CHAPTER XII
THE VETO OF A MAID
Ah, I am afraid the clean white sheets, the soft springy bed, and thebalmy September air proved traitor to me, after the hardships of asoldier's life in the field, the rough bivouac, and the hard ride fromthe North, for when I awoke with a start, I found the sun high in theheavens and the music of birds coming through the open window from thetrees outside. Hurriedly dressing, I opened my door and went down thebroad stairway into the old hall. Everything was quiet, not a soul wasaround. I wandered across the hall and parlour, and there I stood fora few minutes, looking out into the street, when a merry burst oflaughter across the hall attracted my attention. The door of the roomopposite was slightly ajar, and I saw that it was the library of thehouse; so crossing the hall, I gently rapped on the panel. A cheery"Come in!" was my answer. I obeyed the summons, threw the door open,and entered.
"Why, it is our feather-bed soldier," came a merry voice from thebroad window-sill, where sat two young ladies. A peal of ringinglaughter followed; for, indeed, I was somewhat non-plussed to thuscome upon two such laughing, merry girls.
One was dark, the other fair; Both were sweet and debonair.
Indeed they were very pretty, sitting there amid the quaint oldsurroundings, the heavy old book-presses, with solid oak doors, thewainscoting extending to the ceiling, the broad window-seats, thegreen trees, and quiet garden beyond. I knew at once that they must bedaughters of my host, Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy Johnson, atthat time the reigning belles of the western shore.
"Now I know what awaited me I shall never forgive that feather-bed," Ireplied, recovering from my confusion and making my best bow. "I wouldnever have proved such a traitor to my cloth."
"That is better," said Mistress Polly, the black-haired, dark-eyedone. "Come and report to us, sir. Do you not know that no officerreturns from the army who does not immediately report to us?"
"I understand their alacrity in doing so. I shall be among the firstto obey the order hereafter."
"Then, sir, come tell us of the battle, and what brought you hither sofast that the mud is still upon your boots?"
Now, telling the account of the battle to two charming young ladies,whose bright eyes and eager faces told of the interest they took in mynarrative, was a far different thing from telling the same tale beforethe powerful Council of Safety, and I am free to confess that Ienjoyed the last far more than the first.
Their exclamations and excited questions spurred me on, and I drew thepicture of the battle with a stronger hand and painted myself a hero,which I am afraid I was far from being.
But Mistress Betsy suddenly sat up straight, exclaiming:
"Bless me, Polly, Mr. Frisby has not had his breakfast, and here it isnear ten o'clock"--an outrageous late hour in those days.
At this both Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy sprang to their feet,and I was duly conducted to the dining-room, where a delightfulbreakfast awaited me, which I endeavoured to eat amid their salliesand their questioning.
We were having a very gay time of it, when there came a heavy stepthrough the hall into the room, and a cheery voice asked: "How is thesoldier to-day? In good hands, I see." It was Thomas Johnson.
"That he is, sir," I replied, rising, "and he thoroughly enjoys ittoo."
"Spoken like a soldier," replied our future Governor, "and like asoldier you must leave at once, for the Council desire you to carrythese despatches posthaste to General Washington."
"No; he shall not," cried Mistress Polly, with a stamp of her foot."He has promised to drive our four-in-hand to the races thisafternoon, and I am not going to let that Council of old fogies rob usof the only soldier in town who has seen service for at least oneday."
"So that is the way the wind blows," said her father, pinching hercheek and laughing. "I will tell the great Council of Public Safetythat they have been overruled by a maid."
"It will not be the first time," she retorted. "Their wives overrulethem every day."
"I will ride all night to make it up," I suggested.
"Never mind, my boy," he replied, "you deserve a little holiday; youneed not leave Annapolis until nightfall, and Kent the followingnight, which will give you a chance to see your mother again. There, Ihope this little minx will give me some peace now."
The treaty was quickly sealed by a kiss, and Mistress Polly ran off togive the order for the coach-and-four, for the races began at oneo'clock and the course was a short distance out of the city.
There soon came a clatter of hoofs, a rattle, a slam and a bang, awhoaing, a yelling, and a confusion of noises.
"They have put the colts in," cried Mistress Betsy with glee, andMistress Polly was at the door crying, "Come on."
"Great Jove!" said I to myself, as I seized my hat and followed after,for though I had driven many a wild team I had never done so through atown before. And four devils they were for a certainty, a little undersize, but making up for that by the fire and vim of their proceedings.
The heels of the wheelers were playing like castanets on thedashboard, while the leaders were in the air half the time as theyswayed above the crowd of darkies, who, hanging on everywhere, weretrying to hold them down, while the great coach swayed and rockedbehind.
