University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

It was a little before day-break on Sunday morning, the fifteenth
of August (a day rendered memorable by the exploit of Sumpter,
who captured, in the vicinity of Rocky Mount, a large quantity of
military stores, and a numerous escort, then on their way from
Ninety-Six to Camden), that James Curry was travelling in the
neighborhood of the Ennoree, some four miles distant from
Musgrove's mill. He had a few hours before left the garrison of
Ninety-Six, and was now hieing with all haste to Blackstock's on
a mission of importance. The night had been sultry, but the
approach of the dawn had brought with it that refreshing coolness
which is always to be remarked in the half hour that precedes the
first blush of morning. The dragoon had had a weary night-ride,
but the recent change of temperature had invigorated his system
and given buoyaney to his spirits. This effect was exhibited in his
first whistling a tune, then humming the words of a ditty, and,
finally, in breaking forth into a loud full song, which, as he had a
good voice and practised skill, increased in loudness as he became
better pleased with the trial of his powers. The song was occasionally
intermitted to give room to certain self-communings which the
pastime suggested.

he sang in the loudest strain, trying the words on different keys,
and introducing some variations in the tune—

“That's true; your poor moneyless devil, how should his wit pass

current? He was a shrewd fellow that wrote it down. Your rich
man for wit, all the world over, and so the song runs:—

“True, true as gospel! Give the knaves dinners, plenty of
Burgundy and Port, and what signifies an empty head? Go to
college, and how is it there? What is a sizer's joke? If the
fellow have the wit of Diogenes, it is sheer impertinence. But let
my young lord Crœsus come out with his flatulent nonsense, oh,
that's the true ware for the market! James Curry, James Curry,
what ought you to have been, if the supple jade fortune had done
your deserts justice! Instead of a d—d dodging dragoon, obedient
to the beck of every puppy who wears his majesty's epaulets;
but it's no matter, that's past; the wheel has made its turn, and
here I am, doing the work of the scullion, that ought to sit above
the salt-cellar. Vogue la galére! We will play out the play.
Meantime, I'll be merry in spite of the horscope: come then, I
like these words and the jolly knave, whoever he was, that penned
them.

The singer was, at this instant, arrested at the top of his voice
by a blow against the back of his head, bestowed, apparently, by
some ponderous hand, that so effectually swayed him from the
line of gravity, as to cause him to reel in his saddle, and, by an
irrecoverable impetus, to swing round to the ground, where he
alighted on his back, with the reins of his horse firmly held in his
hand.

“Singing on Sunday is against the law,” said a hoarse voice,
that came apparently from the air, as the darkness of the hour—
which was increased by an overcast and lowering sky, as well as by
the thick wood through which the road ran, prevented the stricken
man from discerning anything that might have done him harm,
even if such thing had been bodily present. The soldier lay for a
moment prostrate, bewildered by the suddenness of this mysterious
visitation; and when, at length, he regained his feet, he almost

fancied that he heard receding from him, at a great distance, the
dull beat of a horse's foot upon the sandy road.

Curry, who as a soldier was insensible to fear, now shook in every
joint, as he stood beside his horse in a state of confused and ravelled
wonderment. He strained his ear to catch the sound in the direction
towards which he thought he had heard the retreating footsteps,
but his more deliberate attention persuaded him that he was mistaken
in his first impression. Still more puzzled as he came into the possession
of his faculties, of which the abruptness of the surprise
had almost bereft him, he stood for some time mute; then drawing
his sword with the alacrity of a man, who all at once believes
himself in danger of an uplifted blow, he called out loudly,

“Speak, and show yourself, if you be a man! Or if there be a
party, let them come forth. Who waylays me? Remember, I
warn him, in the name of the king, that I am on his majesty's
errand, and that they are not far off who will punish any outrage
on my person. By all the powers of Satan, the place is bewitched!”
he exclaimed, after a pause. “Once more, speak; whether you
are to be conjured in the name of the king or of the devil!”

All remained silent, except the leaves of the forest that fluttered
in the breeze; and it was with an awkward and unacknowledged
sense of faint-heartedness that Curry put up his sword and
remounted into his saddle. He first moved slowly forward in continuation
of his journey; and, as his thoughts still ran upon the
extraordinary incident, he applied spurs to his horse's, side, and
gradually increased his pace from a trot to a gallop, and from that
to almost high speed, until he emerged from the wood upon a
track of open country. When he reached this spot the day had
already appeared above the eastern horizon; and reassured, as
the light waxed stronger, the dragoon, by degrees, fell into his
customary travelling pace, and resumed the equanimity of his
temper.

About ten o'clock in the day he reached Blackstock's, where he
arrived in a heavy rain, that had been falling for the last three hours,
and which had drenched him to the skin. So, rapidly dismounting
and giving his horse into the charge of some of the idlers
about the door, he entered the common room in which were
assembled the greater part of the militia guard and of Habershaw's

troopers. His first movement was to take the burly captain aside,
and to communicate to him certain orders from the commanding
officer at Ninety-Six, respecting the prisoner; which being done,
he mingled with his usual affectedly careless and mirthful manner
amongst the throng.

