Salute to Adventurers Part 14

Then he did a wild thing. He flung the remnant at my face, so that the ragged end scratched my cheek. When I turned wrathfully I found a circle of grinning faces.

It is queer how a wound, however slight, breaks a man's temper and upsets his calm resolves, I think that then and there I would have been involved in a mellay, had not a voice spoke behind me.

"Mr. Garvald," it said, "will you give me the favour of your arm? We dine to-day with his Excellency."

I turned to find Elspeth, and close behind her Doctor Blair and Governor Nicholson.

All my heat left me, and I had not another thought for my tormentors.

In that torrid noon she looked as cool and fragrant as a flower. Her clothes were simple compared with the planters' dames, but of a far more dainty fashion. She wore, I remember, a gown of pale sprigged muslin, with a blue kerchief about her shoulders and blue ribbons in her wide hat. As her hand lay lightly on my arm I did not think of my triumph, being wholly taken up with the admiration of her grace.

The walk was all too short, for the Governor's lodging was but a stone's-throw distant. When we parted at the door I hoped to find some of my mockers still lingering, for in that hour I think I could have flung any three of them into the river.

None were left, however, and as I walked homewards I reflected very seriously that the baiting of Andrew Garvald could not endure for long.

Pretty soon I must read these young gentry a lesson, little though I wanted to embroil myself in quarrels. I called them "young" in scorn, but few of them, I fancy, were younger than myself.

Next day, as it happened, I had business with Mercer at the water-side, and as I returned along the harbour front I fell in with the Receiver of Customs, who was generally called the Captain of the Castle, from his station at Point Comfort. He was an elderly fellow who had once been a Puritan, and still cherished a trace of the Puritan modes of speech. I had often had dealings with him, and had found him honest, though a thought truculent in manner. He had a pa.s.sion against all smugglers and buccaneers, and, in days to come, was to do good service in ridding Accomac of these scourges. He feared G.o.d, and did not greatly fear much else.

He was sitting on the low wall smoking a pipe, and had by him a very singular gentleman. Never have I set eyes on a more decorous merchant.

He was habited neatly and soberly in black, with a fine white cravat and starched shirt-bands. He wore a plain bob-wig below a huge flat-brimmed hat, and big blue spectacles shaded his eyes. His mouth was as precise as a lawyer's, and altogether he was a very whimsical, dry fellow to find at a Virginian port.

The Receiver called me to him and asked after a matter which we had spoken of before. Then he made me known to his companion, who was a Mr.

Fairweather, a merchant out of Boston.

"The Lord hath given thee a pleasant dwelling, friend," said the stranger, snuffling a little through his nose.

From his speech I knew that Mr. Fairweather was of the sect of the Quakers, a peaceable race that Virginia had long ill-treated.

"The land is none so bad," said the Receiver, "but the people are a perverse generation. Their hearts are set on vanity, and puffed up with pride. I could wish, Mr. Fairweather, that my lines had fallen among your folk in the north, where, I am told, true religion yet flourisheth. Here we have nothing but the cold harangues of the Commissary, who seeketh after the knowledge that perisheth rather than the wisdom which is eternal life."

"Patience, friend," said the stranger. "Thee is not alone in thy crosses. The Lord hath many people up Boston way, but they are sore beset by the tribulations of Zion. On land there is war and rumour of war, and on the sea the ships of the G.o.dly are s.n.a.t.c.hed by every manner of ocean thief. Likewise we have dissension among ourselves, and a constant strife with the froward human heart. Still is Jerusalem troubled, and there is no peace within her bulwarks."

"Do the pirates afflict you much in the north?" asked the Receiver with keen interest. The stranger turned his large spectacles upon him, and then looked blandly at me. Suddenly I had a notion that I had seen that turn of the neck and poise of the head before.

"Woe is me," he cried in a stricken voice. "The French have two fair vessels of mine since March, and a third is missing. Some say it ran for a Virginian port, and I am here to seek it. Heard thee ever, friend, of a strange ship in the James or the Potomac?"

