Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins Part 70

XXVII.

STARVATION.

Nighthawk had appeared, as was his wont, as if he had risen from the earth.

But this circ.u.mstance disappeared from my mind at once. I was looking at his face. It had completely lost its benignant expression; was pale, and bore marks of great fatigue. Something of the old clerical benignity came to the eyes as he greeted me cordially; but sitting down in the nearest chair, as though completely wearied out, he became as dispirited as before.

"And what mout be the matter with you, Mr. Nighthawk?" said Mr. Alibi: "you look 's if the night hags had been a-riding of you with spurs on."

And Mr. Alibi flapped his wings, stretched out his neck, and seemed about to cackle.

"I am tired, Alibi," said Nighthawk, briefly, "go to the spring and get me some fresh water. You needn't come back in a hurry, as I wish to talk with Colonel Surry."

And Mr. Nighthawk rose, and carelessly sat down near the window, through which he could reconnoitre.

The object of this movement was soon evident. Mr. Alibi took a bucket, and went out as though to seek the spring. When he had gone a few paces, however, he turned to the right and disappeared behind the house, toward the opposite window, which was open.

Nighthawk rose, went to the door, and caught Mr. Alibi eavesdropping--the result of which was that the penguin hastily moved off, muttering. In a minute he had shambled along and disappeared.

No sooner had his figure vanished than Nighthawk turned hastily toward me.

"Will you go with me to-night, colonel, on an expedition I intend to make?" he said.

"An expedition, Nighthawk?"

"A work of mercy, colonel; let us talk quickly. That man, Alibi, is a spy--for both sides--and I wish to arrange every thing before he returns."

"Explain, Nighthawk."

"I will, colonel. Do you remember that night in Richmond, when Swartz made an appointment to meet me at a house near Monk's Neck?"

"Perfectly."

"Well, this is the house,--and I expected important results from that meeting. Unfortunately, I was prevented, by some pickets who arrested me, from reaching this spot on the appointed day. I was here two days afterward, however--asked for Swartz--he had not been here--and as that was the most unaccountable thing in the world to me, I set out to find him."

"In the enemy's lines?"

"Yes, colonel. I had no doubt I would come across him somewhere. So I went through the country behind the Federal lines; looked everywhere for my man, have been looking ever since I left you--and at last have found him."

"Where?"

"In the upper room of a deserted house, not three miles from this place, within the enemy's picket line."

"The upper room of a deserted house?"

'"Confined--put to starve there, colonel! The work of Darke, and that she-devil who goes about with him, I am willing to swear, colonel!"

"Good heavens! Is it possible?" I said, "Swartz is shut up and left to starve?"

"Exactly, colonel--and here is how I know it. I was coming back, worn out by my long search after Swartz, when in pa.s.sing this house, I came suddenly upon a picket of about fifty men. To avoid being seen, I ran, being on foot, and got behind the house. I had no sooner done so, than I heard groans from the upper part of it--and as the house was entirely uninhabited, these sounds excited my curiosity--not to say astonishment. Well, I determined to, find the origin of them. I crawled through a broken window--reached the second floor by a dusty staircase, and went straight toward a door, behind which I heard the groaning. It was heavily locked, and I could not even shake it. Then I ran to the part.i.tion between the room and the pa.s.sage--found it made of boards, between the cracks of which I could see--and looking in, I saw Swartz!

He was sitting on an old broken chair, beside a table with three legs, and his hand was buried in his hair, as if he was trying to tear it out.

"When I called to him, he started, and his groans stopped. He turned his head. No sooner had he recognized me than he cried out with joy; and for some moments he could say nothing but 'Save me! save me!

Nighthawk! They are starving me to death!'

"I will not lengthen out my story, colonel. I see Alibi coming back. I had scarcely exchanged ten words with Swartz, when I heard the gallop of a horse, and running to the window, saw _that woman_ get off. A second's reflection told me that she was coming into the house; I knew that, if discovered, I would be shot or taken prisoner--and I decided on my course in a minute. I said to Swartz, 'wait a few hours--I will go and bring you help.' I glided through a back window, dropped to the ground, ran into the bushes--and here I am, colonel, waiting for night to come, to return and rescue Swartz."

"Can you do so?"

"With one companion--to look out while I pick the lock."

"Good--I'll go with you; and provide for contingencies, too."

I had seen a cavalryman pa.s.sing along the road in front of the house, and as Mr. Alibi came in at the same moment, I sent him to hail the wayfarer, and bring him to the house. As soon as Mr. Alibi had left us on his errand, I tore a sheet from my note-book, obtained from Nighthawk an exact description of the locality where Swartz was confined, and writing a note to Mohun, informed him of our intention.

If he could send a squadron of cavalry to drive in the picket near the house, it would insure the success of our design, I added.

As I finished this note, Mr. Alibi appeared with the cavalryman. He proved to belong to Mohun's command. I entrusted the note to him, cautioning him that it was important, and must reach Mohun promptly--then I looked at my watch.

It was four o'clock. Already the sun was declining toward the wooded horizon; I looked toward it, and then at Nighthawk, who nodded.

"In an hour, colonel," he said, "and as I am broken down, I will sleep."

With these words, Nighthawk leaned back in his split-bottom chair, covered his face with his handkerchief, and in ten seconds his long, quiet breathing showed plainly that he was asleep.

"A cur'ous man, leftenant-colonel! a cur'ous man is Mr. Nighthawk!"

said Mr. Alibi.

And he flapped his arms, and wriggled about in a manner so extraordinary that he looked more like a penguin than ever.

XXVIII.

BIRDS OF PREY.

Night came on. I left my horse at Mr. Alibi's; set off on foot with Nighthawk; crossed the Rowanty, separating the opposing pickets, by a moss-covered log, in a shadowy nook, and was approaching the house in which Swartz was shut up.

Nighthawk moved with the stealthy and gliding step of a wildcat. I could see the man was a born scout; intended by nature for the calling he had adopted--secret service. He scarcely uttered a word; when he did, it was in tones so low that they were lost in the whisper of the wind, amid the great trailing vines depending from the trees, and I was compelled to lean my ear close to catch the words.

Fifty paces from the bank, a shadowy object on horseback was visible by the dim light.