Book 2 — THE RESCUE AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR.

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BY J. MILTON SANDERS, AUTHOR OF “THE MIAMI VALLEY,” ETC.

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I have a tale thou hast not dream’d—

If sooth—its truth must others rue.

Byron.

It was one of those lovely autumnal days of which we all often dream, and so fondly wish to enjoy, when lying upon the bed of sickness; such a day as we love to dwell upon in imagination, when we are closely housed and sitting by a sparkling fire during the long freezing winter nights.

Well, it was such a day as this that my friend Ned K—— and I started through the rich country which lies north of Dayton. The sun was just rising, glorious and unobscured by cloud or mist, his early rays dancing gaily upon the parti-colored foliage, like millions of those little bright elfins which people the glowing imagination of the oriental improvisitore.

Feeling the influence of the early morning air upon our spirits, we pricked forward our steeds; and as the noble animals danced over the earth, our hearts leaped to our lips, and we gave forth their joyousness in the glowing language which the poets numbered before us.

We gazed up into the deep blue vault of heaven above us; we saw the moon sailing along in cloudless majesty, and the stars peeping through their lingering drapery of darkness, and we raised our voices, and in gladness and lightness of heart, we shouted aloud. And the birds—those ceaseless lutes of the summer morning air—warbled a response.

We soon became short of breath; our lungs had expanded too freely, and our blood was too fiery after its slow and even circulation during the lethargy of the late night—our spirits boiled over, and like everything which boils over, they soon sank into a contrasting calmness, and we discovered that we were riding side and side with all of the sedateness of a Quaker preacher when he arrived in sight of the meeting house.

“How far does your old uncle reside from here?” I asked anxiously of my friend Ned.

“Be patient, my good fellow, and we will soon get there.”

“I wish we were there now, I am so anxious to see the old hero. You say he was an active participator in some of the principal incidents of our revolution?”

“He was, and that old musket which I showed you yesterday, accompanied him in many of his adventures. From the first bloodshed at Lexington till the final capture at Yorktown, did that hero bare his breast to the storm of the revolution. His blood has bathed the soil of many a battle-field, and innumerable are the hair-breadth perils which he has passed through. You are partial to these tales of perils, L——, and you shall now be gratified to your heart’s content.”

My heart leaped with joy, and I began already to calculate the time and expense which it would require to write a volume of his adventures; and what edification it would be to the devourers of omnivorous literature.

“Is he a great talker?” I immediately asked, for, but a short time previous I had made several trips to see pioneers solely for the purpose of committing to paper their adventures; and others, after much trouble I had reached their domicils, I found as uncommunicative as a Saracenic mute.

“He loves to talk, and nothing pleases him more than to have such patient and willing listeners as you are; with you he will talk from morning till night.”

I rubbed my hands with delight; the volume which had danced before my imagination for a few minutes past, now swelled in size from an octavo to a folio; and my impatience to see the hero, almost became insupportable.

“There is one failing which my old uncle has,” continued my friend, “and that is, he possesses a very exuberant imagination.”

“So much the better,” I exclaimed, “then his recitation will not continue on that dead level, which gives such prolixity to a narrative; now and then a flight of the imagination adds a marvellous spice to such things; a single narration, you know, only draws the picture and shades it—it is left for imagination to paint it.”

“But you do not precisely understand me; I mean that my uncle—who is getting old now, you know—is in the habit, if allowed to commence in that way, to dwell for hours together upon the most marvellous adventures, which he draws solely from imagination, and confounds with his real ones; but leave this to me, and I will set him on the right track; by the way, there is one incident connected with his very mutable life which I must prevail upon him to relate; I call his imagined adventures yarns—so let us ride forward, for yonder is the house.”

We dashed down the long lane—lined on each side with towering poplar trees, whose pointed tops reached far above the surrounding trees—and we soon stood at the door of the old soldier’s house.

We dismounted, and giving our horses to an attendant, we entered the house, and the first person that we saw was the old veteran himself. He hurried towards us—by aid of a stout cane—and bade us welcome.

