University of Virginia Library

70. CHAPTER LXX.
DIPLOMATIC CATEGORIES.

“Stop there! Who are you?” cried Dick Clusky, seeing
Bim, Fink, and a number of their men gliding in at
the door which he had opened, on hearing Punt's signal.

“They are friends,” said Punt.

“Friends? But there's too many of 'em. His Lordship
will be in a rage!”

“That's true, Dick,” said Bim, “but it can't be helped.”
He then proceeded very deliberately to station his men in
the hall, while Dick looked on in amazement, ever and
anon rubbing his eyes, as if doubtful whether it was a dream
or reality. Bim next ignited the candle he always carried
in his pocket, and then extinguished the gas. “Now, Dick,”
continued he, “you must not be astonished at anything.
Lord Slysir will at least pretend to be in a great rage. He
may swear a little. But it will be nothing but sham.
You understand?”

“No, I don't!” said Dick.

“Well, I'll tell you. He's going to run away with a lady
against the will of the Protector, and he wants the Protector
to think we captured him, and dragged him off by force.
Do you understand, now?”

“No, I don't! I know his Lordship is in love with my
mistress—”

“Miss Edith? It was only pretence—and, besides, she
wouldn't have him. I'll tell you a secret in your ear. Lord
Slysir is going to marry Miss Alice, the President's daughter.
He sent for us to come and take him prisoner. You
know me, and you know Captain Fink?”

“Yes.”

“Well. We are officers in the President's army, and it's
not likely we'd be here without an invitation. You understand?”

“No, I don't: because you said he was going to run
away with a lady.”

“You are stupid! Don't you know General Ruffleton's
got Miss Alice a prisoner at the White House?”

“No, I don't! Yes—yes, I do! I heard one of Lord
Slysir's men say so, but I didn't believe it—for the British
are most abominable liars about ladies.”

“All you have to do is to keep quiet, Dick. We'll
manage the rest.”

Bim, then, candle in hand, led the way up-stairs, followed
by Fink and ten of the men. He knocked at the door of
Lord Slysir's chamber, through the key-hole of which he
perceived all was darkness.

“Who's there? What do you want?”

“We have a message for Lord Slysir!” said Bim, entering,
for the lock had given way under his gigantic pressure.

“A message! Who from?” demanded his Lordship,
starting up in bed, and gazing at the intruders in astonishment.

“My Lord,” said Bim, “perhaps I used the wrong word.
We have no special message. It's a mission.”

“A mission? What the deuce does this mean?” continued
his Lordship, endeavoring to snatch a brace of pistols
which lay on a table near his pillow.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” said Bim, interposing and placing
the pistols in his own belt, “but these tools are dangerous,
and it's not our mission to let you commit suicide.”

“Suicide! Mission!” repeated his Lordship. “Will you
not oblige me by explaining all this.”

“Well,” said Bim, “our mission is to convey your Lordship
down the river into the camp of the President. And
the meaning is, I think, that without the permission of the
Protector—or rather I think him a Traitor—it isn't likely
we would have ventured into this city. Your Lordship
must know who I am. It ain't possible your Lordship could
have forgotten Captain Bim, already. Your Lordship's
capture made me a captain—I hope it will now make me a
major. But there is not a moment to be lost. The boats
are waiting. Here is paper, pen, and ink. Please your
Lordship write an order to the British cruisers to let
the boats pass without question. Do this, and I promise
not to bruise you this time.” Saying this, Bim lifted Slysir
from his couch and placed him on a chair beside the
table.

His Lordship became suddenly aware of his helpless
condition, and was stunned by the intimation that Ruffleton
had been the contriver of the plot. Seeing no other alternative
but submission and obedience, he wrote the lines dictated
by Bim and affixed his signature to them.

“Now, your Lordship,” continued Bim, again lifting
Slysir in his herculean arms, “we will depart without delay.”

“Stop!” cried his Lordship. “I must put on my clothes!
You would not take me out in the street with nothing on
but my nightcap and gown!”

