Read Ebook: Harper's Round Table December 10 1895 by Various

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Ebook has 230 lines and 30014 words, and 5 pages

"Yes; there it is," he said at last. "Gadzooks, it's a man's body! Here goes for it."

The little man vaulted to the top of the wall, and made a beautiful clean-cut dive out into the water. The counter-current set up by the ebb tide swirled softly against the sea-wall. It was easier swimming than a few rods further out.

"Hulloa!" called a voice at last.

"Hulloa! This way," answered the large man, who was deftly casting loose a stout rope made fast to a ring-bolt in one of the stone posts. "Here. This way."

"I have him," said the one in the water, panting slightly. "But whether alive or dead I know not. It's the body of a lad," he added, as he caught the rope the big man hurled to him.

Quickly he tied the end under Carter's armpits, and finding room for his fingers and toes in clefts in the masonry, he climbed unassisted to the Battery wall.

Together both men pulled the apparently drowned boy to the top.

"Jabez, you are one of the greatest I know of," said the big man, as he helped to carry the senseless figure to a grass-plot.

"Tush!" was the answer. "I'm a good swimmer, mayhap, for my light weight and growing years, that's all." Indeed, this had been proved, for the small one had not even paused to remove his coat. "The lad's alive," he went on, speaking with his ear pressed close to Carter's chest. "Bear a hand quickly, we must get him in-doors."

"Ay, but where?" rejoined the larger.

"To our friend the widow's. 'Tis but a step."

Again they picked up their burden and disappeared in the mist.

When Carter Hewes came to his senses he found himself in a little room that was nearly filled by the big four-poster bed in which he lay. His head throbbed, and he felt faint and weary. But the feeling of being safe and warm was so comforting that he did not at once worry as to his whereabouts.

Some persons were talking close to him; he could hear the words they said, but at first he could not raise himself. At last he got up, however, on his elbow. The voices came from behind the closed door at the head of his bed.

"I am sick of hiding here like a fat badger in a strange hole that, by-the-way, is much too small for comfort," grumbled a deep voice.

"Take heart. It's for a righteous cause," answered a high-pitched one.

"Why not declare ourselves, and have it done with?" returned the first.

"The time's not ripe. We will be able to accomplish much more--and to play the r?le will require no dissembling."

"That's well enough, but I'm tired of it all," came the grumble. "Suppose the British do not take the city."

"Tush! New York cannot be held. Remember that we--" The reply stopped, for a woman's voice broke in.

"How's the young gentleman?" inquired a loud feminine whisper with an unmistakable brogue.

"I'm just going in to see how fares it with him," was the response.

Carter dropped back on the pillow, and half closed his eyelids. There was a small mirror at the foot of the bed, and in the reflection he saw the door open and a face peep in. He caught a glimpse of a pair of keen eyes, a large nose, and a strong determined jaw. Immediately the door closed.

"He's asleep," was whispered out in the hall. "'Tis the best thing; when he wakens you can ask him questions. But not a word as to who fetched him here."

"No, sur, not a word," the woman replied.

Whether it was the suggestion contained in the warning or not that worked the charm, it is hard to tell. The fact was, however, that in a moment Carter began to snore. It was dusk when he awakened the second time. He felt much stronger, and a flood of recollections that had not bothered him before came over him.

"Where was George? I hope and trust he's safe; God grant so," he said out loud. Then he weakly stepped out on the floor, and made his way to the window. "Hullo!" he said; "I know where I am, thank goodness." He had looked out on the Battery green. "Now to find out to whom I am indebted," he added, walking to the door. "Ahem," he said, loudly, to attract attention. Then, "I beg pardon. Is there any one in?"

No answer, although Carter thought he heard a movement up stairs. Again he called, then he whistled.

"They must be all out--or dead!" he ejaculated. "What am I to do for clothes?"

As he turned back into the room he saw a much-worn coat hanging over a chair, a pair of shoes with brass buckles, and some thick yarn stockings. He tried them on; the coat was a trifle tight, so were the shoes, but he squeezed into them, and went down the stairway. No one was there.

"Well, I can't wait to thank my unknown friends to-day," he said; "I'll call again." He slowly walked out of the doorway, looking over his shoulder every step or so.

It had grown very dark in the last few minutes, so dark that a number of people had lit candles in their houses. Carter noticed that they shone with a peculiar greenish light; some shutters were closed noisily. When he reached the green he paused. Many a thunder-storm had he seen gathering before, but never a sight like that. To the south-west rose a sheer wall of blue-black cloud, and overhead were circling and twisting huge billows, like the smoke of burning tar; a few big drops spattered out of the sky. But there was dead silence--not a sound of thunder or a quiver of light.

"Looks like rain," said a facetious burgher, who stood with gaping mouth and face upturned.

Carter did not answer, but hurried on; somehow he felt that he was dreaming. He had half expected to see the British fleet anchored off the Battery. There was not a sail in sight, so he made straight for the headquarters of George's regiment, praying that there they would have news of him.

"No one's heard of Sergeant Frothingham since yester-morning," replied a number of George's squad. "He got leave for a day and hain't come back," the man added, grinning.

This was the first intimation Carter had that he had been unconscious twenty-four hours. He felt sick at heart. His regiment was over on Long Island, his father was there also, and he knew few people in the town. George's commander was his own cousin, however, and getting the direction of Captain Clarkson's house, he started out. It was dark as a mine shaft in the street--hardly light enough to see the walk ahead.

The young soldier plunged through the door of a public-house only a few steps further on. It had commenced to blow, and the wind roared furiously in the swaying elms outside. Occasionally the lightning made it bright as day. Carter sank into a big oak chair.

"Ah, Lieutenant Hewes! Not over on the island?" said some one, clapping his hand on the lad's shoulder. "Where have you been?"

"I do not know exactly," murmured Carter, faintly, looking up at the handsome face of Lieutenant Alexander Hamilton, whom he had met often on the drill-grounds.

"That means there's a story to be told," went on the other. "Come, join me in my dining. Don't let the elements interfere with our natural appetites."

Carter did not know that part of his faintness came from lack of food. But when a big bit of tender mutton was placed before him, he ate with every mouthful putting life into him.

As he was about to begin to tell the tale of adventure of the previous day he felt something hard in the lining of the borrowed coat, and inserting his fingers, he drew forth a small note-book; he uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"George Frothingham--his book, 1774," he read, and sat there too astonished to speak. "That was the year he left school--to go to Mr. Wyeth's," said Carter out loud. Again the anguish and fear shook him, for it recalled the last time he had seen George's face, and this book in the pocket of a strange coat. What meant it?

Lieutenant Hamilton looked as if he feared that his friend's senses had left him suddenly.

"Let us have the story, Comrade Hewes," he said.

But it was never to be told. An interruption occurred just then that changed the current of every thought, and stirred the room to a pitch of action.

The door was burst open, and a man dripping with rain came in; he carried a lantern, whose light had been extinguished.

"Oh! but it's a frightful night for a body to be out," he said. "Three persons were killed by the thunder-bolts on Broadway. But have ye heard the cannon firing?"

"You're crazy," said some one. "Cannon on such a night as this! But, hearkee!"

Three distinct reports sounded in quick succession.

"That's no thunder," said the landlord.

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