XXIII.
_THE FLIGHT OF THE PRISONERS._
Then commenced strategy. The prisoners gathered in a group before theclosed passage, and talked loud, while Grudd established a communicationwith Stackridge. In the course of an hour a single stone in the wall hadbeen removed. Through the aperture thus formed a bottle was introduced.This Grudd pretended afterwards to take from his pocket; and having(apparently) drank, he offered it to his friends. All drank, or appearedto drink, in a manner that provoked Gad's thirst. He vowed that it wastoo bad that anything good should moisten the lips of tory prisonerswhile a soldier like him went thirsty.
"I never saw the time, Gad," said the captain, "when I wouldn't share abottle with you, and I will now."
Gad held his gun with one hand and grasped the bottle with the other.Penn seized the moment when his eyes were directed upwards at the cobwebfestoons that adorned the cellar, and the sound of gurgling was in histhroat, to whisper in Carl's ear,--
"Appear to drink, and by and by pass the bottle up stairs."
Carl understood the game in an instant.
"Here, you fish!" he said, in the midst of Gad's potation. "Leafe alittle trop for me, vill you?"
It was some time before the torrent in Gad's throat ceased itsmurmuring, and he removed his eyes from the cobwebs. Then, smacking hislips, and remarking that it was the right sort of stuff, he passed thebottle to Carl.
"Who's the fish this time?" said he, enviously, after Carl had madebelieve swallow for a few seconds.
He snatched the bottle, and was drinking as before, when the guardabove, hearing what passed, called for a taste.
"You shust vait a minute till Gad trinks it all up, then you shall pevelcome to vot ish left," said Carl. And, possessing himself of thebottle, he handed it up to his comrades.
All the soldiers above were asleep except the sentinels. They drankfreely, and returned the bottle to Gad. He had not finished it before hebegan to be overcome by drowsiness, its contents having been drugged forthe occasion.
He sat down on the stairs, and soon slid off upon the ground. Carl, whohad not in reality swallowed a drop, followed his example. Their gunswere then taken from them. Penn stole softly up the stairs, andreconnoitred while Grudd and his companions opened the passage in thewall.
"All asleep!" Penn whispered, descending. "Carl!"
Carl opened one eye, with a droll expression.
"Are you asleep?"
"Wery!" said Carl.
"Will you stay here, or go with us?"
"You vill take me prisoner?"
"If you wish it."
"Say you vill plow my brains out if I say vun vord, or make vun noise."
"Come, come! there's no time for fooling, Carl!"
"It ish no vooling!" And Carl insisted on Penn's making the threat."Veil, then, I vill vake up and go 'long mit you."
Mr. Villars had been for some time sleeping soundly; for it was now longpast midnight, and weariness had overcome him. Penn awoke him; but theold man refused to escape. "Go without me. I shall be too great a burdenfor you." But not one of his fellow-prisoners would consent to leave himbehind; and, listening to their expostulations, he at length arose toaccompany them.
Stackridge was in the passage, with the old man Ellerton, whom Penn hadsent to warn him. They had brought a supply of ammunition for the guns,which they had loaded and placed ready for use. Penn, supporting andguiding the old minister, was the first to pass through into the cellarunder Jim's shop. Stackridge, preceding them with a lantern, greetedtheir escape with silent and grim exultation. Carl came next. Then, oneby one, the others followed, each grasping his gun; the rays of thelantern lighting up their determined faces, as they emerged from the lowpassage, and stood erect, an eager, whispering group, around Stackridge.
Brief the consultation. Their plans were soon formed. Leaving Gad asleepin the cellar behind them; the guard asleep, the soldiers all asleep, inthe room above; the sentinels outside the old storehouse keeping watch,pacing to and fro around the cellar, in which not a prisonerremained,--Stackridge and his companions filed out noiselessly throughJim's closed and silent shop, upon the other street, and took their wayswiftly through the town.
Having appointed a place of meeting with his friends, Penn left them,and hastened alone to Mr. Villars's house. The lights had long been out.But the sisters were awake; Virginia had not even gone to bed. She wassitting by her window, gazing out on the hushed, gloomy, breathlesssummer night,--waiting, waiting, she scarce knew for what,--when she wasaware of a figure approaching, and knew Penn's light, quick tap at thedoor.
She ran down to admit him. His story was quickly told. Toby was rousedup; blankets were rolled together, and all the available provisions thatcould be carried were thrust into baskets.
"How shall we get news to you? You will want to hear from your father."Penn hastily thought of a plan. "Send Toby to the round rock,--he knowswhere it is,--on the side of the mountain. Between nine and ten o'clockto-morrow night. I will try to communicate with him there." And Penn,bidding the young girl be of good cheer, departed as suddenly as he hadarrived.
The old negro accompanied him, assisting to carry the burdens. Theyfound Stackridge's horse where he had been fastened. Penn made Tobymount, take a basket in each hand, and hold the blankets before him onthe neck of the horse; then, seizing the bridle, and running by hisside, he trotted the beast away across the field in a manner that shookthe old negro up in lively style.