Truly was the old man’s appearance equal to my ideal of him; his form—though somewhat bent with age—had once, I could easily perceive, been tall and sinewy; and his limbs still retained a degree of that muscular power, which had so repeatedly contributed to bring him safe from melées, where weaker men had perished. The old man’s hair was white as the snow, and accumulating years had continued to thin it, till only two small locks were left.

With sparkling eyes and animated features, the veteran grasped our hands, and gave us a true soldier’s welcome; and then leading us to a small room, he introduced us to his sister—a venerable and corpulent matron of fifty—and then to what was still more pleasurable, a smoking breakfast.

After partaking of as luxuriant a déjeuner as ever caused an epicure’s eyes to dance, we wandered around the farm—the old soldier limping along with us—and after bestowing the necessary eulogiums upon the fine appearance of his Berkshire pigs, his imported stallion, and his Durham cattle, we returned to the house; and then partaking of a glass of cider wine, (which excellent fluid needs but a high price to become as regal as champaigne) we got the old man seated.

“This young friend of mine,” began my cautious companion, “is passionately fond of revolutionary tales, and as he is now engaged in writing sketches embodying all the adventures of the revolution,” here Ned gave me a meaning look, “he wishes to hear a few of your adventures; couldn’t you gratify him, uncle?”

The veteran propped his rheumatic leg upon a chair, and laid aside his cane.

“Ha! he wishes to hear tales of the wars, does he? Well, then, ’spose I tell him about the death of poor old Joshua Brews——”

“Oh, no, uncle! I think something less melancholy will please him.”

“I don’t like melancholy tales,” I said.

“Then, ’spose I tell him about the fight that Ben Bunker and me had——”

“That I know wouldn’t please him,” and Ned quickly whispered in my ear “a yarn.”

“Ah, I have it now; tell him about ‘The Rescue at the Eleventh Hour.’ ”

“I hate to tell that; my blood freezes whenever I think of it.”

“ ’Tis surprising,” thought I, “how compatible it is for old men to delight in lies.”

“Which of the tales mentioned would you rather hear; we will leave the decision to you, won’t we, uncle?”

“Certainly, my son; but recollect that the fight which Ben Bunker and me had is mighty entertaining.”

“I have no doubt of it, sir; still, as I have taken a fancy to ‘The Rescue at the Eleventh Hour,’ you would oblige me by relating that.”

The old veteran bowed, swallowed a glass of wine, and commenced the tale.

“The days of which I now speak, my son, were pregnant with perils. When we retired to our beds at night, we knew not what the morning might bring forth. We might hear of the death of a father, mother, or sister, by the ruthless hand of a British forager, or equally sanguine tory. Or else our ears would be greeted with the wail of some outcast, who had travelled all night to flee the ravagers of his property. Every hour was pregnant with news, either in favor or against the interests of our country. The British, at the time of which I speak, were overrunning the land, devastating the fairest farms, and murdering or making captive their inhabitants.

“I was then young—but twenty years had passed over my head, and, of course, I possessed all the sanguine nature of youth: added to which, my soul was kindled to anger by the horrid accounts which reached us daily of British brutality. My father, who had fought in the old French and Indians wars, had taught me to despise oppression, but to worship freedom.

“Early impressions seldom fade from the mind, but become more vivid with the increase of our years, and so had the sentiments which my father had taught me.

“The next farm to that of my father’s, belonged to Charles Worthington, who had but one child, a daughter, about three years younger than I was. Even yet, after a lapse of fifty years, the blood bounds through my veins, and my heart heaves with an unusual emotion, as I think of that fair girl. Ah, she was surpassing fair, but yet her beauty was rivalled by her goodness of heart and her amiability. With a skin of the fairest white, deep blue eyes, forehead high and expansive, and features altogether classical, she was one whom any one could love; and, excuse me, my son, for indulging in reflections which may be of no interest to you, but these pictures, when they do arise in the memory, are still intensely vivid, while their being so long ago enacted, gives each small incident an interest with me, which to you may appear unworthy of a single thought.

“Lucy Worthington and I met, and we loved, and it was that deep love which casts its hue over all our future actions. It was the first love—when those whirlwind passions of the mind are first awakened to activity, and, like the sun rising over the landscape, throws its hues upon every object, and tinges them of its own peculiar color.