"There be many strange ships," said the Receiver, "for this dominion is the goal for all the wandering merchantmen of the earth. What was the name of yours?"

"A square-rigged schooner out of Bristol, painted green, with a white figurehead of a winged heathen G.o.d."

"And the name?"

"The name is a strange one. It is called _The Horn of Diarmaid_, but I seek to prevail on the captain to change it to _The Horn of Mercy_."

"No such name is known to me," and the Receiver shook his head. "But I will remember it, and send you news."

I hope I did not betray my surprise, but for all that it was staggering. Of all disguises and of all companies this was the most comic and the most hazardous. I stared across the river till I had mastered my countenance, and when I looked again at the two they were soberly discussing the harbour dues of Boston.

Presently the Receiver's sloop arrived to carry him to Point Comfort.

He nodded to me, and took an affectionate farewell of the Boston man. I heard some good mouth-filling texts exchanged between them.

Then, when we were alone, the Quaker turned to me. "Man, Andrew," he said, "it was a good thing that I had a Bible upbringing. I can manage the part fine, but I flounder among the 'thees' and 'thous.' I would be the better of a drink to wash my mouth of the accursed p.r.o.nouns. Will you be alone to-night about the darkening? Then I'll call in to see you, for I've much to tell you."

That evening about nine the Quaker slipped into my room.

"How about that tobacco-shed?" he asked. "Is it well guarded?"

"Faulkner and one of the men sleep above it, and there are a couple of fierce dogs chained at the door. Unless they know the stranger, he will be apt to lose the seat of his breeches."

The Quaker nodded, well pleased. "That is well, for I heard word in the town that to-night you might have a visitor or two." Then he walked to a stand of arms on the wall and took down a small sword, which he handled lovingly. "A fair weapon, Andrew," said he. "My new sect forbids me to wear a blade, but I think I'll keep this handy beside me in the chimney corner."

Then he gave me the news. Lawrence had been far inland with the Monacans, and had brought back disquieting tales. The whole nation of the Cherokees along the line of the mountains was unquiet. Old family feuds had been patched up, and there was a coming and going of messengers from Chickamauga to the Potomac.

"Well, we're ready for them," I said, and I told him the full story of our preparations.

"Ay, but that is not all. I would not give much for what the Cherokees and the Tuscaroras could do. There might be some blood shed and a good few blazing roof-trees in the back country, but no Indian raid would stand against our lads. But I have a notion--maybe it's only a notion, though Lawrence is half inclined to it himself--that there's more in this business than a raid from the hills. There's something stirring in the West, away in the parts that no White man has ever travelled. From what I learn there's a bigger brain than an Indian's behind it."

"The French?" I asked.

"Maybe, but maybe not. What's to hinder a blackguard like Cosh, with ten times Cosh's mind, from getting into the Indian councils, and turning the whole West loose on the Tidewater??

"Have you any proof?" I asked, much alarmed.

"Little at present. But one thing I know. There's a man among the tribes that speaks English."

"Great G.o.d, what a villain!" I cried, "But how do you know?"

"Just this way. The Monacans put an arrow through the neck of a young brave, and they found this in his belt."

He laid before me a bit of a printed Bible leaf. About half was blank paper, for it came at the end of the Book of Revelation. On the blank part some signs had been made in rude ink which I could not understand.

"But this is no proof," I said. "It's only a relic from some plundered settlement. Can you read those marks?"

"I cannot, nor could the Monacans. But look at the printed part."

I looked again, and saw that some one had very carefully underlined certain words. These made a sentence, and read, "_John, servant of the prophecy, is at hand._"

"The underlining may have been done long ago," I hazarded.

"No, the ink is not a month old," he said, and I could do nothing but gape.

"Well what's your plan?" I said at last.

"None, but I would give my right hand to know what is behind the hills.

That's our weakness, Andrew. We have to wait here, and since we do not know the full peril, we cannot fully prepare. There may be mischief afoot which would rouse every sleepy planter out of bed, and turn the Tidewater into an armed camp. But we know nothing. If we had only a scout--".

"What about Shalah?" I asked.