University of Virginia Library

24. CHAPTER XXIV.

The surprise of Edith at this revelation
had scarcely had time to express
itself in words of exclamation, when the
shouts of the people on the wharves
reached their ears. Barbara hastened
to the cupola of the house to see if
she could ascertain the cause; and beholding
the numerous lights moving,
and still hearing the noise and uproar
of voices, solicitous for her father's
safety, she resolved to go down and ascertain
what it meant. But before she
haad got many steps from the house, followed
by the trembling Edith, who
would have dissuaded her from going,
she fell in with several persons, who
told her that her father's brig had arrived,
and that the towns-people were resolved
to aid him in landing the cargo,
in spite of the British ship, or of the
Commissioners. Her anxiety now increased,
and coming to a group of women
and old people, who were gathered
at a point from which the brig and multitude
were visible, she paused to hear
their accounts of the matter; and being
entreated not to go nearer the scene, she
lingered with them, sending forward
two lads to ascertain where her father
was.

But they had not been gone many
minutes before the African slave came
past on his way to the house. He was
at once recognized by several persons
as he hurried by, and his name was
spoken out. Barbara called him to her
and said in a hurried voice that betrayed
her deep solicitude,

“Where is my father? Is he safe?”

“Ah, bress my soul! I grad to find
you Miss Barbara,” responded the negro,
taking off his hat as he approached her.
“Yis, massa safe, and in de brig! He
send me to tell you stay home and not
be alarmed for him; that all will be safe
in the end!”

“I trust so. Are they getting out
the cargo?”

“It most half out already! I nebber
see men work so in my life! Money
nebber make 'em work in dat a-way!—
but I can't stop here, Missus! Massa
wants me to bring him de key ob his
desk! He forget him!”

“You know where it is! Hasten,
then, and take it to him; and beg him
to keep out of danger.”

“Dat I will, Missy. But we hab
been in danger enuff to-night.”

“Yes, the firing! What caused it?”

“A British schooner fired her big
guns at us to stop us. But we got up
and leff 'em behind us on a bar! Dey
no catch us.”

Thus saying, and ending his words
with a laugh, the negro proceeded on
his way, but he had gone but a few rods
when several persons cried “Here
comes Mad Margaret?” and at the same
moment she appeared; for as several of
the women held candles or lanterns in
their hands, her face was plainly visible.
Hearing herself spoken of in this manner
now became so painful to her, she
was passing on, when her eye fell upon
Barbara Frankland.

“Ah, maiden, are you here also?—
This is a stirring and eventful night.—
All the town, as far as I have been, is
up and in the doors, or in the street.”

“Where have you been, Mag?”

“How will the king take this night's
work, Margy?”

“Tell us whether the ship will fire
upon us?” were the questions put to
her by the thoughtless crowd.

“I can tell nothing, my friends,” she
said, calmly.

“Good people,” spoke Barbara aloud,
“it must be painful for this excellent
woman to be regarded in the light of a
fortune-teller as heretofore; for she has
been recently restored to her reason in
a most wonderful manner! Believe
me, that she is this night as much in
her right mind as any one of us. I
know you will rejoice to hear this.”

“We do! we do! Blessings on her
and long life to her!” cried several
persons. “But it is a strange thing!”

“It may seem a strange thing to you,
my towns-folk and neighbors,” said Margaret,
standing before them, and addressing
them in a tone of quiet dignity,
while her face and whole demeanor
bore testimony to the truth of the maiden's
words: “but when I tell you that
the same cause which deprived me of
my reason has restored it to me, and
that it is my son! You all know it
was his loss that made me what I have
been in five years past. He this night
came back to me, and has been folded
to my bosom a noble looking young
man! He escaped from the sloop-of-war
now anchored in the harbor, by swimming
ashore! He is now free as you
or I! But lest there may be foes to
him in this crowd, I will not tell you
where he is, only that he is safe where
the power of England's King can not
reach him!”

At these words, there was a general
exclamation from those around, and they
overwhelmed Margaret with congratulations
upon the happiness she had received.
In the midst of it she glided
away from them and hastened homeward.
She had not gone far before
Barbara was at her side.

