Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812 Part 14

(_To Mrs. Secord_.) Madam, how may I serve you to secure Your safety? Refreshment comes; but here Is no protection in our present strait.

_Mrs. Secord_. I thank you, sir, but will not tax you more Than some refreshment. I have friends beyond A mile or two, with whom I'll stay to-night.

_Fitzgibbon_. I'll spare an escort; Mr. Jarvis here will--

[MRS. SECORD _faints_.

Poor soul! poor soul! she is exhaust indeed.

(_The men run out and bring water_, Fitzgibbon _gets brandy from a buffet, and_ Mr. Jarvis _unloosens her bonnet and collar. They bathe her hands with the spirit and sprinkle her face with the water, and at last_ MRS. SECORD _sighs heavily_.)

_Fitzgibbon_. She's coming to. Back, men; give her more air.

(MR. JARVIS _and another_ Cadet _support_ MRS. SECORD, _while_ LIEUT.

FITZGIBBON _offers her coffee, into which he has poured a little brandy, feeding her with the spoon_.)

_An 8th man (aside_). She'll never walk to reach her friends to-night.

_A 49th man (to a comrade_). Jack, thou an' me can do't.

'Tyent the fust time We've swung a faintin' comrade 'twixt us two; An' her's just like a babby. Fatch a pole An' blanket, an' we'll carry her.

_A Sergeant_. You'll then be in the rear, for we're to move.

_Second 49th man_. We'll catch ye oop a foight'n'; its summat wuth To await o' sech as she.

_Fitzgibbon (to Mrs. Secord_). Are you better now?

_Mrs. Secord (trying to stand_). I think I am. Oh, sir, I'm losing you The time I tried to save! Pray leave me-- I shall be better soon, and I can find my way.

_Fitzgibbon_. Nay, be not anxious; we are quite prepared.

Sheathed though our claws may be, they're always sharp.

Pray drink again, nor fear the potent touch That s.n.a.t.c.hes back the life when the spent heart, Oppressed by cruel tasks, as yours, can scarcely beat.

[MRS. SECORD _drinks the coffee, and again rises, but can scarcely stand_.

_49th man (saluting_). Sir, me an' Bill has here a hammock ready, An' volunteers to see the lady safe.

Among her friends.

_Mrs. Secord_. But I can walk.

_Fitzgibbon_. Madam, you cannot. Let these carry you; An honour I do grudge them. I shall move With better heart knowing you cared for.

_Mrs. Secord_. I'll go at once--

_Fitzgibbon_. Men, bring your hammock hither.

(_The hammock is brought, and_ MRS. SECORD _is a.s.sisted into it by_ LIEUT. FITZGIBBON, _who wraps a blanket round her. The men fall into line, and salute as she pa.s.ses. At the door she offers her hand to_ FITZGIBBON.)

_Mrs. Secord_. Farewell, sir. My best thanks for all your goodness, Your hospitality, and this, your escort; You do me too much honour.

_Fitzgibbon_. Should we not Show our respect for one has done so much For us? We are your debtors, madam.

[_He points to the sky, set thick with brilliant stars, the moon having already set_.

See how the eyes of heaven look down on you, And smile, in gentle approbation Of a most gentle deed. I pray they light You safely to your friends.

_Mrs. Secord_. And you to victory, sir. Farewell.

[FITZGIBBON _bows_.

[_Exeunt_ MRS. SECORD _and her escort_.

_Fitzgibbon (to the men who have crowded round the door, and are awaiting orders_). Men, never forget this woman's n.o.ble deed.

Armed, and in company, inspirited By crash of martial music, soldiers march To duty; but she, alone, defenceless, With no support but kind humanity And burning patriotism, ran all our risks Of hurt, and b.l.o.o.d.y death, to serve us men, Strangers to her save by quick war-time ties.

Therefore, in grateful memory and kind return, Ever treat women well.

_Men_. Aye, aye, sir.

_Fitzgibbon_. Now, then, for action. I need not say, Men, do your duty. The hearts that sprung To follow Nelson; Brock; have never failed.

I'm proud, my men, to be your leader now.

SCENE 2.--_Morning twilight. A little wayside tavern at a cross-road_.

_Enter_ FITZGIBBON, _reconnoitring_.

_Fitzgibbon_. They must be pretty near by this time, If they are come at all.

(_Two American soldiers of the advanced guard rush out of the tavern and present their rifles_. FITZGIBBON _springs on them, and, seizing each man's weapon, crosses them in front of himself_.)

Not yet, my friends.

[_They struggle, and one of the Americans draws_ FITZGIBBON'S _sword and is about to plunge it in his shoulder_.

_Enter a woman, the_ tavern-keeper.

_Woman_. Ye Yankee rogue! ye coward!

[_She s.n.a.t.c.hes the sword, and runs into the tavern with it_.

_Fitzgibbon_. Take that! and that!

[_He trips up one man, and knocks the other down, putting his foot on the man's breast_.

Now, give me up your arms.