Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (61 page)

A shuddering gasp came from behind Ram. Nerves crawling, he looked over his shoulder. A white face stared back at him.

"Who are ye? Ah, God, ma Father's deid!" It was young Will Mackintosh, nude save for his short tartan hose and shoes.

"Anstruthcr. Keep still. Have you a weapon?"

"Nay. What'll we do?"

"Lie silent!" Ram was watching the fort. The Spanish leader was evidently regaining control. Some Indians moved out in a wide circle to act as outposts. One came within a dozen yards of the two breath-holding fugitives, but went on without glancing their way.

How to get past him and to the west? To remain here was to insure certain capture when day came. God, for a weapon! A fantastic thought came. Rolling onto his back. Ram took off his shirt.

"Keep lookout," he breathed. The linen was tough, but he ripped out the shirt's back. His mind was a jumble of memories: of Baja teaching him in the Ahmedpur prison. It was done, the knot made, a small stone in it. "You must do something very brave," he told Will. "Crawl up on the Indian, then you must stand, so he comes toward you. If he's a firearm he may shoot, but likely he'll seek to take ye prisoner. Understand?"

"Aye?" The boy's answer held interrogation but no fear.

"Trust me. Can ye crawl silently till we're near him? You must lure him to ye. Don't let him know I'm near."

It was much to ask of a boy who'd just seen his father cut down; but the future Continental Colonel William Mackintosh was fearless.

"I'll do ma best," he gulped. He crawled toward the quarry, his slim body startlingly white in the moonlight. Ram, bare to the waist himself, followed. After they had passed over a soggy area, he veered to Will's left. The brave was facing west, clearly watching for a counterattack from Ram's own rangers. Painfully the pair wormed closer. Will, who had learned his hunting from friendly Creeks, glided like a snake. Ram was hard put to keep pace with him.

The youngster was within fifteen yards of the sentinel before the latter turned alertly, tore a tomahawk from his belt and started warily toward him.

With desperate courage. Will stood up.

Ram was crawling in a half circle. Close to the boy, the Indian hesitated, evidently puzzled by his nakedness, and undecided whether to take his scalp now or save him for torture.

Ram was behind his quarry. One minute more! he prayed. Luckily his shadow was away from him and he almost within the Indian's own.

The Florida grunted a query in bastard Creek, Will answered.

Ram was advancing on all fours. Now! He stood, arms ready.

"Pan lao\" As his wrists turned, he hissed the Thug's cr}'. There was a brief struggle, but no sound. The brave crumpled—dead!

"God, how did ye do it?" Will gasped.

Ram was rifling the corpse of the tomahawk, pistol, powder, balls.

"Come!"

Wraithlike, they turned westward in the moonlight.

The Moosa massacre was decisive. Already worried by the rising at home and many down with fevers, the Carolinians began leaving, with or without permission. Then the Navy—through carelessness or worse, the troops swore—let several storeships from Cuba slip into the Matanzas River. These factors, added to the sickness in his own regiment, forced Oglethorpe to realize his siege must fail.

But under a flag he warned the governor that should any more British be tortured or killed, he would hang all his Spanish prisoners. Word came back that all would be treated honorably, that among them was Captain John Mackintosh who, though wounded, would live.

By then Ram's rangers had been withdrawn from the west and now covered the north. Among several who had escaped early from Moosa were four of his foot; though Strang and the other six were dead. And Hilary.

The rangers' next task was to cover the retreat northward to the St. John's mouth, where the dispirited little army was taken aboard small craft and returned to St. Simon's Island.

Oglethorpe, racked by fever, held up until all were landed, then became seriously ill. So Ram sent his own contingent home and remained to help, keeping only Tommy Buller as a groom and Larry White—now recovered from ague—as his orderly.

In September, word came from Savannah that Mazzique had broken out of the jail, accompanied by Shannon. The latter Oglethorpe himself had captured on his way to Coweta, having found the Irishman goading the Choctaws into attacking the British. So Ram asked leave to return home and organize a manhunt.