“The air is pleasant,” said Bim; “besides it's quite dark.
We cannot gratify you, indeed, my Lord. We must hasten.
And they say it takes a Lord two hours to dress. Bring
his clothes along, Captain Fink. He can dress in the boat.”

Silently the party descended the stairs, and returned to
the boats. Then the oarsmen bent to their work and rapid
progress was made.

In the meantime Lord Slysir proceeded to put on his
clothes. But an indispensable garment was missing. He
could find no breeches.

“My breeches!” cried he. “They are not here.”

“I thought I had everything,” said Fink. “What are
these?” he continued, lifting up a light garment.

“They are my drawers!” said Slysir.

“I thought I got all the clothes in the room,” said Fink.
“Are you right sure, sir, you had any breeches?”

“Had any breeches! I will have none of your impudence!”

“You're safe!” said Fink; “but I'll give you a chance to
fight on equal terms some day or other, perhaps. Still, I
was perfectly serious in the question. Sometimes men wear
leggings, and no breeches at all. However, I brought all
the clothes that were in the room, for I never do anything
by halves.”

“My breeches were in the next room,” said his Lordship.

“Then all I've got to say is,” replied Fink, “they had no
business to go in there by themselves, for now they're left
behind. I peeped into that chamber—”

“You did?”

“And shut the door again—it was pitch dark. But

really I'm sorry for you—and I doubt whether any man
has an extra pair of breeches to loan you.”

“Loan me!”

Bim and Fink, who were in the same boat, held a protracted
consultation in a low voice, which did not reach the
ears of Lord Slysir.

“Captain Fink,” said the former, “the moon will soon
hinder us from giving 'em the slip in the `snaking' way. I
have got his Lordship's pass; but then we've got his Lordship
himself, and he might revoke it! I want to hear what
you've got to say—think well on it, for we've a high prize
if we can only steer it into port.”

“Captain Bim,” said Fink, “I have thought the matter
over. It's my opinion the boats ought to go all in a
bunch, boldly and audaciously, to keep from being suspicioned.
If we go in a bunch, right under their guns, and
show 'em we don't want to hide, they won't suspicion us, I
think, because the British are not half so smart as the
Indians. We can gag his Lordship and make him lie down
in the bottom of the boat, and pass him off for a sick man
if any of the enemy should visit or search us.”

“I like your plan, Captain Fink,” said Bim. “There is
only one thing I would add to it, which I hope you'll agree
to, and the plan will be the joint production of two heads.
To appear bold, and indifferent, and confident, I think our
men should sing a boat song.”

“A boat song? My men can sing a Western river boat
song, ten miles long, if that'll do.”

“And my men can sing any chorus that ever was invented.
Now let us announce the result of our conference
to his Lordship. Will you do it?”

“No; I'd rather not. I hav'n't been used to speaking
to Lords, except one that came out to Missouri to hunt
with us, and he could eat, and drink, and laugh, and joke,
as well as any white man.”

“Then I'll do it! My Lord Slysir,” he continued, in a
louder voice.

“I hear you, Bim. And, Bim, I don't blame you for
what has occurred this night. But if my suspicions be well
founded—no matter! If I see Randolph, or even if I
escape, or am rescued by her Majesty's officers—”

“My Lord,” said Bim, “it was concerning your rescue

or escape, that we have been putting our heads together.”

“I thought so. And no doubt Randolph will deem it
meritorious conduct on the part of his officers in performing
an act of courtesy to her Britannic Majesty's Plenipotentiary,
when he had been betrayed by a perfidious ally.
And I shall certainly regard it as a friendly service—”

“My Lord!” said Bim, “you're mightily out of it! We
don't intend to do any such thing!”

“You don't!”

“No, sir—I mean your Lordship. We intend to conduct
you to the President's head-quarters, breeches or no
breeches!”

“The d—l you do! Then I am mistaken.”

“Yes, sir—I mean your Lordship—you are mistaken in
the men you have to deal with.”

“But sure you don't reckon on being able to pass through
the British fleet, with such a number of boats without
being detected? Such a feat might be done of a dark
night; but now the moon will reveal everything.”

