Part 23 (1/2)

Though the British occupation had greatly changed the aspect of the town by daylight, it had not altered the topography of that part which Philip had to traverse, and the darkness that served as his s.h.i.+eld was to him no impediment. Many a time, in the old days, we had chased and fled through those streets and alleys, in make-believe deer-hunts or mimic Indian warfare. So, without a collision or a stumble, he made his way swiftly to the mouth of a street that gave upon the water-front, by the Faringfield warehouse where so many busy days of his boyhood and youth had pa.s.sed, and opposite the wharves.

He paused here, lacking knowledge whether the river front was guarded or not. He saw no human being, but could not be sure whether or not some dark form might emerge from the dimness when he should cross to the wharves. These, like the street and the roofs, were snow-covered.

Aloft beyond them, but close, two or three faint lights, tiny yellow islets in a sea of gloom, revealed the presence of the s.h.i.+pping on which he had counted. He could hear the slap of the inky water against the piles, but scarce another sound, save his own breathing.

He formed the intention of making a noiseless dash across the waterside street, with body bent low, to the part of the wharf where a small boat was most like to be. He was standing close to one side of a wooden building that fronted toward the wharf.

He sprang forward, and, just as he pa.s.sed the corner of the edifice, his head struck something heavy but yielding, which toppled over sidewise with a grunt, and upon which Philip fell p.r.o.ne, forcing from it a second grunt a little less vigorous than the first. 'Twas a human body, that had come from the front of the house at the same instant in which Philip had darted from along the side.

”Shall I choke him to a.s.sure silence?” Phil hurriedly asked himself, and instinctively made to put his hands to the man's neck. But the body under him began to wriggle, to kick out with its legs, and to lay about with its hands.

”What the h.e.l.l d'yuh mean?” it gasped. ”Git off o' me!”

Philip scrambled promptly to his feet, having recognised the voice.

”I'll stake my life, it's Meadows!”

”Yes, it is, and who in the name of h.e.l.lfire an' brimstone--?”

”Hush, Bill! Don't you know my voice? Let me help you up. There you are. I'm Philip Winwood!”

”Why, so y'are, boy! Excuse the way I spoke. But what on airth--?”

”No matter what I'm doing here. The thing is to get back to camp.

Come! Is the wharf a safe place for me?”

”Yes, at this hour of a dark night. But I'd like to know--”

”Keep with me, then,” whispered Philip, and made for the wharf, holding the old watchman's arm. ”Show me where there's a small boat. I must row to the Jersey side at once, and then ride--by heaven, I wish I might get a horse, over there, without going as far as Dan Ellis's!

I left mine with him.”

”Mebbe I can get you a hoss, yonder,” said Meadows. ”An' I reckon I can row you round an' acrost, 'thout their plaguey s.h.i.+ps a-spyin' us.”

”Then, by the Lord,” said Philip, while Meadows began letting himself down the side of the wharf to the skiff which he knew rode there upon the black water, ”'tis enough to make one believe in miracles, my running into you! What were you doing out so late?”

”Mum, sir! I was jest back from the same camp you're bound fur.

'Tain't five minutes since I crawled up out o' this yer skift.”

”What! And did you meet a party going the other way--toward our camp, I mean?”

”Ay,” replied Meadows, standing up in the boat and guiding the legs of Philip as the latter descended from the wharf. ”I watched 'em from the patch o' woods beyont Westervelt's. I took 'em to be Major Lee's men, or mebbe yours, from their caps and plumes; but I dunno: I couldn't see well. But if they was goin' to the Morristown camp, they was goin'

by a roundabout way, fur they took the road to the right, at the fork t'other side o' them woods!”

”Good, if 'twas a British troop indeed! If I take the short road, I may beat 'em. Caps and plumes like ours, eh! Here, I'll pull an oar, too; and for G.o.d's sake keep clear of the British s.h.i.+ps.”

”Trust me, cap'n. I guess they ain't s.h.i.+fted none since I come acrost awhile ago. I'll land yuh nearest where we can get the hoss I spoke of. 'Tis the beast 'ut brung me from the camp--but mum about that.”

The two men moved at the oars, and the boat shot out from the sluggish dock-water to the live current, down which it headed. ”Don't you consarn yerse'f about them s.h.i.+ps--'tis the dark o' the moon an' a cloudy night, an' as fur our course, I could _smell_ it out, if it come to that!”

They rounded the end of the town, and turned into the Hudson, gliding black over the surface of blackness. They pulled for some distance against the stream, so as to land far enough above our post at Paulus Hook. Going ash.o.r.e in a little cove apparently well-known to Meadows, they drew up the boat, and hastened inland. Meadows had led the way about half a mile, when a dark ma.s.s composed of farmhouse and outbuildings loomed up before them.