 | CHAPTER XVIII.
A PARLEY. The kinsmen, or, The black riders of Congaree |  |
18. CHAPTER XVIII.
A PARLEY.
“What does all this mean, Stockton?” demanded
Gray.
“What you see. The meaning's plain enough, Watson
Gray,” was the insolent reply.
“Ay, I see well enough that you are disposed to murder
your superior; but on what pretence? How will
you answer to Lord Rawdon for this insubordination—
this mutiny, for it is no less. Captain Morton has the
commission of Sir Henry Clinton. He is your commander.”
“Yes, but he is the property of the troop also.”
“Well, what then. Suppose we allow that.”
“That is enough. He is a traitor to them.”
“Ha!—a traitor!”
“Yes!—a base, dishonest traitor.”
“How! In what way is he a traitor?”
“He is sworn to be true to them.”
“Well, if to be mangled in their battles is to be true to
them, he certainly has been true a long time.”
“But he is a traitor at last. He has sold them, and is
about to desert them.”
“This is a mere fetch, Stockton. There is no ground
for such pretence. You are the enemy of Captain Morton.
We all know that of old. You are contriving it
against him to destroy him. Beware! You know me
quite as well as I know you. I tell you, that if you go
one inch on either hand from the right, your neck
stretches on the gallows in the sight of all Charlestown.”
“'Pshaw! Watson Gray! You don't hope to frighten
me at this time of day with your ugly words. I know
what I'm about. Captain Morton is a traitor to the troop,
and we'll prove it. He is false to his oath, and will be
made to answer all its penalties.”
“That's well enough but what gives you the right,
till the thing's proved, to lift pistol to his head.”
“The thing's proved already.”
“What! without a trial?”
“We've two witnesses against him.”
“Where are they? We'll hear them, not you. You
are a little too fast.”
“You shall hear both. You shall hear me too. I am
now the captain of the troop. They have made me so
by their free voices. He is nothing now, but one, under
suspicion, and waits for his sentence.”
“Look you! Stockton!—I'm better used to acting
than talking. I know you of old, and I see you're bent
to kill your captain, whether or no! You're hungering to
step into his shoes: but the moment you pull trigger on
him, that moment I pull trigger on you. There's two to
one. Take your chance now for life; for I'm getting
angry.”
“Two to one, indeed! Look at the windows man,
and you'll see twenty to one!” was the triumphant response
of Stockton. Gray looked as he was bidden, so
did the surgeon Hillhouse, but Morton kept his eyes
fixed upon those of his lieutenant.
“Well, do you see?—are you satisfied? There is no
chance for you,” said the latter.
“I see only what I expected to see;” was the answer
of Gray. “I did not look to see you venture here without
good backing. I knew you too well for that. These
twenty men are enough to eat us up. But before you
can get help from them, we'll make mince meat of you.
You are a fool if you think otherwise.”
Stockton looked upon his destined victim, with equal
rage and disappointment.
“What! you refuse then to surrender him to me?”
“We do!”
“Well, we shall see what we can do with a few more
prepared to leave the room. But Gray placed himself
between him and the entrance.
“Stay,” said he, “not so fast. You've got into the
canebrake with the bear. You must ask permission when
you want to leave it.”
“What! do you mean to keep me?”
“Yes! you shall be a hostage for the rest. We must
have terms between us, Richard Stockton, before we let
you off.”
“What terms?” demanded the other angrily.
“Where's our guard?”
“Fastened up in the log house, where they're all
drunk.”
“They must be released; and you must answer to
Lord Rawdon for making his soldiers drunk and incapable,
while on duty at a British military post.”
“Who says I made them drunk?”
“I say so.”
“You cannot prove it.”
“You shall see. If I can prove that one of your
troopers did it, it will be necessary for you to show that
you did not employ that trooper in doing it.”
“Watson Gray, I will have satisfaction from you for
this!”
“All in good time, Stockton. You don't suppose that
I'm likely to dodge from a difficulty with you or any
man. But it's useless to ride your high horse across my
path. By the Eternal, man, I'll tilt you into the ditch in
the twinkle of a musquito.”
“You talk boldly; but let me tell you that you're not
altogether safe from this charge against Morton. You're
suspected too of treason to the troop.”
“Tsha, tsha, tsha!—Catch old birds with chaff!
Look you, Stockton; don't you suppose you can carry
this matter as you please, either by scare or shot. We're
up to you any how. Now look you; if you think that
either Captain Morton or myself want's to escape from
trial, you're mistaken. But we'll have a fair trial or none
at all.”
