University of Virginia Library

27. CHAPTER XXVII.
MEETING OF TRAVIS AND SINCLAIR.

You suppose, no doubt, that Travis disappeared from the
chamber of Inglehardt in a towering passion — that he was
fairly and uncomfortably cornered — driven to the wall, as he
himself phrased it! Not a bit of it! His most admirable
effects of passion were all simulated. He had really gained a
point in the game. His policy was to lull his antagonist into
the belief that he was at his mercy — in order to gain the very
time that was accorded him. His vexation and rage were
meant to show that he felt himself foiled, detected, exposed, in
danger; that he had no further chance of escape, or means of
evasion; and, therefore, that his surrender, at discretion, was a
necessity, which he honestly acknowledged and submitted to,
however unwillingly. Of course, if he were not conquered,
why lose his temper? If he had any other weapons of argument
or evasion, why use his tongue — why hint at pistols?
Briefly, Travis, however apparently chafed and excited when
he left his antagonist, was really quite satisfied with the result
of the interview. It did not appear that Inglehardt had made
any new discoveries of importance, except the single fact of his
having visited old Sinclair and dined at his table; a fact which
had its business justification — public business too; — and, in respect
to all this affair, Travis flattered himself that he had amply
baffled the inquisitor.

Three weeks were thus gained! Three weeks, at this particular
juncture, and with such plans as he had in meditation,

ripening rapidly for the future, were an eternity! They promised
him all the time that he desired. His daughter should not
be sacrificed to such a cold-blooded and paltry despot! Travis
loved his daughter, we may state, quite as fondly as it was in
his power to love anything. He would have cheerfully sacrificed
his wealth, well or ill acquired, to the happiness of his
two children. Let this be taken in allowance, as a human
set-off to his otherwise slavish propensity to gain. He was
still capable of some sacrifice of self for the happiness of another.

Travis had a room at Jack Baltezegar's. When he went
thither, from the chamber of Inglehardt, he found certain persons
awaiting him on business; for he still acted, it must be remembered,
as a sort of sub-commissary of the British army in
Carolina. He dined at Baltezegar's and took his way homeward
at a moderately early hour in the afternoon. He had
ridden some two miles after crossing the Edisto bridge, when
he was startled by discovering a stranger suddenly riding out
of the woods on his left, and joining him. At first, he did not
recognise the new-comer, till the voice of Willie Sinclair made
him known. He rejoiced at the meeting. This interview was
a necessary part of those maturing plans, by which Travis calculated
to foil the cunning and the treachery of Richard Inglehardt.
It was an honest welcome, therefore, that he gave to
our major of dragoons in the eager speech:—

“Major Sinclair, I am truly glad to see you.”

Travis really desired to see his daughter the wife of Sinclair.
He honored the young man — honored his family position,
and was right well pleased that his daughter's affections
squared so happily with his own projects and desires. The
meeting seemed a pleasant omen.

“I have kept my word, Captain Travis.”

“And I will keep mine, sir,” answered the other with earnest
emphasis.

“Let us ride into the thicket, sir,” said Sinclair, “and confer
at once upon this matter.”

“Why not go home with me? We can talk there in perfect
safety.”

“No, sir; I must risk nothing just now! I prefer that our

conference should take place in this wood. It is the safer
place.”

“Do not show yourself suspicious, Major Sinclair,” said the
other. “I am dealing with you honorably.”

“So I hope, sir — so, indeed, I believe! But caution does
not necessarily imply suspicion, Captain Travis, and even if it
did, in the present instance, it by no means regards you as its
object. But I have reason to think that my steps are watched,
while at your plantation. I am half inclined to think they are
dogged now. And with such a wily enemy as Richard Inglehardt
in the neighborhood, as I am told he is, one can not be
too vigilant.”

“You are right, sir. He is a wily rascal! a liquid serpent,
who will glide into the porches of your dwelling, and coil himself
in a corner, yet sound no rattle. I have just parted with
him, and we have had a long, and, on my side, an angry conference.
But I have thrown him off the scent. It will be prudent,
indeed, that you should not appear, just now, at my plantation.
It might undo much that I flatter myself has been well
done.”