Crossing to the main in a piragua. Ram, with his two-boy escort, rode to New Inverness. The settlement was in deep mourning; over thirty Highlanders had been lost as Moosa; not a family but lamented for its dead. Yet the survivors agreed to send out patrols to prevent Mazzique and Shannon from slipping past toward Florida.

Ram was about to start for home when a Fort Argyle sergeant and three rangers arrived, sent by William Stephens to warn the Highlanders of the escapes. Finding that Ram had already done so, the noncom decided to return to his post, and the two forces merged. His tales of how Savannah fainthearts had fled into Carolina and beyond, crying that the town would become another Moosa, infuriated Ram. But his secret fear that Lucinda had caught the panic also was dispelled when one ranger said he'd seen her at Shoreacres only two days before.

All was bleak, he felt, unless Oglethorpe rallied and once more took control. For Walpole might agree to surrender the colony to Spain in return for peace.

The moon was high when Ram sighted the tower lantern. I'll sleep sound tonight, even with Lucinda beside me, he thought, and sighed from sheer weariness as he touched spur to his tired mount. How far had he ridden today; fifty, sixty miles? As for the boys, they must be asleep in their saddles. He looked back. Yes, they'd not even noticed he'd broken into a trot. He reined in and waited for them. Ten miles back, at the fork, they'd parted with the rangers, who by now were surely bedded down and snoring.

"Ride to attention!" he shouted, half in earnest.

"Aye, Colonel!" The pair trotted to regain their proper distance.

After they had passed through the gate in the thorn hedge, Ram said: "Break off to your homes, but see your mounts watered and fed; they're more weary than we are. Tomorrow go over for galls and cuts."

The boys gone, he slowed to a walk, thinking of Mazzique. A good sleep and I'll form a large party, he decided. I'll find him somehow, and that cursed Irish traitor too!

Passing Rob's darkened house, he thought enviously that his cousin must have been asleep for hours. Dismounting at the stables he led the horse into his stall. A lantern shone where Jem slept, rolled in his blankets, so Ram began unsaddling himself. But the old man started up and insisted upon doing what was needful. He said everything was well.

Stiffly Ram walked to the house. Only when he had mounted the steps did he realize he must rouse Margot to let him in. But the door was ajar. Damme, I've ordered 'em to see all's bolted at night!

He entered, feeling for his tinderbox. But a lighted candle appeared in the hall's rear; it was carried by Margot.

"Oh, monsieur. I did not think you would come so soon!"

"Then why did ye leave the door open?" he demanded irritably. "Woman, some night ye'll have red savages swarming in."

"I did not leave it open. It must be an accident. But you are hungry, hein? Come, I will bring you food."

"Good." They went into the study. "Your mistress is well—and the boy?"

She was lighting more candles from her own. "Madame is a trifle unwell—a slight ague only, monsieur. It is why I am up so late. I gave her a powder and now she sleep sound."

"And Diccon?"

"He also is a little unset. Perhaps, mon colonel, it would be best you do not disturb them tonight."

Sitting in his big chair, he unbuckled his spurs. "I'll sleep here."

"Oh, monsieur, please! You are too weary. Why not occupy my cot in the closet? The linen is fresh changed and you will rest better. I will use the blue room. And now a leetle wine to give you de Vappetit, hein?" She brought a bottle from the cabinet and poured him a drink, which he downed at a gulp. "You have ridden far?"

"Ah!" He held out his glass for a refill. "Some sixty miles, I think." Warmth seeped through him.

With a rustle of petticoats, she left, but soon returned with bread, meat and a bottle of Maderia. "Viola, monsieur."

He fell to, and Margot vanished. She soon came back to say she had prepared the closet; but that, perhaps, it would be wise to go up to it silently, for Diccon had been fretful and might awaken.

"But tomorrow, sight of monsieur will cure him," she smiled. "He is most proud of his brave soldier father."

Though food had renewed his strength, he was still unutterably weary and a little muzzy from the wine. 'Tis well I'll not lie with Lucinda, he told himself, for she'd find me cursed inattentive.

