"There shall be joy for this. Shall we not laugh— |
Travis, the faithful coadjutor of the tory Huck, was on his march into the swamp before daylight. As Humphries had anticipated, he took the path, if so it might be called, on which the ambuscade had been laid for him. He might not have done so, had he dreamed for an instant of the existence in this quarter of such a body of men as that now preparing to receive him. Looking on his object, however, simply as the arrest of Frampton, and the scouring, of the swamp of such stragglers besides as might have been led for shelter into its recesses, he adopted the route which was obviously most accessible, and most likely, therefore, to be resorted to by the merely skulking discontent. The half-military eye, looking out for an enemy in any respect equal in strength, would have either studiously avoided the ridge over which Travis now presumed to ride, or would have adopted some better precautions than he had troubled himself to take. It was naturally a strong defile, well calculated for an easy defence, as only a small force could possibly be of use upon it. But two persons could ride abreast in the prescribed direction, and then only with great difficulty and by slow movement; for little gullies and fissures continually intersected the path, which was circuitous and winding, and, if not always covered with water and swamp, quite as difficult to overcome, from its luxuriant growth of umbrage.
Though an old traveller in such fastnesses, these obstructions were in no sort pleasant to the leader of the British party, who, being a notorious grumbler, accompanied every step which he took with grunting sort of commentary by way of disapprobation.
"Now, may the devil take these gullies, that go as deep when you get into them as if they were made for him. This is a day's chase, and the next time Huck wants a hunt, he shall enjoy it himself. I like not this service. It's little less than a disparagement of the profession, and speaks not well for an old soldier."
The leader spoke with feeling, and no little emphasis, as his steed scrambled up the bank from the slough in which his legs had been almost fastened, the slimy ooze of which, left by the now-receding tide, rendered the effort to release himself a matter of greater difficulty than usual. The grumbling continued, even after he had gained the tussock.
"Thou a soldier!" cried one who rode up behind him, and who spoke in terms of familiarity indicating close companionship—"thou a soldier, Travis, indeed! What should make thee a soldier?"
"Am I not, Clough?" was the reply.
"And wherefore dost thou grumble, then?"
"Wherefore? Because, being a soldier, I am sent upon any but a soldier's service. A dog might do this duty—a dog that you had well beaten."
"And what better service, Travis, couldst thou have to keep thee from grumbling? Art thou, now, not a sorry bear with a sore head, that kindness cannot coax, and crossing only can keep civil! Send thee on what service Huck may, it is all the same; thou wilt grumble at the toil, even when it likes thee best. What wouldst thou have—what would please thee?"
"By Saint Jupiter, but he might ask, at least! He might give a man his choice," responded the other, gruffly. "It's but a small favour I ask, to be suffered to choose for myself whether I shall work for my master on hill or in hole—with a free bit, or hand to hand, close struggle with a hungry alligator in his wallow."
"And thou wouldst choose the very service he now puts thee to. What! do we not all know thee—and who knows thee better than Huck? He sees thou art the best man for the swamp; that thy scent is keen with the bloodhound, thine eye like the hawk's, and thou art quick for fight as the major's bull-pup. It is because he knows thou art fond of this sort of venture that he puts thee upon it; and what thou grumblest at, therefore, it will be out of thine own wisdom to show, even if thou wert really discontented with the duty, which I believe not."
"It's a dog's life only, this scenting swamps for the carrion they had better keep—wearing out good legs and horses, and making soldiers do the duty of a hungry dog. Rot it, but I'll resist after this! Let them send others that are younger, and like it better. I'll give it up—I'll do no more of it."
"Say so to Huck, and lose command of the scouts—the best game thou hast ever played at, if the baggage-wagons speak true," was the reply. " What! shalt thou grumble to do what thou art best fitted for? What wouldst thou be after—what other service would please thee?"
"Thou mayst see me in a charge yet, Sergeant Clough," replied Travis, boastfully, "provided thou hast blood enough to stop until it's over. When thou hast seen this, thou wilt ask me no child's questions. What! because I am good at the swamp, am I therefore worth nothing on the highway? It were a sorry soldier that could not take clear track and bush and bog alike, when the case calls for it, and do good service in all. But thou shalt see, some day, and grow wiser."
"Well, thou dost promise largely, like an old debtor; but, to my mind, thou art just now where thou shouldst be—in the swamps; for, truth to speak, thou lovest them—thou lovest the wallow and the slough—the thick ooze which the alligator loves, and the dry fern-bank where he makes his nest; thou lovest the terrapin because of his home, not less than of the good soup which he gives us; and the ugly moccasin, and the toad, and the frog—the brown lizard and the green—the swamp-spider, with its ropy house and bagging black body—all these are favourites with thee, because thy spirit craves for thee a home like that which they abide in."
