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THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.
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“Yes,” said the general, langhing; ‘‘the post of danger is that
“of honor, but I do not aspire to the honor of being shot by my
“ 9wn countrymen.” .
*T hope the ladies were not much terrified.”
_ “No, sir; they are soldiers’ wives, and have seen, or expect to
gee, ‘some of the terrors of war. Excuse my changing the sub-
-ject, but have you ever met this man Washington, who is organ-
izing an army from raw and green countrymen?”
“JT have met General Washington, sir, and have seen his armies
at drill and in maneuver. I think when he meets the king’s
troops on fair and equal ground, his raw troops will astonish
your trained veterans as much as I have surprised your old sea-
men and admirals.”
“Tt may be so. After what has been done in so-short a time,
aothing will seem wonderful. General Gage wrote to the king
shat two such victories that he won at Bunker Hill would anni-
hilate his army.”
~ “No doubt he spoke truly,” said Pemberton. ‘Excuse me,
general, I will go on shore to see the commanding officer, and
secure comfortable quarters for yourself and officers. Doubtless
you will soon be exchanged.”
“T feel in no hurry for that,” said the general. ‘‘Candidly I
do not like this war, and would rather be engaged anywhere
It is really like parents fighting with their own children,
else.
{ jo seo England warring with America.” f
“> .Pemberton made no reply, but bowing courteously to the gen-
wral and his staff, turned and took his boat for the shore.
CHAPTER XLL
. IN A VILLAIN’S POWER.
On the day after the battle at Pemberton Mansion, Mr. Pem-
Berton had Mr. Maynard, Fanny, and Maude, brought from their
island encampment back to the mansion, feeling confident now
that they would be safe from further attack.
Little did our friends know what a dark and fearful peril was
- gyen then approaching their own door.
' Landing his forces with great care, every oar mufiled, and the
, atrictest silence ordered, Lord Dunmore moved on in the night
as far as he could toward his point of destination, but before
day dawned halted about six hours march short of it, turning
aside into a dense wood where he would not permit a fire to be
dighted, or any sounds made which could discover his presence
or intentions to the patriots. Here he remained until night
again fell. . .
Then, with Spence Sturges by his side, he again took the lead,
with the same precaution as before in regard to flankers, ete.
His lordship would not trust Sturges away from his side. He
new his cowardly nature, aud that he would desert rather than
enter another fight if desertion was left. possible.
Marching on in the darkness, making no noise except that
\.made by the rumbling of the light howitzer-wheels, for these
were drawn by sailors, who alsu acted as gunners, Lord Dun-
more reached the vicinity of the Pemberton Mansion just before
dawn, without having had a shot fired to impede his progress,
er having been seen by a patriot so faras he knew. _
Still preserving silence, he surrounded the mansion within
slose musket-shot, then advancing a body of marines with his
Howitzers up the road in front, reached the doors just as day be-
gan to dawn.
Mr. Pemberton was roused from his sleep by the rude knock-
ing at the door, and, looking from his window, saw at once that
4e was completely in the power of Dunmore, whom he recog-
nized, as well as Spence Sturges at his side.
Rushing to a rear window, he discovored that the house was
gntirely surrounded, and he knew that resistence with only a
dozen servants in the house would be utter madness.
Running to the chamber where Mande and Fanny slept, he
sold them to rise and dress, and to stay with Mr. Maynard while
he tried to make terms. Then he went down, and with his own
Hands unbarred the door. ,
“You're as slow as a tortoise, you infernal old rebel, in unbar-
zing your door to the subjects of your lawful king!” said Lord
* Dunmore, sternly. ‘‘Had you not come when yon did, I should
pave sent a stand of grape through it, no matter who stood be-
ind.”
“It would be but natural for your lordship t6 do so. An un-
tntored savage might improve in his arts of warfare if he learned
ef you.” .
“Hold your rebel tongue! If I did right, ’'a hang yon on your
own shade-tree there. But I want you and all in your house as
hostages just now.”
“There are none in the house bnt your consin, Mr. Maynard,
and he is sadly wounded, and two vonng ladies.”