“Margaret, where have you left him?”
she asked earnestly.

“Safe! I left him to come into the
town to know what all this uproar and
shouting meant. At first I feared it was
made by his enemies in searching for
him. I am now hastening back to him.
He will be impatient at my long absence.”

“I will go with you. I have sent
Edith home, and can go with you, as I
shall not see my father for some time.
Besides I wish to know that the brave
Martin is safely hidden from his foes.
I fear you were imprudent in making
known so publicly that he was on shore.
There may have been king's partisans
in the crowd. They will direct any
boat's crew to your house.”

“I could not help telling my joy to
them all. But they can never find
him!”

“My object in going with you now,
Margaret, is to have his safety cared
for, now that you have betrayed him unintentionally.
He must find an asylum
in my father's house. His pursuers
would not hesitate to set fire to your
cabin, if they suspected he was concealed
within it.”

“You are righ! A boat's crew
might land and he would fall into their
power or perish in the flames. Let us
hasten; my heart faints already lest he
should be in danger at this moment.—
You shall have charge of his safety; for
I know, maiden, his safety is dear to
you, poor and humble as he is by birth.”

“I will not disguise from you my
true feelings, Margaret. His safety is
dear, very dear to me.”

“And thy own love for my noble boy
is responded to in every fibre of his
heart, maiden.”

“Hast thou talked with him?”

“Yes; and he loves thee with all his
being. But he fears and despairs, for
thou art rich and—”

“If I am rich it is to enrich him,
Margaret. If he thinks of me as you
say, I and all mine belong to him; for
where I have given my heart, I withhold
nothing that is of lesser value. Hist!
I hear oars.”

“It is a boat; let us hasten. It may
be coming for him.”

They soon reached the cabin. All
was quiet; but the boat was visible
rowing towards it. It seemed full of
men.

“I will get him out, and we will go up
round the hill with him, and so to your
house through the garden,” said Margaret.
“He will be safer there.”

With these words she entered the
hut and hastened to the hiding-place.—
In a low voice she called her son by
name, and receiving no reply, proceeded
in the darkness to feel for the boards
to remove them, when she found that
one of them was displaced. She quickly
put her arm in and felt all about the
closet for him, but found only vacancy.
She called his name repeatedly and in
accents of anguish.

“Speak, Martin! It is your mother
that calls. If you are here, answer me,
or I shall die.”

There was no reply. Barbara called
to him also, but received no answer.

“Strike a light, Margaret,” she said
earnestly, “for he may have fainted and
be lying near us.”

The light was soon made and the
closet and rooms examined. It was
evident to both, that he had left his place
of concealment voluntarily, or been
taken by enemies. In their surprise and
alarm they both forgot the approaching
boat; and while they were still wondering
at the cause of his absence, the door
of the hut was filled with rough men;
and two petty officers entered, armed
with swords. One of them was the
gunner of the Gaspee.

“Guard all the outlets, while we
search for him in the house,” he cried.
“So, who are you?” he added addressing
Margaret, behind whom Barbara
involuntarily shrunk.

“I am the owner of this house, and
demand to know the meaning of this intrusion?”
she answered firmly, and
with a secret joy; for she now knew
from the first words he had uttered that
her son was not yet re-taken as she had
feared.

“We come in the king's name for a
deserter, called Martin Manwaring;
and we have reason to believe he is
here.”

“He is not.”

“We will soon see. Search lads,
every locker and every hole. We'll
have him if he is to be found in this old
hulk here. Ah, what beauty is this?—
A lady, by the beard of Old Nep! Come,
young, mistress, where have you hid the
young larkee?”

“Don't address this young lady rudely,
sir,” said Margaret, sternly.—
“She is rich and high-born, the daughter
of Mr. Frankland.”

“The daughter of the owner of the
brig, Mr. Officer,” said a red faced
man, stepping up, “and you had best
take her on board as security for her
father's behavior.”

“A good thought,” answered the
gunner, “but who are you?”

