CHAPTER III

Black Sam

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

The story opens in the year 1777, during one of the most critical periods of the Revolution. Hadley Morris, our hero, is in the employ of Jonas Benson, the host of the Three Oaks, a well known inn on the road between Philadelphia and New York. Like most of his neighbors, Hadley is an ardent sympathizer with the American cause. When, therefore, the bearer of dispatches, having been captured on his way to Philadelphia, gives Hadley the all-important packet to be forwarded to General Washington, the boy immediately makes his escape with it, in spite of the risk to his own life from the pursuing horsemen. In the darkness the fleeing boy meets a friendly teamster, Lafe Holdness, in reality a patriot spy and friend of Washington. At his suggestion the boy and his horse take safety in the low, covered wagon just as the closely pursuing horsemen come dashing up the road.

The covered wagon went creaking on until the officer, wheeling his big steed directly across the road, halted the astonished team of draught horses perforce.

“Who be yeou, Mister, an’ what d’ye want?” drawled the teamster, rising in his seat and throwing the light of his lantern directly into the colonel’s eyes, so that by no possibility he might see into the back of the wagon. “There seems to be a slather o’ folks ridin’ this road ter-night.”

“See you, sirrah!” exclaimed the colonel, riding close up to the driver and scanning his smoothly-shaven, humorous face closely. “Has a boy on horseback just passed you?”

“Wa-al, now, I couldn’t tell whether it was a boy ’r th’ old Nick himself,” declared Holdness, with apparent sincerity; “but suthin’ went by me as slick as er streak o’ greased lightnin’.”

“Sure he passed you?” repeated the British officer.

“Honest Injun!” returned Holdness, with perfect truth. “I didn’t ketch much of a sight of him; but he went past. What’s goin’ on, anyway, sir?”

But Colonel Knowles, having considered that he had found out all that was possible from the countryman, paid no attention to his question, but turned to the dragoons who now thundered up. “He’s still ahead of us, men!” he cried. “We must overtake him before he reaches the ferry--”

“Indeed, we must, Colonel,” interposed the sergeant in command of the dragoons. “There will be a force of the enemy at the ferry, it’s likely, and we must not be drawn into any skirmish. Those were my orders, sir, before I started.”

“After him at once!” shouted the older officer. “I tell you, the boy must be stopped. The papers he bears may be of the utmost importance.”

They were all off at a gallop the next instant, and the axles of the heavy wagon began to creak again. “Them fellers seem toler’ble anxious ter see you, Had,” drawled Holdness, turning half around in his seat. “What yeou been doin’?”

Hadley related in a few words the excitement at the inn and his escape from the barn on Black Molly. “And now I want to know what to do with the papers, Lafe. Will you take ’em, and--”

“No, sir! I can’t do it. I’ve orders to perceed just as I am perceedin’ now, an’ nothin’ ain’t goin’ ter stop me.”

“But the papers may be of importance. The man said they were for General Washington.”

“Then take ’em across the river an’ give ’em ter the Commander-in-Chief yourself. That’s what yeou do, sonny!”

“Me go to General Washington?” cried Hadley. “What would Jonas say, anyway?”

“Don’t yeou fret erbout Jonas. I’ll fix him as I go by. I can’t relieve ye of any responsibility; the duty’s yourn--yeou do yer best with it.”

Hadley was silent for a time. “I’ll do it, Lafe!” he exclaimed, finally. “But I don’t know what Uncle Ephraim will say when he hears of it. He’ll think I’ve run away to join the army.”

“Don’t yeou worry erbout ol’ Miser Morris, Had. He’s as mean a Tory as there is in New Jersey, ef he is your kin. I’ll stop right here an’ you git the mare out.”

He pulled up his plodding horses, thus giving Hadley no further opportunity for objection, and the youth leaped up and spoke to Black Molly, who scrambled to her feet at once. She knew what was expected of her, and she squeezed around and stood head to the rear of the big wagon without any command from Hadley. The boy pulled up the curtain, dropped out himself, and then spoke to the intelligent animal. Out she leaped, he caught her bridle, and, while Holdness dropped the end curtain again, the boy mounted the mare and was ready to start.

“Take the lower road,” Holdness advised again, “an’ try to git across the river before midnight. When those dragoons find nobody at the ferry they might take it inter their pesky heads s’arch along the river bank. The Alwoods have got a bateau there--”

“I don’t believe I could trust them,” Hadley interrupted.

