Prisoners of Hope Part 26

"I think thou hast eaten of the Jamestown weed!" said Landless fiercely.

"Collect thy senses, man! And speak something less loudly, or Roach's betrayal will be superfluous. As to myself, if I curse not, I act; and as for my motives for what you call luke-warmness, and I call common humanity, you will please to let them alone!"

The excitement faded from the fanatic's face, and he said more quietly, "You are right, friend. I was mad for a moment, mad to see that freedom which is so near us so imperiled. I meant not to quarrel with you who have shown in the conduct of this work the discernment of a young Daniel, yea, who have so borne yourself, that I have grown to care for you as I never thought to care again for human being. I have prayed much that you should be brought from the twilight of Calvinism into the pure light wherein walk the disciples of the blessed Ludovick."

They reached the square and mingled with the motly crowd that lined its sides, leaving the centre occupied only by the murderer, his captors, and the master. Followed by the Muggletonian, Landless made his way to where the yellow locks of young d.i.c.k Whittington towered above the crowd. The boy saw him coming, and edging past a knot of blacks, met him in a little open s.p.a.ce, whose only occupants were two or three women, and an Indian squatting upon the ground. Leaning against a pine, and fixing his gaze and, to all appearance, his attention upon the central group where the overseer was just finishing a circ.u.mstantial account of the chase, Landless said quietly:--

"You were of the party that took him?"

"That I was!" answered the boy gleefully. "Losh! but it was fun!" His blue eyes danced with impish delight; a noiseless laugh showed all his strong white teeth. "We went straight to the spot where you and Mistress Patricia saw him by the lightning. There the dogs struck his trail and the fun commenced. Over streams and fallen trees, and chinquepin ridges; through bogs and myrtle thickets and miles of grape vines--swounds! but it was hot work! Just look at the scratches on my face and hands! Joyce Whitbread wouldn't know me! The Court spark, he wore a mask and saved his beauty. He's a well-plucked one, though, took the lead and kept it, and when it was over, treated us to usquebaugh at Luckey Doughty's store. Well, we run the fox to earth in a Chickahominy village. Lord!

I'm sorry for the half king of the Chickahominies! He'll have to answer to Governor and Council for letting red fox burrow in his village. Found him squatted in a sa.s.safras patch. Snarled and fought and tried to bite like the beast he is. Woodson and the Court spark took him."

"Do you know what will be done with him now?"

"He'll be taken on to the gaol at the court-house."

"That is five miles from here," said Landless.

"Yes, near to the village where we took him. He'll be kept there until they can try him. And they'll make short work of him. He'll be food for crows directly."

The throng pressed upon them, forcing them nearer to the group beneath the dead tree. The overseer had finished his account, and the master was clearing his throat to speak. Landless found himself upon the inner verge of the ma.s.s of spectators, directly opposite the murderer, and confronted by him with a look so dark, wild and malignant, that he could not doubt the intention that lay behind those scowling eyes. Luiz Sebastian, still with the murderer's arm in his grasp, gave him a peculiar look which he could not translate. In the background he saw Trail's sinister face peering over the shoulder of an Indian.

"You dog!" said the planter, addressing himself directly to Roach. "What have you to say for yourself?"

The murderer made an uncertain sound with his dry lips, and his bloodshot eyes roamed around the circle from one staring face to another, until they returned to rest upon the watchful, amber-hued countenance beside him.

"Speak!" said his master sternly.

"I'll say nothing," was the dogged reply, "until I stands my trial. I demands a fair trial."

"Remember that this is your last chance to speak to me, to speak to any one in authority before you are tried. Of course you will hang for this.

Have you anything to say? Do you wish to speak to me in private?"

The murderer raised his head, and shaking the tangled hair from about his face, cast at Landless, standing ten paces beyond the planter, such a look of deadly and blasting hatred, that for a moment the blood ran cold in the young man's veins. He set his teeth and braced himself to meet the blow at plans and hopes and life that should follow such a look.

To his astonishment the blow did not fall. Roach changed the basilisk gaze with which he had regarded him to a vacant stare.

"I've naught to say," he whined, "except that I hopes your honor will see that I has a fair trial--no d--d Tyburn or Newgate hocus-pocussing."

The master beckoned to the overseer. "Take him away," he said. "Take two or three men and carry him on to the gaol."

He turned on his heel and walked to where Sir Charles Carew leaned against a tree, idly flicking the mud from his boots with his riding cane. Landless standing near and listening with strained ears heard the master say in answer to the other's lifted brows:--

"Nothing to be learnt in that quarter. If there's rebellion brewing, he knows nothing of it."

