From Kingdom to Colony Part 24

The fort was to be repaired, and put in condition for proper defence.

The militia consisted at this time of a regiment of seven companies of active, well-disciplined men, but under the command of officers commissioned by Governor Gage or his predecessors. It was deemed expedient that these should no longer act, but that they should be replaced by others chosen by vote of the town. And every citizen should possess himself of a firearm and bayonet, both in good order, and should be equipped with thirty rounds of cartridges and ball, as well as a pouch and knapsack.

It was also resolved that effectual measures be taken for the silencing, or expulsion from the community, of those "ministerial tools and Jacobites," who persisted in opposing the action of the various committees, or else held themselves aloof from taking part in the measures needful to protect the rights of the Province and people.

These men who thus spoke and conferred with each other were an impressive embodiment of the spirit which actuated the entire community. Their looks and words were glowing with prayerful earnestness, their manner full of dignity and solemnity.

The memory of these,--of their lofty ideality of aspiration, of the purity of their principles and motives, their love of country and integrity of purpose,--all this is a sacred treasure for the old town, and one still potent with patriotic influence.

Theirs was not the courage that shows forth in bravado, and which delights, from mere exuberance of spirit, in defying peril for its own sake. Rather was it the true, deeper courage of devotion,--the courage that sacrificed self for others, and which for principle and what was deemed simple duty was ready to endure all things. It was the devotion that would accept all results, would meet death, if needs be, or wear life away in slow suffering.

Such courage was the solid material, not the flash and glitter that pleases and bewilders, and then is as unremembered as is the pebble a child tosses into the sea, and having watched the ripple it makes, never thinks of again.

All this has become the priceless jewel of our national history for all time, the salt that gives savor to our country's life. The keynote of it was this,--these men truly loved their country, and were its loyal, steadfast friends. And are we not told from the highest of all high sources that "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends"?

CHAPTER XVIII

It was nearly midnight when the two young men took their way back through the fields to their boat and its faithful guardian.

They were soon afloat, and none but Leet would have ventured to row so steadily and rapidly down Great Bay in the fog that now shut in about them like a wall of white wool, m.u.f.fling all objects from sight.

The stillness was intense, save for the lapping of the water on the near-by sh.o.r.e,--this seeming to quicken the old darkey's acute knowledge of the course he was rowing.

The young men sat in either end of the boat, with Leet between them; and not a word was spoken until the keel grated on the sand of Riverhead Beach.

The old negro required no light to secure the craft in its accustomed place; and as the others stood waiting for him to do this, a faint sound of galloping horses came to their cars, apparently from down Devereux Lane, which led from the Salem road directly to the beach, and so on to the Neck.

They listened intently, while the sound came unmistakably nearer.

"Hist, Jack!" said Hugh, in a low voice; "that must be the redcoats coming from Jameson's dinner."

"'T is sure to be, judging from the reckless fas.h.i.+on of their riding.

Leet, come with us,--'t is as well to step behind the boathouse until they pa.s.s, for we want no challenging at this hour of the night." And as John Devereux said this, he and his companions pa.s.sed quickly behind the small building.

A dull yellow gleam showed smearingly through the fog as the hors.e.m.e.n clattered by, with here and there a lantern fastened to their saddles; and their loud laughter and boisterous talk seemed to bespeak a free indulgence in good wines and liquors.

As they struck the beach they fell into a more sober pace, and the last two, riding side by side, were talking in tones that came distinctly to the ears of those concealed behind the boathouse.

"'T is like that Southorn hopes to obtain more certain information by accepting the old fellow's hospitality," said one of them; "for it cannot be that the wine is the only attraction, to judge from the way he pa.s.sed it by to-night."

"Aye," was the reply. "He seemed not to care whether it were good Christian fare we were having once more, or the dogs' food of the camp."

"Maybe he is sickened, like the rest of us, with this heathen land and its folk, and rues the day he ever left the only country fit for a man to live in, to be sent to this strip o' land, with never a petticoat or bright eye to make the stupid time a little more bearable."

The other man laughed. "Perchance if we could but get speech with Jameson's fair friend of whom he prated so much, we might be singing another tune. What was it he called her--such a heathenish name it was never my lot to hear before?"

"He called her 'Mistress Penine;' but she is no blus.h.i.+ng maid, for he said--"

Here the words, which had been growing less distinct, died away altogether, and the glow of the lanterns was shut off by the fog, as the clattering of hoofs became lost in the roar of the surf beating in from the seaward side.