“For months Lucy and I were almost inseparable companions—we consumed the greater part of our days wandering in the fields and woods, gathering flowers and listening to each other’s words; and my greatest ambition was to please her, my only thoughts to elicit a smile of love from her bright eye. Thus passed away the days till the destroyer came.

“It was a bright morning in summer. The sun had just risen, and I was gazing upon its early rays, as they threw the shadows of the dancing foliage through the window upon the opposite wall; when I heard a distant crack of a gun, which was immediately followed by another, then another, and then others, in such quick succession that I could not count them.

“Suspecting that all was not right at our neighbor’s house, I sprang out of bed, hurriedly drew on my clothes, and, without speaking to any of our family, hastened over to Worthington’s. Before I reached the house I saw a blue smoke hanging over it; but not a human being was to be met; all was as lonely as a city of the dead. I leaped the fence and hurried to the house, and, oh! what a scene was suddenly presented to my sight! The father, the mother, and their only child, were stretched on the floor and weltering in their blood. The parents were dead, but the daughter—although evidently dying—still retained her speech and consciousness.

“Language would convey but a very faint impression of the agony which tortured my breast. I threw myself by her body and groaned aloud. It was the first misery which I had ever experienced, and it came upon me as the long accumulating avalanche upon the family of the mountaineer, and I was suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed with misery; and in the poignancy of the moment I cried like a child. But that poor girl—although gradually dying—whispered hope into my ear, and pointing to heaven, she bade me gaze there, where we would, ere long, meet to be separated no more. And for the first time in my life, did I direct my thoughts to the footstool of the everlasting throne, and addressed a prayer to its King for the gentle soul which was about to be placed in his hands.

“ ‘Charles,’ she exclaimed faintly, as she observed my agony, ‘I am dying: let all this pass, for I forgive those who committed the deed, as I hope to be forgiven myself in heaven. Do not seek to retaliate upon those deluded soldiers, who know nothing but to obey the behests of their king; why this useless grief? You see that I do not weep, although the pale face of my poor old mother lies at my side,’ and she placed her pale hand upon the rigid face of her parent, and, despite her efforts to prevent it, a tear forced itself from under her eyelid, and rolled down her cheek, as she gazed upon those dear features, now calmed in death.

“ ‘Charles, I am going—I forgive—forgive—’ and thus she expired. I threw myself on her body and groaned aloud, but in a moment a thought flashed through my mind, and immediately I was as calm as a statue. I arose and then sinking on one knee, I swore a solemn oath, and I prayed that the Dispenser of life might grant me mine together with health, till I should have fulfilled that oath, and so long as life lasted, I vowed to devote all my energies and means to its consummation; and then, with a pale face but a calm brow, I hastened home. Knowing that those who had committed this diabolical deed, would travel rapidly for fear of that just retribution which they knew would follow them, I hurriedly seized my rifle, and taking with me but a few bullets, I rapidly followed the tracks of the murderers. I ran at my greatest speed during the whole of that day. Their tracks led me into the depths of a thinly settled country, but the soil being loose, I could trace the deep impressions of their horses’ feet with the greatest ease. At dark I had not overtaken them, but with all the indefatigableness of one seeking revenge for a deadly and vital injury, I now groped my way over a rocky country, often stooping to examine whether I was still on their tracks. Finally the country became so rocky that I entirely lost all traces of my victims, and with a brain burning from disappointed revenge, I prepared to pass the night under a ledge of rocks which protruded in the road.

“I had heard the name of the leader of this party, and although I could not seek reparation at the present, yet I prepared to lie down with a stern determination to follow him to the four corners of the earth before I would forego the revenge I had in store for him. With a heart aching with grief and disappointment, I prepared to throw myself upon my flinty bed, when, casting my sight to the left, I observed a lurid hue dwelling upon the tops of some tall trees below me, and plainly indicating that a fire was burning beneath them. This fire might have been kindled by the very person whom I sought. I immediately shouldered my rifle, and, in my eagerness to reach the spot, nearly ran over the brow of a high precipice, down which had I fallen, I would have been dashed to atoms against the rocks below. Avoiding the impending danger by deviating to the right, I reached the level country, where travelling was comparatively easy, and started at a rapid gait for the distant light.