There was a flash of skirts, a gleam of the smallest feet in theworld, and Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy were in their places, andI had sprung to my seat and gathered the reins in my hands.
"All ready, Captain?"
"Ready. Let go." They scattered like chaff. There was a flash of hoofsand they were off like a shot, their bodies stretched low to theground, the great coach rolling and rocking behind.
Luckily the street ended in a country road, for the street and thehouses were gone in an instant, and we were rushing along betweengreen fields. A column of dust rose up and whirled behind us, and theroad stretched like a ribbon before, while the young ladies at my sidelaughed and clapped their hands in glee. After several miles the pacebegan to tell, I slowly brought them under control, and by the time Ihad come to the race-course I had them well in hand. We had goneseveral miles out of our way, but by taking a short cut we arrived atthe races on time. I brought the four colts into the field with a dashand a flourish as they were preparing for the first race.
The course was a great level field of greensward, oval in shape, withthe track in beautiful condition. Far down the track on either hand,almost encircling the field, stretched the lines of the coaches,chariots, gigs, and wagons. Gentlemen on horseback and on foot, aneager, bustling crowd, gay with colours and bright faces, alreadytingling with the excitement of the coming race, made a stirringscene; for the Trinity of the Marylanders in the early days of myyouth were the horse, the hounds, and a fight.
But though the faces were fair, merry, and pleasant to look upon,though the chariots and four-in-hands were gorgeous and bedecked,there was a woful lack of cavaliers to make those damask cheeksmantle with a blush, for they were away fighting in the North. Thus itwas, as I drove down the line in my uniform of scarlet and buff, tofind a stand, that Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy had theirtriumph, and many a fair face turned our way as we drove by, until Ibrought the coach to a halt in a good place next to the parson, wherehe sat his cob, watching the preliminaries.
"Find the parson," said Mistress Polly judiciously, "and you will havefound the best place in the field."
"Oh, Mistress Polly, you are a minx," said that reverend gentleman."How in the world could I make the youngsters come to church if theydid not know I was a good judge of horseflesh as well as a minister?"
"They are off," cried Mistress Betsy. The race had begun; but whydescribe the race? Those who have never seen a race are mereworthless creatures deserving no consideration, and those who haveseen a race do not need a description. At the mere name they see thegrand thoroughbreds at the line, their coats shining like satin in thesun, eager and ready to be off. Then the flag falls, and, amid therustling of skirts and craning of necks, they are off. Ah, and thenco
mes the glorious excitement of it all as you watch with eager eyesthat ribbon of a track, and see now this one, now that one, slowlydraw away from the bunch at the start, and the closing of the spaceagain, until they become mere moving spots on the far side of thefield. And then, that home stretch, with its thunder of hoofs, itsroar of voices, and cheers and yells, as the grand beasts, withstraining nerves and neck to neck, make the last great effort; andafterward the triumph, the waving of handkerchiefs, the great cheerthat greets the victor, and the smiles of merry lips and laughingeyes. Those were the prizes we raced for, when racing was the pastimeof gentlemen, and not an excuse for blackguardism and gambling, asto-day it is fast becoming. So my kind hosts and I made our littlebets, and enjoyed ourselves right thoroughly, until the last race,which was won by a grandson of the great Selim, was over and done.Then I swung my four colts into the road again, and at a rattling pacereturned to town.
It was late now, and the sun was preparing to take its last dip behindthe western hills; so I was forced to bid my charming hostesses adieu,and amid many good wishes and a waving of handkerchiefs, departed toseek my waterman, to begin my trip across the bay.
The town became a blur, a dark mass behind us, broken by the twinklingof the lights through the gloom, as we swiftly glided down the Severnbefore the wind. Out upon the bay it was still light, and we steeredfor the north point of the Isle of Kent. The wind was fresh. With allsail set we skimmed the water before it, and ere many hours had passedwe saw the light through the gloom of Rock Hall straight ahead. Butthe old waterman suddenly brought his helm around hard, and pointedher nose for the wide mouth of the Chester close at hand.
"What is wrong?" I asked, and for an answer he pointed with his arm towhere against the sky were outlined the tapering masts of a largevessel lying between us and Rock Hall.
"That is a man-of-war," he said, "we will have to run up the river toChestertown."
"Agreed," said I, right readily, for I thought I might see MistressJean once more before I went back to the front.
The mouth of the Chester was soon gained, and for hours, through thestillness of the night, we glided over its smooth waters, between low,heavily wooded banks, or the broad sweeping fields of some plantation,whose boundaries were lapped by the waters of the river. In the earlymorning, in the dusky gray hours, we ran along beside the wharf of theold county seat of Kent.