The Road to Paris Part 16

They soon saw that Morgan had taken command, and, amid the inevitable crowding together near the barrier, they found themselves in close company with the forlorn hope, headed now by Arnold's secretary, Oswald, and with Lamb and his artillerymen, who had left their field-piece in order to wield muskets and bayonets.

Forward rushed Morgan and the advance companies, right through a discharge of grape-shot from the two cannon commanding the defile.

Forward, without slackening, upon the battery, some scaling the walls, some firing through the embrasures; pouring over and through, seizing the captain and thirty of his men as prisoners, driving the rest of the guard away, and taking the enemy's dry muskets to use instead of their own damp ones.

Then Morgan formed his men as he could, and led them on to take the second barrier. The day was about to dawn now, and, although Morgan's men knew it not, the false attack planned against St. John's Gate had failed of being made; the feint against the Bastion of Cape Diamond had served its purpose to conceal Montgomery's march along the sh.o.r.e of the St. Lawrence, but Montgomery, while leading his men from the stockade whence d.i.c.k Wetheral had once been fired upon, towards the blockhouse within, had fallen in death before a discharge of grape-shot, while his triumphant cry, "Push on, my brave boys, Quebec is ours!" still rang in the ears of his New Yorkers. Montgomery's men had thereupon retreated, and thus the British force, warned of the very first movements by a too early discharge of the signal-rockets, was enabled to concentrate against the division now between the first and second northern barriers of the lower town.

Morgan's advance followed a curving course along the sides of houses, to where the narrow street was crossed, not far up from its mouth, by the second barrier, which was at least twelve feet high. Meanwhile Morgan had despatched Captain Dearborn, with a party, to prevent the enemy's coming from the upper town through Palace Gate and down the promontory's St. Charles side, which was neither as high nor as steep as the St.

Lawrence side.

Behind the barrier now to be taken, was a platform whence cannon poured grape-shot, defended by two ranges of musketeers with fixed bayonets.

The enemy fired also from the upper windows of houses beyond. The Americans speedily upbuilt an elevation to a height approaching that of the barrier, men falling all the while beneath the fire from the barrier, the houses beyond, and the walls far above at the right.

Morgan's first lieutenant, Humphreys, climbed this mound to scale the barrier, but a row of bayonets forced him back.

Seeing the impregnability of the barrier to his present force, and the rapidity with which that force was depleted by the terrible fire, Morgan thundered and cursed. Hendricks and Steele were calm, encouraging their men to patience, and directing them whither to return the enemy's fire.

At last Lieutenant Humphreys fell in the street, dying on the spot.

Then Morgan ordered his men to enter a house close to the barrier, and fire from the windows.

Into the house and up to the second story rushed Hendricks, Steele, Tom MacAlister, and many others. Steele ran to the first window and aimed his gun towards the barrier; but, without firing, he suddenly stepped back with a sharp cry, and held up one of his hands to look at it, entrusting his gun wholly to the other. Where three fingers had been, there were now three crimson stumps. Hendricks and MacAlister took another window. As Hendricks was about to shoot, a ball tore its way to his heart; he lowered his rifle, took on a swift look of pain, staggered a few feet backward, fell with half his body on a bed, and died there almost instantly. While the h.e.l.l continued in and about the house, as the daylight increased, a party of British rushed out from Palace Gate, captured Dearborn and his men, fell upon the rear of Morgan's party, and presently, when the dauntless Virginian had had his rage out, received the surrender of him and his officers and men. "I wonder," thought old Tom MacAlister, as he marched in the line of prisoners to the great ruined Franciscan monastery, near the Reguliers, "how the lad d.i.c.k would 'a' fared if he'd been wi' us the braw night past? Weel, weel, maybe it's better he was called away when he was, for, whether he be on the earth or under, it's little he'd 'a' relished finding out 'twas for this we marched through Maine and hungered and froze in the snaws of Canada!"

'Twas for that, had been the planning and the money-spending, the suffering and the starving, the toils and the bloodshed,--for that, and for the glory of heroic failure.

CHAPTER XI.

THREE WHIMSICAL GENTLEMEN AND A BEAUTIFUL LADY.

