But, unhappily, the history of the War Prison on Dartmoor was not yet written, and the last bloody2 chapter still remained to tell. Ignorant of the complicated task set for authority, the bulk of the Americans instantly clamoured to be free; nor could the better instructed among them induce patience at this juncture3. Letters from Mr. Blazey cooled enthusiasm; but these were written in a callous4 spirit, and impatience5 quickly rose to anger. Nothing had as yet been prepared for exodus6, and the Agent not only gave no promise of immediate7 liberation, but explained that certain precautions, highly offensive to many of the Americans, must first be taken before a man left Dartmoor.
"I am informed," he wrote, "that great numbers of you refuse to be inoculated8 with the smallpox9, which I hear has been very mortal among you. I therefore acquaint you that it will be impossible for me to send home any prisoners unless they have gone through the same."
Later he wrote again concerning American prisoners taken under the French flag; and then, as no further communication was received for many days, the sailors, like schoolboys on the verge10 of holiday, began mischievous11 pranks12, flouted13 their guards and planned all the trouble that ingenuity14 could devise. Many escaped, for discipline was relaxed. Then Captain Short, from carelessness, proceeded to the other extreme, until even those who desired to assist him in the maintenance of order despaired. The prisoners were out of hand, and their Commandant knew it. He blamed them, not himself, for his heart would not accuse him, though a soldier's conscience sometimes whispered censure15.
One night a strange glare filled the courtyard of No. 4, and lurid16 lights with inky shadows leapt and fell against the granite17 walls. In the midst a great bonfire blazed, and round about it thousands of wild figures ran, shouted and yelled. At the grilles stood the officers of the prison, some fearful, some indifferent, some enraged18.
Sergeant19 Bradridge, off duty, was watching this scene, and beside him stood his nephew, Mr. Putt.
"There'll be trouble yet," declared the sergeant gloomily, "for they be bent20 on it. They're mad at the delay, and the party for sense—Mr. Cecil Stark21 and a grey-head or two, and most of the other gentlemen among 'em—count for nothing."
As he spoke22 a procession of prisoners appeared, carrying a hurdle23 on which was seated the semblance24 of a man. The figure wore a plum-coloured coat, had a scratch wig25, a three-cornered hat and knee breeches. Its face was red, its nose was scarlet26, its great eyes coal-black.
"'Tis meant for Agent Blazey," explained Putt's uncle. "They've been playing the fool with that great doll all day. First they tried it for bringing 'em to nakedness and starvation here; then they found it guilty; then they made it confess all its sins, which took a mighty27 long time; then they hanged it by the neck; and now they'm going to burn it to ashes. So they'd treat the real man if they could get at him. An' they'll break loose afore long, so sure as my name's Bradridge, for the Devil's in 'em."
With songs and a wild war dance the effigy28 of Reuben Blazey was flung upon the flames; then, while it burned, the prisoners roared "Yankee Doodle" together until the walls vibrated.
Apart among them stood Burnham, and with him was Cecil Stark. A sort of friendship still subsisted29 between them, for the younger man had apologised after their last quarrel as soon as he found himself sober again. Relations, however, were strained to breaking, and to-night they broke for ever.
Stark, indeed, had lost interest in everything but his own affairs now. He might have left the prison at any moment by the expedient30 of a bribe31 to the guard; but, as before, the interests of the great plot had kept him, so now the welfare of the mass of prisoners held him still among them. There was little he could do, for he represented patience, which was an unpopular virtue32 after peace had been declared; but he saw the futility33 of this behaviour, and tried as far as possible to make his fellows reasonable. A few begged him to remain to the end, and, knowing from letters pretty regularly received through Putt, that all was well with Grace, he waited on.
His future line of action was difficult, but he had determined34 upon it. Grace gave him to understand that Norcot troubled her no more, and that her father, stricken by a terrible grief, was changed and took a gentler view of life's many-sided problems. Therefore, he proposed to return to Fox Tor Farm and attempt a reconciliation35 between himself and the Malherbs. Great personal circumstances armed him with strong arguments from a worldly point of view, for his uncle in Vermont was dead, and he now stood heir to a notable fortune.
"I wish to God 'twas the living man that roasted there!" cried Burnham, pointing to the bonfire. "Of all devilish things in this war, our treatment after peace is declared has been the most devilish. 'Tis two weeks since we should have been set free, yet here we still are."
"But they are active. Three ships have set sail from London for Plymouth."
"D'you believe that yarn36? Ask the soldiers and they'll tell you the ships are held in the Downs by contrary winds; then they turn aside and wink37 at each other."
"You take the conduct of these hirelings too seriously. It is folly38 to let the vulgarity of turnkeys and guards anger you, or to answer the indifference39 of the authorities with this buffoonery."
He pointed40 to the bonfire.
"You're a prig," said the other. "You can't help it, but an infernal prig are you, Cecil Stark; and now every word you speak shows that you've changed sides and are only an American in name."
"Bad company has demoralised a good fellow," answered the other. "You want the discipline of a ship-of-war and a whiff of salt air to make you your own man again, Burnham. You pretend it is a fine thing to lead these ignorant, silly fellows; but in your heart you are ashamed, and that makes you break with an old friend. 'Tis the same with Captain Short. He's been weak in the past, and the weakest thing about him is that now he's looking for gratitude41 for his former good nature. Gratitude's the rare virtue of individuals—never of a mob."
