Part 34 (2/2)
He will kill me though in a little while, I know; he has a knife and he is sitting on the doorstep, and the Turk is with him, and I can not pa.s.s them. He held his hand over my mouth and the knife to my heart when Woodson went the rounds, and I couldn't make no sound--Lord have mercy upon me! I write this with my blood, on a leaf from your Bible, while he sits there whispering to the Turk. He goes to his own cabin directly and he will take me with him and kill me there, I know he will. He goes to the stables first and I must go with him. If we pa.s.s close enough, and if I can do it without his seeing me I will throw this in at the window of the room where I know you are, if not--the Lord help us all!...
Landless, for G.o.d's sake! before moonrise to-night the Chickahominies and the Ricahecrians from the Blue Mountains will come down on the plantation. With them are leagued Luiz Sebastian, the Turk, Trail, Roach, and most of the slaves.... When all is over, the Indians will take the scalps and Grey Wolf and will make for the Blue Mountains; Luiz Sebastian and the others will seize the boats and put off for the s.h.i.+p at the Point. Her crew will give her up and they will all turn pirate together. The women go with them if they can keep them from the Indians; the men are all to be killed.... I have told you all I heard. For G.o.d's sake, save them if you can,--and remember poor d.i.c.k Whittington.”
Dropping the paper, Landless strained with all his might, first at the cords which bound his arms, and then at the rope which fastened him to the wall. Again and again he put forth the strength of despair--his muscles cracked, great beads stood upon his forehead--but the ropes held. As well as he could with his shackled feet he stamped upon the floor; he called aloud, but there came no answering voice or sound from below. He was at the end of the house over unused chambers, and the walls and flooring were very thick. He clenched his teeth and began again the battle with the cords which held him. All in vain. He shouted until he was hoa.r.s.e--it was crying aloud in a desert. With a groan he leaned against the wall, gathering strength for another effort. It was dark now and the moon rose at eleven.... There was a piece of gla.s.s upon the floor, one of the splinters from the shattered window. He remembered noticing it--a long narrow piece like the blade of a knife. Sinking to his knees he felt for it, and after a long time found it. He now had a knife, but he could not move the hand that held it six inches from his side. Stooping, he took the splinter between his teeth, and making the rope taut, drew the sharp edge of the gla.s.s across it. Again and again he drew it across, and at length he perceived that a strand was severed. With a thrill of joy he settled to the slow, laborious and painful task. Time pa.s.sed, a long, long time, and yet the rope was but half severed. As he worked he counted the moments with feverish dread, his heart throbbed one pa.s.sionate prayer: ”Lord, let me save her!” Now and then he glanced at the blackness of the night outside with a terrible fear--though he knew it could not be yet--that he should see it waver into moonlight. Another interval of toil, and he stood erect, gathered his forces, made one supreme effort--and was free! There was not time for the cords about his arms, but he must get rid of those which fettered his ankles. An endless task it seemed, but hand and friendly splinter accomplished it at last; and he sprang to the door. It was locked. He dashed himself against it, once, twice, thrice, and it crashed outwards, precipitating him into a large, bare room. He crossed this, managed to open its unlocked door with his free hand, descended a winding stair and came into the upper hall. It was in darkness, but up the wide staircase streamed the perfumed light of many myrtle candles, and with it laughter, and the sound of a man's voice singing to a lute.
CHAPTER XXV
THE ROAD TO PARADISE
The family and guests of Verney Manor were a.s.sembled in the great room.
The day had been one of confusion, haste and anxiety; but it was past, and the stillness and forced inaction of the night was upon them. With the readiness of those to whom danger is no novelty they seized the hour and made the most of it. Sufficient unto the morrow was the evil thereof.
The Colonel, weary from hard riding, but well satisfied with his afternoon's work, had sunk into a great chair and challenged Dr. Anthony Nash to a game of chess. ”Everything is in train,” he told them, ”and all quiet upon the plantations in this s.h.i.+re at least. I believe the danger past. G.o.d be thanked!” Upon a settle piled with cus.h.i.+ons lay Captain Laramore, with a bandaged shoulder, a long pipe between his teeth, and at his elbow a tankard of sack and an elderly Hebe in the person of Mistress Lettice Verney. Patricia, sumptuously clad and beautiful as a dream, sat in the great window with Betty and Sir Charles. Her eyes shone with a feverish brilliancy, her white hands were never still, she laughed and jested with her lover, touching this or that with light wit. Once or twice she broke into song, rich, pa.s.sionate, throbbing through the night. The gentle Betty looked at her in wonder, but Sir Charles was enchanted.
Steps sounded on the stairs and in the hall. ”Who is that?” cried the master, taking his hand from his rook.
”The overseer, probably,” said Dr. Nash. ”Check to your king.”
A loud scream from Mistress Lettice. The master leaped to his feet, knocking over the chess-table and sending the pieces rattling into corners. Sir Charles, drawing his rapier, sprang to his side, the wounded Captain started up from amidst his pillows and the divine s.n.a.t.c.hed a bra.s.s andiron from the fireplace.
Framed in the doorway, looking larger than life against the blackness of the s.p.a.ce behind him, stood the arch plotter, the Roundhead, the convict, the rebellious servant whom the Governor had sworn to hang.
Blood dropped from his face, cut by the gla.s.s with which he had severed the rope, to meet the blood upon his arms and chest, lacerated by his savage straining at his bonds. For a moment he stood, blinded by the light, then advanced into the room. His master seized him. ”Still bound!” he cried with an oath. ”He is alone then! How did you get here?
What are you doing here? Speak, scoundrel!”
”I bring you this paper, sir,” said Landless hoa.r.s.ely. ”Will you take it from me. I cannot raise my hands.”
The Colonel s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper, glanced at it, read it with a face from which all the ruddy color had fled, and held it out to Sir Charles with a shaking hand. ”Read it,” he gasped. ”Read it aloud,” and sank into his chair breathing heavily.
Sir Charles read. ”d.a.m.nation!” he cried, crus.h.i.+ng the paper in his hand.
Laramore started up with a roar of ”My s.h.i.+p!” and then broke into a torrent of oaths. Mistress Lettice's screams filled the room until her brother roughly silenced her by clapping his hand over her mouth. ”By the Lord Harry, Lettice, I will throw you out to them if you do not hus.h.!.+ Gentlemen, in G.o.d's name, what are we to do?”
”Barricade door and window and hold the house against them,” said the baronet.
”Send for help to Rosemead and to Fitzhugh and Ludwell!” cried the divine.
”Five men and three women to hold this house against a hundred Indians and negroes! And no help could come for hours and it is now nearly ten!
Moreover, the messenger would have to pa.s.s through the savages lying in the woods,--he would never reach Rosemead with his scalp on!”
”I will be your messenger,” said Nash rising, ”and as every moment is more precious than rubies, I had best start at once.”
”You, Anthony! G.o.d forbid!” cried the Colonel ”You would go to certain death.”
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