“But, sir—I mean your Lordship—you gave us a pass,
and you wrote that we were not to be questioned.”

“That was under compulsion. If they question me,
they'll know my voice—”

“That's the point I've been steering for,” said Bim. “On
the matter of that, we have come to the conclusion to say
a few plain words to your Lordship, and we hope your
Lordship won't take any offence at 'em.”

“Say on, Bim—never fear!”

“As for that, sir—I mean your Lordship—I never feared
but once, and that was about a minute. I thought I saw a
ghost. But to the matter in hand, and there's no time to
spare. Captain Fink and I have come to the conclusion
that you must not be heard or seen by any of the prying
midshipmen or lieutenants.”

“How will you prevent it, Bim,” asked his Lordship.
“Will you throw me overboard?”

“Lord! no, sir—I mean your Lordship. Throw you
overboard, indeed! and lose our prize! No, sir—I mean
your Lordship—we only intend to gag you and lay you
down in the bottom of the boat—”

“What? What's that? Would you dare—”

“We're daredevils,” said Fink, “when provoked.”

“I must say you resemble them,” added his Lordship,
seeing they were entirely in earnest. “But I will have no
violence. If you will not take my word, I will, myself, tie
a handkerchief over my mouth, and conceal my face from
recognition.”

“I'm not afraid to trust your Lordship,” said Bim—“and
so the treaty's made. All I have to add, as a guarantee of
its faithful performance, is that Captain Fink and myself are
to sit at your elbows, with the understanding that rather
than see the prize snatched out of our hands, we would sink
it to the bottom.”

“I agree,” said his Lordship.

After this the boats were “bunched,” as Fink expressed
it, and the crews sang the western boat song. When they
approached the first cruiser, Bim ordered his men to meet
the boat rowed towards them. And striking a light and
igniting his candle, he had his paper in readiness by the
time the officer came alongside.

“That is good enough authority for me,” said midshipman
Slysir, a nephew of his Lordship. “But how is uncle
Potbelly to-night?”

“Uncle who?” demanded Bim.

“Oh, his Lordship. He's my uncle, and sometimes I call
him uncle Potbelly.”

“He was quite well, I thank you,” said Bim, “when I
saw him last; and I think the pot was as great as ever.
Good night, sir.”

“The impudent rascal,” said his Lordship, when the boats
had glided some distance apart. “Uncle Potbelly! I'll
send him home, to be put to school again! Thank you,
Bim, for permitting me to express my dissatisfaction with
my nephew. Now tie up my mouth again. You see I did
not violate my word. My own nephew did not know me.”

“If he had, he would have been more respectful, perhaps,”
said Bim.

“He shall not escape! But here comes another boat.”

His Lordship's mouth was again bandaged, and by the
time the man-of-war's boat was alongside, Bim had his light
and his paper in readiness. The officer seeing the signature
of Lord Slysir to the pass, did not pause to conjecture
what might be the nature of the expedition; but, touching

his cap very politely, ordered his men to row back to the
ship. And soon after it was observed that signals were
exhibited on the ships from one end of the fleet to the
other.

“Now I may put the handkerchief in my pocket,” said
Lord Slysir, “for they have given orders not to visit us
any more.”

As they drew near the place of landing, Bim giving
the signal, the solemn hour of early dawn was startled
by three vociferous huzzas from the crews. The echoes
and reverberations roused their comrades on the shore,
and repeated cheers attested the hearty welcome which
awaited the return of the adventurers. And when the
boats touched the land, hundreds of gallant spirits
crowded round Bim and Fink to hear the news. All
was soon known, and many hearty bursts of laughter
assailed the ears of his Lordship, as he walked between
the two Captains in his white drawers.

“Where is President Randolph?” he asked. “Take me
to his head-quarters immediately.”

“As soon as our horses come,” said Bim; “it's too far to
walk without pantaloons.”

“Pantaloons!” said his Lordship, glancing down at his
nether garment. “Be careful, Bim,” said he, in a less presumptuous
tone, “not to lead me where the ladies or General
Crook can see me.”