"O, Massa Penn! I can't stan' dis yere! I's gwine all to pieces! I shalldrap some o' dese yer tings, shore!"
"You must stand it! hold on to them!" said Penn. "And now keep still,for we are near the road."
The party had halted at the rendezvous. Mr. Villars, quite exhausted byhis unusual exertions, was seated on the ground when Penn came up withToby and the horse. Toby dismounted; the old minister mounted in hisplace, and the negro was sent back.
All this passed swiftly and silently; the fugitives were once more onthe march, Penn walking by the old man's side. Scarce a word was spoken;the tramp of feet and the sound of the horse's hoofs alone broke thesilence of the night. Suddenly a voice hailed them:--
"Who goes there?"
And they discovered some horsemen drawn up before them beside the road.It was the night-patrol.
"Friends," answered Stackridge, marching straight on.
"Halt, and give an account of yourselves!" shouted the patrol.
"We are peaceable citizens, if let alone," said Stackridge. "You'dbetter not meddle with us."
The horsemen waited for them to pass, then, firing their pistols at thefugitives, put spurs to their horses, and galloped away towards thevillage.
"Don't fire!" cried Stackridge, as half a dozen pieces were levelled inthe darkness. "We've no ammunition to throw away, and no time to lose.They'll give the alarm. Take straight to the mountains!"
Nobody had been hit. Turning aside from the road, they took their wayacross the broad pasture lands that sloped upwards to the rocky hills.The dark valley spread beneath them; on the other side rose the dimoutlines of the shadowy mountain range; over all spread a still,cloudless sky, thick-strewn with glittering star-dust.
In the village, the ringing of bells startled the night with a wildclamor. Stackridge laughed.
"They'll make noise enough now to wake Gad himself! But noise won't hurtanybody. Hear the drums!"
"They are coming this way," said Penn.
"Fools, to set out in pursuit of us with drums beating!" said CaptainGrudd. "Very kind in them to give us notice! They should bring lightedtorches, too."
"Once in the mountains," said Stackridge, "we are safe. There we candefend ourselves against a hundred. Other Union men will join us, orbring us supplies. We ought to have made this move before; and I'm gladwe've been forced to it at last. If every Union man in the south hadmade a bold stand in the beginning, this cursed rebellion never wouldhave got such a start."
Suddenly bells and drums were silent. "The less noise
the more danger,"said Stackridge. The way was growing difficult for the horse's feet. Thecow-paths, which it had been easy to follow at first, disappeared amongthe thickets. At length, on the crest of a hill, the party halted torest.
"Daylight!" said Stackridge, turning his face to the east.
The sky was brightening; the shadows in the valley melted slowly away;far off the cocks crew.
"Hark!" said the captain. "Do you hear anything?"
"I heard a woice!" said Carl.
"Hist!" said Penn. "Look yonder! there they come! around those bushes atthe foot of the oak!"
"Sure as fate, there they are!" said the captain.
The fugitives crowded to his side, eager, grasping their gunstocks, andpeering with intent eyes through the darkness in the direction in whichhe pointed.
"Take the horse," said Stackridge to Penn, "and lead him up through thatgap out of the reach of the bullets. We'll stay and give these rascals alesson. Go along with him, Carl, if you don't want to fight yourfriends."
There were not guns enough for all; and Grudd had Stackridge's revolver.There was nothing better, then, for Penn and Carl to do than to consentto this arrangement.
Penn went before, leading the horse up the dry bed of a brook. Carlfollowed, urging the animal from behind. Mr. Villars rode with thebaggage, which had been lashed to the saddle. Only the clashing of theiron hoofs on the stones broke the stillness of the morning in thatmountain solitude. Stackridge and his compatriots had suddenly becomeinvisible, crouching among bushes and behind rocks.
The retreat of Penn and his companions was discovered by the pursuingparty, who mistook it for a general flight of the fugitives. They rushedforward with a shout. They had a rugged and barren hill to ascend. Halfway up the slope they saw flashes of fire burst from the rocks above,heard the rapid "crack--crackle--crack!" of a dozen pieces, andretreated in confusion down the hill again.
Stackridge and his companions coolly proceeded to reload their guns.
"They didn't know we had arms," said the farmer, with a grim smile."They'll be more cautious now."
"We've done for two or three of 'em!" said Captain Grudd. "There theylie; one is crawling off."
"Let him crawl!" said Stackridge. "Sorry to kill any of 'em; but it'sabout time for 'em to know we're in 'arnest."
"They've gone to cover in the laurels," said Grudd. "Let's shift ourground, and watch their movements."
Penn and Carl in the mean time made haste to get the horse and hisburden beyond the reach of bullets. They toiled up the bed of the brookuntil it was no longer passable. Huge bowlders lay jammed and crowded inclefts of the mountain before them. Penn remembered the spot. He hadbeen there in spring, when down over the rocks, now covered with lichensand dry scum, poured an impetuous torrent.