Fresh horses were brought from the stables. "You, Luiz Sebastian, Taylor, and Mathew," said the overseer, swinging himself into the saddle. The men designated mounted, and Roach, bound and scowling, was hoisted to his former seat behind Luiz Sebastian. The cavalcade started.

As the horse that bore the double load pa.s.sed Landless, the murderer twisted himself about in his seat, and, with a venomous look, spat at him. Luiz Sebastian smiled evilly.

The shaven head and fleshless face of Win-Grace Porringer protruded themselves over Landless's shoulder.

"What does it mean?" he muttered.

"G.o.d knows," answered the other. "Come to the trysting place to-night.

We must act, and act quickly."

That night ten men met in the deserted hut on the marsh, having stolen with the caution of Indians from their respective plantations. Five were men who had fought at Edgehill and Naseby and Worcester, or had followed Cromwell through the breach at Drogheda. Four were victims of the Act of Uniformity; darker, sterner, more determined if possible, than the veterans of the New Model. The tenth man was Landless. When, late at night, he and Porringer crept stealthily back to the quarters, it was with the conviction that this was the last time they should so steal through the darkness. The date of the rising had been fixed for the thirteenth of September; this night, by Landless's advice, it was brought forward to the tenth--and it was now the sixth.

Groping his way past the slumbering forms of the three other occupants of his cabin, Landless threw himself down upon his pallet with a heavy sigh.

"Liberty!" he said beneath his breath. "G.o.ddess, whom I and mine have sought through long years, whom once we thought we held, and waked to find thee gone,--once I thought thee fairer than aught beside; thought no price too great to pay for thee. But now!"

He hid his face in his hands with a stifled groan. When at length he fell into a troubled sleep, it was to see again a storm-tossed boat, and a woman's face, set like a star against the blackness of the night.

CHAPTER XIX

THE LIBRARY OF THE SURVEYOR-GENERAL

At a long, low table stood Mistress Betty Carrington, her slender figure enveloped in an ap.r.o.n of blue dowlas, her sleeves of fine holland rolled above her elbows, and her white and rounded arms plunged deep into a great bowl filled with the purple globes of the wild grape. A row of children knelt on the brick floor at her feet, busily stripping the fruit from the stems, and negresses, hard by, strained with sinewy hands the crimson juice from the pulpy ma.s.s into jars of earthenware. To this group suddenly entered a breathless urchin.

"Ohe, mistis! de Gov'nor an' Ma.s.sa Peyton comin' up de road!"

Betty suspended her operations with a little cry. "The Governor!" she exclaimed in dismay. "And my father is gone a-processioning;--and my gown is not seemly;--and he cannot be kept waiting!" She threw off her ap.r.o.n, dipped her hands into the water the slaves poured for her, and was at the hall door in time to courtesy to the Governor, as, followed by a groom, and attended by Mr. Peyton, he rode up to the house.

With the agility of youth his Excellency sprung from his horse, threw the reins to the groom, and advanced to greet the lady. A richly laced riding-suit became his still slight and elegant figure to a marvel; his gilt-spurred, Spanish leather boots were of the newest, most approved cut; his periwig was fresh curled, and framed with distinction a handsome, if somewhat withered, countenance. He doffed his Spanish hat with a bow and flourish: Betty courtesied profoundly.

"Welcome to Rosemead, your Excellency."

"I greet you well, pretty Mistress Betty," said the Governor, and took a governor's privilege. Mr. Peyton looked as though he would have liked to follow his Excellency's example, but was fain to content himself with the lady's hand, resigned to the respectful pressure of his lips with a charming blush and a dropping of long-fringed eyelids.

"Where is your father, sweetheart?" demanded the Governor.

"Ah! your Excellency, he is unfortunate. The vestry hath appointed this day for the examination of boundaries in this parish, and as his Majesty's Surveyor-General he leads the procession. But will not your Excellency await his return? He will be here anon, and with him Colonel Verney."

"Then will I wait, pretty one; for I have weighty matters to discuss both with him and with d.i.c.k Verney."

Betty ushered them into the great room, cool, dark, and fragrant of roses.

"If your Excellency will permit me to withdraw, I will order some refreshment for you after your long ride."

The Governor sank into an armchair, and smiled graciously.

"Faith! a bit of pasty comes not amiss after a morning canter. And prithee see to the sack thyself, Mistress Betty. And a dish of pippins and cheese," continued the Governor, meditatively, "and a rasher of bacon."

"There was a fine comb taken from the hive this morning. Will your Excellency choose a bit? And there are dates, sent my father by the captain of the Barbary vessel, and a quince tart--"