“Well, won't we give him a fair trial?”
“No: not if you begin it with the pistol.”
“I only want to make him a prisoner.”
“Well, you shan't have your wishes in that—not
while I can stand ready with such a muzzle as this close
upon yours. Now, hear me. Give orders to Ensign
Darcy, whose little eyes I see dancing at that glass there,
and who's at the bottom of all your mischief—give him
orders to let our men loose from the loghouse, and send
them here; and, in the mean time, let him draw his own
men off from the house. When that's done, we'll come
to terms about the trial.”
“Agreed;” said the other, and he made a new movement
as if to take his departure, but the wily Gray was
still on the alert.
“No! no!—my good fellow!—You must stay as a
hostage, lieutenant, 'till the matter's all arranged. You
can speak to Darcy from where you stand; through the
pane as well as if your arm was round his neck.”
The vexation of Stockton may be imagined. He
strove vainly to suppress it. He was compelled to submit.
Darcy was summoned, and would have entered
with his men following him, but Watson Gray's prompt
accents warned him, that, if he came not alone, he would
bring down on the head of his confederate the bullets of
himself and Morton. Sharing the chagrin of his superior,
Darcy, accordingly, made his appearance alone, and
received his instructions. When he had drawn off his
followers and disappeared himself, Gray persuaded Morton
to retire to his chamber with the assistance of the
surgeon. This measure had, perhaps, become absolutely
necessary to the former. The efforts which he
had made to sustain himself, as well in the interview
with the ladies, as in that unexpected one which followed
it;—and the excitement which the latter necessarily occasioned,
had nearly exhausted him. Nothing but the
moral stimulus derived from his mind, its hate, scorn,
defiance—sustained him so far from fainting on the spot;
and this support did not support him much longer. He
did faint when he reached his apartment.
“And now, Stockton,” said Gray, when they were
alone together—“what's all this d—d nonsense stuff
it, man, that we may know the game.”
“No nonsense stuff, I assure you. The proof is
strong enough against him, and brushes your skirts
also.”
“Proof indeed. You see, I don't stop to let you
know, lieutenant, that I look upon you as a man that will
contrive, if you can, against the captain. I know that
you hate him—you can't deny it,—though it's the
strangest thing to me why you should hate a man who
has never given you any cause for hate, and has always
treated you well and kindly.”
“Indeed! Do you really think so!” exclaimed the
other bitterly. “Well, I shall understand, that, to knock
a man over with the butt of your pistol, and send him
afterwards under guard to prison, with a recommendation
for the halberds, is a way to treat well and kindly.
“Pshaw! Is that all!”
“All! ay, and enough too!”
“My good fellow, you ought to be grateful that he
didn't set you a swinging from the first tree. I heard of
that affair, and was sorry for it; but you deserved all
you got and something more. He might have hung you
without trial, or shot you down where you stood. You
were in absolute mutiny!”
“We'll say no more about that, Watson Gray. He's
had his chance, and I'll have mine. So far from it being
nonsense stuff which is against him, the proof is clear of
his treachery.”
“Well, prove it, and he must stand his fate. All he
asks and all that I ask, is a fair trial. But what is the
sort of treachery that he's been doing?”
“Making arrangements to fly and leave the troop in
the lurch. Getting boats to carry off the plate and negroes
from Middleton Barony and other places, without
letting the troop come to a share. You can't deny that's
death by our laws—rope and bullet!”
“Granted: but, again, I ask you, where's the proof!”
“Brydone!—Ha! you start do you? You didn't
expect that?”
“Start!—a man may well start at hearing of such a
falsehood from the lips of a fellow like Brydone, who
was always counted one of the truest fellows we ever
had.”
“Yes; you didn't think he'd desert you, eh?”
“Desert!—Look you, Stockton, I don't believe that
Brydone ever said such a word. Did you hear him
yourself?”
“Yes—I did.”
“Where is he? Bring him before me.”
“Time enough. He's not here with us at present.
But he'll be here sooner than you wish.”
“Ah!”—and the scout paused, while his brow gathered
into deep, dark folds which indicated the pressure of accumulating
thoughts. He suddenly recovered his madness,
and turning, with a quiet smile upon his more blunt
companion, he proceeded:—
“Stockton, I see your game. I need not tell you that I
am now convinced that you have no such proof, and that
Brydone never told you any thing hurtful to the captain.
