University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
PROGRESS AND SUSPENSE.

“Was ever poor devil caught so completely in his own
trap before!” was the querulous exclamation of Watson
Gray, as with a painful effort he rose from the ground
where his adversary had so ungently stretched him out.
“Egad, I'm sore all over; though I think there's no
bone broken!” He rubbed his arms and thighs while he
spoke with an unctuous earnestness which showed that
he spoke in all sincerity, though still with some doubt
whether his limbs preserved their integrity.

“Confound the scamp! I thought I had been sure. His
arms fastened—his back turned!—Who'd have thought
of such a canter down hill with a strong man over his
shoulders! Well, he certainly deserves the name of
Supple Jack! He's earned it fairly by this bout if he
never had it before. If ever fellow was strong and supple
over all the men I ever knew, he's the man. But for
those sleepy Hessians, I'd have had him;—and I wonder
what can keep them now. The dull, drowsy, beef-eyed
Dutchmen—what the d—l are they after—what
stir's that?”

A buzz of many voices in earnest controversy, in the
direction of the vault, arrested the speaker in his soliloquy,
and stimulated his apprehensions.

“By Jupiter! they're fighting among themselves.
What an uproar—they're at loggerheads, surely—the
Hessian boobies.”

The anxiety of the scout made him half forgetful of
his bruises as he turned towards the scene which he

had, perforce, described. There seemed sufficient cause
to justify his apprehensions. The clamour which first
startled him, was followed by oaths, execrations, and
finally the clash of arms. He hurried forward to the
scene of the uproar, and arrived, not a moment too soon,
to prevent bloodshed. It will be necessary that we
should retrace our steps for a while in order to trace the
causes of the present commotion.

It will be remembered that Mary Clarkson left the
bivouac of the Black Riders, at the very time, when,
going through the bloody ceremonial of pledging themselves
to one another for the performance of a new crime,
they left her to suppose that they would very shortly
follow upon her footsteps. This, to a certain extent,
was, indeed, the fact. They followed, but not so soon
as she expected; and she reached the miserable man for
whom she had sacrificed the life of woman's life, in full
time to have forewarned him of their approach and purpose,
had this, under the circumstances, been either
necessary or possible. We have already seen what
those circumstances were; and the cruel insults which
followed her unselfish devotion to a creature so little
deserving the care of any heart. The chief of the outlaws
had already fallen beneath the arm of his kinsman.

The Black Riders had still some arrangements to make
—some stimulating liquors to quaff, and purposes to
fulfil scarcely less stimulating—before they started for
the work of treachery and murder. One of these arrangements,
was the elevation of Stockton to the chief command,
as if Morton were already dead. Ensign Darcy,
by a natural transition, and as a becoming reward for his
good service, was promoted at the same time to the station
which the other had so lately filled. Morton had
his friends among the banditti, who simply submitted to
proceedings which they could not baffle and openly dared
not resist. They, however, held themselves in reserve,
with a mental determination to defeat, if possible, the
dark purposes of their companions before they could
possibly carry them out to completion. But this determination
was ineffective for the time, simply because it