“The country—now so thickly settled—was almost a wilderness, and still abounded with wild and savage animals, which—as I was aware—seek their prey by night. I observed the strictest caution, lest some lurking panther should pounce upon me; and then, being necessitated to shoot it, I would alarm my enemies. By the greatest exertion, I avoided one of these animals, and in the course of several hours, I approached the fire. The country was studded thickly with giant oaks, whose matted branches and thick foliage cast a deep gloom beneath them; but from this contrast the fire appeared more brilliant, and shot far out into the surrounding darkness, a gleam of brightness.

“I neared the fire unobserved, but what were my sensations upon perceiving arrayed around it the very persons I sought. For the first time since morning, I felt a degree of hope swell my breast, as I gazed upon the murderers of all I loved.

“Ten horses were hobbled close by me, and scenting me if they did not see me, they snorted and gazed in the direction where I was hid, but their masters were so busily engaged in conversing and boasting over their day’s exploits, that they heard not these never-failing omens, that danger was nigh.

“The spirit of revenge grew strong in me as I beheld those whom I had labored all day to see; and that wish which troubled me now was, that I had not brought along with me a party sufficiently formidable to have taken them all prisoners, and thus revenge would be gratified by piece-meal. I was not long in deciding what to do. Observing the officer who commanded the party sitting among the rest, I singled him out as the first victim to be offered upon the altar of my vengeance. I cautiously cocked my gun, and taking a deliberate aim at his breast, I pulled the trigger—but the sparks missed the pan, and the gun did not go off. The men heard the noise, and several saw the sparks fly, and in a moment every man was on his feet, and gazing intently at the spot where I stood; but in a second of time I had re-cocked my gun, and taking another aim, I fired. The officer sprang up, screamed, and fell upon his face. With curses, several of the soldiers rushed forward towards the spot where I lay, but with superior woodsmanship I evaded them and fled into the depths of the woods, and taking a circuitous route, I came to the fire again at the other side. Every man had left in pursuit of me but two, who were busily stripping off the coat of the officer. I again fired and one of the soldiers fell. With a yell and a fearful oath, I was met as I turned to flee, by one of the soldiers who had been pursuing me.

“I drew a knife, the soldier drew his bayonet, and we engaged in a desperate encounter. Knowing that the noise we made would soon guide others to the spot, and that I would assuredly be captured, I commenced a retrograde movement for the purpose of effecting my escape, when I was clinched by an iron hand from behind, and the person missing at the same time a firm foot-hold, he fell to the earth, bearing me with him.

“Oh, how I struggled! how fearfully I wielded my knife! but it was not that I feared dying—what was life to me then? It was that I feared being foiled in my revenge, and with this fear uppermost in my mind, I hurled my knife about me with giant energy; with the maddened and thoughtless desperation of the panther, when she struggles for her screaming young, did I battle for my revenge; but now they rushed up upon every side—they threw themselves upon me—they bore me again to the earth, but this time senseless, and when I became conscious, I was lying on my back, and bound hands and feet.

“The soldier whom I had shot, died a few moments after receiving his wound; but the officer still survived, although mortally wounded—the ball having broke, in its course, the sternum and ribs, and passed directly through his lungs.

“The soldiers soon gathered around the spot where I lay—their eyes gleaming hate, and their rough features expressing all the atrocity of their nature.

“ ‘Accursed Yankee!’ exclaimed one, ‘would to God you were possessed of nine lives, that we might glut our hatred of you, by depriving you of each by inches,’ and the monster ground his teeth, and kicked me with such force as to nearly deprive me of breath.

“ ‘Depraved and blood-thirsty rebel!’ thundered another, ‘what fiend from hell tempted you to this diabolical act?’

“ ‘The same fiend which tempted you to murder my family,’ I answered.

“Immediately the man’s gaze of hatred began to soften in its expression, and my keen eyes detected a slight emotion dwelling, for an instant, upon his features, as he turned to the first speaker and muttered:

“ ‘I told you not to commit that murderous deed; still you would persist, and now you see how speedily retribution has winged its flight to you. By heaven, this man has served you justly, and ought not to perish for it.’