If so, didn't you know he was to have a fair trial?—
Why didn't you bring your only witness? and did not
you also know, that, by the laws, no one could be found
guilty but by two witnesses. Now, you only speak of
one—”
“Ay, ay! but there's another, Watson Gray. Don't
suppose I got so far ahead of common sense in this business
as to stumble in that matter. No! no! I hate Ned
Morton too much—too thoroughly and bitterly—to leave
my desire of revenge to a doubtful chance. The whole
matter was cut and dry before we came down from
`Ninety-Six.' We have two witnesses of his guilt.”
“Well, who's the other?” asked Gray with seeming
indifference.
“Isaac Muggs!”
“What Isaac, the one-armed! But you don't call
him a man, surely—he's only part of a man!”
“You don't mean to stand for such an argument as
that?” demanded Stockton gravely.
“Oh, no!” responded the other with a laugh. “Let
him go for what he's worth. But—”—here his indifference
inquired—
“But when are these witnesses to be here? When
may we confront them?”
“Sooner than you wish;” was the reply. “We look
for Brydone to-morrow, by the dawn; and as for Isaac
Muggs, we expect to catch him very soon after, if not
before. We hope to be in readiness along the river
banks, to see whether he brings up the boats which are
fit to carry such a valuable cargo, as you've got ready
here to put in them.”
“Ah!—so you're got the Congaree under guard, have
you?” demanded the other with the same seeming indifference
of manner.
“It will be somewhat difficult for him to find you
without finding us;” replied Stockton with a chuckling
sort of triumph.
“So much for Isaac, then. I suppose he brings
Brydone along with him?” was the carelessly expressed
inquiry of Gray.
“No! no! He will be more certain to arrive, and
comes more willingly. Rawdon despatched him below
with a letter to Colonel Stewart, at Fairlawn, and he will
be here too soon for your liking. He comes by the
road. Do not think we ventured upon this business
without preparation. We made nice calculations and
timed every thing to the proper moment. Brydone
sleeps to-night at Martin's tavern, so we may expect him
here by sunrise. We'll be ready, at all events, for the
trial by twelve o'clock to-morrow. At least we can take
his testimony and wait for Muggs. But I calculate on
both before that time.”
Watson Gray seemed for a moment lost in thought.
His dark bushy brows were bent down almost to the
concealment of his eyes.
“It seems to worry you!” said Stockton with a sneer.
“Worry me! No! no! Stockton, you're only worrying
yourself. I was thinking of a very different matter,”
replied the other with a good-natured smile.
“Well, do you say that you'll be ready for the trial
then?”
“We're ready now.—Ready always for fair play.
But you must draw off your troop.”
“Very well! I have no objections to that, for I can
draw 'em on again at a moment's warning. If you don't
keep faith you'll sweat for it. I'm agreed to any thing
that don't prevent the trial. Where shall it be—
Here?”
“Here! Oh, no! To have your sixty men rushing
upon us at close muzzle-quarters! No, no! We'll
have it in the woods, near the river, where my half-score
of muskets may be covered by the trees and be
something of a match for your troop. Besides, the women,
you know!”
“Well, I'm willing. There's a clayey bluff just above,
facing the river-bend. There's something of an opening,
and I reckon it's a sort of graveyard. I see a new
grave there and a cross upon it. Let the trial be there.”
“A new grave and a cross upon it!” mused the other.
—“That must be Mary Clarkson's grave, but the cross!
—Ah! perhaps Miss Flora had that done. She's a good
girl!—Well, I'm agreed. Let it be there—just at the
turning of the sun at noon.”
“Keep your word Gray, and the worst enemy of Ned
Mortan—”
“Yourself!”
“The same!—His worst enemy can ask nothing
more. If we don't convict him,—”
“You'll swallow the Congaree!”
“You may laugh now, but I doubt if you will to-morrow;
and I know that Ned Morton will be in no
humour to laugh, unless he does so because he likes
dancing in air much better than most people.”
“Well, well, Stockton;—we shall soon see enough.
To-morrow's never a far day off, and here comes Darcy
to relieve you. But as for your hanging Ned Morton,
why, man, your own troop will hardly suffer it.”
“Ha! will they not? Is that your hope?” said Stockton
with an exulting sneer.
“Perhaps!” replied the other with a smile.
The entrance of Darcy arrested the conference.
| CHAPTER XVIII.
A PARLEY. The kinsmen, or, The black riders of Congaree | |