Peter Loon (27 page)

“
I
understood that the young woman fled of her own accord, and separate from Mr. Leach's knowledge,” said another.

“Nonetheless,” said a third, indeed the man who had ridden beside Nathan Barrow at the lake shore, “the girl fled her father's charge, and if Mr. Tillage gave his daughter over to Mr. Barrow's protection, then Mr. Leach must keep her away at her father's displeasure.”

Another man, standing in the corner spoke up. “There's little point arguing who owns the land, if a man hasn't possession of even his children.”

Peter wondered why the parson did not answer these charges himself, and only realized later that he was taking the tenor of the room by letting the men about the table first speak for themselves. By such means the discussion was somewhat exhausted of its fire, and Parson Leach would have some inkling how camps were divided.

“You wouldn't consent for a man to have such possession of a child that you'd watch him murder her,” Manasseh Cutts was saying in a low tone.

“There was no question, I think,” said one of the grayer eminences at the table, “of violence against the girl.”

“Nor serve her out for a whore,” recommenced Manasseh.

“I would tread cautiously, sir,” said one of the other older men. “Mr. Tillage could realize a legal suit for speaking of his daughter in that fashion.”

“I say nothing against the girl, if you listen,” said Manasseh, “but if Tillage cares to answer for what I'd say about him, I won't be hard to find.” The woodsman leveled such a direct stare at Nathan Barrow when he said this that there was no mistaking that the condemnation was meant to cover more than the father in question.

“She is a good girl, is Nora Tillage,” said Parson Leach, and Peter would remark to himself later that the first words from the preacher's lips were in defense of another. “If she fled her father's wishes out of misunderstanding, then it is easily mended. This gentleman says that a man must have possession of his children, but no one here imagines this to be to all purposes, and even a child has recourse to the safety of the law. Perhaps in my place, Mr. Barrow would not have offered his protection. This young man, here,” added Parson Leach with a nod toward Peter, “raced forward himself to rescue her, and Mr. Cutts stood by us as well as Mr. Moss. Perhaps it is more than some think necessary, to harbor a frightened child.”

Without warning, Nathan Barrow leaped to his feet, shouting “
‘Let no man deceive you with vain words: for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience!' ”

“Ephesians, five, six,” said Manasseh Cutts before Parson Leach could respond, and this caused someone in the room to laugh.

“
‘Who can find a virtuous woman?' ”
countered Parson Leach,
“ ‘for her price
is
far above rubies'
How much greater is Miss Tillage's virtue if she must steal it against her father's command? And such goodness in hand we must treat with utmost caution.” Since Mr. Tillage had given his daughter over to Nathan Barrow, the point of this statement–or rather the person who was the point of this statement–was fairly transparent.

“This is libel!” shouted Barrow, and the men nearest him steeled themselves for the task of holding him back.

It did not come to that, however; one of the other men stood and put his hands up till the commotion had died somewhat. He was the elderly fellow–Mr. Pelligue–who had suggested that Nora Tillage fled of her own accord. He wore a long gray beard, and his clothes were clean, if well-worn. “We are not here to discuss this particular case, but to decide our response to the arrest of our neighbors, and it seems to me that the power of our reply will be greatly enhanced if we put other differences aside. Mr. Leach, we would be gratified to hear
your
thoughts on this matter, which I guess must have brought you among us.”

Mr. Pelligue then leveled an eye at Barrow, who did not sit down but let out a sound like a piece of wet wood in the fire.

One of Barrow's allies stood and said, “It is Mr. Leach himself, perhaps, who first bred difference by his actions, and feeds it by his argument. There is no more subtle way for Great Men to break our cause then by sending a
whisperer
among us.”

“It matters not!” declared Barrow, having regained his voice. He thumped the table with a fist and said, “What cannot be done by many who are timid, will be done by the few who are resolute. The millennium of the Lord's resurrection will soon be upon us, and those who face the enemy in a manner lukewarm will be so greeted by Him when He returns. Our rooms in Heaven will be prepared by the numbers of our oppressors we crush.”

Some there were enthusiastic for this vision, and Peter was impressed by their faces as they listened.

