CHAPTER XVI

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A RAY OF HOPE.

It is beyond my power to set down a fair account of what we said and did during this day when we lay amid the slime, covered with mosquitoes, and surrounded by the enemy. A stranger could not understand the feelings which were ours as we guarded Luther Stedman lest peradventure he slip his bonds sufficiently to make so much noise as would attract attention, knowing that at any moment it was not only possible, but probable, the tables would be turned completely, putting us at his mercy.

At one moment I would be aglow with satisfaction because at last we had laid the scoundrel by the heels, and believed we knew beyond a question how he could be held secure so long as we pleased. Then would come the knowledge that the slightest curiosity on the part of those who surrounded us would lead to our discovery, and the cold chills crept down my back as I pictured ourselves prisoners, where Luther could gloat over us even if he did no worse.

At another time I could see, in my mind’s eye, Abel Grant in the hold of the prison ship, so closely guarded that there was no ray of hope, however slight, of our being able to lend him a hand. Then I could see all our little party keeping him company in his cramped quarters with no possibility of being released save by death, or when the war had come to an end.

I speculated, with the numbness of fear in my heart, as to where my father and mother might be at that moment, and doubted whether we would ever come together again in this world; but all the while I shared with my comrades the watch which it seemed necessary we should keep upon the throngs of men on every hand, although what it would have profited to know when they might be coming upon us I could not have said, for of a verity we were unable to offer any resistance worth the name, in event of their entering the swamp.

Only at rare intervals did one or the other speak; it was not a time when a fellow would be inclined for conversation. Early in the afternoon Seth Hartley again insisted we should try to gain some rest; but it would have been useless for me to make any attempt at wooing slumber, and instead of following his advice I urged Abraham that it was his duty to do so because of the long tramp before him, which caused the lad to reply:

“I fancy my eyes are open quite as wide as yours, an’ to close them would be impossible. When I am in Peter Snyder’s hut, where the red-coats do not swarm so thickly as here, I may be able to sleep, but not now.”

“An’ how do you count on goin’ there?” Sam asked, rather that he might break the dull monotony by speech, than from any real desire for information.

“I don’t know, an’ had rather not talk about it,” was the almost petulant reply. “It must all be a matter of good or bad luck, an’ my upper lip will be the stiffer if I don’t dwell overly long upon the chances.”

Until this had been said I believed Abraham felt confident he could make the journey with comparative ease; but now I understood that he misdoubted his ability to get through, yet was ready to risk his life in the effort, to the end that he might pay the scoundrelly Tory off in some of his own coin, and all this did not tend to make me feel any more comfortable in mind.

Twice during the afternoon did Seth Hartley take the gag from Luther’s mouth in order to pour down his throat a few drops of muddy water, and when Sam insisted that he was wasting both time and sympathy, the Britisher said quietly:

“I know full well how much I suffered while lyin’ in the cabin of the sloop trussed up in the same fashion, an’ then there was no chance for so much sufferin’ because the day was not so hot. I’m never fearin’ but that you lads count on dealin’ justly by him, an’ am certain it’s not in your minds to act the part of brutes.”

Only once during the afternoon did any of the enemy come within an hundred feet of where we lay, wet with mud and water and beset by mosquitoes, and then during a bad ten minutes did it appear as if Luther Stedman’s hour of triumph was close at hand.

A party of marines lounged aimlessly down the shore until coming to the mouth of the creek, and one proposed to follow up the water-course simply out of idle curiosity. He even advanced a few paces to carry out such attention, and I saw Abraham clutch the rifle we had kept with us all this time, as if determined to sell his life dearly rather than be carried aboard the ship as a prisoner.

The fellow did not get very far on his voyage of discovery; at the second step he plunged knee-deep in the mud, whereupon he drew back amid the jeers and laughter of his companions, and the party moved away to where a boat was just being drawn up on the shore.

Now and then we munched at the hard biscuit, not because we were hungry, but in order that we might have something with which to occupy the time. I had never believed food would be distasteful, particularly when I had much the same as fasted for eight and forty hours, but on this day I found it impossible to swallow the bread even after chewing it, though it was sweet and palatable.

What a blessed relief it was to see the sun sink behind the hills of Staten Island! I had thought the night would never come, and longed for the darkness as a thirsty man does for water, but yet no sooner was the night at hand than my anxiety became all the greater, for Abraham’s journey was yet to be performed--a journey which I feared he would never live to finish.

