# D'ri and I/Chapter 12

XII 165
found the door, and D'ri flung our "duds" into the darkness that lay beyond it. Then he made down the ladder, and I after him. It was pitch-dark in the cellar—a deep, dank place with a rank odor of rotting potatoes. We groped our way to a corner, and stood listening. We heard the tramp of horses in the dooryard and the clinic of spurs on the stone step.
"Ah, my good woman," said a man with a marked English accent, "have you seen any Yankees? Woods are full of them around here. No? Well, by Jove! you're a good-looking woman. Will you give me a kiss?"
He crossed the floor above us, and she was backing away.
"Come, come, don't be so shy, my pretty woman," said he, and then we could hear her ​struggling up and down the floor. I was climbing the ladder, in the midst of it, my face burning with anger, and D'ri was at my heels. As the door opened, I saw she had fallen. The trooper was bending to kiss her. I had him by the collar and had hauled him down before he discovered us. In a twinkling D'ri had stripped him of sword and pistol. But it was one of the most hopeless situations in all my life. Many muzzles were pointing at us through the door and window. Another hostile move from either would have ended our history then and there. I let go and stood back. The man got to his feet—a handsome soldier in the full uniform of a British captain.
"Ah, there's a fine pair!" he said coolly, whipping a leg of his trousers with his glove. "I 'll teach you better manners, my young fellow. Some o' those shipwrecked Yankees," he added, turning to his men. "If they move without an order, pin 'em up to the wall."
He picked up his hat leisurely, stepping in front of D'ri.
"Now, my obliging friend," said he, holding out his hand, "I 'll trouble you for my sword and pistol."
"He would have fought to the death then and there if I had but given him the word."
"Don't fight," I said.
He had cocked the pistol, and stood braced, the sword in his right hand. I noticed a little quiver in the great sinews of his wrist. I expected to see that point of steel shoot, with a quick stab, into the scarlet blouse before me.
"Shoot 'n' be damned!" said D'ri. "’Fore I die ye 'll hev a hole er tew 'n thet air karkiss o' yourn. Sha'n't give up no weepon till ye 've gin me yer word ye 'll let thet air woman alone."
I expected a volley then. A very serious look came over the face of the captain. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. I could see that he had been drinking.
"Ah, I see! You have an interest in her. Well, my man, I want no share in your treasures. I accept the condition."
Evil as was the flavor of this poor concession, D'ri made the best of it.
​"She 's an honest woman for all I know," said he, handing over the weapons. "Ain't a-goin' t' see no ledy mishused—nut ef I can help it."
We gave ourselves up hand and foot to the enemy; there was no way out of it. I have read in the story-books how men of great nerve and skill have slaughtered five to one, escaping with no great loss of blood. Well, of a brave man I like to believe good things. My own eyes have seen what has made me slow to doubt a story of prowess that has even the merit of possibility. But when there are only two of you, and one without arms, and you are in a corner, and there are ten pistols pointing at you a few feet away, and as many sabres ready to be drawn, I say no power less remarkable than that of God or a novelist can bring you out of your difficulty. You have your choice of two evils—surrender or be cut to pieces. We had neither of us any longing to be slashed with steel and bored with bullets, and to no end but a good epitaph.
They searched the cellar and found our clothes, and wrapped them in a bundle. Then ​they tied our hands behind us and took us along the road on which I had lately ridden. A crowd came jeering to the highway as we passed the little village. It was my great fear that somebody would recognize either one or both of us.
Four of our men were sitting in a guardhouse at the British camp. After noon mess a teamster drove up with a big wagon. Guards came and shackled us in pairs, D'ri being wrist to wrist with me. They put a chain and ball on D'ri's leg also. I wondered why, for no other was treated with like respect. Then they bundled us all into the wagon, now surrounded by impatient cavalry. They put a blindfold over the eyes of each prisoner, and went away at a lively pace. We rode a long time, as it seemed to me, and by and by I knew we had come to a city, for I could hear the passing of many wagons and the murmur of a crowd. Some were shouting, "Shoot the d—d Yankees!" and now and then a missile struck among us. There is nothing so heartless and unthinking as a crowd, the world over. I could tell presently, by the creak ​of the evener and the stroke of the hoofs, that we were climbing a long hill. We stopped shortly; then they began helping us out. They led us forward a few paces, the chain rattling on a stone pavement. When we heard the bang of an iron door behind us, they unlocked the heavy fetter. This done, they led us along a gravel walk and over a sounding stretch of boards,—a bridge, I have always thought,—through another heavy door and down a winding flight of stone steps. They led us on through dark passages, over stone paving, and halted us, after a long walk, letting our eyes free. We were in black darkness. There were two guards before and two behind us bearing candles. They unshackled us, and opened a lattice door of heavy iron, bidding us enter. I knew then that we were going into a dungeon, deep under the walls of a British fort somewhere on the frontier. A thought stung me as D'ri and I entered this black hole and sat upon a heap of straw. Was this to be the end of our fighting and of us?
