University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

It was with the most earnest solicitude that Butler and his companion
watched the course of events, and became acquainted with
the character of the ruffians into whose hands they had fallen.
The presence of James Curry in this gang excited a painful consciousness
in the mind of the soldier, that he had powerful and
secret enemies at work against him, but who they were was an impenetrable
mystery. Then the lawless habits of the people who
had possession of him, gave rise to the most anxious distrust as to
his future fate: he might be murdered in a fit of passion, or tortured
with harsh treatment to gratify some concealed malice. His
position in the army was, it seemed, known too; and, for aught
that he could tell, his mission might be no secret to his captors.
Robinson's sagacity entered fully into these misgivings. He had
narrowly observed the conduct of the party who had made them
prisoners, and with that acute insight which was concealed under a
rude and uneducated exterior, but which was strongly marked in
his actions, he had already determined upon the course which the
safety of Butler required him to pursue. According to his view of
their present difficulties it was absolutely necessary that he should
effect his escape, at whatever personal hazard. Butler, he rightly
conjectured, was the principal object of the late ambuscade; that,
for some unknown purpose, the possession of this officer became
important to those who had procured the attack upon him, and
that James Curry had merely hired this gang of desperadoes to
secure the prize. Under these circumstances, he concluded that

the Major would be so strictly guarded as to forbid all hope of
escape, and that any attempt by him to effect it would only be
punished by certain death. But, in regard to himself, his calculation
was different. “First,” said he, “I can master any three of this
beggarly crew in an open field and fair fight; and, secondly, when
it comes to the chances of a pell-mell, they will not think me of
so much account as to risk their necks by a long chase; their
whole eyes would ondoubtedly be directed to the Major.” The
sergeant, therefore, determined to make the attempt, and, in the
event of his success, to repair to Sumpter, who he knew frequented
some of the fastnesses in this region; or, in the alternative, to
rally such friends from the neighboring country as were not yet
overawed by the Tory dominion, and bring them speedily to the
rescue of Butler. Full of these thoughts, he took occasion during
the night, whilst the guard were busy in cooking their venison,
and whilst they thought him and his comrade wrapt in sleep, to
whisper to Butler the resolution he had adopted.

“I will take the first chance to-morrow to make a dash upon
these ragamuffins,” he said; “and I shall count it hard if I don't
get out of their claws. Then, rely upon me, I shall keep near
you in spite of these devils. So be prepared, if I once get away,
to see me like a witch that travels on a broomstick or creeps
through a keyhole. But whisht! the drunken vagabonds mustn't
hear us talking.”

Butler, after due consideration of the sergeant's scheme, thought
it, however perilous, the only chance they had of extricating themselves
from the dangers with which they were beset, and promised
the most ready co-operation; determining also, to let no opportunity
slip which might be improved to his own deliverance.
“Your good arm and brave heart, Galbraith, never stood you in
more urgent stead than they may do to-morrow,” was his concluding
remark.

When morning broke the light of day fell upon a strange and
disordered scene. The drunken and coarse wretches of the night
before, now lessened in number and strength by common broil and
private quarrel, lay stretched on their beds of leaves. Their motley
and ill-assorted weapons lay around in disarray; drinking cups
and empty flasks were scattered over the trodden grass, the skin

and horns of the buck, and disjointed fragments of raw flesh were
seen confusedly cast about beneath the tree, and a conspicuous object
in the scene were the clots of blood and gore, both of men
and beast, that disfigured the soil. Two new-made graves, or
rather mounds, hastily scratched together and imperfectly concealing
the limbs of the dead, prominently placed but a few feet from
the ring of last night's revelry, told of the disasters of the fight at
the ford. The brushwood fire had burned down into a heap of
smouldering ashes, and the pale and sickly features of the wounded
trooper were to be discerned upon a pallet of leaves, hard by the
heap of embers surrounded by the remnants of bones and roasted
meat that had been flung carelessly aside. In a spot of more apparent
comfort, sheltered by an overhanging canopy of vines and
alder, lay Butler stretched upon his cloak, and, close beside him,
the stout frame of Horse Shoe Robinson. In the midst of all
these marks of recent riot and carousal, sat two swarthy figures,
haggard and wan from night-watching, armed at every point, and
keeping strict guard over the prisoners.