“One of who is your rebel daughter, the sister of Rattlesnake
Ned, and the other Fanny Maynard, his betrothed. You sev I
am posted.” ;
“Yes; that cowardly hang-dog villain by your side has done
that!” said Mr. Pemberton, pointing to Sturges.
“The gentleman has done good service in -piloting me here.”
**Genileman? When a peer of England calls'such a cur a
gentleman, and makes him an associate, he forgets his dignity.
It is but three or four days since he was lashed with a nig-
ger whip in his own overseer’s hands.” /
‘He was martyred for doing his duty, but he shall have
triple vengeance. Ah, what now?”
An officer hurried up and reported a. body of putriots in
column on a road east of the house, and signals in the shape of
smoke rising from various points. .
“Take a flag of truce, sir,” said Dunmore, ‘‘and approach
the column you speak of. Communicate with the leader, and
tell him that the first gun he fires will be the signal which fires
this house, hangs its owner to the nearest tree, and commits the
two young ladies to the mercies of my soldiers. .Go quickly,
and tell him this, and that I swear to execute all I have ut-
tered.”
Pale, trembling with anger, Mr. Pemberton turned to re-
enter his house when he heard this cruel, unmanly threat and
order.
“Halt! Where would you, go?” cried Dord Dunmore.
“To tell my daughter and her friend what a peer of England
threatens, and to put a dagger in the hand of each, that they
may die rather than submit to the mercies you speak of!” said ~
Mr. Pemberton, with stern indignation. -
And he was gone in a second.
“Enter, and guard the house.
cried Dunmore to the troops who surrounded him.
member—no act of violence until I command it.”
Lord Dunmore then followed Mr. Pemberton until he stood
in the chamber where Mr. Maynard lay helpless on his couch,
and where the girls, flushed and indignant, were listening to
the story of Lord Dunmore’s threat from Mr. Pemberton’s
lips.
Pea, my cousin here?” said Dunmore, approaching the bed.
“Claim no relationship to me, Lord Dunmore,” cried Mr.
Maynard. ‘‘You are the foulest blot on England’s peerage ever
known! Your courage lies in burning women and children out
of house and home; your honor in threatening to consign help-
lessness and virtue to outrage and shame! Begone—it sickens
me to look on your dastard face!’ , -
“Sir! is this the language of a loyal subject of King George!”
‘No, sir, it isthe language of one who would spit on your
king were he here. I am no subject of King George—I belong
to the free and independent States of America, thank Heaven,
and so long as I live will recognize no other country!”
“So ho! You have turned traitor! Well, sir, you shall study
treason on board one of his majesty’s ships without.I find it nee-
essary to hang you alongside of this other old:rebel. The hero
of the Rattlesnake shall feel what we can do when he is far
away.” .
“The Rattlesnake shall bury its fangs in your heart, false lord
and disgrace to manhood!” cried Pemberton.
‘(Make ready for a forced march back to the ships!” cried
Lord Dunmore to his officers. ‘‘Senda special guard to take ©
charge of these prisoners—they go with us. ‘The slaves of the
place will carry this wounded rebel ona litter. And send word
to the Patriots that one shot fired on us in our retreat will be the
signal for the death and outrage I threatened.”
Allow no one to leave it!”
‘But re-
CHAPTER XLII.
JOSI HOPKINS’ LONG HEAD.
The British naval officers, wildly enraged at the last daring act
of Rattlesnake Ned, were determined he should not get out of
Boston Harbor with his schooner, and the old blockading squad-
ron, reinforced by three vessels from the Chesapeake, formed
a line as close in as they could lay, and so compact that to es-
cape their vigilance seemed indeed an impossibility. And this
was not all. '
The admiral in command, conscious that he must do some-
thing now or receive deep censure, determined to destroy the
schooner in port, if it could be done, and after calling a consul-
tation of captains of all his sqnadron, decided to risk a boat ex--
peditiov on the first night when it would be dark enough to pass
the batteries unseen.
As there was no communication with the shore, except a boat
landed with great risk from the fleet. a seaman who was to as-
sume the position of a deserter if detécted, was landed in the .
night to make his way to the city, and find out where the
schooner lay. . , ‘
This man sacceeded in his duty, and on the second night was
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