 | CHAPTER III.
ROGUE IN GRAIN. The forayers, or, The raid of the dog-days |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
ROGUE IN GRAIN.
The hay, or rather fodder-loft, which they sought, was above
the stable. Entering this, the candle was lighted, and our traveller
gave a look at his good steed. He was pleased to see that
the beast pricked up his ears, and showed animation. Blodgit
now supplied the trough with corn; and, this done, the two
clambered up by a rude ladder into the loft above.
This great vaulted chamber was pretty well filled with fodder
closely packed, clean, dry, well cured, and sweetly smelling. It
offered a pleasant sleeping-place to the jaded traveller on a
stormy night. It was ample enough; a house upon a house;
high-roofed, with the square walls of the house running up
above the floor some six feet, and forming, with the roofing,
an apartment of considerable depth. The length and breadth
fully corresponded with the height. The stables were calculated
for the accommodation of fully thirty horses. At this moment,
they contained that of our traveller only, and a stout hackney
of Master Pete Blodgit. There was a single window at
each end of the loft, through the crevices of which the light
found its way usually with the dawn.
Our traveller had the precaution to conceal the candle by
scooping out a space in the fodder piles, shrouding the gleams
of the light, even so feeble as they were, from all possibility of
being seen through the chinks of the building, by any chance
passer on the outside. The two, now sitting down beside the
candle, contributed still more effectually to the obscuration of
it, which they seemed to desire. In this position the traveller
began a conversation for which Pete Blodgit evidently waited
with some disquiet.
“I take for granted, Blodgit, that you are wise enough, and
with which you have been treated by my sister and myself, and
to be faithful to her interests and mine. In this, as I have already
tried repeatedly to show you, lay your own interest —
nay, safety! I have secured you the forbearance of our own
people, and suffer you to keep up appearances with the British.
I intrust to you the property of my sister, and give you a liberal
support out of it. Your policy is to be faithful, even if you
lacked the honesty —”
“But I am honest, major! Who says I ain't honest to you?
I'd like to know! There's no man what has a right to —”
“I wish to believe you honest, Pete; yet how is it that you
suffer drunken and drinking visiters, and night-rufflers, to come
about you? And who are these visiters? I hope you are not
falling into bad company.”
“Lord, no! major; that's jest the old woman's talk; and she
wouldn't be an old woman, you know, ef she didn't talk, and
talk, about them things that she don't onderstand. The people
that come here, once or twice — and they was a-drinking set of
fellows, I own — they were Marion's men —”
“What were Marion's men doing away from camp at this
time?”
“Well, you see, he had let some of them come off, to see
arter their famblies and their crops. They were some of the
Baxters and Corries; young Tom Eigleberger, and Joe Purvis,
and Dick Stairns, and some others, whose famblies live
along the Edisto —”
“Enough of them, for the present! I am not satisfied that
they have left camp with the general's permission, and the less
you have to say to them, the better.”
“Lord love you, major, it's only once in a way I seed them;
I reckon, before this time, they're off to camp ag'in.”
“So much the better for you, as for themselves! and now for
our accounts. How much powder and ball have you been able
to pick up?”
“Mighty leetle, major. The redcoats are getting shy of
parting with ammynition. I don't think I've been able to git
more than thirty weight of bullets, and a leetle more than half
that quantity of powder.”
“Any muskets?”
“Only three.”
“How's this? Not one of my deputies but has been doing
far better, in the time you've had. Ballou, alone, has been
able to pick up more than forty weight of powder, thirteen
muskets, and ninety-eight pounds of ball; besides sending
thirteen Irish deserters into camp.”
“Well, I can't say; but Ballou must be more in luck's way
than me. I hain't had any chaince; besides, major, I've had
so leetle money.”
“How so? You've been selling corn and fodder, I know!
I see even here, your pile has come down considerably! and
how's the corn in the swamp fens?”
“Well, I hain't sold much, major. Mighty leetle, in fact—”
“Be sure, Pete Blodgit, of the truth of what you are about to
tell me. I would not have you commit yourself. I would not
wish to discharge you: but I will not be deceived; and I have
the means of knowing. Speak out boldly, man, and in order to
do so, be sure you speak nothing but the truth.”
“Oh! to be sure, major; it's nothing but the truth that I'm
guine to tell you! Now, you see, powder and shot is mighty
scarce in these pairts. It's hardly to be had for love or money;
and the money's scarce; for, though I hev' been selling a leetle
provisions, yet, you see, the money you gits for it ain't always
the right grit.”
