had taken her, who was, he said, of the same name as mine. he said that it was considered an extraordinarily gallant action." "we shall be as proud as peacocks," lucy, the youngest girl, said. "now as to my news," he went on. "doubtless that was important, but not so important as that which i am now going to tell you. at the present moment there is at yeovil a gentleman and lady, together with their daughter, the said daughter being, at the end of a reasonable time, about to become my wife, and your sister, girls." the news was received with speechless surprise. "really, nat?" his mother said in a tone of doubt; "do you actually mean that you have become engaged to a young lady who is now at yeovil?" "that is the case, mother," he said cheerfully. "there is nothing very surprising that a young lady should fall in love with me, is there? and i think the announcement will look well in the papers--on such and such a date, myra, daughter of monsieur duchesne, late of the island of hayti, to nathaniel, son of the rev. charles glover of arkton rectory, commander in his majesty's navy." "duchesne!" ada, the second girl, said, clapping her hands, "that is the name of the young lady you rescued from a dog. i remember at the time mary and i quite agreed that the proper thing for you to do would be to marry her some day. yes, and you were staying at her father's place when the blacks broke out; and you had all to hide in the woods for some time." "quite right, ada. well, she and her father and mother have posted down with me from southampton in order to make your acquaintance, and to-morrow you will have to go over in a body." "does she speak english?" mrs. glover asked. "oh, yes, she speaks a good deal of english; her people have for the past two years intended to settle in england, and have all been studying the language to a certain extent. besides that, they have had the inestimable advantage of my conversation, and have read a great many english books on their voyage home." "is miss duchesne very dark?" lucy asked in a tone of anxiety. nat looked at her for a moment in surprise, and then burst into a fit of laughter. "what, lucy, do you think because myra was born in hayti that she is a little negress with crinkley wool?" "no, no," the girl protested almost tearfully. "of course i did not think that, but i thought that she might be dark. i am sure when i was at bath last season and saw several old gentlemen, who, they said, were rich west indians, they were all as yellow as guineas." "well, she won't be quite so dark as that, anyhow," nat said; "in fact i can tell you, you three will all have to look your best to make a good show by the side of her." "but this talk is all nonsense, nat," the rector said gravely. "your engagement is a very serious matter. of course, now you have been so wonderfully fortunate, and are commander of a ship, you will, i have no doubt, have an income quite sufficient to marry upon, and, of course, you are in a position to please yourself." "we are not going to be married just at present, father. she is three years younger than i am, and i am not far advanced in years; so it has been quite settled that we shall wait for some time yet. by then, if i am lucky, my prize-money will have swelled to a handsome amount, and indeed, although i don't know the exact particulars, i believe i am entitled to from eight to ten thousand pounds. moreover as the young lady herself is an only child, and her father is a very wealthy man, i fancy that we are not likely to have to send round the hat to make ends meet." the visit was duly paid the next day, and was most satisfactory to all parties, and, as the rectory was a large building, mr. and mrs. glover insisted upon the duchesnes removing there at once. "we want to see as much of nat as we can," his mother urged, "and if he is to divide his time between yeovil and the rectory, i am afraid we should get but a very small share of him." "i suppose your brother has told you all his adventures," myra said the next morning, as she and all the party, with the exception of mr. glover and nat, were seated in the parlour after breakfast was over. "no, he is a very poor correspondent. he just told us what he had been doing, but said very little about his adventures. i suppose he thought that girls would not care to hear about midshipmen's doings. he did tell us, though, that he had had a fight with a dog that had bitten you." myra's eyes opened wider and wider as the eldest, mary glover, spoke. her face flushed, and she would have risen to her feet in her indignation had not her mother laid her hand upon her arm. "i do not think, miss glover," monsieur duchesne said gravely, "that you can at all understand the obligation that we are under to your brother. the bite of a dog seems but a little thing. a huge hound had thrown myra down, and had rescue been delayed but half a minute her death was certain. your brother, riding past, heard her cries, and rushed in, and, armed only with his dirk, attacked the hound. he saved my daughter's life, but it was well-nigh at the cost of his own, for although he killed it, it was not until it had inflicted terrible injuries upon him--injuries so serious that for a time it was doubtful whether he would live. this was the first service to us. on the next occasion he was staying with us when the blacks rose. thanks to our old nurse, there was time for them to run out into the shrubbery before the negroes came up, and then take refuge in the wood. my wife was seized with fever, and was for days unconscious. "the woods