 | CHAPTER XIX.
THE LEAGUER — THE RELIEF. The forayers, or, The raid of the dog-days |  |
19. CHAPTER XIX.
THE LEAGUER — THE RELIEF.
Pete Blodgit, glad to get off without hurt or hinderance from
the Barony, whither he had gone only under compulsion of the
outlaws, rode with due speed to the thicket where they harbored,
and reported the ill success of his mission. The party
there, in the absence of Dick of Tophet, was led by Sam Brydone,
otherwise Skin-the-Serpent. Brydone was a fellow not
very unlike his superior, possessing all his brutal and ruffianly
qualities, but his merits only in degree. His cupidity was quite
as great, if not greater; and this passion sufficed to urge upon
him the assault of the Barony, where he calculated upon profitable
pickings, quite as much as his desire to extricate his principal
from the captivity into which he had unwarily fallen. As
yet, the outlaws had no notion that Dick had escaped; and
the plunder of the house was a desire that received an additional
impulse in their minds, from the hope to rescue their
comrade. They were encouraged by the report of Blodgit, as
to the feebleness of the garrison — a single man, even though
so well known and greatly feared as Willie Sinclair, not being
regarded as likely to offer much resistance to a stout band of
seven old forayers. This was the real number of the outlaws,
not including Blodgit; their increase of force being due to the
arrival of Zeke Rodgers, the fellow who owned the dogs, who
had brought with him besides three others, Halliday, Toland,
and Nelson, all tories, whose taste for the regular service, under
his majesty's officers, had gradually given way to the passion
for a more free and easy disposition of their time and persons.
They were, all of them, briefly speaking in the language of the
country, outlaws — cattle-reivers, squatters, houseburners, and
plunderers — unrestrained by any laws but those of force, and
society. They prepared at once for the assault of the Barony.
But they had no plans, no designs — and simply calculated
to operate by sheer force of numbers, and the terrors which
they might inspire.
“You hear, boys,” said Brydone, after Blodgit had made his
report — “thar's but one white man we've got to deal with —
Willie Sinclair. He's h-ll to fight, we know, but what's one
man when we've got the we'pons? Old Sinclair's too lame to
git out of his easy-chair, and the niggers ain't of no account, no
how, in a scrimmage. What's a rifle, a shot gun, and a few puppy
pistols? Not much; when hyar, you see, thar's four on us
with rifles, and three with fowling-pieces. All we've got to do
is smash the windows with a volley of buckshot from the guns,
and then let the men what fires make a rush and git across the
garden to the kitchen, and git into kiver behind that. The
rifles kin watch doors and windows all the time. First, then,
we'll creep up, close as we kin, to the garden-fence, pull off
some of the palings, and steal up among the shrubs till we're
nigh enough to blaze away. Then let drive at the windows,
all three on you, with the shot-guns; then make a rush for the
kitchen, and the boys with the rifles will keep their beads resting
on door and window, so that any head that lifts to sight
you, shall draw a bullet. You hears? Does you all onderstand?”
“All right, Sam,” was the reply; and Halliday, Toland, and
Nelson, the men carrying fowling-pieces, prepared for the part
assigned them.
The rattling of the window-glass, shattered by the buckshot,
which had disturbed the hobanobbing of the veteran and his
son, indicated the performance of the first act in this simple
little drama.
It sent Willie Sinclair, with due haste, to the upper chambers.
He was quite aware that, beyond the smashing of the
glass, there could be no damage done, unless his orders, that all
parties should keep in cover as he placed them, had been disobeyed.
This was not the case. He found all safe, and Carrie Sinclair
seized his arm, as he entered the room, which had chiefly
frame.
“They have begun, Willie, and now ought we not to have some
weapons here? We could surely do something from this quarter,
Willie.”
“No, Carrie, dear; there is no need to tax your valor. We
must only try your patience and endurance, no small part of the
education for a soldier and a soldier's wife. Only keep Lottie
close to the floor, and keep as closely to the floor yourself as
possible. We are quite enough for these fellows below, and
there we need all our weapons. But, hark!”
Pistol-shots were heard — one — two.
“That is Benny Bowlegs! I looked for it there. Down,
Carrie — close, while I take a peep.”
Glancing obliquely through the half-closed shutter, in the
direction of the garden, Willie suddenly raised the fowling-piece
which he grasped, and fired instantly. He was about to
discharge the second barrel, when he promptly drew back, and
clasping Carrie about the waist, drew her to the floor with him.
In another moment of time, a bullet passed between the shutters,
and was buried in the angle of the opposite wall.