"It is a goodly place, with all that company thou speakest of: the air is pleasant to the sense, and the noises—there is no music like the concert the frogs make for one at sunset."
"Said I not? Why, man, thou quarrellest with kindness, when thou ravet at Huck for sending thee to the swamp. Thou wert feverish and impatient this morning until thou wert fairly in it, with its mud and water plashing around thee; and now thou art here, with the trees crowding upon us so thickly that the sun looks not under them once in the whole year, thou creepest like a terrapin upon thy journey, as if thou didst greatly fear thou wouldst too quickly get through it. A barren fear, this, for we see but the beginning: the bog deepens, and the day grows darker as we go. Thou art slow, Travis."
"Saint Jupiter, Master Clough, wouldst thou lead? Thou art a better swamp-sucker than Ned Travis, and he born, as I may say, in a bush and cradled in a bog, and his first breeches, like mother Eve's petticoat, made out of bulrushes! Go to, friend, and be modest!"
"Ay, when thou art wise, and can go without counsel. Once more, Travis, but I do think thy snail's pace were better mended."
"Teach Goose Creek, would you? Talk not so loudly, Sergeant Clough, of running through the Cypress, or the gray-squirrel will look down and laugh. He's up betimes this morning, and knows more of a long leap through a broad swamp like this of the Ashley than comes to thy wisdom. Speak before him with becoming reverence, for he watches thee from the pinetop above thee."
The sergeant, who was an Englishman, looked upward with due simplicity, and received in his face the dismembered and decayed branch which the playful animal threw down, as he leaped away from the tree they were passing.
"Now, d—n the rebel! That were a hanging matter for one of Washington's cavalry."
"Ay, could you catch him!" replied Travis, with a laugh at the discomfiture of his companion, who busied himself in freeing his face from the dust of the decayed branch.
"See what thou gettest for thy stupidity. Think you gray-jacket knew not all you were saying? He did: not a word escaped him; and, believe it or not, his tribe have quite as much understanding as we, though, to be sure, they have not the same tongue to make it known. It's a God's truth, now, that squirrel has been outstanding sentinel for his company, just as ours watches for us; and look where they go, ail around us, and all in the same direction! See to yon pine, how full of them! It bends and shakes, big as it is, as they leap off to the next tree. They are all off, just as the sentinel gave them notice. Every now and then, as we drew nigh, he barked away—bark after bark—'bow-wow,' though thou never heard'st a syllable, all the time as good as saying: 'Now they come—nigher, nigher, nigher!'—and when he thought it time to move, he tumbled the dry branch into your open month, and made off with his last signals."
"Pshaw! what nonsense you talk!"
"Nonsense! Saint Jupiter, but it's true as turpentine! There's no truth, if that be not. Why, man, I go farther: I do believe, in my conscience, that they understand arithmetic and navigation. Don't you think he told his fellows how many we were, and what route over the water we were going to take? You see they have taken a different direction altogether."
"You think I swallow your fool's stories?" said Clough.
"Quite as easy to swallow, and better food than the branch the squirrel threw thee: but if thou believe not, I care not.—Rot thee, for an infidel, having as little belief as brains! Thou art worse than Turk or Hebrew, and should have no water from me wert thou famishing."
"Thou canst scarce deny it here," was the reply, as the squad, one after the other, struggled through a quagmire that spread across the path.
"Nor would I here; I am charitable: take thy fill of what is before thee.—But hold up, men; we are on the broad track. This tussock runs for a hundred yards, widening to a fork; and I've a mind that you shall go through the worst part of it, Sergeant Clough, that you may get more wisdom in swamp-sucking. Close up, men—close up!"
They passed over the broad path in a few moments, until they reached a point from which ran out another route, clearly indicated upon the sky by an opening through the trees, which let in, for the first time after their entrance, the unobstructed sunlight.
"To the right now, men—to the right! It's the worst track, but carries us soonest to the heart of the swamp, and we can pass it now without swimming: the waters are going down, and it will not be so bad, after all."
"Is it worse, Travis, than what we have passed?" inquired Clough, rather anxiously.
"Worse!" exclaimed Travis, turning shortly upon the speaker, with a sneer; "Saint Jupiter! said I not you should learn swamp-sucking? You'll drink before you come out. But the water's fresh."
"Fresh, here in the swamp?"
"Ay, fresh enough—fresh from the sea, unless the tide's gone clean down. But on; do not fear; it looks worse than it tastes. On, and follow me close!"
They dashed after their leader as he gave the word, but their progress was much slower than before.