“Well, sir,” said Bim—“I mean your Lordship, you
shall be obeyed. But I was thinking that none except
General Crook's breeches would fit your Lordship. He's
just about your size.”

“And that's true, Bim. Lead me to him.”

In the space of a few minutes they had galloped up
to the mansion where the President and his Generals
lodged. The sun was gilding the tops of the distant
hills, the rosebushes on the lawn were bespangled with
dew, and the fragrance of flowers filled the atmosphere.

Lord Slysir and Bim, who had approached the mansion,
dismounted quietly in front of the wing of the house,
where a sentinel said the General they were in quest of
had his lodgings. They were met at the door by General
Crook himself, who was an early riser.

“Well, Bim?” said he, “but what's that hiding behind

you? Stop!” he continued, pushing Bim aside and confronting
his Lordship, at whom he gazed in silence. He
looked at his Lordship's soiled hat and coat, and then cast
his eyes down at his—drawers. He could restrain himself
no longer, Clapping his hands, and laughing vociferously,
nearly all the inmates of the mansion were roused from
their slumber. The Venetian blinds of every window on
that side of the building, above and below, seemed agitated.

“General Crook,” said Slysir, “why do you keep me
standing here exposed to the curious gaze of all who may
choose to look at me?”

“What! Is it possible?” cried the General, in a very
loud voice. “Pardon me! I didn't know your Lordship
without your—breeches.”

“Confound it, General!” said his Lordship, “speak lower,
or everybody will hear you! Let me in, and lend me a
pair of your breeches.”

“Certainly,” continued Crook, still very loudly. “Pardon
me for keeping you standing here so long, in the dew,
and without your breeches. John, you rascal, wake up,
and get a pair of my breeches for Lord Slysir!”

“Why did you speak so loudly, General?” asked Slysir,
when admitted within the chamber.

“I was not aware of it. But your Lordship must know
that I have been bellowing so much in the field after the
John Bulls, that my voice has become uncontrollable. But
here are the breeches—put them on quickly, for I hear Randolph
coming—and, for what I know, some of the petticoats
may be with him. Bim has by this time reported everything,
and Alice may claim you as her prisoner.”

During these words his Lordship used the utmost dispatch
with the breeches, and had only succeeded in adjusting
them when Randolph entered.

“My Lord,” said he, “you are right welcome! And I
congratulate you on your exemption, this time, from the
terrible bruises—”

“Bruises or breeches?” asked Crook.

“Ah, Crook,” said Randolph—“you had better bridle
your tongue before Ruffleton gets your head. He swears
vengeance against you. But really, Bim informed me that
your Lordship, in the hurry of departure, actually did leave
one of your garments behind—”

“Yes—his breeches,” said Crook.

“I hope your Lordship,” continued Randolph, “will consider
my wardrobe entirely at your service.”

“I thank your Excellency,” said Slysir, “and will avail
myself of the generous offer.”

“But,” said Crook, “don't you see Randolph's legs are
six inches longer than your Lordship's?”

“No matter,” said Randolph, “come with me and
examine the other garments; you may at least change your
coat!”

“I recognise a diplomatic emphasis in that, your Excellency,”
said Slysir, “and will not neglect the intimation.
But I hope there will be no danger of meeting the ladies?”

“None whatever,” said Randolph, smiling. “They will
fly before you like frightened fawns.”

“And why? Have they been made acquainted with my
condition on arriving hither?”

“Bless your life,” said Crook, speaking at random, “did
you not hear the rattling of Venetian blinds just over our
heads when we were conversing in the yard? The young
ladies occupy the chamber directly over mine.”

“And it was for the purpose of attracting their attention,
General,” said Slysir, reproachfully, “that you spoke in such
deafening tones! That was very unkind. I would not have
been seen by the ladies for thousands.”

“Nonsense, Slysir!” continued Crook, his eye gleaming
with merriment; “you do not understand our American
ladies at all.”

Slysir, without uttering a word in reply, withdrew with
the President. They proceeded directly to Randolph's private
office.

“Now, my Lord,” said the President, “if we have any
business to transact, we will dispatch it immediately. But,
my Lord, how can you treat? You have ceased to be a
negotiator, and become—”

“What, your Excellency?”

