Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory AscendencyKennedy, John Pendleton
History
Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency
Kennedy, John Pendleton
South Carolina -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
"I should like to know," said Butler, "why I and my companion are
molested on our journey. Have we fallen amongst banditti, or do you bear
a lawful commission? If you do, sir, let me tell you, you have disgraced
it by outrage and violence exercised towards unoffending men, and shall
answer for it when the occasion serves. On what pretence have we been
arrested?"
"Hark, my young fighting-cock," replied the captain. "You will know your
misdemeanors soon enough. And if you would sleep to-night with a whole
throat, you will keep your tongue within your teeth. It wouldn't take
much to persuade me to give you a little drum-head law. Do you hear
that?"
"It is my advice, major," whispered Robinson, "to ax no questions of
these blackguards."
"Be it so, sergeant," said Butler, "I am weary and sick."
When other cares were disposed of, and the excited passions of the
lawless gang had subsided into a better mood, the dragoon took Butler's
cloak from the baggage and spread it upon the ground beneath the shelter
of the shrubbery, and the suffering officer was thus furnished a bed
that afforded him some small share of comfort, and enabled to take that
rest which he so much needed. Robinson seated himself on the ground
beside his companion, and in this situation they patiently resigned
themselves to whatever fate awaited them.
Soon after this the whole troop were busy in the preparations for
refreshment and sleep. The horses were either _hobbled_, by a cord from
the fore to the hind foot, and turned loose to seek pasture around the
bivouac, or tethered in such parts of the forest as furnished them an
opportunity to feed on the shrubbery. The fire was rekindled, and some
small remnants of venison roasted before it; and in less than an hour
this reckless and ill-governed band were carousing over their cups with
all the rude ribaldry that belonged to such natures.
"Come, boys," said Peppercorn, who seemed to take a delight in urging
the band into every kind of excess, and who possessed that sort of sway
over the whole crew, including their leader no less than the privates,
which an expert and ready skill in adapting himself to the humor of the
company gave him, and which faculty be now appeared to exercise for the
increase of his own influence. "Come, boys, laugh while you can--that's
my motto. This soldiering is a merry life, fighting, drinking, and
joking. By the God of war! I will enlist the whole of you into the
regular service--Ferguson or Cruger, which you please, boys! they are
both fine fellows and would give purses of gold for such charming, gay,
swaggering blades. Fill up your cans and prepare for another bout. I'm
not the crusty cur to stint thirsty men. A toast, my gay fellows!"
"Listen to Peppercorn," cried out some three or four voices.
"Here's to the honor of the brave captain Hugh Habershaw, and his
glorious dogs that won the battle of Grindall's ford!"
A broad and coarse laugh burst from the captain at the announcement of
this toast.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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