“You don't tell me, Pete Blodgit, that you've been taking
continental money from the British, for my sister's corn and
fodder.”
“Well, you see, major, there warn't any help for it. Times
ain't as they usen to be. Thar's no sich plenty of guineas now
to be had, and sence the British hev' been a printing and counterfitting
this continental paper, they're more likely to poke
that into your fist than the yaller beauties.”
The officer gazed sternly into the countenance of the other,
whose eyes drooped slowly beneath his glance, as he sternly interrupted
him—
“Why do you try to outwind me, Pete Blodgit, with this
chatter about and about the truth. To the point, man. What
corn and fodder have you sold, and what money have you got?”
“Well, major, don't be too rash now — jest let me count up
and remember. Thar' was a matter of five loads of fodder that
was tuk' away by that blasted squad of tories under Richebourg;
and they wouldn't pay in nothing but the blasted paper.”
“Why did you take it?”
“How could I help myself, major? They would ha' tuk' it
anyhow.”
“What! and you with Lord Rawdon's own protection in
your pocket?”
“'Twan't no use, major, with sich rapscallions as them.
They jest laughed at the paper.”
“Well — proceed!”
“Then thar' was Cappin' Creighton —”
“Regular service?”
“Yis — rigilars — but they paid some in continentals, and
some in gould.”
“How much gold?”
“I reckon, I had five guineas from him.”
“Five guineas! well?”
“Then come Norris's dragoons, and they gin' me a leetle
gold.”
“How much gold?”
“Well, about five guineas more.”
“That is ten, then, that you admit. How about Keene's
squadron?”
“Oh! Keene — yes, I did sell some provisions to Cappin'
Keene, and he paid me a leetle gold too; say three guineas.”
“Thirteen! what more?”
“Well, I don't recollect, jest now, any more, major, 'cept—”
“Except what?”
“Except what our own people got. Thar' was Cappin'
Rumph got some with your order; and Ville-Pontoux, and
that rough customer, Wannamaker; all of them had your order,
and didn't pay nothing.”
“No matter about them. You mean to tell me, Blodgit, that
you've got only thirteen guineas for me?”
“Hain't got that, in gould, major; for, you see, the powder
and ball, and the three muskets, had to be paid for out of
that.”
“A moment, my good fellow. How many of the corn-bins
are empty?”
“Oh! none empty, major.... I hain't sold so much corn as
that comes to.”
“Ah, well! not sold so much corn! Stop a moment.”
Here the stranger felt in his pockets.
“Where can my memorandum-book be? I must have left it,
Blodgit, where I ate supper. I had it, certainly, before I sat
down to table. Do run off to the house, and see after it; and,
harkye, don't look into it, as it contains some private matters
concerning the army.”
The other eagerly rose, as if glad to escape the scrutiny
which he had been undergoing; and, in a few moments, descended
the ladder, and emerged from the stable, the door of
which he locked behind him. The stranger smiled as he heard
the bolt shot and the key withdrawn; and, rising stealthily,
lantern in hand, he too descended, and proceeded at once to
the stall where Blodgit's horse was fastened.
“Third stall from the right,” he muttered to himself as he
entered it; “three notches in centre-post, iron ring on top-post
movable. Let us see — let us feel.”
And, thus saying, he tried the post, which he readily found,
and discovered that it was secured to the partition dividing one
stall from another, by a single, but large screw — that it was
nowhere nailed to the partition, and that it worked freely beneath
his hand.
“So far, all promises to be true. The lying rascal! The
ungrateful hound! But I will lay him utterly bare.”
Having satisfied his curiosity in the stall, he secreted the lantern,
drew a key from his pocket, and opened the door of the
stable, carefully locked it, and withdrew the key; then stole
off to the cabin, with a light, swift footstep, pursuing the route
in the darkness, with the ease of one to whom it had been long
familiar. The rain was still falling, but not heavily, and of
this he seemed to take no heed. He passed to the rear of the
building, and, through a crevice, was enabled to discern all the
movements of Blodgit. The latter had already found the
memorandum-book, but, in defiance of his instructions, was
greedily turning over its pages, and reading its contents.
“Nothing here,” he muttered, as he read; “nothing here, that
I kin see, about the corn and fodder; but here's a mighty deal
of information about Greene's army, and Marion's men, and
Sumter's chickens, that I reckon Lord Rawdon would pay a
pretty nice little amount in goulden guineas ef he could only
read like me.”