Yawning, he took a candle. "I'll be quiet," he promised Margot. But keep alert lest your mistress calls. Diccon might need care."

"Yes, monsieur. I'll be all ears."

He went upstairs, treading soundlessly, stole into the closet, saw moonlight streaming through the small window, so blew out the candle. He put his coat and sword on a chair, loosened his stock and waistcoat. Sitting on the cot, he tried to pull off his boots, but gave it up as too much trouble and let his head fall back on the pillow.

His eyes closed.

"Lud, you've taken your time! I've been asleep hours'*

"Would ye have me traipsing up here while a light's in the stables? Old Jem must ha' been up with a sick horse. Well, greet me properly!"

"Men — you're all the same! 'Let's to work and get it over with!' "

"Aye, but ye love it that way, ye slut."

"I won't be called so! You above all should know that."

"I know more than ye think, Luce. You weren't quite the virgin

with your play actor — I know he got ye with child. So don't come high and mighty with me."

"Split ye for a damned pimping cully, Rob Anstruther! If I did have an accident, 'twas because you were sick of the pox ye took from some noseless doxy! I'm no street drab, to suffer your insultsl"

Ram fought to escape from this filthy nightmare.

"Nay, love, you're no drab. There's none I've ever bedded like ye. . . . How was the player. Luce? Odds he was as my brave cousin, all gentle and supplicating. Poh, they're not for you! Hurt ye, make ye scream — that's your mark! D'ye mind how 'twas when we got Diccon . . . like this?"

Ram was shooting up from the terrifying depths, trying to open his eyes. They were open! He was half blinded by the moonlight.

"Don't touch me! Keep off, I say! To remind me of that now!"

"Nay, sweetheart, but ye crave rough usage — bruising and hurting!"

"Yes, oh God, yes! . . . Now, now!"

Ram was standing, his every fiber shaking, sweat pouring from him. He groped for his sword, for his pistols. Lucinda! Rob! Their names burst from him in a scream. By Christ, they'll not live another instant! He crashed against the connecting door, but it was bolted from within. Snarling, he tried again.

"Colonel! Colonel Anstruther!" Hoofs were clattering outside and someone was pounding on the front door. "Colonel, for God's sake, up!

Lucinda's piercing scream came from the bedchamber. Kill her, kill! Ram's crazed brain goaded. Kill both the whoring cullions!

"Colonel, come down! There's been murder at the fort."

At last that urgent voice penetrated. Stumbling, he reached the window and peered out. Horsemen were milling below.

"I'll come!" His voice was a croak. He glared at the bolted door. God, how could he take retribution now, with the entire plantation being aroused?

He smashed his sword pommel on the heavy door. "Don't stir, on your hfe!" Hysterical sobbing answered him. Seizing his coat, he rushed downstairs. Margot was again in the hall, her face ghastly.

He flung open the front door. The ranger sergeant stood on the steps, his men, mounted, behind. Jem was bringing a chestnut mare, already saddled.

" 'Tis escaped Negras, Colonel," the sergeant said. "They've slain poor Nell and Toby—aye, even Lachlan Mackintosh's cur."

As if he were still in the fantastic nightmare, Ram heard himself say: "Jem, sound the tocsin! Every mounted man to parade under Captain Bland and ride for Argyle. I'll be there." The dreamlike quality persisted as he mounted, ranged himself alongside the sergeant and ordered him to lead on.

He even heard himself demanding: "Negroes? Are you sure? Why?"

"We found Nell first, sir—cut to ribbons. And on our way here, Jacob sees something half out of the river. 'Twas poor Toby, without his head. Indians scalp, but Negras take the whole head."

"Sergeant, tell about the paper!" a ranger called.

"Aye. Strange, that. Food's gone and so on, but a quire of paper tool What would savages, black or red, want with it? They can't write."

Ram was back to reality. "Damnation, that means white men— the deserter and the spy! Maybe they're Negroes with 'em, but paper's for a white's use. We'll get 'em if we have to comb all Georgia!"

"Lachlan's in Savannah, so Toby was there alone. He must ha' been surprised riding. Then they went to the fort and killed Nell."