Under the protection of the maid-servant, who was mature and fat, d.i.c.k Wetheral was allowed to slumber till the afternoon. He awoke entirely refreshed, and, after a curious look through his small window at the snow-covered little town with its picturesque church spire, he went down to the kitchen, and in a corner thereof he satisfied a prodigious appet.i.te; upon which he felt himself in excellent physical condition.

His slight flesh-wound, received at Quebec, had healed on his sea-voyage, thanks to the persistent health of his blood, and despite the badness of other circ.u.mstances.

He walked but twelve miles that day, arriving after nightfall at Liskeard, and lodging till morning at an inn near the handsome Gothic church of St. Martin. When he came to pay his bill he found it took all his money but a few pence, and thus he set forth, on the first day of the year 1776, bound eastward, with empty pockets, friendless in a strange and hostile land, with no fixed intention save the vague one of eventually returning to fight for his country, with no present plan save to keep moving on.

Not seeking food once during a journey of seventeen miles, he finally crossed the Tamer, from Cornwall into Devonshire, and arrived at Tavistock with less curiosity to view the vestiges of the tenth century abbey there, than to learn where his dinner was to come from. He had decided to beg, if necessary; he considered that his own people, as was the custom of his country, entertained freely every hungry or roofless man that came to their home in the wilderness, therefore some hospitality was due him from the world at large; and he reasoned that, being now among a hostile people, whose government was responsible for his present situation, he was morally ent.i.tled, without reproach, to whatever he could, in the name of charity, obtain from that people.

Profiting by some of Tom MacAlister's related experiences, he had bethought himself, on the road, of certain possible methods of overcoming charity's coyness.

The first door at which he knocked, in Tavistock, was promptly shut in his face, by a man who blurted out something about rogues and vagabonds, and ere d.i.c.k's civil greeting was finished. At the next house a frowning old woman was equally inhospitable. But at the third, the cottage of a serge-weaver, the young girl who opened the door allowed her soft eyes to rest on d.i.c.k before making a move to close it, and d.i.c.k improved the moment to a.s.sure her that he was no common rogue and vagabond, but an honest teller of fortunes by cards, who saw already in her face the signs of a great surprise in her own immediate future. The girl opened the door wider, and d.i.c.k stepped in with such a courteous bow to the two other occupants of the room that they rose instinctively to receive him, blinded to his garb by his gentlemanly bearing. It was meal-time, and the family at table consisted of father, mother, and the girl who had opened the door.

d.i.c.k lost no time, but asked for a pack of cards, with such a smile, and so much as if the request were the most natural one possible, that the mother told the girl where the cards were, and the girl immediately brought them. d.i.c.k began by telling the fortune of the head of the house, who was so diverted with the prediction of a gift from a dark man, that d.i.c.k's invention was allowed full exercise regarding the future destiny of each member of the family. The mother then speaking of a dream she had recently had, d.i.c.k promptly offered to interpret it for her, and its meaning was so favorable that the interpreter was soon in the way to gorge himself with beef and ale. He then did some card tricks that Tom had taught him, and, perceiving that a pack of cards would thereafter be a useful implement to him, eventually won the cards themselves, on a bet as to the location of a certain one of them. Having found that his card tricks amused, he resolved to rely on them thereafter, and not to stoop again to fortune-telling, an old woman's business adopted by him for the once as most likely means of exciting the girl's curiosity.

He went from the weaver's house to the inn hard by the church of St.

Eustache, and, obtaining a friendly reception by the conciliating manner and flattering air with which he accosted the servants, pa.s.sed the afternoon in manipulating the cards, to the mystification of kitchen wenches, ostlers, and tipplers of low degree; winning a few sixpences from the last named in a fair game of skill. He thus earned a supper in a kitchen, and a bed in the stable-loft.

The next day he walked twenty-one miles, crossing Dartmoor Forest and the vast common, doing card tricks for a meal in a farmer's cottage at each one of two villages, and lodging for the night at Moreton Hampstead, where his procedure at the inn was in general similar to that at Tavistock.