The occasional snort and pawing of horses in the neighboring
wood showed that these animals were alert at the earliest dawn;
whilst among the first who seemed aware of the approach of day,
was seen rising from the earth, where it had been flung in stupid
torpor for some hours, the bloated and unsightly person of Hugh
Habershaw, now much the worse for the fatigue and revelry of the
preceding night. A savage and surly expression was seated on his
brow, and his voice broke forth more than ordinarily harsh and
dissonant, as he ordered the troop to rouse and prepare for their
march.

The summons was tardily obeyed; and while the yawning
members of the squad were lazily moving to their several duties
and shaking off the fumes of their late debauch, the captain was
observed bending over the prostrate form of Gideon Blake, and
directing a few anxious inquiries into his condition. The wounded
man was free from pain, but his limbs were stiff, and the region of
the stab sore and sensitive to the least touch. The indications,
however, were such as to show that his wound was not likely to
prove mortal. By the order of Habershaw, a better litter was
constructed, and the troopers were directed to bear him, by turns,

as far as Christie's, where he was to be left to the nursing of the
family. It was a full hour before the horses were saddled, the
scattered furniture collected, and the preparations for the march
completed. When these were accomplished the prisoners were
provided with the two sorriest horses of the troop, and they now
set forward at a slow pace, under the escort of four men commanded
by James Curry. The two troopers who bore the sick man followed
on foot; Habershaw with the remainder, one of whom had
appropriated Captain Peter, whilst he led the horses of the dismounted
men, brought up the rear.

On the journey there was but little spoken by any member of
the party; the boisterous and rude nature of the men who composed
the troop seemed to have been subdued by sleep into a temper
of churlish indifference or stolid apathy. Peppercorn, or
James Curry, as the reader now recognises him, strictly preserved
his guard over the prisoners, manifesting a severity of manner
altogether different from the tone of careless revelry which characterized
his demeanor on the preceding night. It never relaxed
from an official and sullen reserve. A moody frown sat upon his
brow, and his communication with the prisoners was confined to
short and peremptory commands; whilst, at the same time, he
forbade the slightest intercourse with them on the part of any of
the guard. During the short progress to Christie's he frequently
rode apart with Habershaw; and the conversation which then
occupied these two was maintained in a low tone, and with a serious
air that denoted some grave matter of deliberation.

It was more than an hour after sunrise when the cavalcade
reached the point of their present destination. There were signs
of an anxious purpose in the silence of the journey, broken as it
was only by low mutterings amongst the men, above which sometimes
arose an expression of impatience and discontent, as the subject
of their whispered discussions appeared to excite some angry
objection from several of the party; and this mystery was not
less conspicuous in the formal order of the halt, and in the pause
that followed upon their arrival at the habitation.

The house, in front of which they were drawn up, was, according
to the prevailing fashion of the time, a one-storied dwelling
covering an ample space of ground, built partly of boards and

partly of logs, with a long piazza before it, terminating in small
rooms, made by inclosing the sides for a few feet at either
extremity. Being situated some twenty paces aside from the road,
the intervening area was bounded by a fence through which a
gate afforded admission. A horse-rack, with a few feeding troughs,
was erected near this gate; and a draw-well, in the same vicinity,
furnished a ready supply of water. With the exception of a cleared
field around the dwelling, the landscape was shaded by the natural
forest.

A consultation of some minutes' duration was held between
Habershaw and Curry, when the order to dismount was given,
accompanied with an intimation of a design to tarry at this place
for an hour or two; but the men, at the same time, were directed
to leave their saddles upon their horses. One or two were detailed
to look after the refreshment of the cattle, whilst the remainder
took possession of the principal room. The first demands of the
troop were for drink, and this being indulged, the brute feeling of
conviviality which in gross natures depends altogether upon sensual
excitement, began once more to break down the barriers of
discipline, and to mount into clamor.

The scenes of the morning had made a disagreeable impression
upon the feelings of Butler and his comrade. The changed tone
and the ruffian manners of the band, the pause, and the doubts
which seemed to agitate them, boded mischief. The two prisoners,
however, almost instinctively adopted the course of conduct which
their circumstances required. They concealed all apprehension of
harm, and patiently awaited the end. Horse Shoe even took
advantage of the rising mirth of the company when drink began
to exhilarate them, and affected an easy tone of companionship
which was calculated to throw them off their guard. He circulated
freely amongst the men, and by private conference with some
of the individuals around him, who, attracted by his air of confiding
gaiety, seemed inclined to favor his approaches of familiarity,
he soon discovered that the gang were divided in sentiment in
regard to some important subject touching the proposed treatment
of himself and his friend. A party, at least, he was thus made
aware, were disposed to take his side in the secret disputes which
had been in agitation. He was determined to profit by this dissension,

and accordingly applied himself still more assiduously to cultivate
the favorable sentiment he found in existence.

