D'Ri and I

  XXII

  Herein is the story of the adventures of his Lordship's courier,known as Mme. St. Jovite, on and after the night of November 17,1813, in Upper Canada. This account may be accepted as quitetrustworthy, its writer having been known to me these many years,in the which neither I nor any of my friends have had occasion todoubt her veracity. The writer gave more details than aredesirable, but the document is nothing more than a letter to anintimate friend. I remember well she had an eye for color and ataste for description not easy to repress.

  When I decided to go it was near midnight, The mission was not allto my taste, but the reward was handsome and the letter of LordRonley reassuring. I knew I could do it, and dressed as soon aspossible and walked to the Lone Oak, a sergeant escorting. There,as I expected, the big soldier known as D'ri was waiting, his canoein a wagon that stood near. We all mounted the seat, drivingpell-mell on a rough road to Tibbals Point, on the southwest cornerof Wolf Island. A hard journey it was, and near two o'clock, Ishould say, before we put our canoe in the water. Then the manD'ri helped me to an easy seat in the bow and shoved off. A fullmoon, yellow as gold, hung low in the northwest. The water wascalm, and we cut across "the moon way," that funnelled off to theshores of Canada.

  "It is one ver' gran' night," I said in my dialect of the rudeCanuck; for I did not wish him, or any one, to know me. War iswar, but, surely, such adventures are not the thing for a woman.

  "Yis, mahm," he answered, pushing hard with the paddle. "Yer afriend o' the cap'n, ain't ye--Ray Bell?"

  "Ze captain? Ah, oui, m'sieu'," I said. "One ver' brave man,ain't it?"

  "Yis, mahm," said he, soberly and with emphasis. "He 's more 'n adozen brave men, thet's whut he is. He's a joemightyful cuss.Ain't nuthin' he can't dew--spryer 'n a painter, stouter 'n amoose, an' treemenjous with a sword."

  The moon sank low, peering through distant tree-columns, and wentout of sight. Long stubs of dead pine loomed in the dim, goldenafterglow, their stark limbs arching high in the heavens--likemullions in a great Gothic window.

  "When we git nigh shore over yender," said my companion, "don'tbelieve we better hev a grea' deal t' say. I ain't a-goin' t' betuk--by a jugful--not ef I can help it. Got me 'n a tight placeone night here 'n Canady."

  "Ah, m'sieu', in Canada! How did you get out of it?" I queried.

  "Slipped out," said he, shaking the canoe with suppressed laughter."Jes' luk a streak o' greased lig-htnin'," he added presently.

  "The captain he seems ver' anxious for me to mak' great hurry," Iremarked.

  "No wonder; it's his lady-love he 's efter--faster 'n a weasel t'see 'er," said he, snickering.

  "Good-looking?" I queried.

  "Han'some es a pictur'," said he, soberly.

  In a moment he dragged his paddle, listening.

  "Thet air's th' shore over yender," he whispered. "Don't say aword now. I 'll put ye right on the p'int o' rocks. Creep 'longcareful till ye git t' th' road, then turn t' th' left, the cap'ntol' me."

  When I stepped ashore my dress caught the gunwale and upset ourcanoe. The good man rolled noisily into the water, and rosedripping. I tried to help him.

  "Don't bother me--none," he whispered testily, as if out ofpatience, while he righted the canoe.

  When at last he was seated again, as I leaned to shove him off, hewhispered in a compensating, kindly manner: "When ye 're goin'ashore, an' they 's somebody 'n the canoe, don't never try t' tekit with ye 'less ye tell 'im yer goin' tew."

  There was a deep silence over wood and water, but he went away sostealthily I could not hear the stir of his paddle. I stoodwatching as he dimmed off in the darkness, going quickly out ofsight. Then I crept over the rocks and through a thicket,shivering, for the night had grown chilly. I snagged my dress on abrier every step, and had to move by inches. After mincing alonghalf an hour or so, I came where I could feel a bit of clear earth,and stood there, dancing on my tiptoes, in the dark, to quicken myblood a little. Presently the damp light of dawn came leakingthrough the tree-tops. I heard a rattling stir in the bare limbsabove me. Was it some monster of the woods? Although I have morecourage than most women, it startled me, and I stood still. Thelight came clearer; there was a rush toward me that shook theboughs. I peered upward. It was only a squirrel, now scratchinghis ear, as he looked down at me. He braced himself, and seemed tocurse me loudly for a spy, trembling with rage and rushing up anddown the branch above me. Then all the curious, inhospitable folkof the timber-land came out upon their towers to denounce.