In the morning he went on to Exeter, which--with its antique houses, its splendid cathedral of St. Peter flanked by the old bishop's palace, its ruined castle of West Saxon kings, its bustling High Street, its bridge across the Exe, and its busy quay--impressed d.i.c.k the more for its being the first large town of England to greet his eyes. He remained here many days, going from inn-yard to inn-yard, and, in the poorer quarters, from house to house; always with an address so polite and amiable that few resisted or distrusted him. His look and manner were so different from those of the common wayfarer or mountebank that he found he need stand in no fear of being dealt with as a vagrant. He added to his resources some of Tom's old conjuring feats, which he made new by means of the glib, humorous speeches he was soon able to rattle off. A cause of his prolonged stay at Exeter was the great snowfall and frost, which began January 7th, with a high eastern wind, froze the rivers, and put to shame all recollections of cold weather that dated since the memorable hard winter of 1739-40. d.i.c.k spent most of this time in entertaining snow-bound travellers of low degree, at the inns, receiving in payment now a meal, now a share of a bed, now a few small coins.

There were nights, though, when he lodged outside, taking short naps in some sheltering angle of the cathedral, and rousing himself at intervals to stir his blood by walking.

On the 2d of February the wind changed and blew from the south. Waiting a few days more, so as to be less inconvenienced by the thaw, d.i.c.k started northward, pa.s.sing through a beautiful country partly in sight of the Exe, dined at Collumpton, and proceeded in the afternoon to Wellington in Somersetshire, where he lay for the night in an open shed appertaining to the inn. The next morning, paying for breakfast with the last of the coins he had earned at Exeter, he went on to the sweet vale of Taunton Dean, and arrived penniless at the town of Taunton, where a singular thing befell him.

He had stopped to look into an inn-yard, to see whether the time was propitious for his obtaining the attention of servants and inferior guests, and thus for his paving the way to one of his unlicensed performances, when a post-chaise drove up and let out a richly dressed young gentleman, with a portmanteau and a gold-headed cane, but not attended by any private servant.

As he was about to enter the inn, this young gentleman, who was of a sedate and self-contained demeanor, stopped for a moment, regarded d.i.c.k with a sudden but civil interest, and half perceptibly smiled; he then pa.s.sed in, while a menial shouldered his portmanteau and followed.

d.i.c.k knew at once the cause of the look of interest and of the smile. He was still pondering on it when, a few minutes later, the gentleman came out of the inn, greeted him with most kindly condescension, and said, in a quiet tone, while making sure by swift side-glances that no one overheard:

"My good man, I see you, too, have noticed how much we look like each other."

"In the face, yes," replied d.i.c.k; "but not as much in the clothes."

"Quite true," said the gentleman, with an appreciative smile. "I was just about to speak of that. As I looked at you and noticed the resemblance between us, I couldn't but think how different everything would be to me if I were the man in the smock-frock and you were the man in the velvet coat. And then an odd idea came into my head. Said I to myself, 'Why shouldn't I try the experiment, and see how it may be to travel a short way through the world in a smock-frock?' I'm given to whims, you see, and, moreover, it will be a droll thing for me to appear, clad like you, at the house where I'm expected to-night. Ha! How my lord will stare to see me come in! In fine, my good man, I propose that we shall exchange clothes, and go on our different ways!"

"You mean that, for the clothes I have on, you would give me those you wear now?" cried d.i.c.k, astonished and amused.

"Precisely, with the cane and snuff-box thrown into the bargain."

"But don't you know you can buy in five minutes a suit of clothes like mine, for a hundredth part of the worth of all you offer me?"

"Yes, I know that, of course. But, you see, it would attract attention, my buying such clothes--"

"Oh, for that matter, I can buy them for you."

"No, for then they would either be new, in which case my--ah--disguise would be easier seen through; or they would be second-hand, and then G.o.d knows who might have worn them in the past! Besides, I can afford to pay for my whims, and it pleases me to think that you, too, who resemble me so much, would have the benefit of my clothes, as I should have of yours. Come! Or, rather, wait till I pay in advance for my room, which I'll occupy but half an hour; then I'll take you to it; we can change immediately, and go forth to see how differently the world will look at us."

Convinced, at last, that it was no insane person by whom he should be profiting, d.i.c.k saw no reason for interposing further objections; indeed, those already put had been offered merely to satisfy his natural scruples against being on the better side of so uneven a bargain, for the idea of swaggering awhile in costly raiment had instantly attracted him. In less than an hour thereafter, he issued from the inn, fully clad as a gentleman, while his whimsical acquaintance, slinking out as un.o.bserved as d.i.c.k had slunk in, tipped him a friendly farewell and made off in the opposite direction, shouldering the portmanteau as if he were a hired porter.

