76. CHAPTER LXXVI.
A MEETING OF PATRIOTS.
Instead of pausing to depict the excitement, the agitation,
the fury, almost, of Williamsburg, just informed, by
expresses, of the events in the North—instead of dwelling
upon this picture, which the reader may very well fancy for
himself, let us follow the captain, and see where he goes.
Perhaps we shall thus stumble upon something.
Just at twilight, Captain Waters mounted his horse, and,
issuing from Williamsburg toward the west, plunged into
the great forest as the shades of night descended.
He proceeded silently through the wood until he reached
the vicinity of the old field school house, and then dismounting,
tied his horse to the bough of a tree, and
proceeded on fast toward the building, in which a light
glimmered.
He passed a number of horses tied like his own, and soon
came upon a figure which advanced from the shadow of a
tree, and hailed him:
“ `Liberty”s the word, eh?” said the captain, shaking
Mr. Lugg by the hand. “How many are here, Lanky?”
“A good many, captain,” said Mr. Lugg. “Mr. Hamilton
has just come.”
“Captain Hamilton, say! for I'll vote for him.”
“What place will you take? They speak of you for
captain.”
“The rear guard next to the enemy. I'll not go before
Jack.”
“Well, captain, I wish they would make me quartermaster.”
“Why so?”
“I'm terribly hungry,” and Mr. Lugg applauded his joke.
“You always were that, you rascal!” said the captain,
cheerfully. “The amount of bacon, bread and beer which
you used to cost me was really immense.”
“Oh, cap'en!—that is, my dear captain,” said Mr. Lugg,
correcting his defective pronunciation, and raising his head
with all the dignity of a freeholder, “we have forgotten
those early days, I think.”
“You have,” said the captain, twirling his mustache,
“and that is the consequence of a good action. It was all
owing to me that you secured that incomparable Donsy,
formerly pupil of his Highness, Mr. Tag, in this very house;
and, after all my lies on that occasion, you wish to forget!”
“Oh, no, captain!” said Mr. Lugg, with earnestness,
“I'll never forget all your goodness. Donsy is a good
wife, and I owe my getting her to you.”
“Very well, Scaramouche, that is honest, and I'm coming
next week to see the juvenile Lankys. Have they pine-knot
heads?”
“Oh, captain! but you talked of Tag.”
“Yes.”
“Well, he's in there,” said Mr. Lugg, pointing to the
school house.
“You do n't say so! A pedagogue?”
“He was a soldier, you know, once.”
“Yes, and a great rascal. Well, well, it's a good sign
when the riff-raff adhere to a cause. It proves that they
think we're going to succeed.”
“He talks mighty big,” said Mr. Lugg.
“And will walk big until the enemy comes along, when
he'll run,” with which words Captain Waters proceeded to
the school house.
About twenty men were assembled there—and Uncle
Jimmy Doubleday presided. Around him were grouped
Mr. Jack Hamilton, Mr. Tag, and a variety of gentlemen,
and in the corner a sable personage with goggle eyes and
clad in an enormous coat, squatted down, and moved his
midnight fingers to and fro on a fife.
Uncle Jimmy opened the meeting, which had waited, apparently,
only for the captain, with an address setting forth
its object.
At that primitive period there were no short-hand reporters,
and we regret our inability to present more than the
heads of his discourse.
The late outrage—the designs of England—the schemes
of Dunmore—the public excitement—the march of Patrick
Henry on Williamsburg, with the men of Hanover, which
the company now organizing was going to join—the duty
of good citizens—the blow that was to be struck, now or
never—this was the train of Uncle Jimmy's remarks. It
seemed that they were very acceptable to the meeting; for
when the old gentleman made a final flourish with his
glasses, and sat down, a murmur of applause followed.
The gentlemen then rose and pledged themselves for
different numbers of men, to meet at the rendezvous the
next day. Then they proceeded to the election of officers.