was individual. They had no opportunity allowed them
for deliberation, and being half suspected of lukewarmness,
they were not suffered to get together unwatched
and unobserved by the dominant faction. Elated with
his success, the arrogant Stockton fancied that the path
of the future was fairly open before his steps, unembarrassed
by all obstructions, and the smiles of good fortune
beckoning him to the conquest. There was but one task
before him to render all things easy, and that, a malignant
sentiment of hate, goaded him on to perform. The murder
of Edward Morton—his personal enemy—the man
who knew his secret baseness, and who scorned him in
consequence—was yet to be executed, and this, when he
thought of the past, its bitterness and contumely;—of the
future, its doubts and dangers—became a task of grateful
personal performance. To this task, when all the ceremonials
were over, of his own and confederate's elevation,
he accordingly hurried. His men were soon put in readiness,
and Darcy, who had traversed the ground more
than once before, took charge of the advance. Their
plans were simple but sufficient, had the circumstances
continued throughout as they were at the beginning.
They had meditated to advance upon, and to surround
the mansion, in which they supposed their captain to be;
then raising the cry of “Sumter,” create an alarm, in the
confusion of which Morton was to be put to death. It
need not be said that the unexpected approach of a British
army—under a forced march, and without any of the
usual clamours attending on the progress of a large body
of men, utterly baffled all their calculations;—and when,
following the path towards the tomb, which Morton had
originally taken, Lieutenant Darcy arrived at the spot,
he found it almost in complete possession of soldiery,
consisting of the very Hessians, some twenty in number,
on the assistance of whom Watson Gray had so
confidently calculated, when he made the rash attempt
on the person of Jack Bannister. The Hessian troops
had never before been seen by the Black Riders, and
Darcy immediately jumped to the conclusion, that these
were partisan troops of Lee's legion, which he knew
had, a little time before, been seen in the neighbourhood;
and the conjecture was natural, not only that they might
be there still, but that Morton might already have become
their captive. The incautious movement of these soldiers,
suggested to Darcy, who was not without his
ambition, the project of capturing the whole of them.
They were evidently as careless of danger, as if they had
never known what apprehension was; and finding them
squatting around some object near the tomb, busy in low
discussion, the next most natural conjecture, to one of his
marauding habits, was, that they had already rifled the
mansion and were now sharing its plunder. The cupidity
of the habitual robber rendered his judgment easy of
access to any suggestion which favoured the mercenary
passions of his heart; and taking that for granted which
was merely possible, and waiting for no farther knowledge
of the truth, Darcy stole back to Stockton, who
was following with the main body; and readily filled his
mind with the ideas which predominated in his own.
But few questions were asked by the new captain. The
information of Darcy seemed to cover all the ground;
and they were both instantly ripe for action.

“There are not twenty—squat upon the turf—some
of their arms lie beside, and some upon the tomb, and
the plunder, if one may judge from the interest they take
in it, must be rather more than has blessed their eyes for
many a day. We can surround them in a jiffy, without
striking a blow.”

“But Morton!—do you see nothing of him?” demanded
Stockton anxiously.

“No! But if these fellows found him at this house,
they've saved us some trouble. They've done for him
already.”

“Enough! set on, and lead the way. Manage it,
Darcy, to suit yourself; you alone know the path.”

“Hark! a trumpet! I have heard that trumpet once
before. It must be at the mansion.”

“The more need for hurry. These fellows are a
squad of Lee's or Sumter's, who have rifled the house
before the main body came up. We must be in time to

relieve them of their burden before they get help from the
strongest. After that, we can push up for the house, and
see what can be done with the rest.”

“Keep all still then,” said Darcy. “I'll undertake to
surround these rascals, and borrow their plunder, without
emptying a pistol. Let your horses be fastened here,
and we'll go on foot the rest of the journey. Dismount!
dismount!—we have but a few hundred yards to go!”

Such were the arrangements of the Black Riders; and
yielding the management of the affair entirely to Darcy,
Stockton followed with his band in silence. With the
stealthy progress of the Indian, each individual passed to
his appointed station, until the tomb, and all about it, was
completely environed with a cordon militaire, from
which nothing could escape. A signal whistle warned
them to be in readiness, and a second commanded
the movement. The operation was fully successful.
The Hessians were surrounded before sword could be
drawn or yager lifted. Nothing could well exceed the
astonishment of the mutual parties, the captors equally
with the captive. The Hessians, with an army of two
thousand men or more, at hand, to find themselves, on a
sudden, in custody of a force not twice their own number;
while the amazement of the Black Riders was
scarcely less, when they heard the clamours of the people
they had made captive, in a language which they could
not comprehend, and the harsh sounds of which seemed
to them so shocking and unnatural. Their disappointment
was something increased also to discover, that instead
of the treasure of the house of Middleton, the
family plate and ladies' jewels,—the supposed plunder,
around which the Hessians had been squatting, was
neither more nor less than the body, seemingly dead, of
the tender boy who usually attended upon their captain.