Barrow himself looked triumphant. “You may sit here and worry this bone,” he pronounced. “I will gather who will follow me and march upon Wiscasset, and watch it burn if so much as a man stands in my way!” Then he strode about the table, past Parson Leach and Peter, and left the room. Two men, including his lieutenant from the earlier encounter, rose and followed him; others who had been enamored of his vision were yet a little less sure of his plan and elected to stay.

“If this is the right thing,” said one man, a Mr. Kendall, who stood beside Manasseh Cutts, “we should go with him to be sure of its success.”

“If it is the
wrong
thing, we should quickly stop him,” said Mr. Briner, who sat near Barrow's vacant chair.

“Men will hie in all directions,” said Mr. Pelligue, “and we can surely divide ourselves, following about to help or hinder, but we Liberty Men have known success by careful planning. Mr. Barrow will not march tonight, and we will
never
march, if we distract ourselves at every argument. Perhaps we should find Mr. Leach's opinion by asking what he understands of the matter. Zachariah,” said the elderly fellow, indicating the recently emptied chair, “please, join us. Sir,” he added to Peter Loon, though with a little more humor, “since you are proved a man of action, attend and advise.”

Peter felt deceitful, conceding to such approval and dressed in a wealthy man's clothes, but the old fellow's invitation was enough to cause a chuckle or two, and the room appeared to relax.

“Friends,” began the parson as he took the offered seat amid a chorus of agreement. “Word of the arrest you speak of was news to me when I was greeted with it at the bridge yonder, but I
had
heard how John Trueman was driven back to Wiscasset, stripped and beaten, and guessed that something would result. I only know that someone was arrested, but aside from the names of Donnell and Gray, I know neither who nor how.”

“Yes, Donnell and Gray,” said Mr. Kendall.

“Elbridge Shay,” Mr. Briner began, “Henry Bender, Ezekiel Brackett–”

“There were ten of them,” said Mr. Pelligue, indicating with a wave that a complete list, at this moment, was not to the point. “The sheriff came with twenty men or so and with Charles Trall as his guide, caught them in their fields or snatched them out of their beds. John Trueman, it seems, recognized certain voices when he was set upon the other night, though they all wore masks, as I understand.”

“He didn't recognize every voice!” declared a man opposite Mr. Pelligue, “for they arrested three men who had no hand in it.”

“He arrested men whose land he'd like to have for his own,” said a Mr. Dodge.

“And you know these men were innocent, Mr. Hook?” said the parson.

“They were
all
innocent,” said Mr. Dodge.

“I was there,” said Mr. Hook proudly.

“As you have heard, Mr. Leach,” said Mr. Pelligue, “there are those who propose a fierce reply.”

“There isn't a court in the district that won't show favor against a setder,” said Mr. Hook.

“What
is
this fierce reply?” asked the parson. “Does Mr. Barrow expect that it isn't enough to storm Wiscasset and break open the jail? Must he burn the town and kill the people in their beds while he's at it? Better he should be thinking what to do with the prisoners, once they're freed. They'll be charged with escape and hunted down at the very least.”

“Some, we believe, will be able to hide themselves, for a time, in the backcountry,” said Mr. Pelligue. “The charges against the three are trumpery, and we can't believe they'll be pursued for long. As for the remainder, we have arrangements. Mr. Briner, through his brother, has shipboard berths for seven men on the
Helene
, which is being outfitted at Bath and is bound for the South Seas within a week.”

“Then we have only to get them from the jail,” considered Parson Leach, “and Mr. Barrow's vision of burning Wiscasset to the ground would prove excessive. A simple foray down river in the night should accomplish your design, and the loosed fellows can be taken to Back River and up the Sasanoa to Bath. Now,
there you
have the beginnings of a scheme, which will fulfill your purpose and lay nothing like arson or bloodshed on your own heads.”

A blocky fellow, who had hitherto remained silent, rose from his chair beside the door and, leaning upon the table, cast a bland expression at the parson. “I have no love for Nathan Barrow,” he said, “but it is my intent, sir, as it is his, that we inflict more harm than that.”

