D'Ri and I

  XI

  It was, indeed, tougher business than we had yet known--a dash intothe enemy's country, where my poor head was in excellent demand.D'ri and I were to cross the lake with a band of raiders, a troopof forty, under my command. We were to rescue some prisoners in alockup on the other side. They were to be shot in the morning, andour mission therefore admitted of no delay. Our horses had beenput aboard a brig at midnight, and soon after the noon mess wedropped down the lake, going into a deep, wooded cove south of theGrenadier Island. There we lay waiting for nightfall. A big windwas howling over the woods at sunset, and the dark came on itswings an hour ahead of time. The night was black and the lakenoisy when we got under way, bound for a flatboat ferry. Ourskipper, it turned out, had little knowledge of those waters. Hehad shortened sail, and said he was not afraid of the weather. Thewind, out of the southeast, came harder as it drove us on. Beforewe knew it, the whole kit and boodle of us were in a devil of ashakeup there in the broad water. D'ri and I were down among thehorses and near being trampled under in the roll. We tried to putabout then, but the great gusts of wind made us lower sail and dropanchor in a hurry. Soon the horses were all in a tumble and one ontop of the other. We had to jump from back to back to saveourselves. It was no pretty business, I can tell you, to get tothe stairway. D'ri was stripped of a boot-leg, and I was cut inthe chin by a front hoof, going ten feet or so to the upper deck.To the man who was never hit in the chin by a horse's hoof let mesay there is no such remedy for a proud spirit. Bullets are mucheasier to put up with and keep a civil tongue in one's head. Thatlower deck was a kind of horses' hell. We had to let them alone.They got astraddle of one another's necks, and were cut from ear tofetlock--those that lived, for some of them, I could see, werebeing trampled to death. How many I never knew, for suddenly wehit a reef there in the storm and the black night. I knew we haddrifted to the north shore, and as the sea began to wash over us itwas every man for himself. The brig went up and down like asledge-hammer, and at every blow her sides were cracking andcaving. She keeled over suddenly, and was emptied of horse andman. A big wave flung me far among the floundering horses. Myfingers caught in a wet mane; I clung desperately between crowdingflanks. Then a big wave went over us. I hung on, coming upastride my capture. He swam vigorously, his nose high, blowinglike a trumpet. I thought we were in for a time of it, and hadvery little hope for any landing, save in kingdom come. Everyminute I was head under in the wash, and the roaring filled me withthat mighty terror of the windfall. But, on my word, there is nocaptain like a good horse in bad water. Suddenly I felt him hitthe bottom and go forward on his knees. Then he reared up, andbegan to jump in the sand. A big wave washed him down again. Hefell on his side in a shallow, but rose and ran wearily over a softbeach. In the blackness around me I could see nothing. A branchwhipped me in the face, and I ducked. I was not quick enough; itwas like fencing in the dark. A big bough hit me, raking thewithers of my horse, and I rolled off headlong in a lot of bushes.The horse went on, out of hearing, but I was glad enough to liestill, for I had begun to know of my bruises. In a few minutes Itook off my boots and emptied them, and wrung my blouse, and layback, cursing my ill luck.

  But that year of 1813 had the kick of ill fortune in it for everymother's son of us there in the North country. I have ever noticedthat war goes in waves of success or failure; If we had had Brownor Scott to lead us that year, instead of Wilkinson, I believe ithad had a better history. Here was I in the enemy's country. Godknew where, or how, or when I should come out of it. I thought ofD'ri and how it had gone with him in that hell of waters. I knewit would be hard to drown him. We were so near shore, if he hadmissed the rocks I felt sure he would come out safely. I thoughtof Louison and Louise, and wondered if ever I should see themagain. Their faces shone upon me there in the windy darkness, andone as brightly as the other. Afterwhiles I drew my wet blouseover me and went asleep, shivering.