Whilst breakfast was in preparation, and Habershaw and
Curry were occupied with the wounded man in an adjoining apartment,
the sergeant, playing the part of a boon companion, laughed
with the rioters, and, uninvited, made himself free of their cups.

“I should like to know,” he said to one of the troopers, “why
you are giving yourselves all this trouble about a couple of simple
travellers that happened to be jogging along the road? If you
wanted to make a pitched battle you ought to have sent us word;
but if it was only upon a drinking bout you had set your hearts,
there was no occasion to be breaking heads for the honor of getting
a good fellow in your company, when he would have come of his
own accord at the first axing. There was no use in making such
a mighty secret about it; for, as we were travelling the same road
with you, you had only to show a man the civility of saying you
wanted our escort, and you should have had it at a word. Here's
to our better acquaintance, friend!”

“You mightn't be so jolly, Horse Shoe Robinson,” said Shad
Green—or, according to his nickname, Red Mug, in a whisper;
“if some of them that took the trouble to find you, should have
their own way. It's a d—d tight pull whether you are to be
kept as a prisoner of war, or shoved under ground this morning
without tuck of drum. That for your private ear.”

“I was born in old Carolina myself,” replied Horse Shoe, aside
to the speaker; “and I don't believe there is many men to be
found in it who would stand by and see the rules and regulations
of honorable war blackened and trod down into the dust by any
cowardly trick of murder. If it comes to that, many as there are
against two, our lives will not go at a cheap price.”

“Whisht!” returned the other, “with my allowance, for one, it
shan't be. A prisoner's a prisoner, I say; and damnation to the
man that would make him out worse.”

“They say you are a merry devil, old Horse Shoe,” exclaimed
he who was called Bow Legs, who now stepped up and slapped the
sergeant on the back. “So take a swig, man; fair play is a
jewel!—that's my doctrine. Fight when you fight, and drink
when you drink—and that's the sign to know a man by.”

“There is some good things,” said the sergeant, “in this world
that's good, and some that's bad. But I have always found that
good and bad is so mixed up and jumbled together, that you don't
often get much of one without a little of the other. A sodger's a
sodger, no matter what side he is on; and they are the naturalest
people in the world for fellow-feeling. One day a man is up, and
then the laugh's on his side; next day he is down, and then the
laugh's against him. So, as a sodger has more of these ups and
downs than other folks, there's the reason his heart is tenderer
towards a comradethan other people's. Here's your health, sir.
This is a wicked world, and twisted, in a measure, upside down;
and it is well known that evil communications corrupts good
manners; but sodgers were made to set the world right again, on
its legs, and to presarve good breeding and Christian charity.
So there's a sarmon for you, you tinkers!”

“Well done, mister preacher!” vociferated a prominent reveller.
“If you will desert and enlist with us you shall be the chaplain
of the troop. We want a good swearing, drinking, and tearing
blade who can hold a discourse over his liquor, and fence with the
devil at long words. You're the very man for it! Huzza for the
blacksmith!”

“Huzza for the blacksmith!” shouted several others in the
apartment.

Butler, during this scene, had stretched himself out at full
length upon a bench, to gain some rest in his present exhausted
and uncomfortable condition, and was now partaking of the
refreshment of a bowl of milk and some coarse bread, which one
of the troopers had brought him.

“What's all this laughing and uproar about?” said Habershaw,
entering the room with Curry, just at the moment of the acclamation
in favor of the sergeant. “Is this a time for your cursed wide
throats to be braying like asses! We have business to do. And
you, sir,” said he, turning to Butler, “you must be taking up the
room of a half dozen men on a bench with your lazy carcase! Up,
sir; I allow no lolling and lying about to rascally whigs and rebels.
You have cost me the death of a dog that is worth all your filthy
whig kindred; and you have made away with two of the best men
that ever stept in shoe leather. Sit up, sir, and thank your luck

that you haven't your arms pinioned behind you, like a horse
thief.”

“Insolent coward,” said Butler, springing upon his feet;
“hired ruffian! you shall in due time be made to pay for the
outrage you have inflicted upon me.”

“Tie him up!” cried Habershaw; “tie him up! And now I
call you all to bear witness that he has brought the sentence upon
himself; it shall be done without waiting another moment. Harry
Gage, I give the matter over to you. Draw out four men, take
them into the yard, and dispatch the prisoners off-hand! shoot
the traitors on the spot, before we eat our breakfasts! I was a
fool that I didn't settle this at daylight this morning—the rascally
filth of the earth! Have no heart about it, men; but make sure
work by a short distance. This is no time for whining. When
have the Whigs shown mercy to us!”