were everywhere scoured for fugitives. six blacks, led by two mulattoes, discovered their hiding-place. your son shot the whole of them, but had one of his ribs broken by a pistol-ball. in spite of that, he and dinah carried my wife some thirty miles down to the town across rough ground, where every step must have been torture to him, and brought her and myra safely to me. equal services he performed another time to a family, intimate friends of ours, composed of a gentleman and his wife and two daughters, who, with six white men, were prisoners in the hands of the blacks, and would assuredly have suffered deaths of agonizing torture. though he had but twenty men with him, he landed them all, marched them up to the place, rescued the whole party, and made his way down to his boat again through three hundred and fifty maddened blacks. no less great was the service he rendered when he rescued some fifteen ladies and gentlemen who had been captured by a pirate, and whose fate, had he not arrived, would have been too horrible to think of. as to his services at sea, the official reports have testified, and his unheard-of promotion shows the appreciation of the authorities. never were more gallant deeds done by the most valiant naval captains who have ever lived." myra had held her father's hand while he was speaking; her breath had come fast, and her eyes were full of tears. "thank you, monsieur duchesne," mrs. glover said, gently; "please remember that all this is quite new to us. now that we know something of the truth, we shall feel as proud of our boy as your daughter has a right to be." "excuse me, mrs. glover," myra said, walking across to her, and kissing her, "but when it seemed to me that these glorious deeds nat has achieved were regarded as the mere adventures of a midshipman, i felt that i must speak." "it is quite natural that you should do so," mrs. glover said; "for, if fault there is, it rests with nat, who always spoke of his own adventures in a jesting sort of way, and gave us no idea that they were anything out of the common." "they were out of the common, madame," myra said; "why, when he came into port royal, with the great frigate in tow of his little brigantine, and two huge merchantmen he had recaptured from her, the admiral's ship and all the vessels of war in the harbour saluted him. i almost cried my eyes out with pride and happiness." "myra does not exaggerate," her mother said; "your son's exploits were the talk of jamaica, and even the capture of the french frigate was less extraordinary than the way in which, with a little craft of four guns, he captured a pirate which carried ten, and a crew four times as numerous as his own." "i hope you will tell us in full about all these things, madame duchesne," mrs. glover said, "for i fear that we shall never get a full account from nat himself." myra went across to mary. "you are not angry with me, i hope," she said; "we are hot-tempered, we west indians. when it seemed that you were speaking slightingly of the action to which i owe my life, i don't know what i should have said if my father had not stopped me." "i am not in the slightest degree angry," mary said; "or, rather, if i am angry at all it is with nat. it is too bad of him keeping all this to himself. you see, he was quite a boy when he left us, and he used to tell us funny stories about the pranks that the midshipmen played. although we felt very proud of him when he told us that he had gained the rank of commander, we did not really know anything about sea matters, and could not appreciate the fact that he must have done something altogether out of the way to obtain that rank. but, of course, we like you all the better for standing up for him. i am sure that in future we girls shall be just as angry as you were if anyone says anything that sounds like running him down." the time passed rapidly, and, as the girls were never tired of listening to the tales of nat's exploits, and myra was never tired of relating them, nat would have come in for any amount of hero-worship had he not promptly suppressed the slightest exhibition in that direction. it was but a few days after his arrival in england that monsieur duchesne learned by a letter from a friend, who was one of the few who escaped from the terrible scene, that their fears had been justified, and that cape françois, the beautiful capital of hayti, had ceased to exist. santhonax and poveren had established a reign of terror, plunder, and oppression, until the white inhabitants were reduced to the most terrible state of suffering. the misery caused by these white monsters was as great as that which prevailed in france. at last general galbaud arrived, having been sent out to prepare for the defence of the colony against an attack by the british. the two commissioners, however, refused to recognize his authority. not only this, but they imperatively ordered him to re-embark, and return to france. each party then prepared for fighting. the commissioners had with them the regular troops, and a large body of blacks. the governor had twelve hundred sailors, and the white inhabitants of the city, who had formed themselves into a body of volunteers. the fighting was hard; the volunteers showed the greatest bravery, and, had they been well supported by the sailors, would have gained the day. the seamen, however, speedily broke into the warehouses, intoxicated themselves with rum, and it was with difficulty that their officers could bring them back into the arsenal. the commissioners had, the night before, sent to a negro