Part 15 (1/2)

”Can you spare him?” he replied; and I knew I could not.

”I see nothing for it,” I said, ”but to wait till we are ready, and then to make a reconnaissance, trusting to be in time. This is the first week of July. In another fortnight every man on our list will be armed, and every line of communication laid. Then is our chance to make a bid for news.”

He nodded, and at that moment came the growling of dogs from the sheds.

Instantly his face lost its heavy preoccupation, and under his Quaker's mask became the mischievous countenance of a boy. ”That's your friends,” he said. ”Now for a merry meeting.”

In the sultry weather I had left open window and door, and every sound came clear from the outside. I heard the scuffling of feet, and some confused talk, and presently there stumbled into my house half a dozen wild-looking figures. They blinked in the lamplight, and one begged to know if ”Mr. Garbled” were at home. All had decked themselves for this play in what they fancied was the dress of pirates--scarlet sashes, and napkins or turbans round their heads, big boots, and masks over their eyes. I did not recognize a face, but I was pretty clear that Mr. Grey was not of the number, and I was glad, for the matter between him and me was too serious for this tomfoolery. All had been drinking, and one at least was very drunk. He stumbled across the floor, and all but fell on Ringan in his chair.

”Hullo, old Square-Toes,” he hiccupped; ”what the devil are you?”

”Friend, thee is shaky on thy legs,” said Ringan, in a mild voice, ”It were well for thee to be in bed.”

”Bed,” cried the roysterer; ”no bed for me this night! Where is that d.a.m.nable Scots packman?”

I rose very quietly, and lit another lamp. Then I shut the window, and closed the shutters. ”Here I am,” I said, ”very much at your service, gentlemen.”

One or two of the sober ones looked a little embarra.s.sed, but the leader, who I guessed was the youth from Gracedieu, was brave enough.

”The gentlemen of Virginia,” he said loudly, ”being resolved that the man Garvald is an offence to the dominion, have summoned the Free Companions to give him a lesson. If he will sign a bond to leave the country within a month, we are instructed to be merciful. If not, we have here tar and feathers and sundry other adornments, and to-morrow's morn will behold a pretty sight. Choose, you Scots swine.” In the excess of his zeal, he smashed with the handle of his sword a clock I had but lately got from Glasgow.

Ringan signed to me to keep my temper. He pretended to be in a great taking.

”I am a man of peace,” he cried, ”but I cannot endure to see my friend outraged. Prithee, good folk, go away. See, I will give thee a guinea each to leave us alone.”

This had the desired effect of angering them. ”Curse your money,” one cried. ”You d.a.m.ned traders think that you can buy a gentleman. Take that for your insult.” And he aimed a blow with the flat of his sword, which Ringan easily parried.

”I had thought thee a pirate,” said the mild Quaker, ”but thee tells me thee is a gentleman.”

”Hold your peace, Square-Toes,” cried the leader, ”and let's get to business.”

”But if ye be gentlefolk,” pleaded Ringan, ”ye will grant a fair field.

I am no fighter, but I will stand by my friend.”

I, who had said nothing, now broke in. ”It is a warm evening for sword-play, but if it is your humour, so be it.”

This seemed to them hugely comic. ”La!” cried one. ”Sawney with a sword!” And he plucked forth his own blade, and bent it on the floor.

Ringan smiled gently, ”Thee must grant me the first favour,” he said, ”for I am the challenger, if that be the right word of the carnally minded.” And standing up, he picked up the blade from beside him, and bowed to the leader from Gracedieu.

Nothing loath he engaged, and the others stood back expecting a high fiasco. They saw it. Ringan's sword played like lightning round the wretched youth, it twitched the blade from his grasp, and forced him back with a very white face to the door. In less than a minute, it seemed, he was there, and as he yielded so did the door, and he disappeared into the night. He did not return, so I knew that Ringan must have spoke a word to Faulkner.

”Now for the next b.l.o.o.d.y-minded pirate,” cried Ringan, and the next with a very wry face stood up. One of the others would have joined in, but, crying, ”For shame, a fair field,” I beat down his sword.

The next took about the same time to reach the door, and disappeared into the darkness, and the third about half as long. Of the remaining three, one sulkily declined to draw, and the other two were over drunk for anything. They sat on the floor and sang a loose song.

”It seems, friends,” said the Quaker, ”that ye be more ready with words than with deeds. I pray thee”--this to the sober one--”take off these garments of sin. We be peaceful traders, and cannot abide the thought of pirates.”

He took them off, sash, breeches, jerkin, turban, and all, and stood up in his s.h.i.+rt. The other two I stripped myself, and so drunk were they that they entered into the spirit of the thing, and themselves tore at the b.u.t.tons. Then with Ringan's sword behind them, the three marched out of doors.