One by one the boats returned to the ship until the shore was deserted. We could hear the cries of the sentries, however, which caused it to seem as if they were close at hand, and the riding lights of the prison ship sent ominous rays across the water.

“I reckon it will be safe to crawl out on dry land now, an’ thus have a chance to stretch our legs,” Seth Hartley said when the evening had grown old. “There’s little show of any one comin’ ashore at this hour, an’ even though that should happen, we’ll be hidden by the bushes on the hill.”

Abraham and Seth took Luther Stedman up as if his had been a lifeless body, carrying him through the swamp to the higher land beyond, and there we walked about a bit, taking due care, however, not to show ourselves beyond the gloom of the shadows cast by the bushes.

Another hour passed in almost perfect silence, and then Sam asked abruptly:

“Shall you take the musket, Abe?”

“I’ll leave that for you; it won’t pay to hamper myself with so much luggage, an’ a stout club will serve me better if I should come to close quarters with a Tory--I’m not afraid of meetin’ any lobster-backs on the road I shall travel.”

Then Abe searched here and there until he found a cudgel such as promised to serve his purpose, and nothing more was said for so long a time that I was like to have cried aloud with impatience, when Seth Hartley spoke:

“I’m allowin’, lad, that it’s time for you to set off. Don’t be rash if you meet with enemies; but remember that it’s better to surrender than be put out of the fight forever.”

“I’m not minded to be taken prisoner that such as he may crow over me,” Abe replied in what a stranger might have believed was a surly tone.

“His crowin’ can do you no real harm, while by compassin’ your own death you would be deprivin’ the Cause you serve of a pair of arms that may yet strike many a sound blow in behalf of the colonists.”

It sounded strange to hear a Britisher give such advice; but Seth was already considerably more than half an American, and I doubted not that he would soon be ready to cast in his fortunes with those of us who were battling against the king.

Abraham’s preparations for the perilous journey consisted simply in casting off the bonds from Luther Stedman’s legs, and when this had been done he aided the Tory to regain his feet, saying meanwhile:

“You an’ I need to have a fair understandin’ one with the other, for the chances are much in favor of our meetin’ death in company. I want you to bear well in mind that I count on knockin’ you in the head with this club, rather than allow an escape. I am not overly eager to have you live, yet haven’t the heart to kill in cold blood. If, however, you should make any attempt to give me the slip, or try to create such a disturbance as would give information of your whereabouts, I shall have all the excuse needed, an’ will slay you with a right good will. You are to walk at your best pace, save when I give the word to slow down or halt, an’ then it will be safest for you to obey the first command, for you’ll never be able to hear a second. Now move on, an’ for your own sake don’t let the grass grow under your feet.”

I had thought Abraham would say some word of farewell; but when Luther meekly yet quickly obeyed the command, he followed straight behind the prisoner’s heels up the hill, never once turning his head to look behind.

“Well, that’s an odd way of leavin’ us!” Sam exclaimed in sorrow and surprise. “He might at least have said good-bye, since the chances are we may never meet again.”

“He has done wisely,” Seth Hartley replied. “At such a time as this none but the foolish take the risk of unnervin’ themselves by words of

## partin’. He has started, an’ God grant he go through in safety, for a

right good comrade has he ever shown himself to be.”

I cannot describe the sense of abandonment which came over me when Abraham and his prisoner vanished in the distance. Although I would have urged the lad to go speedily rather than linger, it was as if he had forsaken us without warning, and I turned wearily toward the swamp with a feeling that amid the mud and slime of that pestilential place I would find my grave.

Seth Hartley must have understood somewhat of that which was in my mind, for he said in the most friendly of tones as he laid his hand on my shoulder:

“Now are we prepared for work, lad. Until he had started we could do nothin’, however favorable a chance might have presented itself. We must think only of that which we would do to aid Abel Grant.”

“It is a hopeless undertakin’,” I replied disconsolately, and he added in a tone of reproof:

“So it is indeed, lad, if you give up hope, sayin’ to yourself that the work can’t be done. He who would succeed must believe that the task is well within his powers.”

“I’m makin’ an ass of myself!” I cried repentantly, “an’ will strive not to do so again; but to see Abraham go out into the night to make his way where enemies are thicker than mosquitoes in the swamp, seemed much as if we had come to an end of our rope.”