chief, offering pardon for all past offences, perfect freedom, and the plunder of the city. he arrived at noon on the 21st of june, and at once began the butchery of the white inhabitants. this continued till the evening of the 23rd, by which time the whole of the whites had been murdered, the city sacked, and then burned to the ground. before nat sailed in the _spartane_, the duchesnes had taken a house at torquay. here the climate would be better suited to madame, the summer temperature being less exhausting and the winter so free from extremes that she might reasonably hope not to feel the change. for five years nat commanded the _spartane_. if he did not meet with the exceptional good fortune that he had found in the west indies, he had, at least, nothing to complain of. he picked up many prizes, took part in several gallant cutting-out adventures, and captured the french frigate _euterpe_, of forty-six guns. for full details of these and other actions a search must be made in the official records of the british navy, where they are fully set forth. after a long and hard-fought battle, for which action he received post rank, he retired from the service, and settled down with myra near plymouth, where he was within easy reach of his own relations. as soon as he was established there, her father and mother took a house within a few minutes' walk of his home. he congratulated himself that he had not remained in the west indies, for had he done so he would, like all the naval and military forces in the islands, have taken part in the disastrous attempt to obtain possession of the island of san domingo. the spaniards had ceded their portion to the french, and although the whites, mulattoes, and blacks were at war with each other, they were all ready to join forces against the british. the attempt to conquer an island so populous and strongly defended, and abounding with mountains in which the enemy could maintain themselves, was, if undertaken by a force of anything less than a hundred thousand men, foredoomed to failure. the force at first sent was ridiculously inadequate, and although it received reinforcements from time to time, these were not more than sufficient to fill the gaps caused by fever. consequently, after four or five years' fighting, and the loss of fully thirty thousand men, by fatigue, hardship, and fever, the effort was abandoned, after having cost some thirty millions of money. at the end of the war, toussaint was virtually dictator of hayti. he governed strongly and well, but as he was determined to admit no interference on the part of the french, he was finally treacherously seized by them, carried to france, and there died, it is said by starvation, in prison. his forebodings as to the unfitness of the blacks for self-government have been fulfilled to the letter. civil wars, insurrections, and massacres have been the rule rather than the exception; the island has been gradually going down in the scale of civilization, and the majority of the blacks are as savage, ignorant, and superstitious as their forefathers in africa. fetish worship and human sacrifices are carried on in secret, and the fairest island in the western seas lies sunk in the lowest degradation--a proof of the utter incapacity of the negro race to evolve, or even maintain, civilization, without the example and the curb of a white population among them. * * * * * "wherever english is spoken one imagines that mr. henty's name is known. one cannot enter a schoolroom or look at a boy's bookshelf without seeing half-a-dozen of his familiar volumes. mr. henty is no doubt the most successful writer for boys, and the one to whose new volumes they look forward every christmas with most pleasure." --_review of reviews._ a list of books for young people by g. a. henty, kirk munroe, james whitcomb riley, ernest thompson seton, and others published by charles scribner's sons 153 to 157 fifth avenue new york * * * * * other volumes of the henty books uniform with this popular edition in freedom's cause with lee in virginia with wolfe in canada the lion of st. mark in the reign of terror no surrender under wellington's command with frederick the great at aboukir and acre both sides the border a march on london with moore at corunna at agincourt cochrane the dauntless on the irrawaddy through russian snows a knight of the white cross the tiger of mysore in the heart of the rockies when london burned wulf the saxon st. bartholomew's eve through the sikh war a jacobite exile condemned as a nihilist beric the briton in greek waters the dash for khartoum redskin and cowboy held fast for england * * * * * by g. a. henty "among writers of stories of adventures for boys mr. henty stands in the very first rank."