Part 13 (1/2)

”And for what?”

”To hear your pet.i.tion that I forbear to bring this matter to the notice of your master. The lady mercifully gave you her promise. I suppose I must follow so fair an example.”

”Sir Charles Carew may wait till doomsday to hear that or any other request made by me to him or to the lady--who does not seem always mercifully inclined--” he broke off with a slight and expressive smile.

Sir Charles took another pinch of snuff. ”May the Lard blast me,” he drawled, ”if they do not teach repartee at Newgate! But I forget that the tongue is the only weapon of women and slaves.”

”Some day I hope to teach you otherwise.”

The other laughed. ”So the slave thinks he can use a sword? Where did he learn? In Newgate, from some broken captain, as payment for imparting the trick of stealing by the Book?”

Landless forced himself to stand quiet, his arms folded, his fingers tightly clenching the sleeves of his coa.r.s.e s.h.i.+rt. ”Shall I tell Sir Charles Carew where I first used my sword with good effect?” he said in an ominously quiet voice. ”At Worcester I was but a stripling, but I fought by the side of my father. I remember that, young as I was, I disabled a very pretty perfumed and ringleted Cavalier. I think he was afterwards sold to the Barbadoes. And my father praised my sword play.”

”Your father,” said the other, bringing his strong white teeth together with a click. ”Like father, like son. The latter a detected rogue, gaol-bird, and slave; the former a d--d canting, sniveling Roundhead hypocrite and traitor, with a text ever at hand to excuse parricide and sacrilege.”

Landless sprang forward and struck him in the face.

He staggered beneath the weight of the blow; then, recovering himself, he whipped out his rapier, but presently slapped it home again. ”I am a gentleman,” he said, with an airy laugh. ”I cannot fight you.” And stood, slightly smiling, and pressing his laced handkerchief to his cheek whence had started a few drops of blood.

Mrs. Lettice, whom curiosity or the search for the fourth volume of ”Clelie” had detained in the room, screamed loudly as the blow fell; and Colonel Verney, appearing at the door, stopped short, and stared from one to the other of the two men.

CHAPTER X

LANDLESS PAYS THE PIPER

The hut of the mender of nets stood upon a narrow isthmus connecting two large tracts of marsh. That to the eastward was partially submerged at high tide; that to the west, being higher ground, waved its long gra.s.s triumphantly above the reaching waters. Upon this side the marsh was separated from the mainland of forest and field by a creek so narrow that the great pines upon one margin cast their shadows across to the other, and one fallen giant quite spanned the sluggish waters.

The gra.s.s of this marsh was annually cut for hay; for though the great herds of cattle belonging to the different plantations roamed at large through all seasons of the year, seeking their sustenance from forest or marsh, the more provident of the planters were accustomed to make some slight provision against the winter, which might prove a severe one with snow and ice.

It was late afternoon, and the hay was cut. The half dozen mowers threw themselves down upon the stubble, stretching out tired limbs and pillowing heated foreheads upon their arms. They had been given until sunset to do the work. Having no task-master over them, and being hid from the tobacco-fields by a convenient coppice of pine and cedar, they had set to work in a fury of diligence, had cut and stacked the gra.s.s in a race with time, and now found themselves possessed of a precious hour in which to dawdle, and swap opinions and tobacco before the sunset horn should call them to quarters.

Three were indented servants, lumbering, honest-visaged youths whose aims in life were simple and well defined. Their creed had but four articles: ”Do as little as you can consistently with keeping out of the overseer's black books; get your full share of loblolly and bacon, and some one else's if you are clever enough; embrace every opportunity for reasonable mischief that is offered you; honor Church and King, or say you do, and Colonel Verney will overlook most pranks.” Of the others, one was the Muggletonian, one the mulatto, Luiz Sebastian, and one a convict, not Trail, but the red-haired, pock-marked, sullen wretch who had come to the plantation with Trail and Landless, and whose name was Roach.

One of the rustics, who seemed more intelligent than his fellows, and who had a good-humored deviltry in his young face and big blue eyes, began an excellent imitation of Dr. Nash's exhortation to submission and obedience delivered upon the last instruction day for servants, and soon had his audience of two guffawing with laughter. The mulatto and the convict edged by imperceptible degrees farther and farther away from the others, until, within the shadow of a stack of gra.s.s, they lay side by side and commenced a muttered conversation. The countenance of the white man, atrocious villainy written large in every lineament, became horribly intent as his amber-hued companion talked in fluent low tones, emphasizing what he had to say by a restless, peculiar, and sinister motion of his long, yellow fingers. At a little distance lay the Muggletonian, his elbows on the ground, his ghastly face in his hands, and his eyes riveted upon the Geneva Bible which he had drawn from his bosom.

When he had brought his entertainment to a finish, the blue-eyed youth rolled himself over and over the stubble to where the Muggletonian lay, intent upon a chapter of invective. The youth covered the page with one enormous paw and playfully attempted to insert the little finger of the other into the hole in Porringer's ear. ”What now, old Runaway,” he said, lazily, ”hunting up fresh curses to pour on our unfort'net heads?”

”Cursed be he who makes a mock of age,” said the Muggletonian, grimly.

”May he be even as the wicked children who cried to the prophet, 'Go up, thou baldhead!'”

The boy laughed. ”Tell me when you see brown bear a-coming,” quoth he.

”Los.h.!.+ a bear steak would taste mighty good after eternal bacon!”

Porringer closed his book and restored it to his bosom. ”Tell me,” he said, abruptly, ”have you seen aught of the young man called Landless?”

”'The young man called Landless,'” answered the other, petulantly, ”has a d--d easy berth of it! Yesterday evening I carried water from the spring to the great house to water Mistress Patricia's posies, and every time I pa.s.ses the window of the master's room I see that fellow a-sitting at his ease in a fine chair before a fine table, writing away as big as all out of doors. And every time I says to him, says I, 'I reckon you think yourself as fine as the Lord Mayor of London? A pretty sec'tary you make!'”

”Have you seen him to-day?”

”No, I haven't seen him to-day,--but I see someone else. Mates,” he exclaimed, ”Witch Margery's coming down t' other side of creek. I'll call her over.”