"You can have a candle a day," said a guard as he blew out the one he carried, laying it, ​with a tinder-box, on a shelf in the wall of rock beside me. Then they filed out, and the narrow door shut with a loud bang. We peered through at the fading flicker of the candles. They threw wavering, ghostly shadows on every wall of the dark passage, and suddenly went out of sight. We both stood listening a moment.
"Curse the luck!" I whispered presently.
"Jest as helpless es if we was hung up by the heels," said D'ri, groping his way to the straw pile. "Ain' no use gittin' wrathy."
"What 'll we do?" I whispered.
"Dunno," said he; "an' when ye dunno whut t' dew, don' dew nuthin'. Jest stan' still; thet 's whut I b'lieve in."
He lighted the candle, and went about, pouring its glow upon every wall and into every crack and corner of our cell—a small chamber set firm in masonry, with a ceiling so far above our heads we could see it but dimly, the candle lifted arm's-length.
"Judas Priest!" said D'ri, as he stopped the light with thumb and finger. "I 'm goin' t' set here 'n th' straw luk an ol' hen 'n' ile up m' thinker 'n' set 'er goin'. One o' them kind hes ​t' keep 'is mouth shet er he can't never dew ho thinkin'. Bymby, like es not, I 'll hev suthin' t' say et 'll 'mount t' suthin'."
We lay back on the straw in silence. I did a lot of thinking that brought me little hope. Thoughts of Louison and Louise soon led me out of prison. After a little time I went philandering in the groves of the baroness with the two incomparable young ladies. I would willingly have stood for another bullet if I could have had another month of their company. The next thought of my troubles came with the opening of the iron door. I had been sound asleep. A guard came in with water and a pot of stewed beef and potatoes.
"Thet air 's all right," said D'ri, dipping into it with a spoon.
We ate with a fine relish, the guard, a sullen, silent man with a rough voice that came out of a bristling mustache, standing by the door.
"Luk a-here," said D'ri to the guard as we finished eating, "I want t' ast you a question. Ef you hed a purty comf'table hum on t'other side, 'n' few thousan' dollars 'n the bank, 'n' bosses 'n' everything fixed fer a good time, 'n' ​all uv a sudden ye found yerself 'n sech a gol-dum dungeon es this here, what 'u'd you dew?"
The guard was fixing the wick of his candle, and made no answer.
"Want ye t' think it all over," said D'ri. "See ef ye can't think o' suthin' soothin' t' say. God knows we need it."
The guard went away without answering.
"Got him thinkin'," said D'ri, as he lighted the candle. "He can help us some, mebbe. Would n't wonder ef he was good et cipherin'."
"If he offered to take the two thousand, I don't see how we'd give it to him," said I. "He would n't take our promise for it."
"Thet ain' a-goin' t' bother us any," said D'ri. "Hed thet all figgered out long ago."
He gave me the candle and lay down, holding his ear close to the stone floor and listening. Three times he shifted his ear from one point to another. Then he beckoned to me.
"Jest hol' yer ear there 'n' listen," he whispered.
I gave him the candle, and with my ear to the floor I could hear the flow of water below us. The sound went away in the distance and ​then out of hearing. "After a while it came again.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"Cipherin' a leetle over thet air," said he, as he made a long scratch on the floor with his flint. Then he rubbed his chin, looking down at it. "Hain' jest eggzac'ly med up my mind yit," he added.
We blew out the light and lay back, whispering. Then presently we heard the coming of footsteps. Two men came to the door with a candle, one being the guard we knew.
"Come, young fellow," said the latter, as he unlocked the door and beckoned to me; "they want you upstairs."
We both got to our feet.
"Not you," he growled, waving D'ri back. "Not ready fer you yet."
He laid hold of my elbow and snapped a shackle on my wrist. Then they led me out, closing the door with a bang that echoed in the far reaches of the dark alley, and tied a thick cloth over my eyes.
"Good luck!" D'ri cried out as they took me away.
​"For both," I answered as cheerfully as I could.
They led me through winding passages and iron doors, with that horrible clank of the prison latch, and up flights of stone till I felt as lost as one might who falls whirling in the air from a great height. We soon came out upon a walk of gravel, where I could feel the sweet air blowing into my face. A few minutes more and we halted, where the guard, who had hold of my elbow, rang a bell. As the door swung open they led me in upon a soft carpet. Through the cloth I could see a light.
"Bring him in, bring him in!" a voice commanded impatiently—a deep, heavy voice the sound of which I have not yet forgotten. The guard was afraid of it. His hand trembled as he led me on.
"Take off the blindfold," said that voice again.