  A familiar sound woke me--that of the reveille. The sun wasshining, the sky clear, the wind had gone down. A crow sat callingin a tree above my head. I lay in a strip of timber, thin andnarrow, on the lake shore. Through the bushes I could see themasts of the brig slanting out of water some rods away. Beyond thetimber was a field of corn, climbing a side-hill that sloped off toa level, grassy plain. Beyond the hill-top, reveille was stillsounding. A military camp was near me, and although I made nomove, my mind was up and busy as the drumsticks over the hill. Isat as quiet as a cat at a mouse-hole, looking down at my uniform,not, indeed, the most healthful sort of dress for that country.All at once I caught sight of a scarecrow in the corn. I laughedat the odd grotesquery of the thing--an old frock-coat and trousersof olive-green, faded and torn and fat with straw. A stake driventhrough its collar into the earth, and crowned with an ancient,tall hat of beaver, gave it a backbone. An idea came to me. Iwould rob the scarecrow and hide my uniform. I ran out and hauledit over, and pulled the stuffing out of it. The coat and trouserswere made for a stouter man. I drew on the latter, fattening myfigure with straw to fill them. That done, I quickly donned thecoat. Each sleeve-end fell to my fingertips, and its girth wouldhave circled a flour-barrel and buttoned with room to spare. Butwith my stuffing of straw it came around me as snug at the belt asthe coat of a bear. I took alarm as I closed the buttons. Forhalf a minute I had heard a drum-tap coming nearer. It was themeasured _tap! tap! tap-tap-tap_! so familiar to me. Now I couldhear the tread of feet coming with it back of the hill. How soonthey would heave in sight I was unable to reckon, but I dared notrun for cover. So I thrust my scabbard deep in the soft earth,pulled down the big beaver hat over my face, muffled my neck withstraw, stuck the stake in front of me to steady myself, and stoodstiff as any scarecrow in Canada. Before I was done a column,scarlet-coated, came out in the level beyond the hillside. Througha hole in the beaver I could see them clearly. They came on, rankafter rank. They deployed, forming an open square, scarlet-sided,on the green turf, the gap toward me. Then came three, walkingstiffly in black coats, a squad leading them. The thing I hadtaken for a white visor was a blindfold. Their heads were bare. Icould see, now, they were in shackles, their arms behind them.They were coming to their death--some of my unlucky comrades. Godpity them! A spy might as well make his peace with Heaven, if hewere caught those days, and be done with hope. Suspicion wasenough to convict on either side of the water that year. As myfeet sank deeper in the soft earth I felt as if I were going downto my grave. The soldiers led them into the gap, standing themclose together, backs to me, The squad drew off. The prisonersstood erect, their faces turning up a little, as if they werelooking into the clear, blue sky. I could see them waver as theystood waiting. The sharpshooters advanced, halting as they raisedtheir rifles. To my horror, I saw the prisoners were directlybetween me and them. Great God! was I also of that little companyabout to die? But I dared not move a step. I stood still,watching, trembling. An officer in a shining helmet was speakingto the riflemen. His helmet seemed to jump and quiver as he movedaway. Those doomed figures began to reel and sway as they waited.The shiny barrels lifted a little, their muzzles pointing at themand at me. The corn seemed to duck and tremble as it waited thevolley. A great black ball shot across the sky in a long curve,and began to fall. Then came the word, a flash of fire, a cloud ofsmoke, a roar of rifles that made me jump in my tracks. I heardbullets cuffing the corn, I felt the dirt fly up and scatter overme, but was unhurt, a rigid, motionless man of straw. I saw mycountrymen reel, their legs go limp as rags, their bodies fallsilently forward. The soldiers stood a moment, then a squad wentafter the dead with litters. Forming in fours, they marched awayas they had come, their steps measured by that regular _rap! rap!rap-rap-rap_! of the drum. The last rank went out of sight. Imoved a little and pulled the stake, and quickly stuck it again,for there were voices near. I stood waiting as stiff as a poker.Some men were running along the beach, two others were comingthrough the corn. They passed within a few fe
et of me on eachside. I heard them talking with much animation. They spoke of thewreck. When they were well by me I faced about, watching them.They went away in the timber, down to a rocky point, where I knewthe wreck was visible.

