Prisoners of Hope: A Tale of Colonial Virginia Page 10

  CHAPTER X

  LANDLESS PAYS THE PIPER

  The hut of the mender of nets stood upon a narrow isthmus connecting twolarge tracts of marsh. That to the eastward was partially submerged athigh tide; that to the west, being higher ground, waved its long grasstriumphantly above the reaching waters. Upon this side the marsh wasseparated from the mainland of forest and field by a creek so narrowthat the great pines upon one margin cast their shadows across to theother, and one fallen giant quite spanned the sluggish waters.

  The grass of this marsh was annually cut for hay; for though the greatherds of cattle belonging to the different plantations roamed at largethrough all seasons of the year, seeking their sustenance from forest ormarsh, the more provident of the planters were accustomed to make someslight provision against the winter, which might prove a severe one withsnow and ice.

  It was late afternoon, and the hay was cut. The half dozen mowers threwthemselves down upon the stubble, stretching out tired limbs andpillowing heated foreheads upon their arms. They had been given untilsunset to do the work. Having no task-master over them, and being hidfrom the tobacco-fields by a convenient coppice of pine and cedar, theyhad set to work in a fury of diligence, had cut and stacked the grassin a race with time, and now found themselves possessed of a precioushour in which to dawdle, and swap opinions and tobacco before the sunsethorn should call them to quarters.

  Three were indented servants, lumbering, honest-visaged youths whoseaims in life were simple and well defined. Their creed had but fourarticles: "Do as little as you can consistently with keeping out of theoverseer's black books; get your full share of loblolly and bacon, andsome one else's if you are clever enough; embrace every opportunity forreasonable mischief that is offered you; honor Church and King, or sayyou do, and Colonel Verney will overlook most pranks." Of the others,one was the Muggletonian, one the mulatto, Luiz Sebastian, and one aconvict, not Trail, but the red-haired, pock-marked, sullen wretch whohad come to the plantation with Trail and Landless, and whose name wasRoach.

  One of the rustics, who seemed more intelligent than his fellows, andwho had a good-humored deviltry in his young face and big blue eyes,began an excellent imitation of Dr. Nash's exhortation to submission andobedience delivered upon the last instruction day for servants, and soonhad his audience of two guffawing with laughter. The mulatto and theconvict edged by imperceptible degrees farther and farther away from theothers, until, within the shadow of a stack of grass, they lay side byside and commenced a muttered conversation. The countenance of the whiteman, atrocious villainy written large in every lineament, becamehorribly intent as his amber-hued companion talked in fluent low tones,emphasizing what he had to say by a restless, peculiar, and sinistermotion of his long, yellow fingers. At a little distance lay theMuggletonian, his elbows on the ground, his ghastly face in his hands,and his eyes riveted upon the Geneva Bible which he had drawn from hisbosom.

  When he had brought his entertainment to a finish, the blue-eyed youthrolled himself over and over the stubble to where the Muggletonian lay,intent upon a chapter of invective. The youth covered the page with oneenormous paw and playfully attempted to insert the little finger of theother into the hole in Porringer's ear. "What now, old Runaway," hesaid, lazily, "hunting up fresh curses to pour on our unfort'net heads?"

  "Cursed be he who makes a mock of age," said the Muggletonian, grimly."May he be even as the wicked children who cried to the prophet, 'Go up,thou baldhead!'"

  The boy laughed. "Tell me when you see brown bear a-coming," quoth he."Losh! a bear steak would taste mighty good after eternal bacon!"

  Porringer closed his book and restored it to his bosom. "Tell me," hesaid, abruptly, "have you seen aught of the young man called Landless?"

  "'The young man called Landless,'" answered the other, petulantly, "hasa d--d easy berth of it! Yesterday evening I carried water from thespring to the great house to water Mistress Patricia's posies, and everytime I passes the window of the master's room I see that fellowa-sitting at his ease in a fine chair before a fine table, writing awayas big as all out of doors. And every time I says to him, says I, 'Ireckon you think yourself as fine as the Lord Mayor of London? A prettysec'tary you make!'"

  "Have you seen him to-day?"

  "No, I haven't seen him to-day,--but I see someone else. Mates," heexclaimed, "Witch Margery's coming down t' other side of creek. I'll callher over."

  Scrambling to his feet he gave a low halloo through his hands, "Margery!Margery! Come and find the road to Paradise!"

  Margery waved her hand to signify that she heard and understood, andpresently stepped upon the fallen tree that spanned the stream. It was anarrow and a slippery bridge, but she flitted across it with the securegrace of some woodland thing, and, staff in hand, advanced towards themen. Between them and the western sun she stood still, a dark figureagainst a halo of gold light, and threw an intent and searching glanceover the unbroken green of the marsh and the blue of the waters beyond.Then with a wild laugh she came up to them and cast her staff wreathedwith dark ivy upon the ground.

  "The road is not here," she cried. "Here is all green grass, and beyondis the weary, weary, weary sea! There is no long, bright, shining roadto Paradise." She sat down beside her staff, and taking her chin intoher hand, stared fixedly at the ground.

  The men gathered around her, with the exception of the Muggletonian,who, after audibly comparing her to the Witch of Endor, turned on hisside and drew his cap over his eyes as if to shut out the hated sight.The convict took up the staff and began to pull from it the strings ofivy.

  "Put it down!" she said quickly.

  The man continued to strip it of its leafy mantle.