“I know. They’re pizen Tories--the hull on ’em. But there’s a long-laiged boy there; what’s his name?”

“’Lonzo.”

“Ya-as. That’s him. Mebbe you c’d make him pole yer over.”

“’Lonzo don’t like me any too well,” Hadley returned, with a laugh. “He wanted to work for Jonas, and Jonas wouldn’t have him, but took me instead.”

“An’ good reason for it, too,” Holdness said. “Jonas didn’t want one o’ that nest o’ Tories spyin’ on everything that goes on up to the inn. Wa-al, ye’ll hafter do what seems best ter ye when yeou git there, Had. That’s all I kin tell yer erbout it. Ride quick, an’ find some way of crossing as soon as possible.”

Hadley hurried on. Along the road were a few scattered dwellings, mostly inhabited by farmers of more than suspected royalist tendencies. In the house nearest the river lived a family named Alwood, the oldest son of which was in a Tory regiment; the other boy, a youth of about Hadley’s age, was one with whom our hero had come in contact more than once.

Hadley and Lon Alwood had attended the same school previous to the breaking out of the war, and for months before the massacre at Lexington, in the Massachusetts colony, feeling had run high here in Jersey. The school itself had finally been closed, owing to the divided opinions of its supporters; and whereas Hadley had been prominent among the boys opposed to King and Parliament, Lon was equally forward among those on the other side. Many of their comrades, boys little older than themselves, were in one or the other army now, and Hadley Morris thought of this with some sadness as he rode on through the night. But his thoughts were soon in another channel.

“I only hope I won’t run across Lon,” Hadley muttered, as Black Molly clattered along. “I don’t just see how I am to pole that heavy flatboat across the river alone, but I cannot call upon any of the Alwoods to help me. Ah! there’s Sam.”

Not that Hadley saw the individual of whom he spoke ahead of him. Indeed, he could not see a dozen feet before the mare’s nose. But there had flashed into his mind the remembrance of the black man, who was one of the few slaves in the neighborhood. Black Sam belonged to the Alwoods, and, although an old man, he was still vigorous. He lived alone in a little hut on the river bank, and it was near his cabin that the Alwood’s bateau was usually chained. The old slave was a favorite with all the boys, and Hadley Morris had reason to know that Sam was to be trusted.

When the young dispatch bearer reached the river bank and the black man’s hut, his mare was all of a lather and it was upwards of ten o’clock. The Alwood house was several rods away, and, as was the case with all the other farmhouses he had passed since crossing his uncle’s estate, was wrapped in darkness. Nobody would travel these Jersey roads by night, or remain up to such an hour, unless urgency commanded.

Hadley rolled off his mount and rapped smartly on the cabin door.

A long silence followed, then, to his joy, a voice from within called, “Who’s dar?”

“It’s me--Had Morris. I want you,” whispered the boy.

“Want me!” exclaimed the astonished Sam. “Is dat sho’ ’nough you, Moster Had? How come yo’ ’way down yere fr’m de T’ree Oaks? Whadjer want?”

“I’ve got to get across the river--quick, Sam! I haven’t a minute to lose.”

“Why don’ yo’ go up ter de ferry, Moster?” demanded the negro, still behind the closed door.

“I can’t go there. The Britishers are there--and they’re after me!”

By this time the old negro had opened the door.

“Lawsey, Moster Had! It is sho’ ’nough you. How come yo’ ter git in such er fix?”

“I can’t stop to tell you that, Sam.” Then he drew nearer and whispered in the old man’s ear: “I’m going to headquarters. I’ve got dispatches that must reach General Washington.”

With this the old slave’s interest seemed to awaken.

“Good! Ah’ll come right erlong, Moster Had--Ah’ll come right erlong.”

Sam went hurriedly down to the boat and unfastened the chain. Then, both putting their shoulders to the gunwale, they shoved the craft down the sloping beach into the water. Sam placed a wide plank from the shore, and Hadley led Black Molly across and urged her into the boat.

Just as they were ready to shove off and the young courier was congratulating himself on the safety of his project, there came a startling interruption. A figure ran down to the landing from the direction of the cabin, and, finding the boat already afloat, the newcomer leaped aboard before Sam and Hadley could push away.

“You black limb! I’ve caught you this time. What are you gettin’ the boat out for at this time o’ night?” demanded a wrathful voice which to Hadley seemed familiar.

Black Sam, who stood beside him, and whom he could feel begin to shake, whispered in his ear: “Dat ar’s Moster Lon--whadjer goin’ ter do?”