“ ‘No power save that of heaven can prevent his dying this day,’ muttered the other through his clenched teeth.

“ ‘Beware how you speak to me, sir,’ said the other; the man made an inclination of the head, and walked off.

“The young man—for he appeared to be no older than myself—again cast his glance upon me, and what a change was there in the expression of his eyes! It was like the mother’s glance when her sleeping infant lies upon her lap; or the father’s, as he looks for the last time upon his condemned son, who was the hope and the pride of his declining years.

“ ‘What age are you?’ he kindly asked.

“ ‘Had you not murdered all I held dear on earth, I would next autumn be twenty years old; as it is, I never expect to be older than nineteen years and nine months.’

“ ‘So young, and yet so determined and brave! It must not be; they shall not deprive you of life, when you might make such a powerful auxiliary to our cause. Listen to me, young stranger. Would you be willing to repudiate all your rebel prejudices and join the cause of your king, if you could obtain your freedom?’

“Life is sweet, and who would not at that age dissemble a little and play the hypocrite for such a precious boon? I pretended to undergo a great internal emotion, and spoke long of the glory and righteousness of our cause; but my policy at last made me a proselyte to his arguments, and I yielded to his proposal; and the young man left me. My eyes sought him constantly after that, and several times I discovered him in earnest conversation with the wounded officer. Towards noon the young man obtained an opportunity to speak with me.

“ ‘I have been trying,’ said he, ‘to prevail upon our officer to release you upon the conditions which I proposed this morning, but he obstinately refuses, and persists in making you the victim of his revenge; but be of good cheer. I think he cannot last long, his countenance momentarily changes, and when he dies I will free you at all hazards,’ and with these words he left me.

“An hour had not passed away when the young man’s suspicions were fulfilled. The officer was seized with the most violent paroxysm; his features worked fearfully, and it required several men to hold down his writhing limbs. Strange as it may appear to the tender-hearted, there was one who gazed upon that man’s terrible throes with feelings partaking of pleasure, although the sufferer was my fellow mortal. Under any other circumstances, I would have stood by that man’s side with tearful eyes, but the cause of my present stoicism is evident. The officer soon expired, and immediately after his burial I was set at liberty; and soon afterwards signed my name to an instrument binding me a liege subject and soldier of his Majesty King George.

“What a change was there now in the conduct of these soldiers towards me! Instead of the brutal language and fearful threats which they had hurled at me, they were now declared friends and ready to share with me their last morsel. We ate together, we drank each other’s health, and we slept upon the same blanket.

“The deeds which I had perpetrated, and which had deprived two of their number of life, were apparently forgotten, for they looked upon me now as a formidable addition to their party.

“Many an expression which dwells upon the risible faculties, belies the secret thoughts of the breast, and it was so with the glad expression which mantled my features as I travelled along with them, externally appearing joyful, but heavy and sad within.

“I did not neglect the oath which I had made; I had not forgotten the pale serene features of one whom I had ever worshipped, as they lay in the calmness of death; but whenever I closed my eyes those mild and fading eyes were before me, with their love and holy resignation vividly expressed, and their glow rapidly fading.

“ ‘The time will soon arrive,’ I thought as I looked upon my reckless comrades, ‘when you will all be stiffened in death, pale monuments of the revenge of one whom you have so vitally injured—thoughtless fools! do you imagine that I am but as a brute which perishes, that I can so soon forget the misery which you have caused me?’ And in the secret chambers of my breast there was a wild orgie of passions, in anticipation of the rich feast which my revenge would soon enjoy.

“The next morning we started over a mountainous country, committing several depredations on the way. With the rest I fired several valuable barns, for all of which I afterwards remunerated their owners. This depraved spirit upon my part gave great joy to my companions, and when we reached a section of the royal army under command of Cornwallis, I received a smile of approbation from the general, as reward for my loyalty.

“Now the wishes of my heart were about to be gratified. I was dispatched on a secret service, in company with several of the murderers of Lucy Worthington, and now I determined to put into execution that revenge, whose flame could no longer lie smothered in my breast.