Captain Waters declared that he should vote for Hamilton,
peremptorily refusing to command.
He was urged to change his determination; but refusing,
the meeting elected Mr. Hamilton, who returned thanks.
Other officers were then chosen, and lastly, the question
of the commissariat was raised.
At this juncture—says the worthy author—our old and
esteemed friend, Mr. Tag, slowly rose from his seat. Age
had not dimmed him in the least, or the pedagogue rostrum
staled his infinite vanity. He was still the brilliant mixture
of the soldier and the schoolmaster, the pedagogue and the
politician, the civilian and the warrior. Like Ulysses, the
worthy Tag had seen many “climates, councils, governments”—and
if not “honored of them all,” had at least
been noticed, if't were only at a cart-tail.
On the present occasion, the worthy Tag desired the
commissariat. He made a speech, declaring, of course,
that he could not accept it. He finally relented, however,
and announced that if his friends chose to confer the office
upon him, he should not feel at liberty to refuse it; devotion
to the public weal being the first passion of his soul.
His friend—he might almost say, his noble friend—Captain
Waters, knew that he was experienced in such things; and
often, in the Seven Years' War, they had slept together, in
the next couch he was sorry to say, to that viper, Captain
Foy. He had always distrusted that man—from the first
he knew him to be a villain. In those complicated and entangled
secret schemes which to the everlasting shame of
the English government, Lord Dunmore, with this man,
had projected”—
Here symptoms of impatience on the part of the audience
developed themselves.
Mr. Tag therefore cut short his remarks by saying that
if the commissariat was bestowed upon him, he should be
much flattered. And then he sat down in the spot where
he and Lanky had encountered each other in old days,
sword against tongs.
Lanky was opposed to him now, and Lanky was elected.
“Mas' Tag did n't do it dat time—he did n't,” issued in a
murmur of triumph from the corner; “tread on my coattail,
and knock me down and lam me—berry glad to hear
it, Mas' Tag!”
Having made this remark, sotto voce, Mr. Crow subsided
into silence and darkness, running his fingers along the fife
and grinning.
The meeting had now concluded its business, and soon it
rose.
They had agreed upon a rendezvous early the next day,
at Bank's cross-roads.
“Morbleu!” said the captain, as he rode away with Hamilton;
“'tis strange how the sight of that building affected
me. You know, Jack, it's an old acquaintance!”
“Ah!”
“Yes,” said the captain, sighing and smiling, “you must
have observed that amid all the excitement, I was quiet—in
the midst of the enthusiasm, I was thoughtful. Do you
know why?”
“Tell me.”
“Because I was often there in the merry old days when I
was courting Henrietta, you know, Jack,” said the captain
smiling, and raising his fine and martial face in the moonlight.
“It was there that I remember leaning through the
window, and swearing back at Tag, when I went to get
Donsy for Lanky Lugg. It was there that the noble Lanky
fought—an encounter which I arrived just in time to witness,
and whisk away the maiden Donsy in my chariot, in
defiance of his excellency, Mr. Tag, who had threatened to
whip her, and made her cry. Faith! Lanky acted like a
hero that day, and would have demolished his enemy, but I
held him back. Strange how vivid all is! And now the
clownish boy is married to the crying girl; and a new
generation thrusts the schoolmaster aside, and bestows its
trust on the scholars. That's what I call the long result of
time—and I think my mustache is growing gray!”
The jovial soldier laughed as he spoke, but he sighed, too.
There is no one but feels, at times, this regret for the past
—who does not gild thus the days that are dead?
“Well, well, mon ami,” added the soldier, “all that's
gone, and the new days are here—also a new generation.
Let us act, and not meditate. We're to meet in the morning
at Banks' cross-roads, where, formerly, I encountered
William Effingham, Esq. Well, I think there 'll be a real
fight this time—if not at the cross-roads, elsewhere. Let
us hope so,” and the friends rode on through the moonlight.
