Mr. Arnold: A romance of the RevolutionLynde, Francis
General
Mr. Arnold: A romance of the Revolution
Lynde, Francis
Arnold, Benedict, 1741-1801 -- Fiction
While I was yet no more than half at myself, a voice I should recognize
anywhere gasped a question.
“How much farther, Captain Sprigg?” the voice said; and I reached out
and laid my hand on the arm of the big fellow running with my bearers.
“Jack!” I shouted feebly.
“The same, Dickie-lad,” he panted back. And then: “Hold the life in you
by main strength, Dick; get a tail-twist on it and hang to it! Beatrix
and Aunt Ju are waiting for us in the boats!” And again to Sprigg: “How
much farther, in God’s name, Captain?”
It was no farther, as it chanced. At Pettus’s eager repetition of his
anxious question, the running group swerved sharply to the waterside,
and my bearers plunged thigh-deep into the icy water and lifted me
gently over the side of a small boat; over the side and into the
keeping of a pair of loving arms that clasped themselves quickly about
me.
“Beatrix!” I cried in utter weakness; and then I felt her tears drop
like warm rain on my face, and heard sounds as of a hand-to-hand
struggle on the beach, in the midst of which our smaller boat put off
and was pulled swiftly to the side of a schooner lying out of musket
range from the shore.
Here again, helping hands were ready to lift me to the deck, where a
spare sail was quickly folded to make a bed for me under the lee of the
high bulwarks, and a ship’s lantern was brought, and loving womanly
hands, four of them now, began to search anxiously for my wound.
In the thick of it I heard the other boat come bumping against the side
of the ship, and the men, a half-dozen or more of them, trooped aboard,
bringing a prisoner. Following quickly there was a medley of shouted
sailor orders in the harsh nasal twang of Elijah Sprigg’s best voice;
and then Jack came to kneel beside me, beseeching Beatrix to tell him I
was not dead.
The white canvas was snapping and crackling overhead, and the _Nancy
Jane_ was heeling to the fair half-gale and racing down the harbor,
before they would let me speak; and then all I could say was “Tell
me--tell me.”
And they told me, Beatrix and Jack, with Cousin Ju to stroke my
forehead and to break in with tearful self-reproachings for the
tongue-lashing she had given me in Mr. Vandeventer’s parlor: told
me how Jack had got Major Lee’s leave to follow Seytoun to the
meeting-place on the Tarrytown road with Askew and Castner; how he had
overheard enough to make him disguise himself as a farmer, and dog the
three back to New York; how he had accidentally stumbled upon Sprigg
and the women as they were making their way to the waterside, and so
had been present when Champe brought the news of me.
“But--but how did you come to be so late in starting?” I said, holding
my loved one close with the arm they had not bandaged.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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