  They were no sooner out of sight than I pulled the stake and sabre,and shoved the latter under my big coat. Then I lifted the beaverand looked about me. There was not a soul in sight. From thatlevel plain the field ran far to a thick wood mounting over thehill. I moved cautiously that way, for I was in the path of peoplewho would be coming to see the wreck. I got near the edge of thedistant wood, and hearing a noise, halted, and stuck my stake, anddrew my hands back in the sleeves, and stood like a scarecrow,peering through my hat. Near me, in the woods, I could hear acracking of sticks and a low voice. Shortly two Irishmen stucktheir heads out of a bush. My heart gave a leap in me, for I sawthey were members of my troop.

  "Hello, there!" I called in a loud voice, It startled them. Theyturned their heads to see where the voice came from, and stoodmotionless. I pulled my stake and made for them on the run. Ishould have known better, for the sight of me would have tried thelegs of the best trooper that ever sat in a saddle. As they toldme afterward, it was enough to make a lion yelp.

  "Holy Mother!" said one, as they broke through the bush, runningfor their lives. I knew not their names, but I called them asloudly as I dared. They went on, never slacking pace. It was abad go, for I was burning for news of D'ri and the rest of them.Now I could hear some heavy animal bounding in the brush as iftheir running had startled him. I went back to the corn foranother stand. Suddenly a horse came up near me, cropping thebrush. I saw he was one off the boat, for he had bridle andsaddle, a rein hanging in two strings, and was badly cut. Myfriend! the sight of a horse did warm me to the toes. He got ataste of the tender corn presently, and came toward me as he ate.In a moment I jumped to the saddle, and he went away leaping like awild deer. He could not have been more frightened if I had droppedon him out of the sky. I never saw such energy in flesh and bloodbefore. He took a mighty fright as my hand went to his withers,but the other had a grip on the pommel, and I made the stirrups. Ileaned for the strings of the rein, but his neck was long, and Icould not reach them. Before I knew it we were tearing over thehill at a merry pace, I can tell you. I was never so put to it forthe right thing to do, but I clung on. The big hat shook down uponmy collar. In all my life I never saw a hat so big. Through thebreak in it I could see a farm-house. In a jiffy the horse hadcleared a fence, and was running, with the feet of terror, in adusty road. I grew angry at myself as we tore along--I knew notwhy. It was a rage of discomfort, I fancy, for somehow, I neverfelt so bound and cluttered, so up in the air and out of place inmy body. The sabre was working loose and hammering my knee; thebig hat was rubbing my nose, the straw chafing my chin. I hadsomething under my arm that would sway and whack the side of thehorse every leap he made. I bore upon it hard, as if it were thejewel of my soul. I wondered why, and what it might be. In amoment the big hole of my hat came into conjunction with my righteye. On my word, it was the stake! How it came there I have neverknown, but, for some reason, I held to it. I looked neither toright nor left, but sat erect, one hand on the hilt of my sabre,the other in the mane of my horse, knowing full well I was the mosthideous-looking creature in the world. If I had come to the gateof heaven I believe St. Peter would have dropped his keys. Thestraw worked up, and a great wad of it hung under my chin like abushy beard. I would have given anything for a sight of myself,and laughed to think of it, although facing a deadly peril, as Iknew. But I was young and had no fear in me those days. Wouldthat a man could have his youth to his death-bed! It was a leap inthe dark, but I was ready to take my chances.