--_academy_ (london). the treasure of the incas a tale of adventure in peru. with 8 full-page illustrations by wal paget, and map. $1.20 net. peru and the hidden treasures of her ancient kings offer mr. henty a most fertile field for a stirring story of adventure in his most engaging style. in an effort to win the girl of his heart, the hero penetrates into the wilds of the land of the incas. boys who have learned to look for mr. henty's books will follow his new hero in his adventurous and romantic expedition with absorbing interest. it is one of the most captivating tales mr. henty has yet written. with kitchener in the soudan a story of atbara and omdurman. with 10 full-page illustrations. $1.20 net. mr. henty has never combined history and thrilling adventure more skillfully than in this extremely interesting story. it is not in boy nature to lay it aside unfinished, once begun; and finished, the reader finds himself in possession, not only of the facts and the true atmosphere of kitchener's famous soudan campaign, but of the gordon tragedy which preceded it by so many years and of which it was the outcome. with the british legion a story of the carlist uprising of 1836. illustrated. $1.20 net. arthur hallet, a young english boy, finds himself in difficulty at home, through certain harmless school escapades, and enlists in the famous "british legion," which was then embarking for spain to take part in the campaign to repress the carlist uprising of 1836. arthur shows his mettle in the first fight, distinguishes himself by daring work in carrying an important dispatch to madrid, makes a dashing and thrilling rescue of the sister of his patron, and is rapidly promoted to the rank of captain. in following the adventures of the hero the reader obtains, as is usual with mr. henty's stories, a most accurate and interesting history of a picturesque campaign. * * * * * stories by g. a. henty "his books have at once the solidity of history and the charm of romance."--_journal of education._ to herat and cabul a story of the first afghan war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. 12mo, $1.20 net. the greatest defeat ever experienced by the british army was that in the mountain passes of afghanistan. angus cameron, the hero of this book, having been captured by the friendly afghans, was compelled to be a witness of the calamity. his whole story is an intensely interesting one, from his boyhood in persia; his employment under the government at herat; through the defense of that town against the persians; to cabul, where he shared in all the events which ended in the awful march through the passes from which but one man escaped. angus is always at the point of danger, and whether in battle or in hazardous expeditions shows how much a brave youth, full of resources, can do, even with so treacherous a foe. his dangers and adventures are thrilling, and his escapes marvellous. with roberts to pretoria a tale of the south african war. by g. a. henty. with 12 illustrations. $1.20 net. the boer war gives mr. henty an unexcelled opportunity for a thrilling story of present-day interest which the author could not fail to take advantage of. every boy reader will find this account of the adventures of the young hero most exciting, and, at the same time a wonderfully accurate description of lord roberts's campaign to pretoria. boys have found history in the dress mr. henty gives it anything but dull, and the present book is no exception to the rule. at the point of the bayonet a tale of the mahratta war. by g. a. henty. illustrated. 12mo, $1.20 net. one hundred years ago the rule of the british in india was only partly established. the powerful mahrattas were unsubdued, and with their skill in intrigue, and great military power, they were exceedingly dangerous. the story of "at the point of the bayonet" begins with the attempt to conquer this powerful people. harry lindsay, an infant when his father and mother were killed, was saved by his mahratta ayah, who carried him to her own people and brought him up as a native. she taught him as best she could, and, having told him his parentage, sent him to bombay to be educated. at sixteen he obtained a commission in the english army, and his knowledge of the mahratta tongue combined with his ability and bravery enabled him to render great service in the mahratta war, and carried him, through many frightful perils by land and sea, to high rank. * * * * * by g. a. henty "mr. henty might with entire propriety be called the boys' sir walter scott."--_philadelphia press._ in the irish brigade a tale of war in flanders and spain. with 12 illustrations by charles m. sheldon. 12mo, $1.50. desmond kennedy is a young irish lad who left ireland to join the irish brigade in the service of louis xiv. of france. in paris he incurred the deadly hatred of a powerful courtier from whom he had rescued a young girl who had been kidnapped, and his perils are of absorbing interest. captured in an attempted jacobite invasion of scotland, he escaped in a most extraordinary manner. as aid-de-camp to the duke of berwick he experienced thrilling adventures in flanders. transferred to the army in spain, he was nearly assassinated, but escaped to return, when peace was declared, to his native land, having received pardon and having recovered his estates. the story is filled with adventure, and the interest never abates. out with garibaldi a story of the liberation of italy. by g. a. henty. with 8 illustrations by w. rainey, r.i. 12mo, $1.50. garibaldi himself is the central figure of this brilliant story, and the little-known history of the struggle for italian freedom is told here in the most thrilling way. from the time the hero, a young lad, son of an english father and an italian mother, joins garibaldi's band of 1,000 men in the first descent upon sicily, which was garrisoned by one of the large neapolitan armies, until the end, when all those armies are beaten, and the two sicilys are conquered, we follow with the keenest interest the exciting adventures of the lad in scouting, in battle, and in freeing those in prison for liberty's sake. with buller in natal or, a born leader. by g. a. henty. with 10 illustrations by w. rainey. 