“Is it, sir? I don't know your name.”

“Joshua Cargin,” said the man. “The fellows who were arrested have been taken to Wiscasset, and it is Wiscasset supports land agents and surveyors and Great Men as much as any town. So we will have our men returned, but burn a house or two as we go
and
rid ourselves of any man who stands in our way!”

“Are you a New Milford man, Mr. Cargin?” asked the parson.

“I am not, though our enemies are the same.”

“And you would find it simple enough to melt into the forest, I'm guessing, when Boston sends militia here to quell an armed rebellion.”

“What?”

“It's no danger to you to draw fire against another man's town.”

“
There
is the voice of the land agent!” declared Mr. Kendall.

“I think not, Mr. Kendall,” said Mr. Pelligue. “Mr. Leach has a very good question at issue.”

“Are you impugning my nerve?” growled Joshua Cargin. He leaned his large frame a little further over the table, as if considering the possibility of snatching Parson Leach from his chair.

“I am guessing, Mr. Cargin,” said Parson Leach, and he never showed a hint of fear or antagonism, “that you might
like
to stir a nest of bees, if you could do it from a distance.”

“Or let someone else do it for him,” said Manasseh Cutts.

“I'll stir a face or two with
this!”
declared Cargin, and he raised a fist in the air.

Again consternation ruled discourse and voices were raised in argument and anger; but a similar sounding commotion from the tavern room was heard above this–a single outraged voice came through the door and then the door was thrown open. A young woman strode into the room, as might an angry matron who fixes herself to chastise obstinate children. Peter stepped back to avoid her. Joshua Cargin stood his ground however, and she came up short, just shy of colliding with him, took one step aside and cast her indignant glance about the room.

“Here you are
still
, then!” she pronounced. “I see you're good for talk! Such a pack of fools and crows I never believed could account for an entire town! Old women would have done more in a day than you'll accomplish between now and next year!” She was ordinary enough to look at, though her eyes were fine and expressive–a black-haired young woman, perhaps a little older than Peter, her cheek bearing the former touch of the measles or pox–but the anger that enlivened her eyes and tilted her dark brows raised her otherwise plain features to the striking. She did in fact carry inside of her a fire, that was the more attractive for being employed. She gripped a shawl about her, as if fearing one of the men there would touch her and pollute her with their indecision.

“Elspeth!” said Mr. Pelligue. “This is no place for you, nor your place to criticize men who have come of their own to help us!”

“Help you to the bottom of a crock, more like!” she insisted. One or two of the men looked ready to lay hold of her, and she raised a hand, saying, “See if you're brave enough to take a swat or two, since you haven't the pluck to get an innocent man from jail or stand for what's your own! Why, I'd
laugh
if the sheriff came back and took every one of you!”

Mr. Briner sat back in his chair and said, almost with a smile, “Perhaps you'd care to have us go down to Wiscasset without thought or plan and deliver us up so the sheriff won't need to trouble himself.”

Parson Leach said, “Well, Miss Gray, Mr. Cargin here suggests we march on Wiscasset, burn a portion of the town, and fire on anyone in our way.”

“And what do
you
suggest, Mr. Leach?” she asked, levelling that lofty gaze upon the clergyman.

“Outside, a little while ago,” said Parson Leach evenly, “they were singing that the revolution is unfinished, and there are those all through the nation who lend credence to the thought. Daniel Shay rose up with his New England Regulation and escaped hanging, but narrowly. There were Ely's Rebels in Massachusetts and the Whiskey Rebels in Pennsylvania, but no revolt has lasted so long, nor drawn so little governmental attention as ours:”

“The reason is clear enough,” said Mr. Kendall. “We're a long way from Boston.”

The parson answered, “The miles from here to Boston
are
in our favor, but our greatest power has been to avoid organizing an army, or justifying retribution by acts of willful murder and destruction. The courts and the sheriffs and the government know we are here,
and
they know–by our acts against the French and the British–how capable we are. The fear of our capacity keeps them at arm's length, experience of it will bring them down upon us. A fox in the neighbor's yard might seem too distant to trouble with, but not a wolf.”