“You see, Carrie, you must keep close. These fellows watch
every opening. Keep the negroes at the opposite windows.
There is no cover on that side for the approach of the rascals
within rifle distance. And now a kiss — I must go below.
We have tickled some of the scamps, I am sure.”
He went below, and forcibly rolled his father back from his
station at the window. In the anxiety of the veteran, he had
leaned forward upon the jambs, with his pistol cocked and
ready, and his game-leg upon the floor, the pillows upon which
it rested having slipped off in the eagerness of his movement.
He was groaning with pain, but, in his excitement, mentally
unconscious of its cause.
“What's done, Willie? Oh! I am hurt somewhere, Willie.
I feel the pain of a wound, but where it is, sir, I can not tell, by
Heaven!”
“In your foot, sir — your pillow was shot off, sir, and your
game leg has got all the hurt.”
“Ah! so it is! There! there! Don't touch it for your life,
no pain. Call her down for a moment. You are too rough a
nurse.”
Carrie appeared, replaced cushions and foot, and was again
driven up to the chamber.
“The girl is just as cool as an old soldier. She will make a
soldier's wife, sir. Well, Willie, what has been done. There
were shots from the kitchen, and above stairs? Did you fire?”
“Emptied one barrel of buck upon a fellow who was sneaking
off among the box in the garden.”
“Did you stretch him?”
“I think so. I seldom miss; and it could not be more than
sixty yards off. But my flash drew a rifle-shot upon the window,
and I dared not look.”
“They are at the kitchen, are they?”
“They have been; but I suspect they have found the kitchen
fires too warm at this time of day. I sent Benny Bowlegs
there, well armed, to help the cook. They were his pistols that
we heard.”
`Benny is cool as a cucumber, and steady as a pine. He will
not waste gunpowder. Ha! there is another volley. They
must have some dozen guns.”
“These discharges are all from fowling-pieces.”
“Don't I know that, sir? But there would seem a dozen of
them.”
“Half the number, and double-barrels would give that fire.
They have only broken a few more panes.”
“The fools, to waste their ammunition.”
“Their purpose is probably to make a rush for the house under
the fire. I must look in upon the boys in the basement, and
give them a drink all round.”
And, turning a silver mug down upon the mouth of a decanter
of Jamaica, Willie Sinclair supplied the negroes keeping guard
in the great passage and below.
“Boys,” he said to the latter, “we'll have a drink all round,
that we may be better able to thrash these dirty rascals, should
they dare to come. I'll give you drink, and you'll give them
the devil. Benny Bowlegs, let me tell you, has already
knocked over half a dozen or more, and I have stretched out
do.”
“Only le' 'em come, maussa, da's all!” was the one response
of all, as they drank — drank deep, as a negro knows how to
drink — with head thrust out, lips trembling, and eyes already
moistened with delight.
“Wait for the word, boys, that's all!”
Then as they began to jabber loudly with each other, promising
and boasting of their future performances, our major stopped
them—
“Shut up, boys, Barking dogs don't bite — remember that.
Would you give tongue before you've got the scent? Not a
word now! Wait till I give the word — wait till you see me
at work — then take hold, and see that you make your teeth
meet in the flesh!”
“Le' 'em come, young maussa — da's all!”
And giving them a second sup of the bottle, enough to enliven
their courage without enfeebling their strength, Willie Sinclair
hurried up-stairs with the empty decanter.
“There's a lull in the storm, Willie.”
“Ay, sir, the scamps are in consultation doubtless. They
have no head, sir; though where that scoundrel, Devil Dick,
may be, it is difficult to conjecture. These fellows really have
no plans. They are of the class of bull-heads — that simply
know how to rush and butt, and the moment they encounter a
wall, they slink off with their tails down. This is their case
now. To give us a scare, and under cover of it, rush to the
assault, is all that they know how to do. They are like the
tiger — disappointed in the first spring, they steal back into the
jungle.”
“As the case stands, they may fire at us all day.”
“They will hardly do that, sir! Like the tiger again, they
will wait for night, and then comes our danger! While we
have the light to see, they will hardly dare to expose themselves
in assault; but, with the darkness, we can do nothing but
watch at all the ports, and be prepared as well as we can for
the close encounter.”
“Surely, Willie, we have nothing then to fear. We can
certainly with our force overcome them.”
“Ay, sir, butcher them! as by God's help we will!” muttered
the other fiercely. “But we must still lose in such a
conflict. To conquer these wretches is a very small source of
satisfaction; but to know that one life, precious to our hearts,
has been sacrificed in doing so, is very terrible.”
