Peggy Owen and Liberty Part 31

CHAPTER XXI

CHOSEN BY LOT

"Sound to arms! Call in the captains,-- I would speak with them!

Now, Hope! away,--and welcome gallant Death!"

--"_Cataline," Croly._

Enjoy Harriet's presence Peggy did. Never had the English maiden been more charming. Her vivacity, her endless sallies of wit and humor, and her unfailing store of anecdotes rendered her irresistible. Peggy had always been her mother's a.s.sistant in the household but now, quite to the amazement of both mother and daughter, Harriet insisted upon helping.

"I have been a guest long enough," she laughingly protested in answer to Mrs. Owen's remonstrance. "Father declares that you are an excellent housewife, madam my cousin. He would be pleased indeed to have me learn of you. Beside," she added with a most charming blush, "I dare say that I shall have a house of my own to look after some day; so 'tis quite time that I knew something of housewifery."

And marveling greatly at this change in the once indolent Harriet, Mrs. Owen took the girl forthwith under her wing, and spent long hours instructing her in the mysteries of housekeeping. But the time was not all devoted to labor. There were lighter hours in which the maidens took daily rides. There was also much dining about among the officers, their families, and the neighboring gentry of the town and neighborhood. As the weather became warmer picnics followed in the near-by woods, so that there was no lack of diversion. In these pastimes Clifford was an almost constant attendant. Mr. and Mrs. Owen had pressed him to become an inmate of their home, which, being on parole, he was at liberty to do, and he had accepted. The young people made a lively household, and it seemed to Peggy that it was the happiest time that she had enjoyed since the long, grim, weary years of fighting had begun. So the days sped pleasantly and May pa.s.sed, and June with all its riotousness of roses was upon them.

One warm June morning the family gathered in the pleasant, low-ceiled dining-room for breakfast. Harriet, attired in a wash dress well covered by a vast ap.r.o.n, flushed and rosy, stood at the head of the table.

"I have cooked every bit of the breakfast myself," she declared proudly. "Cousin David, if you and Clifford don't do justice to it I shall take it as a personal affront."

"No wonder the breakfast is an hour late," murmured Clifford to Peggy as they sat down. "I do think she might have invited Major Dale, or that Yankee captain, instead of making us her victims."

"Clifford!" pouted his sister. "You are really trying. Madam my cousin hath said that I can bake and brew almost equal to Peggy, so you will have no need of simples after eating. Now does not that strawberry tart look tempting?"

"It does indeed, la.s.s," observed Mr. Owen. "Peggy will have to look to her laurels if you can get up such a meal as this. Come, come, Clifford! the proof of the pudding lies in the eating. Fall to, lad!"

"My death will be upon your head, Harriet," observed her brother with such a sigh of resignation that Peggy could not help but laugh. "I do wish John Drayton were here."

So with jest and laughter the family lingered over the meal, as if loath to make further exertion in the growing heat. In the midst of the cheer the knocker sounded, and, as though in answer to Clifford's wish, the door swung back quietly, and John Drayton entered. Peggy sprang up at sight of him.

"Thee is just in time, John," she cried gaily. "Clifford was just wishing for thee. I'll lay a plate for thee."

"Clifford?" Drayton's tones were filled with astonishment.

There had been a sort of tacit truce established between the young fellows, but the feeling between them was such that for either to express desire for the other's company was cause for wonderment.

"Strange, is't not?" queried Clifford dryly. The insolence which he could not keep out of his voice whenever he addressed Drayton crept into it now. "You see, sir, my sister hath cooked this meal, and I was wishing for other victims than Cousin David and myself."

"Knowing to whom Miss Harriet is indebted for her knowledge of cookery I have no fears regarding results," remarked Drayton, with a slight bow in Mrs. Owen's direction. "Miss Harriet, that strawberry tart looks enticing. I should be obliged for a liberal helping."

Clifford flushed angrily at Drayton's words, but he had the grace to refrain from further remark. After all Captain Drayton ate but little.

He trifled with the food, and was distrait and plainly ill at ease.

Usually he enjoyed a tilt of words with Clifford, but after the first crossing of lances he said but little.

The meal was over at length, and Drayton faced them as he rose from the table.