John Devereux had refrained from acquainting Hugh with his father's discovery of Aunt Penine's treachery; but now, as they walked toward the house, he told him the facts.

"Think you, Jack, that she has been holding any further communication with Jameson?" Hugh asked.

"That would seem most unlikely, for she has been confined to her room since last Monday night, and both my father and Dot have been watchful of the servants, although I do not believe there is a traitor amongst them. As to Pashar, he is too young to rightfully sense what he was doing, even if he had the wit. Fear of Aunt Penine on the one hand, and a liking for Jameson's loose silver on the other, were his only incentives; but dread of my father's displeasure has now put an end to all that."

He had persuaded Hugh to return with him for the night, instead of going to the house of a married cousin living in the town, as he proposed doing, for the reason that it would put him so much farther on the way to his own place, whither he intended to ride the next morning, notwithstanding it would be the Sabbath.

They found the household long since retired, save only its head; and when they were seated in the dining-room the young men gave him a detailed account of the evening's doings.

When this had been done, Joseph Devereux imparted to them his determination to lodge with the committee the name of his sister-in-law, to be listed with those of the other unfaithful townspeople. He had also resolved that on the following Monday she should be carried in his coach to her brother's house, in Lynn, for a future residence.

This had come from the fact that soon after the two young men had departed for the town, a messenger from Jameson brought her a communication.

The fellow had refused to leave without a reply, until forced thereto by the servants whom Joseph Devereux summoned for that purpose; and he went away threatening vengeance upon the entire household when he should have reported to his master the indignity to which he had been subjected.

"Do you know, father," asked Jack, "what it was to which he expected an answer from Aunt Penine--I mean, anything as to the contents of the letter?"

"Nay, my boy. She refused to see me at first; and when I insisted upon it, she became defiant, and would not converse with me o' the matter, saying that it was her own concern, and naught to do with my business.

And so I told her that, such being the case, she should hold herself in readiness to be driven to her brother's house on Monday, when she and her concerns would give no further trouble to me or my household."

"Jameson will not be safe a moment," said Hugh Knollys, "after the redcoats are withdrawn. Indeed," he added, "'t would be no great wonder if some of the fisherfolk should even now burn the roof over his head."

"'T is to be hoped they'll do no such thing," said the elder man, shaking his head; "for 'twould surely be used as a pretence for injuring the innocent,--perchance the townsfolk at large."

He now turned to his son and said in a tone of deep anxiety: "By the way, Jack, we must see to it that all be over-careful how such matters be talked on before Dot. I know not what has come to the child. She has been moody and unlike herself all the evening, starting at every sound, as if fearful o' danger. And when she came to tell me good-night awhile ago, she broke down in great weeping. I had much ado to soothe her; and to all my questioning she had but the one answer, that she did not know what ailed her, only that she felt as though her heart would break."

Jack looked very serious, and Hugh Knollys moved uneasily in his chair.

Then the former said: "Perhaps it is only that she is in a way unstrung from the excitement of last night. I thought this afternoon that she acted not quite like herself,--that she seemed to have something on her mind. Did you not note it, Hugh?"

Hugh started, and looked still more uncomfortable. His thoughts had been dwelling upon Dorothy's unusual behavior during the afternoon. He was thinking of her reticence and impatience,--of the acerbity of her manner toward himself; and he recalled the quick flus.h.i.+ng of her face as the young officer lifted his hat.

All this had made a distinct impression upon him; but the affair was her own,--one which he felt reluctant to mention even to her father or brother. And so, in answer to Jack's direct question, he uttered one of the few falsehoods of his life.

"Nay, Jack; I noted nothing unusual in her manner. I think as you, that she has been a bit overwrought by last night's happenings. Ah,"

he exclaimed, with animation, and glad to speak the truth once more, "but it was a brave thing she did! And yet she likes to make naught of it."

"Dorothy is brave by nature," her father said, his eye's kindling with pride. "And she is too young to comprehend the full weight o' what she did, prompted as it was by impulse, and by love for her brother." Then turning to Jack, he asked with a change of manner, "Did you see or hear aught o' the British frigate on your way home?"

"Nothing, father,--only, as I told you, that she dropped anchor in Little Harbor, just as the darkness fell."

"She'd not be likely to go from her anchorage in this fog." The old man spoke musingly, while he slowly filled his pipe for a final smoke before retiring for the night.

"But I take it they will move from there as soon as may be, on account of fearing the trouble they have a right to expect because of the men they've stolen," Hugh said indignantly.

"Yes," added Jack, "even if only to get into Great Bay, and closer to their fellows on the Neck."