And, thus speaking, Travis followed Sinclair deep into the
right-hand wood. The two forced their way forward through
its thickest recesses, till they drew rein within a hundred yards
of the river. Here they dismounted; and, each holding his
bridle by the hand, they prepared to seat themselves upon a
fallen tree. Travis had actually found a spot, and had turned
his back, about to sit upon the tree, when Sinclair grasped his
wrist suddenly, and drew him away.

“What's the matter?”

“Your friend Inglehardt is just behind you.”

“The d—l he is!”

He turned and looked where Sinclair pointed, and the crest
of a rattlesnake, in his coil, was perceptible, raised directly behind
the log where he was about to seat himself. Giving his
bridle into the hands of Travis, Sinclair caught up a broken
branch and brained the beast at a blow. Then the two seated
themselves.

“Well, Major Sinclair,” said Travis, “I trust you come prepared

to adjust our business. You got my last despatch. You
have communicated with General Marion on the subject.”

“Yes, sir: I have omitted nothing which could possibly be
thought necessary to be known and understood between us, as
essential to bringing about the desired consummation of our
mutual objects. I understand you to say that you are prepared
to ally your fortunes with those of the country — to shake off
the connection with the British, and to prove your good faith
by putting us in possession of such information as will materially
help our cause in future.”

“More than this, Major Sinclair, I am possessed of the power
to hurt as well as help — to hurt as seriously as help. I am
possessed of proofs of a conspiracy in Charleston to surprise and
destroy the British garrison, in that place; — proofs which are
so conclusive, that, if once known to Balfour or Rawdon, would
bring sixty-three of its best citizens to the gallows. To satisfy
you, that I do not speak idly, I need but add that I know that
you yourself have recently communicated with these same citizens
within the capital — that you were there three days, concealed,
and in disguise; and that you brought away with you a concerted
plan of operations which, I suppose, you have either delivered
to General Marion, or have still in your possession! Now, sir,
you see that I possess the means of hurt and injury, to as great
a degree, as the means of help and service to your cause.”

“I would rather, Captain Travis, that you had not referred
to this power of hurt which you possess; — would rather have
had you make a freewill offering of patriotism to your country,
however late, growing out of honest sympathies, and proper
convictions!”

The rebuke was uttered with cold gravity. Travis felt it,
though he was not the man to forego the assertion of all his arguments
and resources when a bargain was to be driven. He
replied — hastily:—

“Do not mistake me, Major Sinclair. My purpose was not
to threaten or annoy, but simply to assure you that I do not
make a vain boast, when I tell you of the large value of my information,
and of the importance of those services which I can
render to your cause, in return for the securities which I demand
for the future. I would have you also, individually,

Major Sinclair, be assured of my good faith; a guaranty
for which may be perceived in the countenance which I have
given you, tacitly, in your attentions to my daughter.”

“Let me entreat you, Captain Travis, to make no reference
to your daughter, or to my affections in this business. These
are things apart, sacred, to themselves — not to be sullied by
calculations of selfishness of any kind — not to be mixed up
with the interests of war; still less to enter into any of the
conditions of this present negotiation.”

“Well, sir, as you please,” answered the other, a little disquieted
at this second rebuke, and feeling irked somewhat by
the proud and haughty mode in which Sinclair treated every
approach to subjects not actually necessary to the consideration
of the one topic under view.

“You are somewhat scrupulous and nice in these matters,
major, but I don't know but you are right. You will forgive,
to a father's anxieties for his daughter's happiness, the allusion
which you regard as irrelevant. To our simple business then.
What does General Marion say to my propositions?”

“General Marion, you are aware, possesses none but military
powers. He approves of all the propositions you make, so
far as they fall within his province. But the general scope of
your desire renders necessary the consideration of another distinguished
person — and there is but one person only who can
decide upon it.”