“A prisoner. You let the opportunity slip of regaining
Bang, when you held Senator Blount.”

“I protested against his execution.”

“I know it. But you should have prevented it.”

“And I shall for ever protest against another, and a still
more infamous act of Ruffleton's. They tell me, sir, that

my capture, or rather abduction, was connived at, or instigated
by him.”

“They deceive you. It was the blundering idea of Bim,
who supposed a rupture between you and Ruffleton would
be of service to me. The honest Captain is no diplomatist,
though he seems to have misled one.”

“The unwashed ruffian! But then, your Excellency, all
the world knows Ruffleton's weakness for the sex, and—”

“Yours, my Lord.”

“Conceded. And, as I had no means of knowing that
Miss Alice had escaped his clutches; and, as she had been
captured by her Majesty's officer—”

“The one who applied the torch to Mount Vernon—the
immortal Junkins.”

“I protested against that, also. But, under all the circumstances,
your Excellency may easily conceive why I
might be, and any one might be, inspired with the belief
that Ruffleton had yielded to the expediency of having me
removed.”

“Granted. But, my Lord, for either Ruffleton, or the
Envoy of any nation on earth, to offend my daughter, would
involve as serious consequences as befell the famous Trojan
city. No more of that! Have you any proposition to
make?”

“I believe my Government would not be averse to a renewal
of the propositions I made your Excellency on the
status quo ante bellum; for it never can and never will be
particeps criminis in the sanguinary work of the guillotine.”

“It is premature. The pear is not yet ripe. Ruffleton's
alliance with England is a twofold necessity to me. Nay,
start not, nor stare in surprise. If your Lordship had not
been incapable, as all the British diplomats have been, of
comprehending the public sentiment in this country—I
mean the patriotism of our popular sovereigns—you would
have withheld your co-operation from both sections, at least
until the rupture and collision had progressed into more
desperate stages. And now, my Lord, I not only decline
forming any alliance with England myself, but will contribute
all in my power to prevent a rupture between you and
Ruffleton. Your Lordship may at any time return to your
ally, on parole, to be honorably exchanged whenever an
equivalent can be tendered. I will have your Lordship's

breakfast served immediately, and, in the meantime, you
will amuse yourself until I return from my morning's ride.”

Saying this, Randolph withdrew, leaving his Lordship in
a state of profound amazement.

During the interview between Randolph and Slysir,
Blount and Edith met in the parlor. The General was
promenading slowly to and fro, pale and haggard, having
been unable to sleep during the night, for the vision of his
father and the butchery of the guillotine frightened slumber
from his pillow. But now he was composed, though very
sad. Edith, who had been attracted by his measured step,
was so overcome by his appearance, that her sympathy
found expression in tears; and, upon beholding her bedewed
eyelids, Blount advanced and silently folded her in his arms,
and their tears were mingled together.

“Dearest Edith,” said he—“and who else now remaining
on earth can be so dear to me?—I thank you for this! The
vision is dispelled—the horrid picture of his humiliation
and agony—and dispelled by an angel! The severed links
that bound me to another earthly object, now for ever gone,
only attach me the more indissolubly to you. Here and
hereafter, now and for ever, we will exist for each other.
Let us go to your father. Let us lose not a moment in
consummating the union. You are silent,” said he, gazing
down at the fair maiden's face, half-hidden on his breast.
“But you do not oppose?”

“No, Harry,” said she.

“No? I have not misinterpreted? Then let us hasten
to your father!”

Half-leading—half-bearing the precious burden, the General
entered the room occupied by Senator Langdon. Blount
briefly but explicitly made known the nature of his errand,
and Edith was silent.

“My son!” said Langdon, while tears started in his eyes
—“I will be your father in affection, as well as in law. I
loved your father, though I often differed with him. I
shall not differ with you, and therefore must love you more.
Send for Dr. Love, and let us all repair to the little chapel
in the grove which we attended last evening.”

Blount, placing the blushing maiden in the arms of her
father, hastened away to make the necessary preparations
for the nuptials.