  I made my way over the rustling, brittle leaves, and soon found atrail that led up over high land. I followed it for a matter ofsome minutes, and came to the road, taking my left-hand way, asthey told me. There was no traveller in sight. I walked as fastas I could, passing a village at sunrise, where I asked my way inFrench at a smithy. Beyond there was a narrow clearing, stumpy andrank with briers, on the up-side of the way. Presently, lookingover a level stretch, I could see trees arching the road again,from under which, as I was looking, a squad of cavalry came out inthe open. It startled me. I began to think I was trapped, Ithought of dodging into the brush. But, no; they had seen me, andI would be a fool now to turn fugitive. I looked about me. Cowswere feeding near. I picked up a stick and went deliberately intothe bushes, driving one of them to the pike and heading her towardthem. They went by at a gallop, never pulling up while in sight ofme. Then I passed the cow and went on, stopping an hour later at alonely log house, where I found French people, and a welcome thatincluded moose meat, a cup of coffee, and fried potatoes. Leaving,I rode some miles with a travelling tinker, a voluble, well-meaningyouth who took a liking for me, and went far out of his way to helpme on. He blushed proudly when, stopping to mend a pot for thecook at a camp of militia, they inquired if I was his wife.

  "No; but she may be yet," said he; "who knows?"

  I knew it was no good place for me, and felt some relief when theyoung man did me this honor. From that moment they set me down fora sweetheart.

  "She 's too big for you, my boy," said the general, laughing.

  "The more the better," said he; "can't have too much of a goodwife."

  I said little to him as we rode along. He asked for my address,when I left him, and gave me the comforting assurance that he wouldsee me again. I made no answer, leaving him at a turn where, northof us, I could see the white houses of Wrentham. Kingston was hardby, its fort crowning a hill-top by the river.

  It was past three by a tower clock at the gate of the Weirs when Igot there. A driveway through tall oaks led to the mansion of darkstone. Many acres of park and field and garden were shut in withhigh walls. I rang a bell at the small gate, and some fellow inlivery took my message.

  "Wait 'ere, my lass," said he, with an English accent. "I 'll goat once to the secretary."

  I sat in a rustic chair by the gate-side, waiting for thatfunctionary.

  "Ah, come in, come in," said he, coolly, as he opened the gate alittle.

  He said nothing more, and I followed him--an oldish man with grayeyes and hair and side-whiskers, and neatly dressed, his headcovered to the ears with a high hat, tilted backward. We took astone path, and soon entered a rear door.

  "She may sit in the servants' hall," said he to one of the maids,

  They took my shawl, as he went away, and showed me to a room where,evidently, the servants did their eating. They were inquisitive,those kitchen maids, and now and then I was rather put to it for awise reply. I said as little as might be, using the dialect, longfamiliar to me, of the French Canadian. My bonnet amused them. Itwas none too new or fashionable, and I did not remove it.

  "Afraid we 'll steal it," I heard one of them whisper in the nextroom. Then there was a loud laugh.

  They gave me a French paper. I read every line of it, and satlooking out of a window at the tall trees, at servants who passedto and fro, at his Lordship's horses, led up and down for exercisein the stable-yard, at the twilight gl
ooming the last pictures of along day until they were all smudged with darkness. Thencandle-light, a trying supper hour with maids and cooks and groomsand footmen at the big table, English, every one of them, and setup with haughty curiosity. I would not go to the table, and had acup of tea and a biscuit there in my corner. A big butler walkedin hurriedly awhile after seven. He looked down at me as if Iwere the dirt of the gutter.

  "They 're waitin'," said he, curtly. "An' Sir Chawles would liketo know if ye would care for a humberreller?"

  "Ah, m'sieu'! he rains?" I inquired.

  "No, mum."

  "Ah! he is going to rain, maybe?"

  He made no answer, but turned quickly and went to a near closet,from which he brought a faded umbrella.

  "There," said he, as he led me to the front door, "see that yousend it back."

  On the porch were the secretary and the ladies--three of them.

  "Ciel! what is it?" one of them whispered as I came out.

  The post-lights were shining in their faces, and lovelier I neversaw than those of the demoiselles. They stepped lightly to thecoach, and the secretary asked if I would go in with them.

  "No, m'sieu'," was my answer; "I sit by ze drivaire."

  "Come in here, you silly goose," said one of the ladies in French,recognizing my nationality.

  "Grand merci!" I said, taking my seat by the driver; and then wewere off, with as lively a team as ever carried me, our lightsflashing on the tree trunks. We had been riding more than twohours when we stopped for water at a spring-tub under a hill. Theygave me a cup, and, for the ladies, I brought each a bumper of thecool, trickling flood.