It was at this moment of confusion on both hands, and
before any thing could be understood, or any thing explained,
that Watson Gray made his appearance, to the
satisfaction of one at least of the parties.

“How now, Darcy, what's the matter here? What
are you doing with these men? Let them go.”

“Let them go, indeed, when we've just taken them.
Let them rather go to the gallows.”

“Gallows! why, who do you take these fellows for?”

“Lee's legion, or a part of it!”

“Indeed! Had your courage ever carried you nigh
enough to Lee's legion, you'd have found out your mistake.
Why, man, what are you thinking of? These are
His Majesty's new levies, hired or bought from the Prince
of Hesse Cassel, at two and sixpence a head, and d—d
extravagant pay too, for such heads as they've got. Let
them go—they're Hessians!”

A gibberish utterly beyond translation by any present
arose in echo from the captured foreigners, in full confirmation
of this assurance. By this time Stockton made
his appearance, and the face of Watson Gray might have
been seen to indicate some surprise when he saw him.
Gray knew the relation in which Stockton stood to his
captain; and was instantly assured that the latter had
never deputed to him the chief command in his absence.
The circumstance looked suspicious; but Gray was too
old a scout to suffer his suspicions to be seen, until he
knew in what condition the game stood.

“Ah, Stockton!” he said, indifferently—“is that you?
but where's Ben Williams—is he not in command?”

“No, I am,” said Stockton—“I am for the present.
We came to look after the captain.”

“The captain!—why, where did he leave you?”

“In the swamp flats, some two miles below.”

“And what brings you to look after him? Did he order
it?”

“No,” said Darcy, taking up the tale with an adroitness
of which he knew that Stockton was no master—
“no; but we heard trumpets, and as he stayed rather long,
we were apprehensive about him. When we came and
saw these fellows here, with strange uniforms, we took
'em for Lee's legion, as we heard that Lee was dodging
about this neighbourhood.”

“And you really have never seen Lee's uniforms, ensign?”

“No!—never, we've been operating above, you know;
and—”

“You have not found the captain then!”

“Not yet, and what to do—”

“I'll tell you. Look there and you'll find him. The
sooner we attend to him the better.”

He led the way to the body of Edward Morton as he
spoke, stooped down with composure, but interest; and
proceeded to examine it for the signs of life which it contained.
The wily Darcy followed his example, and his
conduct, in turn, suggested to Stockton that which it
would be proper for him to pursue. Much time was not
given to the examination, and still less in vain regrets and
lamentations. The selfishness of man's nature soars
triumphant above all other considerations, in a time of
war; and life becomes as small a subject of consideration,
as any one of its own circumstances.

“Some ugly hurts here, I reckon;” said Darcy, “we
must get him to the house and to the hands of the surgeon,
as soon as possible.”

“Does he live?” asked Stockton in a whisper, over
Darcy's shoulder.

“Ay, he lives!” was the answer made by Gray, in
tones which were somewhat sharpened by asperity;
“there's life enough to go upon, and, with good care, he'll
be able shortly to be in the saddle. If we can stop the
blood there's nothing to be afraid of, I'm thinking.”

This man boldly took the lead, as a man having his
wits about him will be always apt to do, in seasons of
sudden peril and great surprise. Even Stockton tacitly
submitted to his guidance.

“Give way there, my good fellows, and let's see what
we're about. Here, one of you,—take that door—there—
the door of the vault—from its hinges;—and we'll carry
him to the house on that.”—He muttered through his
closed teeth at the conclusion,—and his hands were unconsciously
pressed upon his hips as he spoke—“He'll
have an easier ride than I had of it. My bones will tell
of it for a month.”