"You prose and prose and blink at facts, like an owl42 blinks at daylight. Why don't you escape and get out of it?"
"Because I reckon I'm more use here."
"I know better; you're frightened to do it. If you had the pluck of a powder-monkey, and if your love for that girl over there was worth a damn, you'd have vanished long ago; but you know this cursed Government is letting us escape now, so that we may fall into the hands of the press-gangs that are hunting all round Dartmoor like packs of wolves—you know that, and you're frightened they'll catch you too. Nothing makes a man such a coward as coming into a fortune."
"See him—see him!" shouted Mr. Cuffee, who ran by at this moment. "See him fizzle, gemmen! Marse Blazey blaze—him blaze—him blaze like dat in hell!"
He rushed screaming past with the other black men, whose rags, gleaming teeth and ferocious43 faces, suggested the demon44 throng45 proper to Mr. Blazey's future environment.
"You will pick a quarrel, drunk or sober," said Stark, "though of late you've sunk to be not worth kicking. As you like—but even at the risk of more nonsense from you, I'd wish to explain that I'm no Englishman, though it happens I'm not mad. Consider how this nation stands. Hardly has it concluded peace with us than comes the news that Bonaparte has left Elba, and is now in Europe at the head of three hundred thousand men."
"Don't I know it? Doesn't every cur among them turn pale and look over his shoulder like a frightened woman when you cry 'Boney is coming'?"
"They are busy and rather preoccupied46. I had speech with Short yesterday."
"What do I care with whom you had speech? I'm here for nearly six thousand free men, who are shut up and still treated as prisoners. Let them see to that. We want our liberty, and we'll take it before many days are done. What do you suppose we are made of?"
"The Lord knows," said Stark. "You are men no more, but a horde47 of savage48 and silly monkeys. How can they get ships to convey six thousand of us to America in a week? You, at least, who pretend to some knowledge of warfare49 and seamanship, should have patience and do your small part to help the British Government, not hinder it."
"I'm not an Englishman."
"I wish you were. Unfortunately the fact remains50 that you're an American; but your country's not likely to be proud of you if ever this chapter in your career is written."
At this moment, as the ashes of Blazey sank into one glowing mass, and the bonfire slowly died, the Americans burst into a mournful dirge51 that had been written by Ira Anson the day before, and committed to memory by a hundred men.
Stark left his old shipmate, not guessing that he would never speak to him again; but he had caught sight of Putt with some soldiers near the grille, and now he approached. They strolled on different sides of the barrier into a dark corner under shadow of a cachot wall. Then Putt spoke.
"A letter, your honour, an' I think 'tis important, for Miss sent it by one of our women with urgent orders to get it to you before to-morrow."
"Wait here," answered the other, and, taking the note, he returned within the light of the waning52 fire and read it.
"Dear heart," wrote Grace. "Yesterday through a villager I had a line from John Lee. He is near us, and I fear that he has heard of evil. He sends but two lines: 'Meet me after noon to-morrow at Leaman Cloberry's cot, where I shall lie hid till you come. I must see you. Danger. John Lee.' I am going. It is his writing, therefore I fear nothing. When are you coming to me? The time of waiting is endless to your Grace."
Stark reflected rapidly. That Lee should not approach him was easily understood; yet that some new danger threatened and John had wind of it, filled him with alarm. He returned to Putt, but made no mention of the letter, for Thomas was in ignorance of all matters between Grace and the prisoner. He glorified53 in his secret duties as messenger, and in the substantial payment they received; but of John Lee he knew nothing, and Stark, guessing at Lee's personal dangers, did not increase them by whispering of his presence, even to his most faithful friend. He wrote a few words on a leaf from his pocket-book. "My life, trust him, of course; and write to me to-morrow what he tells you. Within a week, if all be well, I may reach Fox Tor Farm; but, if necessary, I can be there to-morrow. C."
"I be going to take supper with the soldiers an' my uncle," said Mr. Putt; "but I'll see Miss Grace gets this first thing in the morning. Mrs. Beer will hand it to her at daylight."
The fire was nearly out now, and the great courts deserted54. Soon lights streamed from the windows of the prison; then they too disappeared. Silence fell at last. Under night, in their long rows of hammocks, men slept, or tossed and swore; while beneath the stars, the sentries55 stood like ghosts upon the walls, or tramped backwards56 and forwards within them.
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1
ratified
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| v.批准，签认（合约等）( ratify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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8
inoculated
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| v.给…做预防注射( inoculate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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10
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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12
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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13
flouted
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| v.藐视，轻视( flout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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15
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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16
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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17
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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18
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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19
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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20
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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21
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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22
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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23
hurdle
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| n.跳栏，栏架；障碍，困难；vi.进行跨栏赛 | |
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24
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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27
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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28
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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29
subsisted
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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31
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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32
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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33
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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34
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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35
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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36
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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37
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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38
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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39
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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40
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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41
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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42
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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43
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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44
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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45
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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46
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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47
horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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48
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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49
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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50
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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51
dirge
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| n.哀乐，挽歌，庄重悲哀的乐曲 | |
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52
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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53
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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54
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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55
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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56
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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