“It is, Willie; it is; — where are the girls now?”
“Up-stairs, sir, in safety!”
“Willie, my son, I should die of a broken heart — it would
kill me, Willie, if one of these dear children suffered at the
hands of these outlaws!”
“Need I tell you, father, that my head must be low — my
eyes shut — my arm paralyzed — before harm shall come to
them! Were it not better, sir, that I should help you up-stairs,
sir, where you can have them under your own eye?”
“What, Willie Sinclair, would you have me leave my post?”
“We have enough here, sir; — and — your foot!”
“D—n the foot, sir! What is the pain of the foot when the
soul is in agony? No, sir; no, Willie; here I stick, at my post,
ready for the enemy. I see what you fear, Willie; but I do
not fear. You think me unequal to the struggle. But you
shall see that a man with a brave spirit, is not less a man because
he has a crippled limb!”
Willie Sinclair laughed — laughed merrily.
“You are right, sir, right. Only so use your pistols, as to
keep the rogues from your toes.”
Some popping shots were now heard. Then a pause, and
after a little interval a volley. The glass was again shattered
— this time directly above the head of the veteran — and the
fragments tumbled about his ears in all directions. Had Willie
not drawn him away from the window-jambs, he would have
been peppered with small shot.
“Swan-shot as I live,” said the major, gathering the bits of
lead about the floor. “This was delivered from the garden.
What can Benny be about? He could surely have touched the
rascal in that quarter.”
Just then a single shot was heard.
“Ah! there, the old fellow speaks! Well, sir, we must only
wait our time. We may have the close hug at nightfall.”
And the major hurried away to his several parties, above and
storm of nearly half an hour. The suspense became very irk-some
to all parties. They could see no enemy — dared not venture
to look out — and had no knowledge of what had been
done. Suddenly, in the deepest hush, the faint sounds of a
bugle were heard.
“Ah!” cried Willie, “he comes at last. We shall now have
a dash at these rascals.”
“Who comes, Willie?”
“Peyre St. Julien, at the head of as brave a captain's command
of troopers as ever drew broadsword.”
“St. Julien, ha! I would it had been anybody else!”
growled the veteran.
“And why, sir? St. Julien is as noble a fellow as ever
crossed charger in battle.”
“Ay, sir, but he is a rebel to his king!”
“Why, so am I, sir!”
“True, and the greater my sorrow, Willie; but I do not
relish these Frenchmen.”
“Why, Lord bless you, sir, he's no more Frenchman than I
am!”
“He's the son of a Frenchman, sir, and he has an eye on
your sister Carrie; and I prefer that my daughter should not
marry any but a man of British stock.”
In the impulse of the moment, the father had betrayed himself,
so as to reveal the true secret of the cold treatment which
St. Julien had always received at his hands. It was only by
reserve and coldness that he could repel the approaches of the
young man, who was not only of the best blood, but the best
character of the country. Willie Sinclair was about to answer
with some sharpness, for he was the sworn brother of St. Julien,
but a moment's reflection satisfied him that he should rather
hurt than help his friend's cause, by entering into any argument,
or making any reply. The bugle again sounded, and he
disappeared in silence from the apartment. Hurrying up stairs,
he encountered Carrie Sinclair in the passage. She too had
heard the bugle, and her cheek was flushed, and she now trembled,
as she never for an instant had done during the whole
leaguer of the outlaws. Willie kissed her cheek, and putting
entrance by the avenue. At that moment, the whole train of
horsemen were wheeling into the enclosure, a gay and gallant
troop, their swords flashing in the evening sunlight, and the
bugler, at intervals, merrily timing their advance. At their
head rode a tall and noble captain, whose white plume floated
loftily above his helmet — a single feather of the heron — and
whose flashing sword was waved in the direction of the dwelling.
“Strange!” said Willie; “I wonder who leads, Carrie. It
is not St. Julien.”
He mocked her, and she knew it; and burying her face for
a moment in his bosom, she said:—
“It is, Willie! You can not deceive me!”
“Then he has grown stouter since I last saw him, and does
not carry himself with half the grace of former times.”
“Fie! you tease! But I know you.”
And now the strains of the bugle were long and loud; and
Willie Sinclair, rushing down stairs, threw open the door of the
hall in season to welcome his companion-in-arms at the entrance.
Carrie, meanwhile, full of tremors, remained waiting in her chamber.
Little Lottie, not discouraged by her sister, had followed
her brother down the stairs.
| CHAPTER XIX.
THE LEAGUER — THE RELIEF. The forayers, or, The raid of the dog-days | |