Part 36 (1/2)
”Lads,” I said, raising my hand for silence, ”there is ale here for the asking, and nothing to pay. But we leave at daybreak for Butlersbury.”
There was a dead silence.
”That is all,” I said, smiling; and, laying my hand on the table, leaped lightly to the floor.
”Are we to drink no more?” asked Jack Mount, coming up, with round blue eyes widening.
”I did not say so. I said that we march at day-break. You veterans of the pewter know best how much ale to carry with you to bed. All I require are some dozen steady legs in the morning.”
A roar of laughter broke out.
”You may trust us, Captain! Good night, Captain! A health to you, sir!
We will remember!”
Instead of returning to my chamber to secure a few hours' rest, I went out into the dimly lighted street, and, striking a smart pace, arrived in a few moments at the house of my old friend, Peter Van Schaick, now Colonel in command of the garrison. The house was pitch-dark, and it was only after repeated rapping that the racket of the big bronze knocker aroused an ancient negro servant, who poked his woolly pate from the barred side-lights and informed me, in a quavering voice, that Colonel Van Schaick was not at home, refusing all further information concerning him.
”Joshua! Joshua!” I said gently; ”don't you know me?”
There was a silence, then a trembling: ”Mars' Renault, suh, is dat you?”
”It is I, Joshua, back again after four years. Tell me where I may find your master?”
”Mars' Carus, suh, de Kunnel done gone to de Foht, suh--Foht Orange on de hill.”
The old slave used the ancient name of the fort, but I understood.
”Does anybody live here now except the Colonel, Joshua?”
”No, suh, n.o.body 'cep' de Kunnel--'scusin' me, Mars' Carus.”
”Joshua,” I said, under my breath, ”you know all the gossip of the country. Tell me, do you remember a young gentleman who used to come here before the war--a handsome, dark-eyed gentleman--Lieutenant Walter N. Butler?”
There was an interval of silence.
”Wuz de ossifer a-sparkin' de young misses at Gin'ral Schuyler's?”
”Yes, Joshua.”
”A-co'tin' Miss Betty, suh?”
”Yes, yes. Colonel Hamilton married her. That is the man, Joshua. Tell me, did you ever hear of Mr. Butler's marriage in Butlersbury?”
A longer silence, then: ”No, suh. Hit wuz de talk ob de town dat Suh John Johnsing done tuk Miss Polly Watts foh his lady-wife, an' all de time po'l'l Miss Claire wuz a-settin' in Foht Johnsing, dess a-cryin'
her eyes out. But Mars' Butler he done tuk an' run off 'long o' dat half-caste lady de ossifers call Carolyn Montour----”
”What!”
”Yaas, suh. Dat de way Mars' Butler done carry on, suh. He done skedaddle 'long o' M'ss Carolyn. Hit wuz a Mohawk weddin', Mars'