Suddenly, his mother, starting out of sleep, called to him
from within: “Pete — Pete Blodgit — that you?”
He started with a shiver — the convulsion of guilt and fear —
thrust the book hastily into his bosom, and strode, without answering,
toward the door. She called again.
“That you, Pete?”
“Yes, it's me.”
“What's the matter, Pete?”
“Matter enough. Here's the major a wanting to drean all
the money out of me. I'd as leave he'd drean me of all the
blood in my body.”
“I'd drean his first, Pete Blodgit. I'd never let him hev'
the gould that I hed once fairly got into my own hands. Come
here to me, Pete, and let me tell you what you're to do.”
“I kain't now! He's a waiting for me.”
“Well, you're but a poor-sperited creature, ef you let him
drean you of a copper. I'd draw a knife for it, Pete, I would!”
“Hush up: who knows but I may!”
“Amiable couple!” muttered the stranger, as he listened
without; “and this, great God, is human nature; in a Christian
land; where no house is without its Bible; where no precinct
is without its preacher! Here is a mother, on the verge
of the grave, counselling her own son to murder, for a paltry
sum of gold! And these are people for whom I have found
shelter and protection — whom I have kept from starvation —
whom I still feed, and to whom I have given the very servant
to whom they look for help and water!”
But there was no time for soliloquy. Pete Blodgit was
already about to undo his door, and the stranger stole away
swiftly in the direction of the stable. Here he housed himself,
ascending once more to the fodder loft, and resuming his place
quietly, as he heard the key of the other slowly turning in the
lock.
“You were long in finding it, Pete,” said the guest, as Blodgit
handed him the book.
“'Twas hard to find, major, as I hed to feel for it: — I hed
no light, and didn't want to wake the old woman to git the one
she hed.”
“Well, as you had no light, I needn't ask you whether you
read anything in the book.”
“It's mighty little skill I hev' in reading, any how; but you
tell'd me not, you know.”
Meanwhile, the stranger turned over the pages of the book;
then, slowly speaking, he said: —
“Pete Blodgit, I have tried to favor you, but you will not
let me. I warned you to speak the truth to me, but you
have been deaf to the warning. Now, hear what I know. You
have sold both cattle and provisions to Coffin's commissary, of
which you have not told me a syllable.”
“Oh! but he paid in continental currency, major.”
“Not so, sir! He paid you in guineas, sir, forty-seven guineas,
all of which were counted out into your own hands.”
The fellow was dumb — his eyes dilated to a marvellous
wideness — his lips quivered — his teeth almost chattered; but
he could not deliver a syllable! The other gave him no
respite.
“You sold to Fisher, also, and got your pay in gold — a matter
of nine guineas: — but here, look over that list for yourself;
and say what other items might be set down, which are not
there, but which ought to be taken into count against you!”
The criminal took the paper mechanically, and, while the
perspiration rolled down his face and forehead, he seemed to
peruse the document. When he had done, the other said: —
“Now hand over to me all the money you've got.”
Blodgit drew a leathern sack from his bosom which he delivered
with some alacrity into the hands of the major. The latter
untied it, spread his handkerchief, and poured out the contents,
which he deliberately counted.
“Thirteen guineas, it seems; and this continental stuff?”
“Four thousand three hundred and thirty-five dollars!”
Blodgit uttered the amount sonorously.
“Well remembered. Now, Blodgit, where's the twenty-five
of the Hessian yagers?”
“Silver — Spanish dollars — O! major, I quite forgot that. I
gin that to the old woman to keep. I'll go and git it right away.”
“Nay, leave it with her! But how comes it, Blodgit, that
this small balance is all that remains of the amount you have
received?”
“Well, but, major, — there's the continental paper.”
“None of that nonsense, Blodgit, will impose on me!
Where's the gold?”
“And you forget, major, what I had to pay for the muskets,
the powder and balls.”
“Ah! — and where are they?”
“Thar! under the fodder in that corner.”
“Good. Is the powder in kegs?”
“No, major, in sheep-skins and bladders; and tied up in two
eends of a salt-bag.”
“It is dry, then, and in convenient form for removal?”
“Oh! yes!”
“And this is all the money that you have?”
“It dreans all the blood out of me, major. I hain't got another
shilling, 'cept the Spanish dollars that I gin the old
woman to keep.”
“You would no doubt be grateful to any person who should
show you that there was still some money left, both in gold and
silver?”
“As I'm a living sinner, Major Sinclair, I hain't got two sixpences
to rub ag'in each other. I swow!—
“Stop, man! Don't rivet the chains of the devil about your
soul by an oath!”