“I am fully aware of that! Well, sir, will he see me? can
I have a meeting with him in person, sir? — for it will be to
him only, in person, that I will confide my papers — my facts
— proofs—”

“Read that billet, Captain Travis,” said the major, handing
him a scrap of paper — “you are acquainted with the handwriting,
and will recognise the signature. You will see that I
have forborne nothing toward bringing about the result which
I desire equally with yourself — and that the interview will be
accorded you. Everything, after that, will depend upon the
value of the evidence you offer — that evidence being necessary
to inspire the proper degree of faith in your pledges for the
future.”

The billet, which Travis received and read, ran as follows:—

“It is his signature!” said the other musingly. “He will
meet me at Holly-Dale — but when?”

This was spoken eagerly, but with an air of considerable satisfaction
— not to say exultation. The secret feeling of Travis
was, indeed, one of triumph — but it was because of the conviction
that he was now in a fair way to shake himself free of
Inglehardt, and to achieve the full security of his possessions
from the growing power which he began to fear beyond all
other — that of the Revolutionists. But Sinclair regarded the
expression of his satisfaction with suspicion. He knew not the
full extent of Travis's recent fears.

“Captain Travis,” said the major of dragoons — “in making
the arrangements for this interview, I have not at any moment
forgotten that I may be placing in the hands of an enemy, one
of the greatest persons in this commonwealth — one who has
been the leading spirit of our cause in Carolina, for five years;
— one whose loss to us would seriously endanger our cause, at
this moment. I have done what most persons would think a
very rash thing, knowing what your course hitherto has
been, I have pledged my honor for your fidelity! Now, mark
me, sir; should you betray my pledges — should you abuse the
trust reposed in you — should anything happen to this distinguished
person, of evil, bonds, or blows, when he comes to this
meeting — then, sir, whatever my sympathies for you — however
necessarily and earnestly anxious for your safety and happiness,
and for the peace and happiness of your family — how
dear to me, I will not say! — yet will I put you to death, sir,
as unscrupulously as I have brained that venomous serpent
lying behind us now! My eye shall be upon you, my hand
upon your throat, my weapon at your head, and as there is a
God in heaven, let me but see the first sign of treachery

toward that great man, and you die like a dog in your tracks,
even though I have to smite you down at the feet of Bertha
Travis herself.”

A warm flush passed over the whole face of Travis; but he
replied frankly: —

“And you would be right, sir! As there is a God in heaven,
my purpose is honest. I deal in good faith with you. He
shall come to no harm. No! Major Sinclair, if on your account
only — he shall be safe at my hands. Ah! sir — if you would
only suffer me to say that, regarding you as one who is so precious
to my child, your honor is as dear to me as hers!”

“Enough, sir! I am willing to believe you. I have shown
this in the pledges I have made for you. But we have so much
at stake — so much depends upon the safety of that one man's
life, in the present crisis of our fortunes — that the most confiding
nature will feel misgivings. Forgive me that I have felt
it due to myself to utter threats and warnings which must be
offensive. I will utter no more. We understand each other.”

Travis grasped his hand. They sat for some minutes both
in profound silence. At length —

“When shall we have this meeting?” inquired Travis. “The
sooner the better. Inglehardt has pushed me to a certain extremity.
If not relieved within three weeks, Bertha must become
his wife.”

“Ha! Bertha his wife! Never! never!”

“Amen! — God knows I would sooner make any sacrifice to
prevent such a marriage. But it is to this meeting that I must
look for safety.”

“Within three days you shall have it — here, at Holly-Dale
and Heaven speed it to fortunate issues! You must confide,
Mr. Travis, in the simple words of the person you will meet!
Do not you be too suspicious, too exacting! He is not the man
with whom to drive a bargain. Unfold yourself — deliver yourself
frankly, and leave it to his magnanimity to afford you even
more than you desire in return. These papers! — you have
them safe against possibility of loss.”

“Safe as the grave! They shall be forthcoming — all!
But how shall we communicate?”

“Leave that to me! I shall contrive it. I may send you a

messenger. He shall utter but a single word to you, which
shall prove his authority to communicate. That word is—”

The sentence was finished in a whisper.