“I grant you that such a partin’ was not good for the nerves; but at a time like this you must strive to put all disagreeable thoughts from your mind, to the end that you may be the better fitted for what the future has in store for us. Now is come the hour when you lads _must_ get some sleep, so lie you down here on the solid ground, an’ I’ll stand guard till it comes my turn to take forty winks. There is no good reason why we need go back into the swamp among the mosquitoes before daybreak.”

It is only doing Seth Hartley barest justice when I set down here that which I firmly believe: But for him, the Britisher who would not break his oath to the king, neither of us lads would have come out of that venture alive, for he soothed our fears, bolstered our courage, and looked after our bodily comfort all at the same time, giving no heed to himself.

We strove earnestly to follow the honest fellow’s advice. Sam and I stretched ourselves out on the solid ground, lying close together for mutual comfort and the friendly contact of each other’s bodies, and although it had seemed as if I could never close my eyes until we had succeeded or failed in our venture, slumber overpowered me even while I was speculating upon Abraham’s progress.

Nor did I awaken until I had been shaken into consciousness, and, springing to my feet in alarm, I saw Seth Hartley standing in much the same position as when I fell asleep.

“The day is beginnin’ to break, lad, an’ it stands us in hand to take up our quarters with the mosquitoes again, for there’ll soon be more visitors here than will be pleasin’ or safe.”

“You have stood watch all night while we selfishly slept!” I said reproachfully.

“I’ve been on duty no more than three hours, for it was past midnight before you laid down,” he replied with a gentle, friendly smile. “A fellow who has spent week after week in a troop ship should be able to sleep anywhere, an’ I’ll take my nap in the swamp.”

By this time Sam was on his feet, and after drinking our fill at a small spring which Seth had found while standing guard, we went to our frail platform of brush, there to soak in the mud and water, and beat off the attacks of the mosquitoes, as best we might without making a noise.

Seth kept his word in regard to taking a nap, for no sooner were we in our disagreeable hiding place than he laid down on the brush, where the water rose a full inch all around him, and before it seemed to me that he had time to compose himself, was sleeping soundly.

The scenes enacted on this second day of our hiding in the swamp were much like those presented in the first. The marines came ashore on leave to find such amusement as the bare earth afforded, and the sailors lounged here and there while waiting upon their officers; but none ventured near our place of refuge.

As nearly as I could judge, the day was about half spent, and Seth yet wrapped in slumber, when Sam and I who were watching jealously all that was passing around us, saw Barney Nelson come ashore from one of the boats. He appeared inclined to wander off by himself, and refused, as we understood by the gestures, to join some of his mates who were going inland over the hills, whereupon we understood, or believed we did, what was in his mind.

Pressing my hand firmly over Seth’s mouth lest he involuntarily cry aloud on being suddenly awakened, I shook him soundly, and on the instant he was looking up into my eyes with an expression which told that he was keenly alive to the situation.

“Barney Nelson has just come ashore, an’ appears to be lookin’ for a chance to go off by himself,” I whispered, and it was as if the words had hardly more than been uttered before he slipped from the platform of brush into the mud and water.

Then he struck off through the swamp, moving with the utmost caution, and we knew he was going to the rendezvous which had, most like, been agreed upon with his friend the previous day.

There was nothing left for Sam and me to do save keep sharp watch on everything around us, and await the return of Seth.

This we did, and when it seemed to us that our marine had been absent two full hours, a slight rippling of the water told that he was returning, greatly to our relief of mind.

Not until he had crawled up on the brush beside us did he speak, and then, when our heads were close together, he whispered cautiously:

“Barney has even more of a mind to help us than I had hoped, an’ it all comes from the way Luther Stedman showed his spite when Abel Grant was taken into custody.”

“Has he had speech with the poor fellow?” I interrupted, too eager for the information to be willing to wait his way of telling the story.

“Ay, an’ he knows that we’re here to do whatsoever we may; but sends word that you lads are not to take any chances on his account; he’d rather stay where he is, though we know full well the quarters are anythin’ different from comfortable, than have you come to grief.”

To this I could make no reply, for my heart was too full. It was like the dear fellow to think of others rather than himself, though if the positions were reversed he would have taken any chance, whatever the peril, in the hope of lending us a hand.

“What about your friend?” Sam asked. “Is there hope he might be willin’ to help us if we see any kind of a show to free Abel?”

