University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.
RUTH'S STORY.

As soon as it seemed safe to slacken their pace, Vrail earnestly
advised his gentle guide to return to her home, and leave them to
their own resources, at the same time offering her some gold.

“No, no,” she replied, “I will go on; you never can find the
boat without me.”

“But your uncle?”

“I do not care. He may kill me if he chooses, I do not care.
Come on,” she said, almost breathlessly.

“But you will have to return alone, two miles, in the dark—I
cannot permit it.”

“It is nothing. He often sends me further for rum, on worse
nights than this. Nobody will hurt me, for I have nothing for
them to steal.”

When Harry still counselled her to return, she urged that if she
went back now, she could not enter the house unperceived, and if
her absence had been detected at all, it would make no difference
in the degree of her punishment, whether she went the whole way
or part with the fugitives.

The young man reluctantly yielded, and they proceeded on their
way with renewed speed; yet he found time to question the poor
girl about her history, which was so evidently one of suffering.

Her story was brief, and very pitiful. She was an orphan, and
had lived since the age of six years with the man whom she called

uncle, but who, it appeared, was not thus related to her. His first
wife, long since deceased, had been her aunt, and in her lifetime
Ruth had been adopted as their daughter, and had ever since
borne the name of Shay, but his present partner was her oppressor,
himself her tyrant, and she but the trembling slave of both. A
menial child, friendless, overworked, poorly fed, and half clothed,
she yet had forgotten her own miseries in her sympathy and alarm
for the strangers whom she saw in distress, and whom, after effecting
their deliverance, she could never hope to see again.

The contemplation of this picture drew tears from Harry's eyes,
and as he listened to the poor child's story, told in the gentlest of
voices, he was busy with devices for her relief, and half forgot his
own danger.

“Why do you not leave people who treat you so badly,” he
inquired.

“I have nowhere else to go,” she replied.

“But you can earn your own living. I will give you money
enough to-night to last you for many weeks, and to buy clothes with.”

She did not think she could earn her own living. They had
told her she was good for nothing, and could do nothing well.
Besides, she did not dare to make the attempt. He would be certain
to find her out anywhere in that part of the country, and to
drag her back.

Such was the substance of her reply.

Vrail began to reflect whether it was not a duty to take this
poor child, thus providentially thrown upon his hands, along with
him to his own country, if he should succeed in finding the means
of escape.

“Would you be willing to go with me?” he asked, suddenly.

“When? Where? How?” she inquired with great eagerness.

“This night, if we can find a boat to cross the river—to my
own home. I will do the best I can for you, and you will be certain
never to see your uncle or aunt again.”

“Oh, yes, yes, take me—take me!” she exclaimed; “I do not
care where, if they will never get me again. I will do anything
for you or anybody. I can work from daylight until dark without
rest. I have often and often done it for them, and then been beaten
after all. Oh, take me! take me!”

Harry assured her, with tears, that he would take her with him,
if it were possible, and that in her new home she would have no
such tasks or privations as she had been used to; but while so
great uncertainty shrouded his own fate, he hesitated to say more
to kindle a hope which might prove so painfully illusive. They
continued to hasten forward during this conversation, and after
some reflection, Harry took some gold pieces from his pocket, and
said:—

“Take these, and conceal them about your person, and if we
should become separated, and I should be captured”—

“I do not want them then,” said the girl, interrupting him shudderingly;
“they would be of no use to me.”

“Listen to me; they may be of service both to me and to you,
if you are prudent and courageous, as I know you are, far beyond
your years. In my own country I have friends who will, perhaps,
never know my fate, unless you can carry them the tidings. Dare
you undertake this?”

“Yes; but can they do anything for you?” she asked, quickly.

“It is possible: but it is scarcely with that hope I send you to
them. If I am taken, my doom will probably be a speedy death
—perhaps before your eyes. Whatever it is, I wish my friends to
know it, and I wish them to take care of you. Will you promise
me to go to them?”

“Yes, but if they cannot help you?”

“If they cannot help me, no one else can. I do not mean to be
taken; but if I am, I have no hope of escaping death, either
immediate, or more remotely on the scaffold.”

Harry proceeded to give the attentive girl minute instruction in

regard to her journey, and the necessary preparations for it, all of
which she seemed readily to comprehend. She was to proceed
before daylight to Prescott, there to purchase, at an early hour in
the morning, such articles of apparel as she thought essential to
her comfort in travelling. Crossing the ferry to Ogdensburg, and
availing herself of the ordinary public modes of travel, for which
she was amply provided with funds, she was to pursue her way to
Albany, and thence to Vrail's native village on the Hudson river.
There she was to seek out old Mr. Rosevelt, and communicate to
him her tidings, and the various messages which Harry intrusted
to her memory.

It was with a sad earnestness that the orphan girl listened to
these instructions, as she hastened along beside the stranger, whom
she had temporarily saved, and who was in turn trying to confer
benefit upon her.

“You have heard and understood all that I have said, and you
will remember, and try to perform it well and faithfully, if I am
taken or slain, will you, Ruth?”

“Yes, yes, I will do it,” she said; “but you will not be taken,
if we hurry and get first to the boat. Let us go faster—we must
be almost there.”

“I hear the river now, massa Harry,” said Brom, “off this
away.”