12mo, $1.50. the breaking out of the boer war compelled chris king, the hero of the story, to flee with his mother from johannesburg to the sea coast. they were with many other uitlanders, and all suffered much from the boers. reaching a place of safety for their families, chris and twenty of his friends formed an independent company of scouts. in this service they were with gen. yule at glencoe, then in ladysmith, then with buller. in each place they had many thrilling adventures. they were in great battles and in lonely fights on the veldt; were taken prisoners and escaped; and they rendered most valuable service to the english forces. the story is a most interesting picture of the war in south africa. * * * * * by g. a. henty "surely mr. henty should understand boys' tastes better than any man living."--_the times._ won by the sword a tale of the thirty years' war. with 12 illustrations by charles m. sheldon, and four plans. 12mo, $1.50. the scene of this story is laid in france, during the time of richelieu, of mazarin and anne of austria. the hero, hector campbell, is the orphaned son of a scotch officer in the french army. how he attracted the notice of marshal turenne and of the prince of conde; how he rose to the rank of colonel; how he finally had to leave france, pursued by the deadly hatred of the duc de beaufort--all these and much more the story tells with the most absorbing interest. a roving commission or, through the black insurrection at hayti. with 12 illustrations by william rainey. 12mo, $1.50. this is one of the most brilliant of mr. henty's books. a story of the sea, with all its life and action, it is also full of thrilling adventures on land. so it holds the keenest interest until the end. the scene is a new one to mr. henty's readers, being laid at the time of the great revolt of the blacks, by which hayti became independent. toussaint l'overture appears, and an admirable picture is given of him and of his power. no surrender the story of the revolt in la vendée. with 8 illustrations by stanley l. wood. 12mo, $1.50. the revolt of la vendée against the french republic at the time of the revolution forms the groundwork of this absorbing story. leigh stansfield, a young english lad, is drawn into the thickest of the conflict. forming a company of boys as scouts for the vendéan army, he greatly aids the peasants. he rescues his sister from the guillotine, and finally, after many thrilling experiences, when the cause of la vendée is lost, he escapes to england. under wellington's command a tale of the peninsular war. with 12 illustrations by wal paget. 12mo, $1.50. the dashing hero of this book, terence o'connor, was the hero of mr. henty's previous book, "with moore at corunna," to which this is really a sequel. he is still at the head of the "minho" portuguese regiment. being detached on independent and guerilla duty with his regiment, he renders invaluable service in gaining information and in harassing the french. his command, being constantly on the edge of the army, is engaged in frequent skirmishes and some most important battles. * * * * * by g. a. henty "mr. henty is the king of story-tellers for boys."--_sword and trowel._ at aboukir and acre a story of napoleon's invasion of egypt. with 8 full-page illustrations by william rainey, and 3 plans. 12mo, $1.50. the hero, having saved the life of the son of an arab chief, is taken into the tribe, has a part in the battle of the pyramids and the revolt at cairo. he is an eye-witness of the famous naval battle of aboukir, and later is in the hardest of the defense of acre. both sides the border a tale of hotspur and glendower. with 12 full-page illustrations by ralph peacock. 12mo, $1.50. this is a brilliant story of the stirring times of the beginning of the wars of the roses, when the scotch, under douglas, and the welsh, under owen glendower, were attacking the english. the hero of the book lived near the scotch border, and saw many a hard fight there. entering the service of lord percy, he was sent to wales, where he was knighted, and where he was captured. being released, he returned home, and shared in the fatal battle of shrewsbury. with frederick the great a tale of the seven years' war. with 12 full-page illustrations. 12mo, $1.50. the hero of this story while still a youth entered the service of frederick the great, and by a succession of fortunate circumstances and perilous adventures, rose to the rank of colonel. attached to the staff of the king, he rendered distinguished services in many battles, in one of which he saved the king's life. twice captured and imprisoned, he both times escaped from the austrian fortresses. a march on london a story of wat tyler's rising. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. h. margetson. 12mo, $1.50. the story of wat tyler's rebellion is but little known, but the hero of this story passes through that perilous time and takes part in the civil war in flanders which followed soon after. although young he is thrown into many exciting and dangerous adventures, through which he passes with great coolness and much credit. * * * * * by g. a. henty "no country nor epoch of history is there which mr. henty does not know, and what is really remarkable is that he always writes well and interestingly."--_new york times._ with moore at corunna a story of the peninsular war. with 12 full-page illustrations by wal paget. 12mo, $1.50. terence o'connor is living with his widowed father, captain o'connor of the mayo fusiliers, with the regiment at the time when the peninsular war began. upon the regiment being ordered to spain, terence gets appointed as aid to one of the generals of a division. by his bravery and great usefulness throughout the war, he is rewarded by a commission as colonel in the portuguese army and there rendered great service. at agincourt a tale of the white hoods of paris. with 12 full-page illustrations by walter paget. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the story begins in a grim feudal castle in normandie. the times were troublous, and soon the king compelled lady margaret de villeroy with her children to go to paris as hostages. guy aylmer went with her. paris was turbulent. soon the guild of the butchers, adopting white hoods as their uniform, seized the city, and besieged the house where our hero and his charges lived. after desperate fighting, the white hoods were beaten and our hero and his charges escaped from the city, and from france. with cochrane the dauntless a tale of the exploits of lord cochrane in south american waters. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. h. margetson. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story accompanies cochrane as midshipman, and serves in the war between chili and peru. he has many exciting adventures in battles by sea and land, is taken prisoner and condemned to death by the inquisition, but escapes by a long and thrilling flight across south america and down the amazon. on the irrawaddy a story of the first burmese war. with 8 full page illustrations by w. h. overend. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero, having an uncle, a trader on the indian and burmese rivers, goes out to join him. soon after, war is declared by burmah against england and he is drawn into it. he has many experiences and narrow escapes in battles and in scouting. with half-a-dozen men he rescues his cousin who had been taken prisoner, and in the flight they are besieged in an old, ruined temple. * * * * * by g. a. henty "boys like stirring adventures, and mr. henty is a master of this method of composition."--_new york times_. through russian snows a story of napoleon's retreat from moscow. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. h. overend and 3 maps. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero, julian wyatt, after several adventures with smugglers, by whom he is handed over a prisoner to the french, regains his freedom and joins napoleon's army in the russian campaign. when the terrible retreat begins, julian finds himself in the rearguard of the french army, fighting desperately. ultimately he escapes out of the general disaster, and returns to england. a knight of the white cross a tale of the siege of rhodes. with 12 full-page illustrations by ralph peacock, and a plan. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. gervaise tresham, the hero of this story, joins the order of the knights of st. john, and proceeds to the stronghold of rhodes. subsequently he is appointed commander of a war-galley, and in his first voyage destroys a fleet of moorish corsairs. during one of his cruises the young knight is attacked on shore, captured after a desperate struggle, and sold into slavery in tripoli. he succeeds in escaping, and returns to rhodes in time to take part in the defense of that fortress. the tiger of mysore a story of the war with tippoo saib. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. h. margetson, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. dick holland, whose father is supposed to be a captive of tippoo saib, goes to india to help him to escape. he joins the army under lord cornwallis, and takes part in the campaign against tippoo. afterwards he assumes a disguise, enters seringapatam, and at last he discovers his father in the great stronghold of savandroog. the hazardous rescue is at length accomplished, and the young fellow's dangerous mission is done. in the heart of the rockies a story of adventure in colorado. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by g. c. hindley. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero, tom wade, goes to seek his uncle in colorado, who is a hunter and gold-digger, and he is discovered, after many dangers, out on the plains with some comrades. going in quest of a gold mine, the little band is spied by indians, chased across the bad lands, and overwhelmed by a snowstorm in the mountains. * * * * * by g. a. henty "mr. henty is one of the best story-tellers for young people."--_spectator_. when london burned a story of the plague and the fire. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by j. finnemore. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story was the son of a nobleman who had lost his estates during the troublous times of the commonwealth. during the great plague and the great fire, cyril was prominent among those who brought help to the panic-stricken inhabitants. wulf the saxon a story of the norman conquest. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by ralph peacock. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero is a young thane who wins the favor of earl harold and becomes one of his retinue. when harold becomes king of england wulf assists in the welsh wars, and takes part against the norsemen at the battle of stamford bridge. when william of normandy invades england, wulf is with the english host at hastings, and stands by his king to the last in the mighty struggle. st. bartholomew's eve a tale of the huguenot wars. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by h. j. draper, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero, philip fletcher, has a french connection on his mother's side. this induces him to cross the channel in order to take a share in the huguenot wars. naturally he sides with the protestants, distinguishes himself in various battles, and receives rapid promotion for the zeal and daring with which he carries out several secret missions. through the sikh war a tale of the conquest of the punjaub. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by hal hurst, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. percy groves, a spirited english lad, joins his uncle in the punjaub, where the natives are in a state of revolt. percy joins the british force as a volunteer, and takes a distinguished share in the famous battles of the punjaub. * * * * * by g. a. henty "the brightest of the living writers whose office it is to enchant the boys."--_christian leader_. a jacobite exile being the adventures of a young englishman in the service of charles xii. of sweden. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by paul hardy, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. sir marmaduke carstairs, a jacobite, is the victim of a conspiracy, and he is denounced as a plotter against the life of king william. he flies to sweden, accompanied by his son charlie. this youth joins the foreign legion under charles xii., and takes a distinguished part in several famous campaigns against the russians and poles. condemned as a nihilist a story of escape from siberia. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story is an english boy resident in st. petersburg. through two student friends he becomes innocently involved in various political plots, resulting in his seizure by the russian police and his exile to siberia. he ultimately escapes, and, after many exciting adventures, he reaches norway, and thence home, after a perilous journey which lasts nearly two years. beric the briton a story of the roman invasion. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. parkinson. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. this story deals with the invasion of britain by the roman legionaries. beric, who is a boy-chief of a british tribe, takes a prominent part in the insurrection under boadicea; and after the defeat of that heroic queen (in a. d. 62) he continues the struggle in the fen-country. ultimately beric is defeated and carried captive to rome, where he is trained in the exercise of arms in a school of gladiators. at length he returns to britain, where he becomes ruler of his own people. in greek waters a story of the grecian war of independence (1821-1827). by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. s. stacey, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. deals with the revolt of the greeks in 1821 against turkish oppression. mr. beveridge and his son horace fit out a privateer, load it with military stores, and set sail for greece. they rescue the christians, relieve the captive greeks, and fight the turkish war vessels. * * * * * by g. a. henty "no living writer of books for boys writes to better purpose than mr. g. a. henty."--_philadelphia press._ the dash for khartoum a tale of the nile expedition. by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by john schönberg and j. nash. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. in the record of recent british history there is no more captivating page for boys than the story of the nile campaign, and the attempt to rescue general gordon. for, in the difficulties which the expedition encountered, in the perils which it overpassed, and in its final tragic disappointments, are found all the excitements of romance, as well as the fascination which belongs to real events. redskin and cow-boy a tale of the western plains. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the central interest of this story is found in the many adventures of an english lad, who seeks employment as a cow-boy on a cattle ranch. his experiences during a "round-up" present in picturesque form the toilsome, exciting, adventurous life of a cow-boy; while the perils of a frontier settlement are vividly set forth in an indian raid. held fast for england a tale of the siege of gibraltar. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. this story deals with one of the most memorable sieges in history--the siege of gibraltar in 1779-83 by the united forces of france and spain. with land forces, fleets, and floating batteries, the combined resources of two great nations, this grim fortress was vainly besieged and bombarded. the hero of the tale, an english lad resident in gibraltar, takes a brave and worthy part in the long defence, and it is through his varied experiences that we learn with what bravery, resource, and tenacity the rock was held for england. * * * * * a list of books by kirk munroe a son of satsuma or, with perry in japan. by kirk munroe. with 12 illustrations by harry c. edwards. $1.00 net. this absorbing story for boys deals with one of the most interesting episodes in our national history. from the beginning japan has been a land of mystery. foreigners were permitted to land only at certain points on her shores, and nothing whatever was known of her civilization and history, her romance and magnificence, her wealth and art. it was commodore perry who opened her gates to the world, thus solving the mystery of the ages, and, in this thrilling story of an american boy in japan at that period, the spirit as well as the history of this great achievement is ably set forth. in pirate waters a tale of the american navy. illustrated by i. w. taber. 