  "Put it down, can't you?" said the youth. "She never lets any one touchit. She says an angel gave it to her to help her on her way."

  With a snarling laugh the convict threw it from him with all his force.Whirling through the air it struck the water midway from shore to shore.Margery sprang to her feet with a loud cry. The boy rose also.

  "D--n you!" he said, wrathfully. "I'd like to break it over yourmisshapen back! Here, Margery, don't fret. I'll get it for you."

  He ran to the bank, dived into the water, and in three minutes was backwith the dripping mass in his arms. He gave it into Margery's hands,saying kindly while he shook himself like a large spaniel; "There! itisn't hurt a mite!"

  With a cry of delight Margery seized the "angel's gift" and kissed thehand that restored it. Then she turned upon the convict.

  "When I go back to my cabin in the woods," she said, solemnly, and withher finger up, "I shall whistle all the fairy folk into a ring, all theelves and the pixies, and the little brown gnomes who burrow in theleaves and look for all the world like pine cones, and I shall tell themwhat you did, and to-night they will come to your cabin, and will pinchyou black and blue, and stick thorns into you, and rub you with thepoison leaf until you are blotched and swelled like the great bull frogthat croaks, croaks, in these marshes."

  There was an uneasy ring in the convict's laugh, full of bravado as hemeant it to be. Margery continued with an ominously extended forefinger."And then they will fly to the great house where the master liessleeping, and they will whisper to him that you took away the angel'sgift from poor, lost Margery, and he will be angry, for he is good toMargery, and to-morrow he will make Woodson do to you what he did to-dayto the Breaking Heart."

  "To the Breaking Heart!" exclaimed her auditors.

  Margery nodded. "Yes, the Breaking Heart. You call him Landless."

  The Muggletonian sat up. "What dost thou mean, wretched woman! fitdescendant of the mother of all evil?"

  Margery, offended by his tone, only pursed up her lips and looked wise.

  "What did the master have done to Landless, Margery?" asked the youth.

  Margery threw her worn figure into a singular posture. Standingperfectly straight, she raised her arms from her sides and spread themstiffly out, the hands turned inward in a peculiar fashion. Then, s
tillwith extended arms, she swayed slightly forward until she appeared tolean against, or to be fastened to, some support. Next she threw herhead back and to one side, so that her face might be seen in threequarter over her shoulder. Her mobile features wreathed themselves in anexpression of pain and rage. Her brows drew downward, her thin lipscurled themselves away from the gleaming teeth, and, at intervals ofhalf a minute or more, her eyelids quivered, she shuddered, and herwhole frame appeared to shrink together.

  The pantomime was too expressive to be misunderstood by men each of whomhad probably his own reasons for recognizing some one or all of itsfeatures. The convict broke into a yelling laugh, in which he wasjoined, though in a subdued and sinister fashion, by Luiz Sebastian. Therustics looked at each other with slow grins of comprehension, and theblue-eyed youth uttered a long shrill whistle. The great letter upon thecheek of the Muggletonian turned a deeper red, and his eyes burned. Theyouth was curious.

  "Tell us all about it, Margery," he said, coaxingly, "and when themillons are ripe, I'll steal you one every night."

  Margery was nothing loth. She had attained the reputation of anaccomplished _raconteuse_, and she was proud of it. Her crazedimagination peopled the forest with weird uncanny things, and fearfultales she told of fays and bugaboos, of spectres and awful voicesspeaking from out the dank stillness of twilight hollows. Often she sentquaking to their pallets men who would have heard the war-whoop withscarcely quickened pulses. And she could tell of every-day domestichappenings as well as of the doings of the powers of darkness.

  Her audience listened greedily to the instance of plantation economywhich she proceeded to relate.

  "When was this, woman?" demanded the Muggletonian, when she hadfinished.

  Margery pointed to the declining sun and then upwards to a spot a littlepast the zenith.

  "Just after the nooning," said the Muggletonian, and began to curse.

  Margery stood up, her staff in her hand, and said airily, "Margery mustbe going. The sun is growing large and red, and when he has slipped awaybehind the woods, the voices will begin to call to Margery from thehollow where the brook falls into the black pool. She must be there toanswer them." She moved away with a rapid and gliding step, flittedacross the fallen tree, and was lost to sight in the shadow of the pinesbeyond.

  As the last flutter of her light robe vanished, a figure appeared,walking rapidly along the opposite margin of the creek. The youth'ssight was keen. He sent a piercing glance across the interveningdistance and broke into an astonished laugh. "Lord in Heaven! it's theman himself!" he cried in an awed tone. "Ecod! he must be made of iron!"

  Landless crossed the bridge and came towards the staring group. His facewas white and set, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, whichhad the wide unseeing stare of a sleep-walker. He walked lightly andquickly, with a free, lithe swing of his body. The men looked at oneanother in rough wonder, knowing what was hidden by the coarse shirt. Hepassed them without a word, apparently without knowing that they werethere, and went on towards the hut of the mender of nets. Presently theysaw him enter and shut the door.

  The rustics and the convict, after one long stare of amazement at thedistant hut, began to comment freely and with much recondite blasphemyupon the transaction recorded by Margery. Luiz Sebastian only smiledamiably, like a lazy and well-disposed catamount, and the boy whistledlong and thoughtfully. But the countenance of Master Win-Grace Porringerwore an expression of secret satisfaction.