  "Ici, my tall woman," said one of them, presently, "my boot isuntied."

  Her dainty foot came out of the coach door under ruffles of silk.I hesitated, for I was not accustomed to that sort of service.

  "Lambine!" she exclaimed. "Make haste, will you?" her foot movingimpatiently.

  My fingers had got numb in the cold air, and I must have been veryawkward, for presently she boxed my ears and drew her foot away.

  "Dieu!" said she. "Tell him to drive on."

  I got to my seat quickly, confident that nature had not intended mefor a lady's-maid. Awhile later we heard the call of a picket farafield, but saw no camp. A horseman--I thought him a cavalryofficer--passed us, flashing in our faces the light of a darklantern, but said nothing. It must have been near midnight when,as we were going slowly through deep sand, I heard the clang of acow-bell in the near darkness. Another sounded quickly a bitfarther on. The driver gave no heed to it, although I recognizedthe signal, and knew something would happen shortly. We had comeinto the double dark of the timber when, suddenly, our horsesreared, snorting, and stopped. The driver felt for his big pistol,but not in the right place; for two hours or more it had beenstowed away in the deep pocket of my gown. Not a word was spoken.By the dim light of the lanterns we could see men all about us withpikes looming in the dark. For a breath or two there was perfectsilence; then the driver rose quickly and shouted: "Who are you?"

  "Frien's o' these 'ere women," said one I recognized as theCorporal D'ri.

  He spoke in a low tone as he opened the door.

  "Grace au ciel!" I heard one of the young ladies saying. "It isD'ri--dear old fellow!"

  Then they all hurried out of the coach and kissed him.

  "The captain--is he not here?" said one of them in French. ButD'ri did not understand them, and made no answer.

  "Out wi' the lights, an' be still," said D'ri, quickly, and thelights were out as soon as the words. "Jones, you tie up a frontleg o' one o' them hosses. Git back in the brush, ladies. Five on'em, boys. Now up with the pike wall!"

  From far back in the road had come again the clang of the cow-bell.I remember hearing five strokes and then a loud rattle. In atwinkling I was off the seat and beside the ladies.

  "Take hold of my dress," I whispered quickly, "and follow me."

  I led them off in the brush, and stopped. We could hear the moveand rattle of cavalry in the near road. Then presently the swishof steel, the leap and tumble of horses, the shouting of men. Mycompanions were of the right stuff; they stood shivering, but heldtheir peace. Out by the road lights were flashing, and now weheard pistols and the sound of a mighty scuffle. I could staythere in the dark no longer.

  "Wait here, and be silent," I said, and ran "like a madwoman," asthey told me long after, for the flickering lights.

  There a squad of cavalry was shut in by the pikes. Two troopershad broken through the near line. One had fallen, badly hurt; theother was sabre to sabre with the man D'ri. They were close up andstriving fiercely, as if with broadswords. I caught up the weaponof the injured man, for I saw the Yankee would get the worst of it.The Britisher had great power and a sabre quick as a cat's paw. Icould see the corporal was stronger, but not so quick and skilful.As I stood by, quivering with excitement, I saw him get a slash inthe shoulder. He stumbled, falling heavily. Then quickly,forgetting my sex, but not wholly, I hope, the conduct that becomesa woman, I caught the point of the sabre, now poised to run himthrough, with the one I carried. He backed away, hesitating, forhe had seen my hat and gown. But I made after him with all thefury I felt, and soon had him in action. He was tired, I have nodoubt; anyway, I whirled his sabre and broke his hold, whipping itto the ground. That was the last we saw of him, for he made off inthe dark faster than I could follow. The trouble was all over,save the wound of the corporal, which was not as bad as I thought.He was up, and one of them, a surgeon, was putting stitches in hisupper arm. Others were tying four men together with rope. Theirweapons were lying in a little heap near by. One of the Britishwas saying that Sir Charles Gravleigh had sent for them to rideafter the coach.

  "Jerushy Jane Pepper!" said the man D'ri. "Never see no sechwil'cat uv a woman es thet air."

  I looked down at my gown; I felt of my hat, now hanging over oneear. Sure enough, I was a woman.

  "Who be ye, I 'd like t' know?" said the man D'ri.

  "Ramon Bell--a Yankee soldier of the rank of captain," I said,stripping off my gown. "But, I beg of you, don't tell the ladies Iwas ever a woman."

  "Judas Priest!" said D'ri, as he flung his well arm around me.