“Very good,” said the other — “and now, Major Sinclair,
will you give us any time at Holly-Dale?”

“Perhaps!” with a slight smile. “But it will be well that
you should know nothing of my visits. It will make it easier
for you to deny that I have been at your plantation. You will
need to keep up appearances with Inglehardt. See him every
day, if possible. Play your game out with him fearlessly. He
is one of those subtle scoundrels, full of trick and maneuvre,
whom nothing can baffle but an open game. How many men
has he at the village?”

“Less than twenty, I think, and all raw recruits. You might
crack all their crowns, and capture him at a dash, with a small
company.”

“Ay, I might! But the attempt might peril our present object
— occasion alarm — and bring down the British upon us.
They are rapidly moving down from Ninety-Six. We must
risk nothing now unnecessarily. It may be well, too, were you
to prepare your family for sudden flight across the Santee. If
Inglehardt becomes troublesome, the region will be safe for
neither you nor them as soon as the British army moves into
the precinct. They will probably take post at the village, and
Greene will push them if he can. Judge for yourself what your
danger will be, if Inglehardt gets any inkling of your present
course. He is pressing you, you say. That proves him suspicious
already. Take warning, and be prepared, as soon as
you are threatened, to send your family off, and bury your
negroes in the swamp. Are you doubtful of any of them?
Inglehardt is the very man to employ your domestics as spies
upon you.”

The other answered gravely —

“I have sometimes thought of that, and feared it; for it is
difficult, otherwise, to account for the information that he sometimes
obtains. I visited your father sometime ago, and took
every precaution, and a circuitous route, in seeking the Barony;
yet, though laid up with his wound at the time, Inglehardt
knew it all.”

“Be heedful of this danger. Your domestics must be watched
narrowly. It is because I doubt them, that I would not willingly
be seen at Holly-Dale. Besides, I believe myself to be
tracked by an enemy's scout.”

“Who?”

“Hell-fire Dick, and perhaps others of his gang.”

“Why, Dick is, or was, one of Inglehardt's own troop; but
he deserted and went over to General Marion.”

“From whom he has also deserted — by whom he is outlawed.”

“And you think him on your track?”

“It is probable! I have thrown him out, I believe; but, of
these things, one can not be certain. At all events, I change
my quarter nightly, and always keep ahead, using the running
water, as frequently as I can, for washing my horse's hoofs. I
shall cross the river to night.”

“Have you any support at hand?”

“I think so. To-night will determine.”

Much more was said between the parties, dealing with the
details of their respective progresses; but these need not delay
us in ours. The two separated toward dusk, having adjusted
their more important objects, but engaged to meet, at about the
same time next day, in the same neighborhood.

When fairly dark, Sinclair ventured upon a doubtful ford
across the river, which, as the water was low, enabled him to
pass without difficulty. On the other side, knowing his route
thoroughly, he made his way upward, some two miles, and,
having reached a certain designated spot, he wound his bugle,
and was delighted to hear an answering blast, only a few moments
after. Is was not long before he was joined by 'Bram,
his faithful negro.

'Bram had a long story to tell of his own progress, and that
of Jim Ballou, portions of which we are already in possession
of. For the rest, we may briefly state that “Hell-fire Dick”
had kept the track of Sinclair unerringly, until Turkey Hill
was reached; when, somehow, the hounds were at fault, thrown
out by a nice little bit of practice which the partisan had indulged
in. Whether the scouts had recovered the trail, the
negro could not say, nor could he report where they were.

Jim Ballou had kept him at watch upon Holly-Dale, to which
he crossed in the morning, recrossing again at night. Ballou
himself was still off scouting somewhere.

After a long and satisfactory conference with the negro, Sinclair
followed him down to the river, where he found a canoe
which 'Bram had appropriated from a neighboring plantation.
Leaving the latter to stable his horse in the swamp thickets for
the present, our major of dragoons paddled himself across the
river, to the “Holly-Dale” tract which lay directly opposite.

He had been expected. Bertha Travis and her brother,
Henry, welcomed him at the landing.