"I have a most painful duty to perform," he said unsteadily. "I feel like a thief in the night sitting here listening to your innocent mirth, knowing what I must do."

"What is it, John?" asked Mr. Owen, as they all turned wonderingly toward the captain startled by his seriousness. "We know," he continued kindly, "that thou wouldst do naught that would be disagreeable for any of us were it not in the line of duty. Speak out, lad."

"I am come to take Clifford back to the barracks," spoke Drayton, unconsciously using Clifford's given name.

"But why?" asked Clifford quickly. "I have pa.s.sed my word not to try to escape. And I am 'Clifford,' sir, only to my friends."

"I beg your pardon, Captain Williams," spoke Drayton courteously. "I spoke without thinking." He pa.s.sed his hand across his brow as though in doubt how to proceed, then he began to speak rapidly: "All of you know how poor Fairfax Johnson met his death at the hands of the loyalists in New Jersey. Well, we have been able to obtain no satisfaction from the enemy for the outrage which they acknowledge was unjustifiable; so Congress hath determined to select an officer from among the English prisoners who shall be executed in retaliation for Johnson's death.

"Therefore, thirteen officers from among the prisoners of war have been ordered to report at the Black Bear Tavern this morning in order that a victim may be chosen for retaliation. Captain Williams is among those so ordered to report."

A long moment of silence followed this announcement. Drayton's distress was plainly visible. The stillness was broken by Harriet.

"And why, sir," she said sharply, "should my brother be among those who are bidden to report?"

"On account of his rank, Miss Harriet," he returned. "Johnson was a captain, so eight captains and five lieutenants make up the thirteen officers. The victim should be as near the rank of Captain Johnson as possible."

"It is according to the rules of war," spoke Clifford Owen clearly.

"The Americans but act according to their rights. We should do the same. I am ready to accompany you at any time, Captain Drayton."

"You shall not, Clifford," shrieked Harriet, throwing her arms about him. "John Drayton is but one. We can overpower him, and you can escape."

"Break my parole!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, horrified. "My sister, you know not what you say."

"And after all, he may not be the unfortunate one, Miss Harriet,"

spoke Drayton with an attempt at consolation. "There are thirteen from among whom the choice is to be made."

David Owen roused himself.

"True, there are thirteen," he murmured. "Would it be permitted, John, that I go with the lad?"

"Yes, Mr. Owen." John Drayton's eyes were full of compa.s.sion. "No undue rigor is to be used in carrying out orders, though of course few spectators will be allowed."

"And a place must be found for me," cried Harriet. "Do you think I can stay here and not know whether my brother is to be killed, or not?"

"We can't do it, Miss Harriet." Drayton's voice was inflexible. "It would upset all arrangements to have a woman present. It cannot be done. Come, Captain Williams."

Clifford was the calmest among them as he bade them farewell. Harriet was too agitated to do more than wring her hands continually.

"It will be he, I know it will," she cried as Mr. Owen and John Drayton disappeared from view, Clifford walking between them.

"We must hope for the best, my child," said Mrs. Owen trying to comfort her. But Harriet could only say over and over:

"I know that it will be Clifford." She was walking up and down the floor as she uttered the words again and again. Suddenly she paused, and held out her hand to Peggy: "Come!" she said. "I am going to that tavern."

At a sign from her mother Peggy went to her. Harriet clasped Peggy's hand tightly in her own, and all through the trying scene that followed never once did she let it go. Without thought that they were still in their morning dresses, and without stopping for hats the girls hastened into the street.

A hush seemed to have fallen upon the town. There were groups of people cl.u.s.tered about everywhere talking in subdued tones of the act of reprisal that was about to follow. Retaliation had been the demand of every patriot since the inhuman and lawless murder of Fairfax Johnson. No American prisoner was safe so long as the act was unrequited. At length Congress had taken measures whereby a victim should expiate the outrage upon the Jersey captain. So the citizens stood on the corners talking to each other almost in whispers of what was going on at the tavern. Peggy and her cousin pa.s.sed them unheedingly.

In the yard of the inn twenty dragoons stood waiting the result, ready to take the unfortunate victim off to New Jersey for immediate execution. There were many others standing about; some on the piazza, others in the corridors, all awaiting the result of the meeting which was taking place in a room of the tavern.