As d.i.c.k strutted along the busy street, glancing at the shop-windows, and in turn glanced at by more than one pair of demure eyes, he suddenly bethought himself that a gentleman in velvet and lace, with silk stockings and gold buckles, but without a penny in pocket or in prospect, was a somewhat anomalous personage. Moreover, the county towns and country villages were a field far less worth shining in as a gentleman than were certain fields he now began to think he might soon visit.

He therefore visited certain dealers in the town, and by dinner-time he was minus the gold-headed cane and a gold-mounted snuff-box, but was the richer by a plainer snuff-box; some changes of linen, underclothes, neck-cloths, and handkerchiefs; a bag in which to carry all his movables; and a suit of clothes. He chose the last with a view to the fit only, regardless of the fact that it was a gamekeeper's costume. At another inn than the one where he had met the stranger, d.i.c.k doffed his fine feathers, put on the gamekeeper's suit, and dined, paying for his dinner with some money he had over from the proceeds of the cane and snuff-box.

In the afternoon, carrying his bag of clothes slung by a stick over his shoulder, he left Taunton behind, presently abandoned the road that went northward to Bridgewater, and proceeded northeastward, traversing charming vales, and arriving at night at a village about half-way between Taunton and Glas...o...b..ry. His pack of cards earned his supper and bed, both in the house of a simple-minded blacksmith.

The next day he pa.s.sed through Glas...o...b..ry, pausing to indulge his imagination before the ruined abbey in which Kings Arthur and Edgar were buried, as well as before the rotting cross in the town's centre, and before the Tor of St. Michael on the hill northeast. He fed nothing but his imagination at this place, and hastened on to Wells, where he stayed his stomach further while admiring the magnificent west front of the Gothic Cathedral, the high square tower and ornate exterior of St.

Cuthbert's Church, and the other fine old buildings.

At the inn, he found, among other travellers, a party of lesser gentry on whose hands time hung heavily, their business being finished, but themselves being unwilling to set forth on a Friday. d.i.c.k soon ingratiated himself with these gentlemen, whose thick and empty heads were already astray with punch, wine, and ale; and he was made not only a sharer of their good cheer, but the sole occupant of the bed of one whom he tried to a.s.sist thither but who persisted in sleeping on the floor instead.

Leaving early the next morning, ere his benefactors were awake to eject him as some presuming plebeian who had availed himself of their drunkenness, d.i.c.k proceeded northeastward towards Bath, his eyes rejoicing in the beauty of the Mendip hills and the surrounding country.

When he had reached a spot where a short stretch of road before him had a delightfully secluded appearance, by reason of the trees that overarched it, and the varied slopes that rose gently on either hand, those on the left extending in a series of shapely hills to a far western horizon, he began to think of breakfast. A little way ahead, a vine-grown wall, broken by high gate-posts, marked the roadside boundary of a small, sloping park, belonging to a country-seat whose towers and chimneys rose among the trees some distance within. As d.i.c.k lay down his bag to rest, there came from a small door in the wall a gamekeeper, who immediately raised the fowling-piece he carried, and fired at a hawk that circled over a copse at d.i.c.k's right. The shot missed, and the gamekeeper reloaded. But when he was ready for a second shot, he shouldered his gun, evidently thinking the bird out of range, although it remained over the copse.

"I'll bring that bird down for you, if you let me," called out d.i.c.k, on the impulse of the moment, just as if he had been in his own country.

In reply, the gamekeeper stared in amazement. d.i.c.k repeated his offer.

Then the gamekeeper found words, and wrathfully ordered d.i.c.k from the premises, calling him a vagabond, a poacher, and worse. d.i.c.k was about to close the fellow's mouth with a blow, when a loud voice, one that shifted between a bellow and a whine, came from the direction of the great gate:

"What's amiss, Perkins? Hold the d.a.m.ned rascal! I'll make a jailbird of him, that I will! What is it, Perkins? Highway robbery? I'll have him up, the next a.s.sizes!"