"Enough!" He could think now; but not, as the ranger imagined, about the murders. What to do? Wliat did awakened cuckolds do? Great Christ—even Diccon's not mine!

"What's that, your honor?"

"Nothing." He hadn't realized he had groaned aloud. He brushed tears of shame from his eyes as he remembered those terrible, animal sounds. Lucinda, the cold, the restrained!

"Ride on!" He turned out to let the others pass. Somehow he got to ground and retched until he was empty and exhausted. Cuckold!

But when he had remounted and caught up with the rangers, he had grown hard. Hadn't the fools realized he must find out? Once before he had half killed Rob for trying to take one of his women— a slut like Annie, Drive 'em both into the wilderness, that's it! But first treat Rob so no woman could ever take him again! He pictured Rob, slobbering oaths, as craven as Lucinda. Ah, God, but Diccon?

Day had come when the fort was reached. Stony-faced, he looked

at Nell. On the very night Rob's treachery had been revealed, this discarded girl of his had been ravished and slashed to death.

Even the dog had died hard, rolled in a blanket, then stabbed a dozen times through the folds.

He sent two rangers off to Yamacraw Town, with a request for Toonahowi to lend hunters who might find signs whites would miss. The sergeant and the other man went to bring in Yarrow's headless corpse.

Soon twenty of his people arrived under Joseph. "I left the rest as garrison under Mr. Rob, sir," he reported. "One never knows. If it's Indians or slaves, they might attack while we're gone."

"How is Rob?" Ram forced himself to sound casual.

"Greatly disturbed, sir. Old soldiers like us don't get shook up by tales of massacre, but he's not had our experience. He was asking if I thought he should take the mistress and Diccon to Savannah by boat, but I—"

"Boat? But Peg-Leg's not back in the Lass, and I thought the piragua was chartered out of Charles Town?"

"Charter's completed, sir, so Matt brought her back yesterday."

"Take command!" Ram had not foreseen this. "Scout the country. If they're Negroes or Indians, kill 'em. But Shannon and Mazzique must be taken alive. They must face trial."

Joseph stared. It wasn't like the Colonel to leave an affair like this to others.

Ram had already turned away. He had other runaways to catch. On the ride back, he realized that, come what may, he could never kill Lucinda; couldn't still her lovely body and glaze her cornflower-blue eyes. And Rob? Hadn't he promised Sue to keep him from harm? He must find some other way. Divorce was difficult, but it could be arranged. Then make Rob marry her—rot his lecherous soul, and hers! Aye, but Diccon . , . !

The chestnut was winded and foam-flecked when he reached the stables. Already he knew the piragua had gone.

He flung into the house. Margot came from the dining hall, her face blotched, her eyelids reddened. At sight of him she whimpered.

He grasped her wrist. "When did they leave? Who went with them?"

Writhing with pain, she poured out a torrent: Rob had been like

a madman; he had broken open Ram's desk and taken all the gold and paper currency. He had ordered Matt Marrow to sail for Charles Town, swearing madam was in urgent need of a physician, and also the boy. They'd left three hours ago.

He cursed. By the inland way, they would have a long start. But by riding to Savannah, he could perhaps catch them in a hired piragua. Did they imagine they'd be safe from him in Carolina? God, why wasn't Peg-Leg back?

As if to answer his plea, the bell tolled. He ran outside. A boy called down that the schooner was coming upriver.

He sought out the Frenchwoman again. "The truth! If I don't get it easy, I'll take it hard. The unlocked door; ye knew it was for him, didn't ye? Answer!"

"Yes, monsieur. But she unbolted it. I—I waited, thinking to waylay him, to beg him to marry me, as he so often promise. W^en you arrive, I see revenge! For years he use me, when he has no one better. I am a lady born, yet he treat me like what you call a wore! I must even wait in the closet when he is with her! Dieu, many times I wish to assassinate him!" She began to sob. "But he always promise marriage. Ciel, what fools we women are!"

"And the bastard she bore in England—whose?"

