The Little Red Foot Part 77

_Sir John_

"I'm sorry I'm here, for I'm horribly scared, But how did I know that they'd all be prepared?

The fate of our forray looks darker and darker, The state of our larder grows starker and starker, I fear that a round-shot or one of their carkers[33]

May breech my new breeches like poor Peter Parker's![34]

Oh, say, if my rear is uncovered, what then!--"

(_Enter_ Walter Butler in a panic)

_Butler_

"Held! Schuyler is coming with ten thousand men!"

(A canon shot from the Fort)

_Sir John_ (falls flat)

"I'm done! A cannon ball of thirty pound Has. .h.i.t me where Sir Peter got his wound.

I'm done! I'm all undone! So don't unb.u.t.t'n'm; But say adieu for me to Clairette Putnam!"[35]

(_Enter_ a swarm of surgeons)

_Surgeons_

"Compose yourself, good sir--forget your fright; We promise you you are not slain outright.

The wound you got is not so mortal deep But bleeding, cupping, patience, rest, and sleep, With blisters, clysters, physic, air and diet Will set you up again if you'll be quiet!"

_Sir John_

"So thick, so fast the b.a.l.l.s and bullets flew, Some hit me here, some there, some thro' and thro', Beneath my legs a score of hosses fell, Shot under me by twice as many sh.e.l.l; And though my soldiers falter and beseech, Forward I strode, defiant to the breech, And there, as History my valour teaches, I fell as Caesar fell, and lost--my breeches!

His face lay in his toga, in defeat, So let me hide my face within my seat, My requiem the rebel cannons roar, My duty done, my bottom very sore.

Tell Willett he may keep his flour and pork, For I am going back to dear New York."

(Exit on a litter to the Rogue's March)

[Footnote 32: 32 parallel to _The Expedition to Danbury_, printed in a Pennsylvania newspaper, May 14th, 1777.]

[Footnote 33: Carkers--carca.s.s--a sh.e.l.l fired from a small piece of artillery.]

[Footnote 34: Sir Peter Parker's breeches were carried away by a round shot at Fort Moultrie.]

[Footnote 35: His charming but abandoned mistress.]

"If we fight at Stanwix," says Penelope, "G.o.d send the business end as gaily as your broadside, Nick!"

And so, amid laughter, our last evening together came to an end, and it was time to part.

Nick gave Penelope a hearty smack, grinned broadly at me, seized my hands and whispered: "What did I tell you of the Scotch girl of Caughnawaga, who hath a way with her which is the undoing of all innocent young men?"

"Idiot!" said I fiercely, "I am not undone in such a manner!" Like two bear-cubs we clutched and wrestled; then he hugged me, laughed, and broke away.

"Farewell, comrades," he cried, s.n.a.t.c.hing sack and musket from the corner. "If I can not fife the red-coats into h.e.l.l to the Rogue's March, or my brother John drum them there to the Devil's tattoo, then my daddy shall persuade 'em thither with musket-music! Three stout Stoners and three lanky Livingstons, and all in the same regiment! Hurrah!"

And off and down the tavern stairs he ran, clattering and clanking, and shouting out a fond good-bye to Burke, who had forgiven him the goat.

Standing in the candle-light by the window, where a million rainwashed stars twinkled in the depthless ocean of the night, I rested my brow against the cool, glazed pane, lost in most bitter reflexion.

Penelope had gone to her chamber; behind me the dishevelled table stood, bearing the candles and the debris of our last supper; a nosegay of bright flowers--Nick's parting token--lay on the floor, where they had fallen from Penelope's bosom.

After a while I left the window and sat down, taking my head between my hands; and I had been sitting so for some time in ugly, sullen mood, when a noise caused me to look up.

Penelope stood by the door, her yellow hair about her face and shoulders, and still combing of it while her brown eyes regarded me with an odd intentness.

"Your light still blazed from your window," she said. "I had some misgiving that you sat here brooding all alone."

I felt my face flush, for it had deeply humiliated me that she should know how I was offered no employment while others had been called or permitted to seek relief from inglorious idleness.

She flung the bright banner of her hair over her right shoulder, caressed the thick and s.h.i.+ning tresses, and so continued combing, still watching me, her head a little on one side.

"All know you to be faithful, diligent and brave," said she. "You should not let it chafe your pride because others are called to duty before you are summoned. Often it chances that Merit paces the ante-chamber while Mediocrity is granted audience. But Opportunity redresses such accidents."

"Opportunity," I repeated sneeringly, "--where is she?--for I have not seen or heard of that soft-footed jade who, they say, comes a-knocking once in a life-time; and thereafter knocks at our door no more."

"Oh, John Drogue--John Drogue," said she in her strange and wistful way, "you shall hear the clear summons on your door very soon--all too soon for one of us,--for one of us, John Drogue."

Her brown eyes were on me, unabashed; by touch she was dividing the yellow ma.s.ses of her hair into two equal parts. And now she slowly braided each to peg them for the night beneath her ruffled cap.

When she had braided and pegged her hair, she took the night-cap from her ap.r.o.n pocket and drew it over her golden head, tying the tabs under her chin.

"It is strange," she said with her wistful smile, "that, though the world is ending, we needs must waste in sleep a portion of what time remains to us.... And so I am for bed, John Drogue.... Lest that same tapping-jade come to your door tonight and waken me, also, with her loud knocking."

"Why do you say so? Have you news?"

"Did I not once foresee a battle in the North? And men in strange uniforms?"

"Yes," said I, smiling away the disappointment of a vague and momentary hope.

"I think that battle will happen very soon," she said gravely.

"You said that I should be there,--with that pale shadow in its shroud.

Very well; only that I be given employment and live to see at least one battle, I care not whether I meet my weird in its winding-sheet. Because any man of spirit, and not a mouse, had rather meet his end that way than sink into dissolution in aged and toothless idleness."

"If you were not a very young and untried soldier," said she, "you would not permit impatience to ravage you and sour you as it does. And for me, too, it saddens and spoils our last few days together."

"Our last few days? You speak with a certainty--an authority----"

"I know the summons is coming very soon."

"If I could but believe in your Scottish second-sight----"