“Ay, lad, Barney is fast comin’ ’round to my way of thinkin’ about you colonists who refuse to obey the king, an’ declares that when the war is ended, whichever way the matter turns, he’ll stay in this country if so be his term of enlistment has expired. Now I don’t want to raise any hopes that may be dashed, therefore you must take the statement with many grains of salt when I say that Barney has a scheme in your behalf, though the odds are as ten to one against its workin’ our way.”

“If it was an hundred to one we’d try it!” I cried, speaking incautiously loud. “What is it?”

“Remember that it’s only a bare chance, an everythin’ must work our way else it is useless,” Seth Hartley replied as if unwilling to give the information lest we should build too many hopes upon it. “As you must know, it is wickedly hot in the hold of the ship, where are stowed more than two hundred of your people. Beginnin’ with last night, squad after squad of the prisoners has been allowed to come on deck for an hour at a time lest they die faster than would be possible to bury ’em. By shiftin’ off with one of his mates, Barney can be on duty when we are ready to do our part of it, an’ declares that if your man has enough of nerve, he may be able to slip away, though it would be certain death if he was caught tryin’ to do the trick.”

“Tell it all,” I said impatiently. “Abel Grant has nerve enough for any venture however desperate, an’ you need not fear to frighten us who have been standin’ within the shadow of death since the moment we landed on this island.”

“I’m not afraid of frightenin’ you, lad; but the words trip on my tongue because of the thought that you’ll laugh at me for a fool to propose anythin’ so wild. To be short, this is the plan: You are to come here in the sloop on the next night but one; keepin’ her out of sight if possible, but pullin’ in a skiff to a short distance of the Good Hope at about midnight. If Barney can work the rest, as he claims, Abel Grant will be on deck at the time. He is to let himself over the rail with Barney to screen his movements, an’ swim out to you. If so be he can make the distance, an’ you take him aboard without bein’ seen, it’s then a case of gettin’ aboard the Swiftsure as soon as may be, an’ puttin’ to sea. You see, lad, it’s a slender chance; but yet far better than we hoped might come our way when we set out on this venture.”

“It is well worth the tryin’,” Sam said emphatically, “though there are so many quirks which must all fit into each other if it is to be a success, that we may well have doubts about it. Suppose your friend ain’t detailed to guard the prisoners on the night after the next, the trick can’t be tried; if the other members of the guard grow suspicious, the fat is in the fire, or if through lack of wind we fail to be nearabout, then will Abel Grant swim to his death.”

“Ay, lad, an’ if he is seen by the sentries after droppin’ into the water, he’s well nigh certain of bein’ shot. It’s best to figure all the chances, an’ then say if the game is worth the candle.”

“That much I can say now,” I whispered earnestly. “No matter how many the chances of death, it is better Abel Grant makes the venture, than that he eat his heart out aboard that ship. Does he know what your friend proposes?”

“Ay, he an’ Barney talked it over last night, an’ he’s eager to try it; but first must know if you’re willin’ to do your share?”

“He should know that without askin’!” Sam cried indignantly. “Now because of his doubts as to our courage, we must spend another day idly here, when we should be performin’ our part of the task. It’s by no means certain that the sloop is where we left her, an’ if she isn’t, we must hunt around for some craft that will answer our purpose.”

“You will be wastin’ no time, lad, for if Barney fails to see me when next he comes ashore, it will be taken as token that we’ve left to attend to our part of the business.”

“An’ we are to set about the work at once?” I cried, almost beside myself with joy at the prospect of doing something, instead of lying there in the swamp idle.

“Ay, as soon as night shall have come,” Seth Hartley said gravely; “but you must go over in your mind once more all the dangers. Suppose we leave here to find the sloop, an’ fail in so doin’, or come to grief through Tory, or English soldier, then have we doomed Abel Grant to death, for he will make the attempt on the chances that nothin’ goes wrong with our end of the business. Then again, we may come upon the Swiftsure without trouble, only to be brought up with a sharp turn by one of the king’s ships, in which case your friend will swim on and on without meetin’ help, and then, exhausted, sink to death. We shall be strivin’ to perform the impossible, and if one cog of the wheel fails to fit exactly with another, the whole machine goes to pieces.”

“Abel was ready to take the chances?” I asked.

“Ay, so Barney says.”

“An’ you believe your mate will do all in his power?”

“Barney won’t willingly fail us, though who can say that when the time comes he may not be ordered to other duty, an’ you lads are left in the lower bay waitin’ for him who is not able to come.”