  Evidently I was nearing a village. Groups of men were in the shadythoroughfare; children thronged the dooryards. There was everysign of a holiday. As we neared them I caught my sabre under myknee, and drew my hands into the long sleeves and waved themwildly, whooping like an Indian. They ran back to the fences witha start of fear. As I passed them they cheered loudly, wavingtheir hats and roaring with laughter. An old horse, standingbefore an inn, broke his halter and crashed over a fence. A scareddog ran for his life in front of me, yelping as he leaped over astone wall. Geese and turkeys flew in the air as I neared them.The people had seemed to take me for some village youth on amasquerade. We flashed into the open country before the sound ofcheering had died away. On we went over a long strip of hard soil,between fields, and off in the shade of a thick forest. My horsebegan to tire. I tried to calm him by gentle words, but I couldgive him no confidence in me. He kept on, laboring hard andbreathing heavily, as if I were a ton's weight. We came to anotherclearing and fields of corn. A little out of the woods, and nearthe road, was a log house white-washed from earth to eaves. By thegate my horse went down. I tumbled heavily in the road, andturning, caught him by the bits. The big hat had shot off my head;the straw had fallen away. A woman came running out of the opendoor. She had bare feet, a plump and cheery face.

  "Tonnerre!" said she. "Qu'est ce que cela?"

  "My countrywoman," said I, in French, feeling in my under-trousersfor a bit of silver, and tossing it to her, "I am hungry."

  "And I have no food to sell," said she, tossing it back. "Youshould know I am of France and not of England. Come, you shallhave enough, and for no price but the eating. You have a tiredhorse. Take him to the stable, and I will make you a meal."

  I led my horse to the stable, scraped him of lather and dirt, gavehim a swallow of water, and took the same myself, for I had amighty thirst in me. When I came in, she had eggs and potatoes andbacon over the fire, and was filling the tea-kettle.

  "On my soul," said she, frankly, "you are the oddest-looking man Iever saw. Tell me, why do you carry the long club?"

  I looked down. There it was under my arm. It surprised me morethan anything I ever found myself doing.

  "Madame, it is because I am a fool," I said as I flung it out ofthe door.

  "It is strange," said she. "Your clothes--they are not your own;they are as if they were hung up to dry. And you have a sabre andspurs."

  "Of that the less said the better," I answered, pulling out thesabre. "Unless--unless, madame, you would like me to die young."

  "Mon Dieu!" she whispered. "A Yankee soldier?"

  "With good French blood in him," I added, "who was never so hungryin all his life."

  I went out of the door as I spoke, and shoved my sabre under thehouse.

  "I have a daughter on the other side of the lake," said she,"married to a Yankee, and her husband is fighting the British withthe rest of you."

  "God help him!" said I.

  "Amen!" said she, bringing my food to the table. "The greatNapoleon he will teach them a lesson."

  She was a widow, as she told me, living there alone with two youngdaughters who were off at a picnic in the near town. We weretalking quietly when a familiar voice brought me standing.

  "Judas Priest!" it said. D'ri stood in the doorway, hatless andone boot missing--a sorry figure of a man.

  "Hidin' over 'n th' woods yender," he went on as I took his hand."See thet air brown hoss go by. Knew 'im soon es I sot eyes on'im--use' t' ride 'im myself. Hed an idee 't wus you 'n thesaddle--sot s' kind o' easy. But them air joemightyful do's!Jerushy Jane! would n't be fit t' skin a skunk in them do's, wouldit?"

  "Got 'em off a scarecrow," I said.

  "'Nough t' mek a painter ketch 'is breath, they wus."

  The good woman bade him have a chair at the table, and brought morefood.

  "Neck 's broke with hunger, 't is sartin," said he, as he began toeat. "Hev t' light out o' here purty middlin' soon. 'T ain' nosafe place t' be. 'T won' never dew fer us t' be ketched."

  We ate hurriedly, and when we had finished, the good woman gave useach an outfit of apparel left by her dead husband. It was rathersnug for D'ri, and gave him an odd look. She went out of doorswhile we were dre
ssing. Suddenly she came back to the door.

  "Go into the cellar," she whispered. "They are coming!"