As it fell away, I found myself in a large and beautiful room. My eyes were dazzled by the light of many candles, and for a little I had to close them. I stood before two men. One sat facing me at a black table of carved oak—a man of middle age, in the uniform of a British ​general. Stout and handsome, with brown eyes, dark hair and mustache now half white, and nose aquiline by the least turn, he impressed me as have few men that ever crossed my path. A young man sat lounging easily in a big chair beside him, his legs crossed, his delicate fingers teasing a thin mustache. I noticed that his hands were slim and hairy. He glanced up at me as soon as I could bear the light. Then he sat looking idly at the carpet,
The silence of the room was broken only by the scratch of a quill in the hand of the general. I glanced about me. On the wall was a large painting that held my eye: there was something familiar in the face. I saw presently it was that of the officer I had fought in the woods, the one who fell before me. I turned my head; the young man was looking up at me. A smile had parted his lips. They were the lips of a rake, it seemed to me. A fine set of teeth showed between them.
"Do you know him?" he asked coolly.
"I have not the honor," was my reply.
"What is your name?" the general demanded in the deep tone I had heard before.
​"Pardon me," said the young man, quietly, as if he were now weary of the matter, "I do not think it necessary."
There was a bit of silence. The general looked thoughtfully at the young man.
"If your Lordship will let me—" he went on.
"My dear sir," the other interrupted, in the same weary and lethargic manner, "I can get more reliable knowledge from other sources. Let the fellow go back."
"That will do," said the general to the guard, who then covered my eyes and led me back to prison.
Lying there in the dark, I told D'ri all I knew of my mysterious journey. My account of the young man roused him to the soul.
"Wha' kind uv a nose hed he?" he inquired.
"Roman," I said.
"Bent in at the p'int a leetle?"
"Yes."
"And black hair shingled short?"
"Yes."
"An' tall, an' a kind uv a nasty, snookin', mis'able-lookin' cuss?"
"Just about the look of him," I said.
​"Judas Priest! He's one o' them sneks et tuk me when you was fightin' t' other feller over there 'n the woods."
"Looks rather bad for us," I remarked.
"Does hev a ruther squeaky luk tew it," said he. "All we got t' dew is t' keep breathin' jest es nat'ral 'n' easy es can be till we fergit how. May fool 'em fust they know."
I had a high notion, those days, of the duty of a soldier. My father had always told me there was no greater glory for anybody than that of a brave death. Somehow the feeling got to be part of me. While I had little fear of death, I dreaded to be shot like a felon. But I should be dying for my country, and that feeling seemed to light the shadows. When I fell asleep, after much worry, it was to dream of my three countrymen who had fallen to their faces there by the corn. I awoke to find the guard in our cell, and D'ri and he whispering together. He had come with our breakfast.
"All I want," D'ri was saying, "is a piece of iron, with a sharp end, half es long es yer arm."
He made no answer, that big, sullen, bull-dog man who brought our food to us. When he had ​gone, D'ri lay over and began laughing under his breath.
"His thinker's goin' luk a sawmill," he whispered. "Would n't wonder ef it kep' 'im awake nights. He was askin' 'bout thet air tew thousan' dollars. Ef they 'll let us alone fer three days, we 'll be out o' here. Now, you mark my word."
"How?" I inquired.
"Jest a leetle job o' slidin' downhill," he said. "There 's a big drain-pipe goes under this cell—t' the river, prob'ly. He says it 's bigger 'n a barrel."
We saved our candle that day, and walked up and down, from wall to wall, for exercise. Our hopes were high when we heard footsteps, but they fell suddenly, for, as we listened, we could hear the tramp of a squad of men. They came to our cell, and took us upstairs, blind-folded as before, to a bath-room, where the uniforms, discarded the day of our capture, were waiting for us, newly pressed. Our bath over, they directed us to put them on. They gave us new hats, for our own had been lost the night of the wreck, covered our eyes, and ​led us through many doors and alleys into the open air. It was dark, I knew, for as we entered a carriage I could see dimly the glow of a lantern hanging over the wheel. The carriage went away swiftly on a level road. We sat knee to knee, with two men facing us, and not a word was spoken. We could hear hoofs falling, the rattle of bit and rein, the creak of saddle-leather on each side of us. We must have gone a long journey when the carriage halted. They pulled us out roughly and led us up three steps and across a deep veranda. A bell rang, a door swung open, a flood of light fell on us, filtering to our eyes. Entering, we could feel a carpet under us, and took a dozen paces or more before they bade us halt. We heard only the low-spoken order and the soft tread of our feet. There was a dead silence when they removed our fetters and unbound our eyes. We were standing in a big and sumptuous drawing-room. A company of gentlemen sat near us in arm-chairs; there were at least a score of them. Round tables of old mahogany stood near, on which were glasses and packs of cards and wine-bottles. ​The young man who sat with the general and answered to "your Lordship" was approaching me, hand extended.