“I am a citizen of the town, a butcher,
and a good friend to the king,” answered
the man. It was me that
hailed your boat five minutes ago, as
you were pulling up towards the town,
and told you if you wanted to catch a
deserter, to land in here. And I know
that he is here, for I heard his mother,
there not a quarter of an hour ago say
that she had seen him to-night. Don't
give up the search! But an't any of
the sloop's boats coming to see about
this brig's cargo, landing as is?”

“I don't know. Our boat belongs
to the Gaspee, and we are going up to
see what has become of a brig that got
by us, and to know the meaning of the
shouts. The Bexley's boats haven't yet
reached the ship from an expedition
down the bay. There is our Captain
Arling and ten men in the boat, besides
what is here, and when he heard your

hail, he put right in here, (for the Bexley's
boats told us about the deserter,)
and sent me up to catch the runaway;
for they mean to make an example of
him. Do you see any thing in that
room, lads? Have you searched it
through?”

“Not a kitten could escape us,” answered
one of the men.

The house was thoroughly searched,
and as no trace of the fugitive was discovered,
the party took its leave, the
boatswain following the advice of the
butcher, and taking captive with him
Barbara Frankland. She saw that resistance
would be vain, and believing
that the officer in the boat would order
her release as soon as he beheld her,
she bade Margaret not to rouse the
fierce anger of the men, by attempting
to defend her, but go and inform her
father the fate which had befallen her,
if she should be carried on board the
Bexley.

Margaret, filled with grief and rage,
at seeing the maiden led off by the gunner,
followed them to the boat. Here
Arling being told of the flight of the
deserter from the house, and the capture
of the daughter of Mr. Frankland, said:

“This fair prisoner will do better
than the other! Come, Miss Frankland,
you shall shall be my guest.—
Your father has proved himself traitor
to the crown, and we will have you as
a guarantee for his good behavior.”

In vain Barbara appealed to his humanity
and manliness. He drew her
by the hand into the boat, and forcing
Margaret back with the oars of his men,
ordered them to pull back to the Gaspee.

“To the Gaspee?” exclaimed the
midshipman, who acted as coxswain.

“Yes. Obey and ask no questions.”

The boat darted away from the shore
with her prow down the bay, and in
three quarters of an hour reached the
schooner. Arling, with a show of gallantry,
escorted his beautiful captive to
the cabin. Barbara saw that quiet submission
to her captivity was the only
judicious course. She believed that she
would soon be released, and while she
was indignant at the conduct of Arling
in taking her prisoner, she would not
let him see that she was alarmed at all.
On the way to the Gaspee, he had tried
to converse with her, but she invariably
preserved the stillest silence, replying
to no question. Yet all the while she
was wondering where she had heard
the voice. It was too dark to see his
face in the boat, but on entering the
lighted cabin, she turned quickly upon
him to gratify her curiosity, when she
was stupefied with surprise and displeasure.

“Lieutenant Arling!”

“Yes, Miss Frankland, your most
devoted admirer!” he answered, smiling.
“Little did I anticipate, two
hours ago, the happiness of having you
as my guest. Two years ago in Boston,
you disdained the offer of my hand:
now that fortune has thrown you into
my power, I will give you an opportunity
to change your mind.”

“Sir, this insult to a lady—”

“Nay, I treat you with the greatest
courtesy. This cabin is at your disposal.
I leave you here to reflect upon
the offer which I once more renew to
you Your father, if all I hear is true,
has forfeited his head by this night's
doings. You will need a protector. I
will be that one.”

“I cannot prevent you from saying
what you will, sir, but I shall act independently
and fearlessly, though a captain.
I now tell you, sir, you have even
less hope than ever. I despise and scorn
you.”

“Very well. I will give you a night
to think of it. I must now return to
the town, and also see Sir William
Petty!”

With these words he left her with an
elegant bow and a smile, and she soon
afterwards heard his boat rowing away
from the schooner.

Leaving Barbara Frankland in her
sudden and singular captivity, we will
now return to Martin Manwaring.