“It shall be four against four, then!” cried out Shadrach
Green, seconded by Andrew Clopper; “and the first shot that is
fired shall be into the bowels of Hugh Habershaw! Stand by me,
boys!”

In a moment the parties were divided, and had snatched up
their weapons, and then stood looking angrily at each other as if
daring each to commence the threatened affray.

“Why, how now, devil's imps!” shouted Habershaw. “Have
you come to a mutiny? Have you joined the rebels? James
Curry, look at this! By the bloody laws of war, I will report
every rascal who dares to lift his hand against me!”

“The thing is past talking about,” said the first speaker, coolly.
“Hugh Habershaw, neither you nor James Curry shall command
the peace if you dare to offer harm to the prisoners. Now, bully,
report that as my saying. They are men fairly taken in war, and
shall suffer no evil past what the law justifies. Give them up to
the officer of the nearest post—that's what we ask—carry them to
Innis's camp if you choose; but whilst they are in our keeping
there shall be no blood spilled without mixing some of your own
with it, Hugh Habershaw.”

“Arrest the mutineers!” cried Habershaw, trembling with rage.
“Who are my friends in this room? Let them stand by me, and
then—blast me if I don't force obedience to my orders!”

“You got off by the skin of your teeth last night,” said Green,
“when you tried to take the life of Gideon Blake. For that you
deserved a bullet through your skull. Take care that you don't
get your reckoning this morning, captain and all as you are.”

“What in the devil would you have?” inquired Habershaw,
stricken into a more cautious tone of speech by the decided bearing
of the man opposed to him.

“The safety of the prisoners until they are delivered to the
commander of a regular post; we have resolved upon that!” was
the reply.

“Curry!” said Habershaw, turning in some perplexity to the
dragoon as if for advice.

“Softly, Captain; we had better have a parley here,” said
Curry, who then added in a whisper: “There's been some damned
bobbery kicked up here by the blacksmith. This comes of giving
that fellow the privilege of talking.”

“A word, men,” interposed Horse Shoe, who during this interval
had planted himself near Butler, and with him stood ready to act
as the emergency might require. “Let me say a word. This
James Curry is my man. Give me a broadsword and a pair of
pistols, and I will pledge the hand and word of a sodger, upon
condition that I am allowed five minutes' parole, to have a pass,
here in the yard, with him—it shall be in sight of the whole
squad—I pledge the word of a sodger to deliver myself back again
to the guard, dead or alive, without offering to take any chance to
make off in the meantime. Come, James Curry, your word to
the back of that, and then buckle on your sword, man. I heard
your whisper.”

“Soldiers,” said Curry, stepping into the circle which the party
had now formed round the room, “let me put in a word as a
peace-maker. Captain Habershaw won't be unreasonable. I will
vouch for him that he will fulfil your wish regarding the conveying
of the prisoners to a regular post. Come, come, let us have
no brawling! For shame! put down your guns. There may be
reason in what you ask, although it isn't so much against the
fashion of the times to shoot a Whig either. But anything for the
sake of quiet amongst good fellows. Be considerate, noble captain,
and do as the babies wish. As for Horse Shoe's brag—he is an

old soldier, and so am I; that's enough. We are not so green as
to put a broadsword and a brace of pistols into the hands of a
bullying prisoner. No, no, Horse Shoe! try another trick, old
boy! Ha, ha, lads! you are a set of fine dashing chaps, and this
is only one of your madcap bits of spunk that boils up with your
liquor. Take another cup on it, my merry fellows, and all will be
as pleasant as the music of a fife. Come, valiant Captain of the
Tiger, join us. And as for the prisoners—why let them come in
for snacks with us. So there's an end of the business. All is as
mild as new milk again.”

“Well, well, get your breakfasts,” said Habershaw gruffly.
“Blast you! I have spoiled you by good treatment, you ungrateful,
carnivorous dogs! But, as Peppercorn says, there's an end of
it! So go to your feeding, and when that's done we will push for
Blackstock's.”