"Glad to see you; sit down," he said in the same quiet, languid, forceful tone I had heard before.
It was all very odd. The guards were gone; we were apparently as free as any of them.
"I shall try to make you comfortable," he remarked. A servant began filling a row of glasses. "We have here wine and wit and all the accessories, including women. I should introduce you, but I have not the honor of your acquaintance. Let it suffice to say these are my friends" (he turned to those who sat about), "and, gentlemen, these are my enemies," he added, turning to us. "Let us hope they may die happy."
"And with a fighting chance," I added, lifting the glass without tasting it.
D'ri sat, his brows lifted, his hands in his pockets, his legs crossed. He looked curiously from one to another.
"Horton," said his Lordship, as he sat down, ​leaning lazily on the arm of his chair, "will you have them bring down the prisoners?"
The servant left the room. Some of the men were talking together in low tones; they were mostly good-looking and well dressed.
"Gentlemen," said his Lordship, rising suddenly, "I'm going to turn you out of here for a moment—they're a shy lot. Won't you go into the library?"
They all rose and went out of a door save one, a bald man of middle age, half tipsy, who begged of his "Ludship" the privilege of remaining.
"Sir Charles," said the young man, still lounging in his chair as he spoke, in that cold, calm tone of his, "you annoy me. Go at once!" and he went.
"Come, now, my pretty prisoner; it is disagreeable, but you must forgive me."
"Come, now, my pretty prisoner; it is disagreeable, but you must forgive me," he said.
She turned away from him, drying her eyes. Then presently their beauty shone upon me.
"Grâce au ciel!" she exclaimed, a great joy ​in her eyes and voice. "It is M'sieur Bell. Sister—baroness—it is M'sieur Bell!"
I advanced to meet her, and took her hand, kissing it reverently. She covered her face, her hand upon my shoulder, and wept in silence. If it meant my death, I should die thanking God I knew, or thought I knew, that she loved me.
"Ah, yes; it is M'sieur Bell—poor fellow!" said Louison, coming quickly to me. "And you, my dear, you are Ma'm'selle Louise."
She spoke quickly in French, as if quite out of patience with the poor diplomacy of her sister.
"I knew it was you, for I saw the emerald on your finger," she added, turning to me, "but I could not tell her."
"I am glad, I am delighted, that she spoke to me," I said. I desired to save the fair girl, whose heart was ever as a child's, any sorrow for what she had done. "I was about to speak myself. It is so great a pleasure to see you all I could not longer endure silence."
"They made us prisoners; they bring us here. Oh, m'sieur, it is terrible!" said the baroness.
​"And he is such a horrible-looking monkey!" said Louison.
"Do they treat you well?" I asked.
"We have a big room and enough to eat. It is not a bad prison, but it is one terrible place," said the baroness. "There is a big wall; we cannot go beyond it."
"And that hairy thing! He is in love with Louise. He swears he will never let us go," said Louison, in a whisper, as she came close to me, "unless—unless she will marry him."
"Ah! a tea-party," said his Lordship, coming toward us. "Pardon the interruption. I have promised to return these men at nine. It is now ten minutes of the hour. Ladies, I wish you all a very good night."
He bowed politely. They pressed my hand, leaving me with such anxiety in their faces that I felt it more than my own peril, Louison gave me a tender look out of her fine eyes, and the thought of it was a light to my soul in many an hour of darkness. She had seemed so cool, so nonchalant, I was surprised to feel the tremor in her nerves. I knew not words to say when Louise took my hand.
​"Forgive me—good-by!" said she.
It was a faint whisper out of trembling lips. I could see her soul in her face then. It was lighted with trouble and a nobler beauty than I had ever seen. It was full of tenderness and pity and things I could not understand.
"Have courage!" I called as they went away.
I was never in such a fierce temper as when, after they had gone above-stairs, I could hear one of them weeping. D'ri stood quietly beside me, his arms folded.
"Whut ye goin' t' dew with them air women?" he asked, turning to the young man.
"I beg you will give me time to consider," said his Lordship, calmly, as he lighted a cigarette.
There was a quick move in the big tower of bone and muscle beside me. I laid hold of D'ri's elbow and bade him stop, or I fear his Lordship's drawing-room, his Lordship, and ourselves would presently have had some need of repair. Four guards who seemed to be waiting in the hall entered hurriedly, the shackles in hand.
​"No haste," said his Lordship, more pleasantly than ever. "Stand by and wait my orders."
"D' ye wan' t' know whut I think o' you?" said D'ri, looking down at him, his eyes opening wide, his brow wrinkling into long furrows.
"I make a condition," said his Lordship: "do not flatter me."
"Yer jest a low-lived, mis'able, wuthless pup," said D'ri,
"Away with them!" said his Lordship, flicking the ashes off a cigarette as he rose and walked hurriedly out of the room.