12mo, $1.25. the hero of the story becomes a midshipman in the navy just at the time of the war with tripoli. his own wild adventures among the turks and his love romance are thoroughly interwoven with the stirring history of that time. with crockett and bowie or, fighting for the lone star flag. a tale of texas. by kirk munroe. with 8 full-page illustrations by victor pérard. crown 8vo. $1.25. the story is of the texas revolution in 1835, when american texans under sam houston, bowie, crockett, and travis fought for relief from the intolerable tyranny of the mexican santa aña. the hero, rex hardin, son of a texan ranchman and graduate of an american military school, takes a prominent part in the heroic defense of the alamo, and the final triumph at san jacinto. through swamp and glade a tale of the seminole war. by kirk munroe. with 8 full-page illustrations by v. pérard. crown 8vo, $1.25. coacoochee, the hero of the story, is the son of philip, the chieftain of the seminoles. he grows up to lead his tribe in the long struggle which resulted in the indians being driven from the north of florida down to the distant southern wilderness. at war with pontiac or, the totem of the bear. a tale of redcoat and redskin. by kirk munroe. with 8 full-page illustrations by j. finnemore. crown 8vo, $1.25. a story when the shores of lake erie were held by hostile indians. the hero, donald hester, goes in search of his sister edith, who has been captured by the indians. strange and terrible are his experiences; for he is wounded, taken prisoner, condemned to be burned, but contrives to escape. in the end all things terminate happily. the white conquerors a tale of toltec and aztec. by kirk munroe. with 8 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, $1.25. this story deals with the conquest of mexico by cortez and his spaniards, the "white conquerors," who, after many deeds of valor, pushed their way into the great aztec kingdom and established their power in the wondrous city where montezuma reigned in splendor. midshipman stuart or, the last cruise of the essex. a tale of the war of 1812. illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. this is an absorbing story of life in the american navy during the stirring times of our war of 1812. the very spirit of the period is in its pages, and many of the adventures of the essex are studied from history. * * * * * by ernest thompson seton lives of the hunted being a true account of the doings of four quadrupeds and three birds. with 200 illustrations. $1.75 net. (postage, 15 cents.) "should be put with kipling and hans christian andersen as a classic."--the athenæum (london). wild animals i have known with 200 illustrations. $2.00. mr. ernest thompson seton's first and most famous book. more than 100,000 have been sold so far. by james whitcomb riley the book of joyous children profusely illustrated. the sweetness, the grace, the laughter, and the tenderness of mr. riley's best verse are found to the full in this book of delightful poems for and about children. the illustrations have been made under the author's supervision, and portray the scenes and the little heroes and heroines of the poems with artistic fidelity. by cyrus townsend brady in the wasp's net the story of a sea waif. illustrated. $1.50 net. (postage, 16 cents.) a vigorous story of the war of 1812. the hero, a midshipman, serves gallantly aboard two famous american ships, each bearing the name of wasp, having many adventures of storm, battle, and capture. by thomas nelson pace a captured santa claus illustrated in colors. this exquisite story of childhood is one of the most delicate that even mr. page has written. it is an episode of the civil war in which children are the little heroes. the period is the christmas time, and the scene is between the lines of the union and confederate armies. * * * * * jeb hutton, a georgia boy by james b. connolly. illustrated. $1.20 net. (postage, 13 cents.) a thoroughly interesting and breezy tale of boy-life along the savannah river by a writer who knows boys, and who has succeeded in making of the adventures of jeb and his friends a story that will keep his young readers absorbed to the last page. king mombo by paul du chaillu. author of "the world of the great forest," etc. with 24 illustrations. $1.50 net. (postage, 16 cents.) the scene is the great african forest. it is a book of interesting experiences with native tribes, and thrilling and perilous adventures in hunting elephants, crocodiles, gorillas and other fierce creatures among which this famous explorer lived so long. a new book for girls by lina beard and adelia b. beard. authors of "the american girl's handy book." profusely illustrated. an admirable collection of entirely new and original indoor and outdoor pastimes for american girls, each fully and interestingly described and explained, and all designed to stimulate the taste and ingenuity at the same time that they entertain. sea fighters from drake to farragut by jessie peabody frothingham. illustrations by reuterdahl. $1.20 net. (postage, 14 cents.) drake, tromp, de reuter, tourville, suffren, paul jones, nelson and farragut are the naval heroes here pictured, and each is shown in some great episode which illustrates his personality and heroism. the book is full of the very spirit of daring and adventurous achievement. bob and his gun by william alexander linn. with 8 illustrations. the adventures of a boy with a gun under the instruction of his cousin, an accomplished sportsman. the book's aim is to interest boys in hunting in the spirit of true sport and to instruct in the ways of game birds and animals. 