“That doesn’t count,” I replied impatiently. “To my mind the most important question is as to whether we can do our part on time, and for that Abel Grant trusts us.”

“Then we will set off as soon after nightfall as seems safest,” Seth said as if the conversation was at an end, and indeed it was for a time, because neither Sam nor I could find words for speculation while our brains were awhirl with the general idea.

Seth Hartley set about breaking his fast with the flint-like biscuits, while we lads sat on the frail platform silent and motionless, our thoughts going out to this new venture which was as wild and desperate as man could devise.

After a time, however, when we were grown accustomed to the idea, so to speak, we talked of the possibilities of how we might best accomplish our portion of the task, or of what could be done in case the sloop had been captured by the enemy, and thus it was that this last portion of our sojourn in the swamp passed as swiftly as the earlier part had gone slowly.

I was actually surprised when the shadows began to lengthen, to find that the day was nearly done, and, believing that we would set off early, I made ready for the journey by eating heartily of the hard biscuits, Sam following my example.

As on the previous night, one by one the boats returned to the ship, carrying the liberty men and the sailors until it was as if we alone remained on the island.

“I’m allowin’ that we’d better hang on here till it’s reasonable to believe that those inland, who live on our line of march, have turned in for the night,” Seth Hartley said when he saw Sam and I moving about as if to make the start. “It’s better to wait an hour too long, than set off to find ourselves prisoners through bein’ too impatient.”

“In case some one has carried the sloop away, we’ll need every minute that can be had in which to find another craft,” Sam grumbled, and Seth replied cheerily:

“True for you, lad; but if we set out now an’ come upon a roysterin’ party of Tories, or a squad of soldiers prowlin’ around in search of plunder, we won’t be able to say whether the sloop is where we left her or not. This is a game in which a mistake on the part of a single player will cost one life if no more, an’ we can’t afford to take any chances, so put a stopper on your impatience.”

As a matter of course we knew that Seth Hartley was in the right, and difficult though the task was, I forced myself to await his movements with some little semblance of cheerfulness.

It was not yet midnight, as we afterward came to know, when he finally gave the word. We had already crept out of the swamp, as on the previous night, when the friendly darkness screened our movements, therefore in order to begin the journey it was only necessary to pick up the musket and ammunition which Abraham had foolishly, as I then thought, brought from the sloop.

This time I was the one to lead the way, and although I was by no means as good a guide as Abe Decker, I had no doubts as to my ability to pilot the party without going very far out of a straight course.

I am not going to make any effort at giving the details of that tramp, because our adventures were so many that there is not the time nor the space for them all.

The first came when we were no more than a mile from the swamp, and then, while making our way through a thicket where I could have sworn no human being would be found, we came plump upon three red-coats who, as could readily be seen, had come into the possession of more strong liquor than was wholesome for them.

It was fortunate for us that they were considerably less than half sober, and when we literally over-ran them, causing two to spring unsteadily to their feet with weapons in hand, Seth Hartley answered their challenge, making it appear by his words that we were a party of marines from the Good Hope out for a lark. Thanks to the darkness, the drunkenness of the men, and Seth’s acquaintance with the crew of the prison ship, we were allowed to go our way unmolested.

The next adventure was brought about by my carelessness. I thought to cross the pasture of a Tory named Graves, whose land lay in our path as I had mapped it out, for by so doing we could save nearly half a mile in distance; but the house dog smelled us out, and his barking aroused the farmer. We did not dare take to our heels lest the Tory should pursue, therefore Sam and I hid behind a brush fence, while Seth Hartley explained that he was making his way across lots to join his ship off Gowanus creek.

No one could mistake Seth for other than an Englishman, owing to his speech, and the Tory sent us on our way with many a soft word, believing he was holding converse with those who loved the king as dearly as he professed to do.

Twice we came upon a single Tory abroad, most likely to spy out some poor Whig, and in each case did Seth speak fairly while Sam and I kept in the shadow that we might not be seen, with the result that never once was our real character suspected, and then, just after daybreak, we were come to the creek on which we had left our gallant little sloop after she had borne us so bravely past all the king’s ships.

Verily I had the hardest kind of work to prevent myself from shouting aloud in joy when I saw the end of her topmast above the foliage, thus showing that our enemies had not found her; but I was literally stunned when, on clambering over the rail, I found the cuddy hatch fastened on the inside, thus giving proof that some one had taken possession of her.

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