The door of the vault was soon brought forward, and

the Black Riders with careful hands raised their captain
upon it. Darcy and Stockton both busied themselves in
this service. But though performed with great caution,
the motion recalled the wounded man to consciousness
and pain, and two or three half-stifled moans escaped
from his lips. He muttered a few words also, which
showed that he still fancied himself engaged in all the
struggles of a protracted and doubtful strife. When Gray
had seen him fairly placed upon the frame, which was
amply large, he thought of the poor girl whom the earnest
solicitations of Supple Jack had commended to his
care;—and, with a degree of interest and tenderness,
which could scarcely have been expected from one habitually
so rough, he himself assisted to place the slight
form of the victim beside the body of her betrayer. By
this time, however, the friendly stupor which had first
come to her relief, no longer possessed her faculties.
She had recovered her consciousness, but under the burning
pressure of fever, which filled her mind with all the
fancies of delirium. She raved of a thousand things, incoherently,
which perhaps none present could in any
way comprehend but the one individual who was engaged
in conducting the operations. He, too, harsh as was his
nature, callous and insensible—the creature of the cruel
man whose profligate passions he served, and who had
reduced her to the thing she was,—he, too, did not appear
entirely unaffected by the wild agony which her
ravings denoted and expressed. He walked beside her,
as a dozen of the soldiers carried the litter towards the
house, and few were the words, and those only such as
seemed to be necessary, which he uttered during the
mournful procession.

“You had better set your men in handsome order,
Stockton. You will meet Lord Rawdon at the house,
with all his suite, and a fine show of military. He likes
to see handsome dressing and a good front, and he'll look
to you for it while the captain's sick.”

“A cursed chance, this,” muttered Stockton as he drew
aside with Darcy to put in execution the suggestions of

the scout. “Who'd have thought it? Rawdon here, and
we not know a word about it!”

“It's devilish fortunate we did not rush on in the dark.
That peep of mine was well thought on! But it makes
very little difference, except the loss of the plunder. Morton's
pretty well done for. No less than five wounds,
upon him—two in the jaw, and three in the body.”

“But how came it? Who could have done it?” said
Stockton.

“That matters less than all! Some friend, I take it,—
who knew what we wished most and saved us the trouble
of the performance.”

“But how strange!—and how stranger than all that
we should have been deceived in that boy—that Henry!”

“Ay!—but let us hurry on, and show alacrity as well
as order! of course, we'll say nothing now about the
captaincy! Your still lieutenant only, and if Morton
dies—”

“He must die!” said the other.

“Ay! he must. Rawdon will leave him a surgeon,
and we will find a guard; and if he survives the one,
there's but little chance of his getting off from the other.
Eh! what think you?”

“It will do;” was the significant answer of Stockton.
They understood each other thoroughly, before they put
their men in order. The thoughts of Watson Gray were
not less busy, as he pursued his way alone with the
wounded persons; nor were they more favourable to the
conspirators, than was the determination of these friendly
to their captain. He knew, better than any other man,
the true history of the latter, and the sort of relation in
which he stood to his troop. He was not ignorant, also,
of the scorn which Morton felt for Stockton, and the
hate, more deadly because secret, with which the other
requited it. He could readily conceive, at the same
time, that Stockton's interest would lie in the death of
his captain; and putting all these things together, in his
mind, he determined to keep his eyes open, and watchful
of every movement of the parties.

“Rawdon will take them with him to Ninety-Six,” he

muttered, as he came to this conclusion. “I will persuade
him to do so, at least, and the chances are fair that they
will get themselves knocked on the head before the siege
is over. But whether they do or not, we shall gain time,
and if Morton's hurts are curable, we shall know it before
they get back, and provide accordingly. But one thing
must be cared for. Rawdon must not know Morton in
the house of Flora Middleton. That would spoil all.
I must speak with him before the body arrives. He must
leave the matter to me.”

Whatever may have been the tie that attached Watson
Gray to the chief of the Black Riders, his course was
evidently that of a true and shrewdly thinking friend.
He had no sooner determined what was proper for him
to do, than he hurried ahead of the procession, and made
his appearance in the spacious hall of the mansion,
several minutes before it could possibly arrive. His
lordship was in the parlour with the ladies, but Gray
knew him to be a man of business, with whom business
is always a sufficient plea for any interruption.

“Say to his lordship that Watson Gray would speak
with him in private, on matters of some importance,” he
said to an officer in attendance, who knew the estimation
in which the scout was held, and at once disappeared to
do his bidding.