Her eyes widened. "You know? Ah, monsieur, she is so grand a lady, spending your money to entertain the actors who look down on her when she is poor! There is one, a lover of long ago; she is indiscreet. It is why she cannot return before. Uenfant, she 'as put it out to a woman in Surrey."

"A lover before I married her? Impossible! She was a virgin!"

Even that shred of vanity was torn from him. "Ah, how often she laugh aboui that. There are tricks a woman knows. She was so-o modest, nest-ce pas? The wedding night, she see you drink much. She gives you a great goblet of Nantes. You snore and snore. She laugh. Mon colonel, that one, she has no soul!"

"No more!" He lurched blindly into the study. The desk had been forced and his casket gone. "She also take her jewels," Margot ventured from the doorway.

Brushing her aside, he went into the kitchen, shouting for the cook women to prepare eight men's fresh rations for five days— enough to last to Charles Town. He had Maria fill his portmanteau.

He placed Tom Jewell in command until Joseph's return, said where he was bound, saw the rations were sent down to the jetty and went down himself.

Not allowing the schooner to tie up, he jumped aboard and told Parker to shove off for Charles Town by the inland way.

Peg-Leg blinked but obeyed, and by dusk the Lass was beating across Ossabaw Sound. Ram sat, muffled in his cloak, sometimes peering ahead, though aware it was too soon to overtake the piragua. Peg-Leg was at the wheel, never speaking, aware that something was terribly wrong. He would have anchored for the night, but Ram's curt order drove him on as long as there was wind in the sails. Then only could he anchor in the lee of Tybee Island.

He made Ram drink some brandy and eat a bite. Ram then dozed, sinking into nightmares in which Lucinda was being slashed open by Rob, who danced around with Toby Yarrow's head atop his own.

Dawn brought wind, and by the time the schooner was crossing the Savannah's mouth, she was heeling in a heavy swell.

" 'Twill be squally in Daufuskie," Peg-Leg warned. "If it freshens more, we'll be running nigh under bare poles."

"Keep on!" Ram went forward to the bow where, though soaked by spindrift, he gazed ahead through his glass.

Daufuskie was squally, as Parker had predicted, but with shortened sail, the Lass forged into it. Numbed, Ram went aft, his strength gone. Peg-Leg, his stump in a ringbolt, reported that the weather was easing. "If all's well, we should be off Port Royal tomorrow."

Ram wiped the lens of his glass and stared through it once more. Nothing but the heaving, cloud-shadowed water. But the waves seemed smaller, the rolls longer. His eyes ached and now the numbness was mounting to his brain.

It was Peg-Leg who saw it first. "Begod, look! There, on the island!" He spun the wheel, bawling orders.

Ram peered, made out a dark object on the shore—a piragua. She was heeled on her side, her mast gone.

"I'll run in as close as I dare and let go the anchor," Peg-Leg said. "She's mine all right, know her anywhere. Don't see anybody aboard. Please God they're sheltering under the trees!"

Then he, Ram and the two crewmen were in the dinghy and pull-

ing toward the island. They landed and Ram began to ran toward

the piragua, outdistancing the others.

Tangled cordage hung over its side, holding a spar and canvas. When he got closer, he pulled up short, biting his lower lip until the blood came.

Lucinda!

She had been lashed to the mast's stump. Her glorious hair was now clotted wdth mud and her gown had become caught up in the ropes that secured her, so that her slim, lovely legs were exposed and moved as if alive in the swirling water that ran in and out of the piragua's staved-in side.

His hatred had gone. This was no longer his wife, but poor, poor clay!

The boy? And Rob? And Matt and his crewman?

Along the shore they found Rob, half submerged, Diccon clasped by one stiffened arm. He had tried to swim ashore and save—his son.

It was growing dark. Peg-Leg gripped Ram's shoulder. "You're coming aboard, sir. I command here, and ye'll do as I say."

Dazed, Ram let himself be taken aboard and led below, let them take off his soaked clothes and wrap him in blankets. Peg-Leg brought a steaming mug. "Rum, sir. Down it all."