The Tory Maid Read online

  TheTory Maid

  ByHERBERT BAIRDSTIMPSON

  New YorkDodd, Mead and Company

  (decorative borders)]

  Copyright, 1898, by H. B. STIMPSON.

  _ToRev. Dr. and Mrs. Hall Harrisonthis volumeis affectionately inscribed bythe Author_

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. WE START FOR THE WAR 1

  II. WE MEET THE MAID 10

  III. A FLASH OF STEEL 24

  IV. THE RED COCKADE 34

  V. SIR SQUIRE OF TORY DAMES 44

  VI. A TALE IS TOLD 55

  VII. THE DEFIANCE OF THE TORY 68

  VIII. THE BLACK COCKADE 77

  IX. THE RED TIDE OF BLOOD 89

  X. THE HARRYING OF THE TORY 107

  XI. THE COUNCIL OF SAFETY 118

  XII. THE VETO OF A MAID 132

  XIII. THE GREETING OF FAIR LIPS 146

  XIV. THE RETURN OF THE TORY 156

  XV. THE FLAG OF TRUCE 166

  XVI. THE BALL OF MY LORD HOWE 176

  XVII. AN EXCHANGE OF COURTESIES 187

  XVIII. THE CROSSING OF SWORDS 196

  XIX. THE SANDS OF MONMOUTH 206

  XX. IN THE LINES OF THE ENEMY 222

  XXI. THE PASSING OF YEARS 230

  XXII. THE COMING OF THE MAID 238

  The Tory Maid

  CHAPTER I

  WE START FOR THE WAR

  I, James Frisby of Fairlee, in the county of Kent, on the easternshore of what was known in my youth as the fair Province of Maryland,but now the proud State of that name, growing old in years, but heartyand hale withal, though the blood courses not through my veins as inthe days of my youth, sit on the great porch of Fairlee watching thesails on the distant bay, where its gleaming waters meet the mouth ofthe creek that runs at the foot of Fairlee. A julep there is on thetable beside me, flavoured with mint gathered by the hands of JohnCotton early in the morning, while the dew was still upon it, from thefinest bank in all Kent County.

  So with these old friends around me, with the julep on my right handand the paper before me, I sit on the great porch of Fairlee to writeof the wild days of my youth, when I first drew my sword in the GreatCause. To write, before my hand becomes feeble and my eyes grow dim,of the strange things that I saw and the adventures that befell me, ofthe old Tory of the Braes, of the fair maid his daughter, and of thepart they played in my life during the War of the Deliverance. Towrite so that those who come after me, as well as those who aregrowing up around my knees, may know the part their grandfather playedin the stirring times that proclaimed the birth of a mighty nation.

  The first year of the great struggle, ah, me! I was young then, andthe wild blood was in my veins. I was broad of shoulder and long oflimb, with a hand that gripped like steel and a seat in the saddlethat was the envy of all that hard-riding country. I was hardy andskilled in all the outdoor sports and pastimes of my race and people,and being light in the saddle I often led the hardest riders and wonfrom them the brush, while every creek for fifty miles up and down thebroad Chesapeake, and even the farther shore as far as Baltimore, knewmy canoe, and the High Sheriff himself was no finer shot than I.

  You, who bask in the sunshine of long and dreary years of peace, whonever hear the note of the bugle nor see the flash of the foeman'ssteel from one year's end to another, know not what it was to live inthose stirring times and all the joy of the strife. You should haveseen us then, when the whole land was aflame.

  The fiery signal had come like a rush of the wind from the north, withthe cry of the dying on the roadsides and fields of Lexington.

  All along the western shore the men of Anne Arundel, of Frederick, andPrince George were mustering fast and strong. Then the Kentish men andthose of Queen Anne and all the lower shore were mounting fast andmustering, while from the Howard hills came riding down bold and hardyyeomen.

  Then, and as it has always been in the old province of Maryland, thegentlemen led the people, and everywhere the spirit of fire ran likemolten steel through the veins of the gathering hosts, and the peopletook up the gauntlet of war with a laugh and a cheer and shook theirclenched hands at the King who was over the sea; so it was the lengthand breadth of the province, and so it was with me.

  And so one day the signal came, and I mounted my black colt Toby androde away to the Head of Elk in the county of Cecil, where themustering was, to take my place, as it was my duty and right to do,side by side with the bravest gentlemen of the province in the comingstruggle for the Great Cause.

  I was eighteen in the month of March of that year and consideredmyself a man, and, having reached man's estate, I bade good-bye to mymother and rode from out the sheltering walls and groves of Fairlee.

  But just before I rode within the shadow of the great woods I turnedin my saddle and waved my hand to the small, quaint figure that stoodon the broad porch watching me disappear; and she bravely--for thewomen were brave in those days--waved her hand in return, and then Irode on, for the moment saddened at the parting, for the die that daywould be cast, and, though there would be mustering and drilling formany weeks before we took up our march to the northward, the hand ofthe cause would claim me as its own.

  I was riding thus through the forest when I heard hoof-beats behind meand a cheery halloo, and who should ride up but Dick Ringgold ofHunting Field, a lad of my own age and my true friend?

  "Why such a long face?" he laughed. "You look as if you were going toa funeral and not to a hunt that will beat all the runs to the houndsin the world. We are going to hunt redcoats and fair ladies' smilesand not foxes now; so cheer up, man."

  "Plague on it, Dick, you are ten miles from home and I am only one," Iretorted. "You ought to have seen how bravely her ladyship tried tosmile, too."

  "We will increase the number of miles then," said he, and reachingover he struck Toby across the flank. Well, Toby needs the curb atbest, and it was a full half-mile before I brought him up and had achance to give Dick a rating.

  But Dick only laughed.

  And so we rode on, across the low-lying plains of Kent, northwardtoward the borders of Cecil.

  For miles we would ride under the shadow of the dense forest, and thenwe would come to the wide-reaching fields of some great manor orplantation, the manor house itself generally crowning some gentlyrising knoll amid a grove of trees, with a view of the distant bay,or creek, or river, as the case might be; the cluster of houses, thequarters for the slaves, the stables and the barns, making littlevillages and hamlets amid the wide expanse of farm lands and thedistant circle of the dark green forests.

  Then, again, a creek or river would bar our course, and we would haveto ride for miles until we turned its head, or found a ferry or aford, and so overcome its opposition. So on we rode until, as the daywaxed near the noon hour, we came to the little hamlet of Georgetown,nestling amid the hills on the banks of the Sassafras. Crossing theriver at the ferry, we began the last stage of our journey.

  The trail now skirted the broad lands of Bohemia Manor, and crossedthe beautiful river of that name, embedded between the hills andwide-stretching farm lands.

  As we approached the banks of the Elk the country grew more rollingand wilder--in our front the Iron Hills rose up before us, crownedwith forests, in sharp contrast to the low-lying country through whichwe had been passing.

  And now, as our appetites became pressing, we urged our horses on, forwe had still many miles to travel.