“About sunset we arrived in a deep gorge—the bed of many a mountain torrent—where we prepared for our night’s lodging. At midnight I cautiously arose; the fire had died away to embers, and every thing around was wrapped in gloom. The deep and regular breathing of the sleepers promised me an uninterrupted opportunity for the execution of my purpose. I seized a pistol; the principal murderer lay locked in total unconsciousness of his fate. I cautiously drew near him, and placed the muzzle of the pistol against his temple, and even then the poor wretch smiled! Perhaps at that moment he was wandering in his dream to the home of his parents, and beheld the smiles of a glad mother, and felt upon his lips the warm kiss of a welcoming sister; or, perhaps, he imagined that he held in his arms the fragile form of some loved one, and smiled as he gazed upon the glow of her welcoming eye, and felt the sealing kiss of her love. Is it not happier to leave the world under these bright illusions than when the mind is awake, and cold judgment already calculating the chances of an immortal and happy future?

“I pulled the trigger; the loud explosion started every man to his feet, but with a yell of the wildest joy I cleared the spot, and soon was buried among the tangled bushes, which grew plentifully around.

“Now the deep-mouthed bay of a blood-hound, which we had brought with us, reverberated among the old rocks in the gorge, and soon I heard the voices of those who were following the animal, close by my lurking place. At once I comprehended my danger—that the dog was on my track, and with my teeth clenched, with desperate determination I rushed from my place of concealment, closely followed by the excited and enraged animal. In a few moments the dog reached me, and springing, seized me by the coat collar. I grasped him by the throat, and with all the nervous energy of one in my circumstance, I throttled him; but the furious animal—as if he was aware of the importance of his grip—retained his firm hold, despite my powerful efforts to free myself.

“The soldiers rushed up, and with many a fearful oath and rude blow, they forced my hands behind my body and securely bound them in that position; and then with furious cries of exultation they dragged me back to camp.

“In the morning I was unanimously condemned to be shot, but in all the plenitude of their mercy, they granted me two hours to make my peace with heaven.

“Now I was left alone with but my own thoughts for company. I was condemned and must die in two hours—but two short hours had I left, to take my leave of this world, and prepare for a voyage, I knew not where—to leave this world which had ever been before but a garden of roses. Then the dreadful truth at once flashed on my mind! to leave all, my father, mother, sisters, friends, and all those who had ever met me with a smile; whose roughest words were blessings, whose prayers were ever my own. Ah, how hard it is to die when the bright clouds of youth cluster around our horizon; when the mind is yet young and free from the diseases which the experiences of a rude world engender! When the physical faculties are all active, and most capable of contributing to our enjoyment; and when death appears but a monster to the young mind whose riper faculties teach us to hope for a glorious future.

“It is hard indeed, and the rapid approach of my last moments only enhanced my agony. The time drew nigh and I saw no hope of succor; and it was now that the dreadful thought intruded itself, that there was no longer hope—that I must die, and before many minutes more be but a pale bleeding corpse. My heart ached, my feelings grew insupportable, and I groaned aloud in the bitterest agony. Ah! the horrors of that moment! All the most poignant sufferings of a life time, if converged in one breast, could not have tortured more.

“While in this state of horror, I chanced to look towards the top of the rocks which lined the gorge, and with surprise I beheld the same young man who had previously saved my life. He caught my glance, and with his hand motioned me to silence, and then instantly disappeared. What could this mean? We had left that individual in the army when we left it. Let it mean what it might it augured well, and immediately a complete reaction of feelings took place in my breast. I became calm and apparently careless of my fate, for I felt that I had a friend close by, who was willing and able to save me.

“The time for the execution of my sentence arrived, and with a file of soldiers as a guard, I was led to the fatal tree. A bandage was brought forward, but I refused it, and bade them with a loud voice hurry with the execution. The file of soldiers, with loaded muskets, were drawn in a line fronting me, and I was bade to kneel.

“Now all was a deep silence; you might have heard a pin drop, and then was heard the voice of the one in command—‘Attention, men! make ready, take aim—fire’—and I rolled on the earth a bleeding corpse——.”

“What!”

“That is one of my uncle’s yarns,” said my friend Ned.

“Pshaw!”