In the mean while, let us turn our eyes upon the party in waiting for them. Following the suggestions of his lieutenant, Humphries, Major Singleton had disposed of his men at convenient distances for mutual support along the more accessible ridge which the party of Travis had originally pursued. The design had been a good one; for it was not to be supposed that one who had shown himself so careful in selecting the least obstructed route, would willingly leave it, in preference for another, so indirect and difficult of passage as that upon which Travis had now turned his horse. The ambuscade had been well laid, and must have been successful, but for this circumstance. Major Singleton himself, being in advance, was the first to perceive this change of movement, which, taking place just when his anxieties were most aroused, was productive of an exaggerated degree of disappointment. He cried out to Humphries, who lurked in a low bush on the opposite bank, and saw not so readily,—
"They leave the track, Humphries! they have turned off to the right—we are foiled!"
The lieutenant rose from his recumbent position, and saw the truth of his commander's suggestion. To effect a change of ambuscade at this moment was hopeless; and there remained but on mode, and that was, to persuade them to return to the path from which they departed. At first, the lieutenant thought to throw himself immediately in their way; and, being well known, and looked upon as loyal by all the dragoons, he believed that he might lure them back by misrepresentations of one kind or another. This thought he abandoned, however, as he still desired to keep himself from present detection, which he could not hope, should any of them escape to tell the story.
"There is but one way, major," he exclaimed, while smearing his visage with the mud around him, and leaping boldly forth on foot upon the broad path—"there is but one way, sir: keep your men fast, while I make myself visible to Travis. I will run upon the bank, and make them hear me. They will follow the tussock, and, by the time I am in cover, you will have them between you. The rest of the work is yours."
He waited not for an answer, but the next instant was seen by Singleton coursing along the tussock towards the route taken by Travis. When upon the highest point, and perceptible to them, he broke a dried stick, with a sharp, snapping sound, which reached the quick ear of their leader. Travis turned instantly, and ordered a halt.
"Hold up, men—hold up a moment! See you nothing to the left?"
All eyes were turned in the required direction, but they failed to distinguish any object in particular, other than belonged to the region.
"Look, Clough, your eyes are younger than mine—look to the left, beyond the big water-oak, close by the blasted pine—the very highest point of the tussock we just left."
"I see, I see!" cried one of the troopers; "it's a man."
"Now I have it! You are right, Wilkins—it's a man—a stout fellow, and must be Frampton," cried Clough; "the very dog we seek."
"No, 'tis not the man we seek," was the reply of Travis, who had been watching intently. "This is a short, stout man, not of more inches than myself; Frampton, though stout, is tall. But he is our game, be he who he may. All are outlaws here, and rebels for the rope. Here, Corporal Dricks, have your string in readiness; we shall doubtless need a cast of your office, and the noose should be free for service. Ride close, and be ready. Ha! he scents—he sees us! He is on the wing, and we must be quick and cautious. After him, Clough, to the left—right, Wilkins! Get upon the tussock, and, if he keeps it, you have him. Ride, boys! To the left, Clough—to the left! . He can't clear the pond, and we are sure of him!"
Half of the troops dashed after the suspicious person, who was our acquaintance Humphries; the other half, slowly returning, re-entered the old trail, and kept their way towards the flying object and the pursuit. The lieutenant found no difficulty in misleading his pursuers, having once drawn them back to their original route. They urged the chase hotly after him, but he knew his course, and was cool and confident. Doubling continually through bog and through brier—now behind this, now under that clump of foliage or brush—he contrived to boggle them continually in perpetual intricacies, each more difficult than the other, until he not only led them into the very thick of the ambuscading party, still maintaining his original lead upon them, but he scattered them so far asunder, that mutual assistance became impossible.
It was then that, gathering himself up for breath along the edge of a bank, he coolly wiped the moisture from his brows, looking from side to side, as he heard the splashing in the water or the rustling in the brush of his bewildered pursuers. He, meanwhile, fairly concealed from their sight by a thick cluster of laurels that rose out of the bay before him, conceiving the time to have arrived for action, gave the shrill whistle with which his men were familiar. The pursuers heard it reverberate all around them from a dozen echoes of the swamp; they gave back, and there was a pause in the chase, as if by common consent. The sound had something supernatural and chilling in it; and the instinct of each, but a moment before so hot upon the heels of the outlaw, was now to regain his starting-place, and recover his security with his breath.
But retreat was not so easy, and prudence counselled too late. They made the effort, however; but to succeed was denied them. The word of command reached their ears in another voice than that of their own leader, and in the next instant came the sharp cracking reports of the rifle—two, three, four.