Butler, through the intercession of Bruce, had been indulged
with some mitigation of the restraints at first imposed upon him;
and he was, at this moment, availing himself of the privilege that
had been allowed him, on account of the leaky condition of the
barn in which he had spent the night, to take his morning meal
inside of the dwelling-house. He was accordingly seated at a
table, in a corner of the room, with some eatables before him in a
more comfortable state of preparation than he had hitherto
enjoyed. Two soldiers stood sufficiently near to render his custody
effectual without much personal annoyance. As yet he had been
unable to glean anything from the conversation of those around
him, by which he might form the least conjecture as to his probable
destiny. His intercourse with his captors was restricted to the
mere supply of his immediate wants. All other communication
was strictly interdicted. Even Habershaw himself seemed to be
under some authoritative command, to deny himself the gratification
of either exhibiting his own importance, or of wreaking his
spleen upon his prisoner; and when Butler attempted to gain
from Bruce some hint as to what was intended, the only answer
he received was conveyed by the soldier's putting his finger on his
lip.

Butler knew enough of Robinson's hardihood and venturesome
disposition, to feel perfectly confident that he would make good
his promise to be near him, at whatever personal hazard; and he
was, therefore, in momentary expectation of receiving further
intelligence from the sergeant in some of those strange, bold, and
perilous forms of communication, which the character of the
trusty soldier warranted him in counting upon. His knowledge that
Robinson had passed by Blackstock's on the day preceding, gave
him some assurance that the sergeant was in the diligent prosecution
of his purpose to seek Sumpter, or some other of the partisan
Whig corps in their hiding-places, and to try the hazardous experiment
of his (Butler's) rescue from his present thraldom, by a

vigorous incursion into the district where he was now confined.
With this calculation of the course of events, he was prepared to
hear, at every hour of the day, of some sudden alarm; and ready
to co-operate, by seizing the first moment of confusion to snatch up
a weapon, and force his way through the ranks of his guard. It
was with such anticipations that now, whilst seemingly engrossed
with the satisfaction of his physical wants at the table, he lent an
attentive ear to the conversation which passed in the house between
Curry and the company who were clustered around him. The
dragoon, at first, in a light and merry vein of narrative, recounted
to his hearers the singular visitation he had experienced before
daybreak; and he contrived to fling over his story an additional
hue of mystery, by the occasional reflections with which he seasoned
it, tending to inculcate the belief to which he himself partly
inclined, that the incident was brought about through the agency
of some pranking and mischievous spirit,—a conclusion which, at
that period, and amongst the persons to whom the adventure was
related, did not require any great stretch of faith to sustain it.
Some of his auditors fortified this prevailing inclination of opinion,
by expressing their own conviction of the interference of malignant
and supernatural influences in the concerns of mankind, and gave
their personal experience of instances in which these powers were
active. The conversation by degrees changed its tone from that
of levity and laughter into one of grave and somewhat fearful
interest, according to the increasing marvel which the several
stories that were told excited in the superstitious minds of the
circle; and in the same proportion that this sentiment took possession
of the thoughts of the company, they became more unreserved
in their language, and louder in the utterance of it, thus giving
Butler the full benefit of all that was said.

“But, after all,” said one of the men, “mightn't you have been
asleep on your horse, James Curry, and had a sort of jogging
dream, when a limb of a tree across the road, for it was a dark
morning, might have caught you under the throat and flung you
out of your saddle: and you, not knowing whether you was asleep
or awake, for a man who is on duty, without his night's rest,
sometimes can't tell the difference, thought it was some hobgoblin
business?”

“No,” said Curry, “that's impossible; for I was singing a song
at the time, and almost at the top of my voice. I had been
sleepy enough before that, just after I left Ninety-Six, near midnight,
for I had ridden a long way; but as it grew towards day-light
I began to rouse up, so that when this thing happened I was
as much awake as I am now.”

“Then it's a downright case of ghost,” said the other. “It
knew you was upon a wicked errand, and so that back-handed blow
was a warning to you. These things are sometimes meant to be
friendly; and who knows but this oversetting you in the road
might have been intended to signify that you had better not
meddle in cases of life and death. If you would take my advice,
you would just treat this Major Butler, that you took prisoner”—

Curry looked at the speaker with a frown, as he made a motion
to him to be silent. “Remember where you are, and who may
hear you,” he said in a cautious voice, as he glanced his eye
towards Butler, who was leaning his head upon the table, as if in
slumber.

“Oh, I understand,” replied the soldier of the guard. “I forgot
he was in the room.”

“The weather holds up,” said Habershaw, who now walked into
the house. “The rain has slackened; and so, orderly, if you
have had a bite of something to eat, the boys had better be got
ready to march. We have a long way to go, and as the infantry
march with us we shall get on slowly.”

“I think so, noble Captain,” replied Curry. “I shall be ready
to join you before you get your line formed.”