The morning meal was soon despatched, and the party reassembled
in the room where the late disturbance had taken place.
The good-nature of Robinson continued to gain upon those who
had first taken up his cause, and even brought him into a more
lenient consideration with the others. Amongst the former I have
already noted Andrew Clopper, a rough and insubordinate member
of the gang, who, vexed by some old grudge against the fat
captain, had efficiently sustained Green in the late act of mutiny,
and who now, struck with Horse Shoe's bold demeanor towards
Curry, began to evince manifest signs of a growing regard for the
worthy sergeant. With this man Horse Shoe contrived to hold a
short and secret interview that resulted in the quiet transfer of a
piece of gold into the freebooter's hand, which was received with a
significant nod of assent to whatever proposition accompanied it.
When the order of “boot and saddle” was given by Habershaw,
the several members of the troop repaired to their horses, where a
short time was spent in making ready for the march; after which
the whole squad returned to the porch and occupied the few moments
of delay in that loud and boisterous carousal which is apt to
mark the conduct of such an ill-organized body in the interval
immediately preceding the commencement of a day's ride. This
was a moment of intense interest to the sergeant, who kept his
eyes steadily fixed upon the movements of Clopper, as that individual

lingered behind his comrades in the equipment of his horse.
This solicitude did not, however, arrest his seeming mirth, as he
joined in the rude jests of the company and added some sallies of
his own.

“Give me that cup,” he said at length, to one of the men, as
he pointed to a gourd on a table; “before we start I have a notion
to try the strength of a little cold water, just by way of physic,
after all the liquor we have been drinking,” and, having got the
implement in his hand, he walked deliberately to the draw-well,
where he dipped up a draught from the bucket that stood on its
brink. As he put the water to his lips and turned his back upon
the company, he was enabled to take a survey of the horses that
were attached to the rack near him: then, suddenly throwing the
gourd from him, he sprang towards his own trusty steed, leaped
into his saddle at one bound, and sped, like an arrow from a bow,
upon the highway. This exploit was so promptly achieved that
no one was aware of the sergeant's purpose until he was some
twenty paces upon his journey. As soon as the alarm of his flight
was spread, some three or four rifles were fired after him in rapid
succession, during which he was seen ducking his head and moving
it from side to side with a view to baffle the aim of the marksmen.
The confusion of the moment in which the volley was given rendered
it ineffectual, and the sergeant was already past the first
danger of his escape.

“To horse and follow!” resounded from all sides.

“Look to the other prisoner!” roared out Habershaw; “if he
raises his head blow out his brains! Follow, boys, follow!”

“Two or three of your come with me,” cried Curry, and a couple
of files hastened with the dragoon to their horses. Upon arriving
at the rack it was discovered that the bridles of the greater part
of the troop were tied in hard knots in such a manner as to connect
each two or three horses together.

A short delay took place whilst the horsemen were disentangling
their reins, and Curry, being the first to extricate his steed, mounted
and set off in rapid pursuit. He was immediately followed by
two others.

At the end of half an hour the two privates returned and reported
that they had been unable to obtain a view of the sergeant

or even of Curry. Shortly afterwards the dragoon himself was
descried retracing his steps at a moderate trot towards the house.
His plight told a tale upon him of discomfiture. One side of his
face was bleeding with a recent bruise, his dress disarranged and
his back covered with dust. The side of his horse also bore the
same taint of the soil.

He rode up to Habershaw—who was already upon the road at
the head of the remaining members of the squad, having Butler
in charge—and informed him that he had pursued the sergeant at
full speed until he came in sight of him, when the fugitive had
slackened his gait as if on purpose to allow himself to be overtaken.

“But, the devil grip the fellow!” he added, “he has a broadside
like a man-of-war! In my hurry I left my sword behind me,
and, when I came up with him, I laid my hand upon his bridle;
but, by some sudden sleight which he has taught his horse, he
contrived, somehow or other, to upset me—horse and all—down a
bank on the road-side. And, when I lay on the ground sprawling,
do you think the jolly runagate didn't rein up and give me a broad
laugh, and ask me if he could be of any sarvice to me? He then
bade me good bye, saying he had an engagement that prevented
him from favoring me any longer with his company. Gad! it
was so civilly done that all I could say was, luck go with you, Mr.
Horse Shoe; and, since we are to part company so soon, may the
devil pad your saddle for you! I'll do him the justice to say that
he's a better horseman than I took him for. I can hardly begrudge
a man his liberty who can win it as cleverly as he has
done.”

“Well, there's no more to be said about it,” remarked Habershaw.
“He is only game for another day. He is like a bear's
cub; which is as much as to signify that he has a hard time before
him. He would have only given us trouble; so let him go.
Now, boys, away for Blackstock's; I will engage I keep the fox
that's left safely enough.”

With these words the troop proceeded upon their march.