Travis went down at the first shot; they beheld his fall distinctly, as he stood upon the highest point of the ridge, which was visible for a hundred yards round. For a moment more, the enemy remained invisible; but Major Singleton now gave his orders shrilly and coolly:—
"Steady, men—in file, open order—trot!"
And then came the rush of the charge, and the stragglers beheld the flashing sabres dealing with the few troopers who held the broad ridge of the tussock. The tories fought well; but the surprise was too sudden, and too little prepared for, and they fought at disadvantage. Still, as they remembered the unsparing character of their own warfare, and were conscious of innumerable outrages, such as had driven Frampton to outlawry, they stood their ground bravely enough. Parrying the first strokes of their assailants, who had every advantage, they dashed aside from the path, and strove to escape by plunging in every direction through the swamp. But with the loss of the ridge, which Singleton with his few troopers now traversed in all directions, they lost all chance of extrication. They floundered from slough to slough, while, dismounting and on foot, the whigs pursued them. The cry for quarter on all hands ended the combat, and the survivors were drawn forth to become prisoners. They threw down their arms, generally, and were spared; one who resisted was cut down by Davis, who had shown himself a true man in close contest; and one strove to escape by turning back upon his path, and plunging on through the swamp in an opposite direction to that taken by the rest; but there was an eye upon him, quickened by hate, and a deadly hostility which nothing could blind—a footstep which he could not evade.
The fugitive was the sanguinary corporal of Tuck—a wretch who always carried the cord at his saddle-bow for sudden executions, and enjoyed nothing so well as its employment. His pursuer was the maniac Frampton. That fierce man had singled out this one antagonist, and throughout the brief struggle, in which he bore an active part, had never once withdrawn his glance from him. But for this, the wretch might have escaped; and even then, had not guilt or fear paralysed his energy or judgment, his chances might have been good; but he held too long to his horse, and lost that time, in trying to urge him along (he track he had taken, which, on foot, he might have pursued much more effectually. The animal became entangled in some water-vines, and before he could get him free, or even get from his back, the pursuer was plunging into the swamp, with drawn sword waving overhead, and but a few paces from him. Leaping from his steed, which he left struggling, the fugitive made for the opposite bank, and reached it before Frampton had yet got through the slough. But even this advantage did not serve him long. Though brave enough, the corporal seemed at that moment to lack much of his wonted firmness. Probably he knew the pursuer, had heard his story, and dreaded his vengeance. It was not improbable, indeed, that he himself had been one of those concerned in the assault upon Frampton's wife. If so, the flight of the one and the concentrated pursuit of the other were both natural enough. Guilt is apt to despair, and to sink into imbecility, in its own consciousness of crime, and in the presence of the true avenger. Still, for a moment, there was a show of spirit. He wheeled, and confronted the pursuer with a word of defiance; but the moment after, he turned again in flight. He ran over the tussock upon which both of them now stood, and, bounding through a pond that lay in his way, made off for a close cover of cypresses that grew at a little distance.
Should he gain that cover, his safety would most probably be certain, as he would then have gained on Frampton, and had long since been out of reach of the rest. But if the one ran with the speed of fear, madness gave wings to the other. The fugitive looked over his shoulder once as he flew, and he could see in the eye of his pursuer that there was no pity, nothing but death; and utterly vain must be his cry for quarter. Perhaps he felt this conviction only from a due consciousness of what he deserved from his own atrocities. The thought increased his speed; but, though capable and elastic enough, he could not escape the man who rushed behind him. Defying wood, water, and every obstruction, the fierce wretch pressed close upon the fugitive. The corporal felt the splashing of the water from his adversary's feet; he knew that the next moment must be followed by the whirl of the sabre; and he sank motionless to the ground. The blow went clean over him; but though it carried Frampton beyond him, yet he did not fall. The maniac soon recovered, and confronted the corporal, who now found it impossible to fly; his hope was in fight only. But what was his lifted weapon against that of his opponent, wielded by his superior strength, made terrible by madness! The sword was dashed aside—dashed down in the heavy sweeping stroke with which the other prefaced the conflict.
"Mercy! mercy!" cried the corporal, as he saw that it was all over. A howl like that of the wolf was the only response, and the weapon bit through the bone as the arm was unavailingly up to resist it. The stricken member hung only by the skin and a part of the coat-sleeve. The steel was already in the air—
"Mercy, Frampton! have mercy—"
The speech was silenced, as, crushing through bone and brain, the thick sword dug its way down into the very eyes of the pleader. The avenger knelt upon the senseless body, as it lay at his feet, and poured forth above it a strain of impious thanksgiving to Heaven for so much granted and gained of the desired vengeance. His wild, wolfish laugh, at intervals while he prayed, taught the rest of the party where to look for him.