"Now I know where I am," he said. "I don't believe it is possible to getthe horse any farther. We will wait here for our friends. Mr. Villars,if you will dismount, we will try to get you up on the bank."
"I pity you, my children," said the old man. "You should never haveencumbered yourselves with such a burden as I am. I can neither fightnor run. Is it sunrise yet?"
"It is sunrise, and a beautiful morning! The fresh rays come to us here,sifted through the dewy trees. Sit down on this rock. Find the luncheon,Carl. Ah, Carl!"--Penn regarded the boy affectionately,--"I am glad tohave you with me again, but I can't forget that you are a rebel! and adeserter!"
"I a deserter? you mishtake," said Carl. "I am a prisoner."
"You disobeyed me, Carl! I told you not to enlist. You did wrong."
"Now shust listen," said Carl, "and I vill tell you. I did right. Causevy. You are alive and vell now, ain't you?"
Penn smilingly admitted the fact.
"And that is petter as being hung?"
"I am not so very certain of that, Carl!"
"Vell, I am certain for you. Hanging ish no goot. Hunderts of vellersthat don't like the rebels no more as you do, wolunteer rather than tobe hung. Shows their goot sense."
"But you have taken an oath--you are under a solemn engagement, Carl, tofight against the government."
"You mishtake unce more--two times. I make a pargain. I say to that man,'You let Mishter Hapgoot go free, and not let him be hurt, and I vill bea rebel.' Vell, he agrees. But he don't keep his vord. He lets 'em gofor to hang you vunce more. Now, if he preaks his part of the pargain,vy shouldn't I preak mine?"
"Well, Carl," said Penn, laughing, while his eyes glistened, "I trustthy conscience is clear in the matter. I can only say that, though Idon't approve of thy being a rebel, I love thee all the better for it.What do you think, Mr. Villars?"
"Sometimes people do wrong from a motive so pure and disinterested thatit sanctifies the action. This is Carl's case, I think."
"Hello!" cried Carl, jumping up from the bank on which they were seated."Guns! They are at it again! I vill go see!"
The boy disappeared, scrambling down the dry bed of the torrent.
The firing continued at irregular intervals for half an hour. Carl didnot return. Penn grew anxious. He stood, intently listening, when heheard a noise behind him, and, turning quickly, saw the glimmer ofmusket-barrels over the rocks.
"Fire!" said a voice.
And Penn threw himself down under the bank just in time to avoid thedischarge of half a dozen pieces aimed at his head.
"What is the trouble?" asked the old man, who was lying on some blanketsspread for him there in the shade.
Before Penn could reply, Silas Ropes and six men came rushing down uponthem. Stackridge had been out-generalled. Whilst he and his men werebeing diverted by a feigned attack in front, two different parties hadbeen despatched by circuitous routes to get in his rear. In executingthe part of the plan intrusted to him, Ropes had unexpectedly come uponthe schoolmaster and his companion. A minute later both were seized anddragged up from the bed of the torrent.
"Ye don't escape me this time!" said Silas, with brutal exultation. "Tiehim up to the tree thar; serve the old one the same. We can't bebothered with prisoners."
"What are you going to do to that helpless, blind old man?" cried Penn."Do what you please with me; I expect no mercy,--I ask none. But Ientreat you, respect his gray hair!"
The appeal seemed to have some effect even on the savage-hearted Silas.He glanced at his men: they were evidently of the opinion that theslaughter of the old clergyman was uncalled for.
"Wal, tie the old ranter, and leave him. Quick work, boys. Got theschoolmaster fast?"
"All right," said the men.
"Wal, now stand back here, and les' have a little bayonet practice."
Penn knew very well what that meant. His clothes were stripped from him,in order to present a fair mark for the murderous steel; and he wasbound to a tree.
"One at a time," said Silas. "Try your hand, Griffin._Charge--bayonet!_"
In vain the old minister endeavored to make himself heard in hisfriend's behalf. He could only pray for him.
Penn saw the ferocious soldier springing towards him, the deadly bayonetthrust straight at his heart. In an instant the murder would have beendone. But when within two paces of his victim, the steel almost touchinghis breast, Griffin uttered a yell, dropped his gun, flung up his hands,and fell dead at Penn's feet.
At the same moment a light curl of smoke was wafted from the heapedbowlders in the chasm above, and the echoes of a rifle-crackreverberated among the rocks.
The assassins were terror-struck. They looked all around; not a humanbeing was in sight. Distant firing proclaimed that Stackridge and hismen were still engaged. The death that struck down Griffin seemed tohave fallen from heaven. They waited but a moment, then fledprecipitately, leaving Penn still bound, but uninjured, with the deadrebel at his feet.
Then two figures came gliding swiftly down over the rocks. Penn uttereda cry of joy. It was Pomp and Cudjo.