“What do you mean, major?”
“I'll show you, my good fellow, in a moment,” said the
other, gathering up the money, and returning it to the leathern
wallet, which he deposited quietly in the body of his coat.
This done, he said: —
“Take up the lantern!”
The fellow obeyed, and led the way, as his superior directed,
to the ladder, both descending to the stable. Here Sinclair
pointed to the stall containing the overseer's beast.
“Put your horse into another stall.” It was done in silence.
Blodgit obeyed, tremblingly, in all things.
“Unscrew me that post.”
“Why, it's nailed down fast, major.”
“Unscrew, unscrew!” The fellow submitted.
“Now pull up the post!”
“Why, major, it's onpossible, unless we dig. It's sunk deep
in the airth.”
“Try it!”
The fellow appeared to try, but the post appeared still to remain
immovable. Sinclair approached it, passing the lantern
into the hands of Blodgit. He then grasped the post with a single
hand. As he did so, the light flickered — Blodgit having
reached forward his right hand to the trough against which
leaned an oaken billet. But whether he designed to grasp it
or not, and for what purpose, must be only matter of conjecture,
for, in that very moment, Sinclair turned full upon him, and
clapped a pistol to his head.
“I tell you, hold the lantern! Make a movement, to the
right or the left, and I blow your brains out.”
The fellow fairly shivered, but he made out to stammer: —
“Why, major, what's the trouble? What em I doing?”
“Enough, Pete Blodgit, that I know you! Hold that lantern
steadily. Beware!”
With this speech — as if satisfied of his securities — he deigned
not another word, or look, to the fellow; but, with a single
hand, tore up the post from the spot where it seemed to be
firmly planted in the earth. This act required no effort, the
post having been maintained in an erect position simply by the
single screw — a large one indeed — which had fastened it to
the partition.
“Leave the stall! Go to the next and hold your lantern
over,” was the stern command of his visiter, in tones that coerced
the will of the listener. Blodgit obeyed in silence,
while Sinclair, stooping to the hole left by the post, drew up
an old powder-keg by a rope-hitch, which had been made
about it.
“You are surprised, Mr. Pete Blodgit, at my discovering
golden treasures where you had none,” said Sinclair, as, with
and laid bare its contents. Blodgit groaned aloud as the other
poured out the guineas into a great belt which he had drawn
from his bosom, and now strapped about his body.
“Why do you groan, man! Ought you not rather to rejoice
at my good fortune?”
The other groaned again.
“Pete Blodgit,” said Sinclair, “your gnawing avarice has
made you a rogue and a traitor. Were I to serve you rightly,
I should abandon you to your fate; — nay, have you hung to
the first swinging bough! But you are sufficiently punished by
the loss of your ill-appropriated treasure. Now hear me. I have
an eye upon you, and no trust in you! My spies shall watch
you. I shall give you one more trial. Do you try and be
faithful! I shall leave in your hands the corn and fodder still,
to be sold out as it is called for. I shall leave you the negro-girl
to help your mother as before. You have the hogs, the
cattle, and the poultry; and a cover over your own heads. Be
faithful!”
Blodgit fell upon his knees.
“Oh! Lord, major, have mercy upon me! It was the old
woman that tempted me!”
“Silence, rascal, and say nothing of your mother! I doubt
if she knows of your proceedings. It is the bad company you
have kept, sirrah, your own gnawing avarice, your own corrupt
heart, that have led you to sin! Away, now! — not a
word — and rout me up at daylight. I will then give you my
further instructions. Take the light with you, and begone!”
The culprit did not wait a second order. He dashed out;
and Sinclair heard him shoot the bolt and draw out the key,
and fancied that there was a deliberate something in the way
of his doing it, that spoke for a secret satisfaction, in the
thought of the fellow, which seemed to give him consolation
even after his losses. The other smiled scornfully, however,
and muttered: —
“Rascal! He thinks he has me fast till morning! But
I will teach him another lesson. Does he suppose me silly
enough to have faith in him, after I have found him out — after
I have stripped him of his stolen treasures — after I have shown
the cat's fur until I can get beyond reach of her claws! There
is work to be done before morning! Were I to linger till
peep of day, I should never see another. The scamp would
soon have a score of his Jamaica-seekers busy with their
knives about my throat. I must try and keep it sound for
sweeter customers.”
| CHAPTER III.
ROGUE IN GRAIN. The forayers, or, The raid of the dog-days | |