The Land of Bondage: A RomanceBloundelle-Burton, John
History
The Land of Bondage: A Romance
Bloundelle-Burton, John
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
"We must follow them," I said. "I must follow them at once, even if
the Indians tear me to pieces as I enter their midst. And what matter
if they do? 'Twill be best so if she, my own darling, has become their
prey. O'Rourke, for heaven's sake cease eating and drinking, and lend
me your assistance."
"That will I cheerfully," he replied, "and if they have but left a
brace of nags in the stables we will be a dozen leagues on our way ere
nightfall. But as to eating and drinking, well--well! I am too old a
campaigner of all kinds not to take my rations when they fall in my
way. And you, too, my lord, a sailor, should know 'tis bad to go
a-fighting on an empty stomach. Even Corporal John, who loved better
to pouch the ducats than to provision the army, always sent his men
into battle with their stomachs full."
"But every moment is precious--every instant. Think of the girls in
the hands of those ruthless savages, in the hands of my villainous
cousin."
"Ay, I do think on't. Yet will I wager all my hopes of future
pardon--heaven knows I stand in need of it--that the girls are safe
enough. Have I not told you that the great Indian, the gigantic chief,
heard all. All! He heard Mistress Mills denounce your cousin, and he
heard him call all the tribe superstitious or ignorant fools, or words
of a like import. And, what's more, he knew that neither you nor I
were dead, nor like to die, and yet he left us here unharmed. My lord,
I tell you," he continued, slapping down the bowl he had just emptied,
"that no harm is coming to those young maids, nor do I think to any of
the other prisoners. And more I tell you also, the one who will come
worst out of this fray will be your cousin Roderick."
I would have answered him and said how devoutly I trusted such might
be the case, when we heard a clatter in the courtyard behind and the
shoutings of many men, and voices all talking at once, some
exclaiming, "At least they've left this house standing." "What of the
women folk?" "What of Mistress Bamfyld?" and so forth. And then, as we
rushed to the back windows, I recognised many of the other residents
of the place whose acquaintance I possessed, with, at their head, her
cousin Gregory.
"Where is Joice?" he called out as he dismounted, seeing me. "Where is
she? Is she safe? Yet she must be since you and this other gentleman
are here alive."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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