Orders were now issued by Habersbaw, both to the troopers of
his own squad and to the militia detachment, to put themselves in
condition for an immediate movement. The clouds, during the
last half hour, had been breaking away, and the sun soon burst
forth upon the wet and glittering landscape, in all the effulgence
of mid summer. During a brief interval of preparation the party
of infantry and cavalry that now occupied the hamlet exhibited
the bustle incident to the gathering of the corps. Some ran to
one quarter for their arms, others to the stables for their horses; a
cracked trumpet in the hands of a lusty performer, who here
joined the troop, kept up a continual braying, and was seconded

by the ceaseless beat of a slack and dull drum. There were some
who, having put on their military equipments, thronged the table
of the common room of the house, where spirits and water had
been set out for their accommodation, and rude jokes, laughter, and
oaths, were mingled together in deafening clamor.

“Move out the prisoner,” shouted Habershaw; “he goes with
the infantry afoot. I'll never trust another of the tribe with a
horse.”

“Follow, sir,” said one of the sentinels near Butler's person, as
he faced to the right with his musket at an “advance,” and led the
way to the door.

Butler rose, and, before he placed himself in the position
required, asked:

“Where is it you purpose to conduct me?”

“Silence!” said Habershaw sternly. “Obey orders, sir, and
march where you are directed.”

Butler folded his arms and looked scornfully at the uncouth
savage before him as he replied:

“I am a prisoner, sir, and therefore bound to submit to the force
that constrains me. But there will be a day of reckoning, both
for you and your master. It will not be the lighter to him for
having hired such a ruffian to do the business in which he is
ashamed to appear himself.”

“Devil's leavings!” screamed Habershaw, almost choked with
choler, “dare you speak to me so? By my heart, I have a mind
to cleave your skull for you! My master, sir! You will find out,
before long, who is master, when Hugh Habershaw has tied the
knot that is to fit your neck.”

“Peace, villain!” exclaimed Butler; “I cannot come too soon
into the presence of those who claim to direct your motions.”

Here James Curry interposed to draw off the incensed captain,
and Butler, having received another order from the officer of the
guard, moved out upon the road and took the place that was
assigned him, between two platoons of the foot soldiers.

The troopers being mounted and formed into column of march
with Habershaw and his trumpeter at the head and Curry in the
rear, now moved forward at a slow gait, followed by the detachment
of infantry who had the prisoner under their especial charge.

It was near noon when the party took up the line of march,
and they prosecuted their journey southward with such expedition
as to tax Butler's powers to the utmost to keep even pace with
them over roads that were in many places rendered miry by the
late rain. Towards evening, however, the sun had sufficiently dried
the soil to make the travel less fatiguing; and by that hour when
the light of day only lingered upon the tops of the western hills,
the military escort, with their prisoner, were seen passing through
a defile that opened upon their view an extensive bivouac of some
two or three hundred horse and foot, and occupying a space of
open field, encompassed with wood and guarded in its rear by a
smooth and gentle river.

The spot at which they had arrived was the camp of a partisan
corps under the command of Colonel Innis. A farm-house was
seen in the immediate neighborhood, which was used as the head-quarters
of a party of officers. Numerous horses were attached
to the trees that bounded the plain, and various shelters were
made in the same quarter, in the rudest form of accommodation,
of branches and underwood set against ridge-poles, that were sustained
by stakes, to protect the men against the weather. Groups
of this irregular soldiery were scattered over the plain, a few
wagons were seen collected in one direction, and, not far off, a line
of fires, around which parties were engaged in cooking food. Here
and there a sentinel was seen pacing his short limits, and occasionally
the roll of a drum and the flourish of a fife announced
some ceremony of the camp police.

The escort marched quickly across this plain until it arrived in
front of the farm-house. Here a guard was drawn up to receive
them; and, as soon as the usual military salute was passed and
the order to “stand at ease” given, Habershaw put the detachment
under the command of the lieutenant of infantry, and, accompanied
by Curry, walked into the house to make his report to the
commanding officer of the post.

In a few moments afterwards Colonel Innis, attended by two or
three military men—some of whom wore the uniform of the
British regular army—came from the house and passed hastily
along the line of the escort, surveying Butler only with a rapid
glance. Having regained the door, he was heard to say—

“It is very well; let the prisoner have a room above stairs.
See that he wants nothing proper to his situation; and, above all,
be attentive that he be kept scrupulously under the eye of his
guard.”

When this order was given, the Colonel retired with his attendants
to his quarters, and Butler was forthwith conducted, by a file
of men, up a narrow, winding stair, to a small apartment in the
angle of the roof, where he was provided with a chair, a light, and
a comfortable bed. His door was left open, and on the outside
of it, full in his view, was posted a sentinel. He was too weary even
to be troubled with the cares of his present condition; and, without
waiting, therefore, for food, or seeking to inquire into whose hands
he had fallen, or even to turn his thoughts upon the mysterious
train of circumstances that hung over him, he flung himself upon
the couch and sank into a profound and grateful sleep.