“Yes, that is the way, and Mr. Wells' house cannot be far from
here.”

“How large a boat does he keep?”

“It is only a skiff, but it will hold five or six. It is plenty
large enough for us.”

“Will it not be locked?”

“Only with a padlock, which can easily be broken.”

“Why do you think it is likely that your uncle will lead the
soldiers in this direction?”

“He will be sure to do so, if he thinks that I have accompanied

or directed you; for he knows that I know about the boat, and
there is no other within several miles, excepting the ferry at Prescott,
where, of course, you would not dare to go.”

“Does he know of this short way, which you have brought
us?”

“Yes.”

“Then we cannot be too quick or too vigilant.”

The fugitives now ran as they conversed, and in a few minutes
they were at the river side, in the immediate vicinity of the place
where the skiff was usually kept. Darting eagerly forward, Ruth
uttered a slight scream, as she stopped beside the post to which the
little vessel, when not in use, was always chained, and discovered
that it was absent.

“It is gone!” she exclaimed in a trembling voice.

Harry's heart sank, but the next instant revived with the thought
that perhaps Tom had taken it, and had escaped.

“Is the chain or lock broken?” he asked, coming up to examine
the post.

“No, massa Harry, I guess not. There ain't any part of it in
the ring, and the ring ain't broke, too.”

“Then it has probably been removed by the owner, to prevent
its being taken by any of the flying soldiers. This is the way the
Canadians help us,” he added biterly. “Where does this Wells
live?”

“Only a very little way from here. Look, you can see the light
from his house through the trees.”

“Come on, then Brom—the boat is probably in his door-yard,
and we must bring it from there, it is our only chance.”

They started, Ruth following, and now, for the first time, unnerved
with fright.

“Golly!” exclaimed the negro, “I hope there ain't any dog to
set up a barking, and call out all the folks.”

“If there is an alarm, we must bring it off by force. See that

your gun is in order, Brom, and pay close attention to my directions.”

“I will sartin, massa Harry: ef Mr. Wells comes out, I pop him
right straight over, see ef I don't—and knock the rest of 'em over
with the breech.”

“You will do nothing of the kind, unless we are attacked with
weapons, and nothing, at all events, without my orders. If we find
the boat, and if any one appears to dispute our taking possession,
we will do nothing more than to compel acquiescence. No life
must be endangered, unless in self-defence.”

A few moments brought them to the premises of the Canadian,
whose house stood on a slight eminence, and fronted the river,
about a dozen rods from the shore. It was enclosed by a fence, in
which was a small gate directly fronting the main entrance of the
house, and a larger one a little further to the left, designed for the
passage of vehicles. Setting this gate open, with as little noise as
possible and enjoining upon the trembling girl to wait for them
beside it, Harry and the negro stealthily entered the grounds.
Although acting in accordance with what is usually called the first
law of nature, the instinct of self-preservation, Vrail could with
difficulty overcome his repugnance to the task he had undertaken.
But if he hesitated, a moment's reflection reassured him, and he
went forward. It became necessary to pass the building in order
to attain the rear yard, where they expected to find the object of
their search, and through an uncurtained window they plainly saw
several of the occupants of the house, including its master, a large
coarse man, who was seated listlessly by the fireside.

Stepping lightly and quickly forward, they gained the yard, and
almost at the same instant, to their great joy, they discovered the
long-coveted prize. The boat stood upon a sled, which, notwithstanding
there was no snow upon the ground, had been used to
draw it up from the river, and Vrail at once concluded that the
same mode would probably be the easiest for re-transfering it to
the water's side. The oars were in the vessel, and as there seemed

nothing in the way of at once effectually securing the safety of
the whole party excepting the few rods of terra firma which lay
between them and the water, hope grew into something like confidence
in the breasts of the fugitives, and they began vigorously
their task.

Placing their guns within the skiff, and stationing themselves
on either side of the tongue of the sled, they started it with difficulty,
and, of course very slowly. The necessity for silence also
impeded their movements, and it was many minutes before they
were able to drag their cumbrous vehicle past the house, whose
windows, disclosing so much to them, threatened also to reveal
their movements to its inmates. But, shielded by the darkness
which enveloped everything without, they succeeded in passing
the house and the gateway, from which point their progress was
assisted by the declivity, and by all the strength of their feeble,
but energetic auxiliary.

Ten minutes had taken them far beyond hearing-distance from
the house, and every moment was giving additional assurance of
safety; the sound of the river was in their ears—its pebbled margin
beneath their feet; in imagination, the prow of their little
bark was already ploughing the parting waves, and pointing to
the land of Freedom—when Harry felt a vice-like grasp upon his
arm, and at the same moment heard a scream from the negro at
his side, which told that he also was seized. Before he could
relinquish his hold upon the sled, or turn to defend himself,
three or four men were upon him, a rope was passed around his
arms, and he was secured beyond the possibility of escape.

Brom, despite the most violent struggles, and the most extraordinary
vituperations against his assailants, was similarly treated,
and the attacking party, which was the detatchment of soldiers
guided by Shay, at once set out on their return to the fort, jeering
their helpless prisoners, and promising them a speedy treat, either
to a breakfast of bullets, or to a morning dance in the air.