the fortunes of oliver horn-第51部分

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The　flash　of　bayonets　was　now　cut　off　as　the　troops　crowded　into　the　cars；　the　body　of　police　wheeled　and　took　their　places　ahead　of　the　horses；　the　tandems　straightened　out　and　the　leaders　lunged　forward　under　the　lash。　The　advance　through　the　town　had　begun。

All　this　time　the　mob　about　Oliver　stood　with　hands　clenched；　jaws　tight　shut；　great　lumps　in　their　throats。　Their　eyes　were　the　eyes　of　hungry　beasts　watching　an　approaching　prey。

As　the　distant　rumbling　of　the　cars；　drawn　by　teams　of　straining　horses；　sounded　the　nearer；　a　bare…　headed　man；　with　white　hair　and　mustache　and　black　garments　that　distinguished　him　from　the　mob　about　him；　and　whom　Oliver　instantly　recognized　as　Colonel　　Clayton；　mounted　a　mass　of　squared　timber　lining　　the　track；　ran　the　length　of　the　pile；　climbed　to　the　topmost　stick；　and　shouted；　in　a　voice　which　reverberated　throughout　the　street：

〃Block　the　tracks！〃

A　torrent　of　oaths　broke　loose　as　the　words　left　his　lips；　and　a　rush　was　made　for　the　pile　of　timber。　Men　struggled　and　fought　like　demons　for　the　end　of　the　great　sticks；　carrying　them　by　main　strength；　crossing　them　over　the　rails；　heaping　them　one　on　the　other　like　a　pile　of　huge　jack…straws；　a　dozen　men　to　a　length；　the　mobs　on　the　house…tops　and　in　the　windows　cheering　like　mad。　The　ends　of　the　heavy　chains　resting　on　the　strip　of　dirt　were　now　caught　up　and　hauled　along　the　cobbles　to　be　intertwined　with　the　squared　timber；　anchors　weighing　tons　were　pried　up　and　dragged　across　the　tracks　by　lines　of　men　urged　on　by　gray…haired　old　merchants　in　Quaker…cut　dress　coats；　many　of　them　bare…headed；　who　had　yielded　to　the　sudden　unaccountable　delirium　that　had　seized　upon　everyone。　Colonel　Clayton；　　Carter　Thom；　and　Mowbray　could　be　seen　working　side　by　side　with　stevedores　from　the　docks　and　the　rabble　from　the　shipyards。　John　Camblin；　a　millionnaire　and　nearly　eighty　years　of　age；　head　of　the　largest　East　India　house　on　the　wharves；　his　hat　and　wig　gone；　his　coat　split　from　the　collar　to　the　tails；　was　tugging　at　an　anchor　ten　men　could　not　have　moved。　Staid　citizens；　men　who　had　not　used　an　oath　for　years；　stood　on　the　sidewalks　swearing　like　street…　toughs；　others　looked　out　from　their　office…windows；　the　tears　streaming　down　their　cheeks。　A　woman　with　a　coarse　shawl　about　her　shoulders；　her　hair　hanging　loose；　a　broom　in　one　hand；　was　haranguing　the　mob　from　the　top　of　a　tobacco　hogshead；　her　curses　filling　the　air。

Oliver　held　to　his　seat　on　the　cross…piece　of　the　awning；　his　teeth　set；　his　eye　fixed　on　the　rapidly　advancing　cars；　his　mind　wavering　between　two　opinionsloyalty　to　his　home；　now　invaded　by　troops　whose　bayonets　might　be　turned　upon　his　own　people；　and　loyalty　to　the　friends　he　lovedand　to　the　woman　who　loved　him！

The　shouting　now　became　a　continuous　roar。　The　front　line　of　policemen；　as　they　neared　the　obstructions；　　swung　their　clubs　right　and　left；　beating　back　the　crowd。　Then　the　rumbling　cars；　drawn　by　the　horses；　came　to　a　halt。　The　barricades　must　be　reckoned　with。

Again　there　came　the　flashing　of　steel　and　the　　intermingling　of　blue　and　white　uniforms。　The　troops　were　leaving　the　cars　and　were　forming　in　line　to　pass　the　barricades；　the　officers　marching　in　front；　the　compact　mass　following　elbow　to　elbow；　their　eyes　straight　before　them；　their　muskets　flat　against　their　shoulders。

The　approaching　column　now　deployed　sharply；　wheeled　to　the　right　of　the　obstruction；　and　became　once　more　a　solid　mass；　leaving　the　barricades　behind　them；　the　Chief　of　Police　at　the　head　of　the　line　forcing　the　mob　back　to　the　curbstone；　laying　about　him　with　his　club；　thumping　heads　and　cracking　wrists　as　he　cleared　the　way。

The　colonel　of　the　regiment；　his　fatigue　cap　pulled　over　his　eyes；　sword　in　hand；　shoulders　erect；　cape　thrown　back；　was　now　abreast　of　the　awning　to　which　Oliver　clung。　Now　and　then　he　would　glance　furtively　　at　the　house…tops；　as　if　expecting　a　missile。

The　mob　looked　on　sullenly；　awed　into　submission　by　the　gleaming　bayonets。　But　for　the　shouts　of　the　police；　beating　back　the　crowd；　and　the　muttered　curses；　one　would　have　thought　a　parade　was　in　progress。

The　first　company　had　now　passedpale；　haggard…　looking　men；　their　lips　twitching；　showing　little　flecks　of　dried　saliva　caked　in　the　corners　of　their　mouths；　their　hands　tight　about　the　butts　of　their　muskets。

Oliver　looked　on　with　beating　heart。　The　dull；　monotonous　tramp　of　their　feet　strangely　affected　him。

As　the　second　line　of　bayonets　came　abreast　of　the　awning…post；　a　blacksmith　in　a　red　shirt　and　leather　apron；　his　arms　bared　to　the　elbow；　sprang　from　the　packed　sidewalk　into　the　open　space　between　the　troops　and　the　gutter；　lifted　a　paving　stone　high　above　his　head　and　hurled　it；　with　all　his　might；　straight　against　the　soldier　nearest　him。　The　man　reeled；　clutched　at　the　comrade　next　him；　and　sank　to　the　ground。　Then；　quick　as　an　echo；　a　puff　of　white　smoke　burst　out　down　the　line　of　troops；　and　a　sharp；　ringing　report　split　the　air。　The　first　shot　of　defence　had　been　fired。

The　whole　column　swayed　as　if　breasting　a　gale。

Another　and　an　answering　shot　now　rang　through　the　street。　This　came　from　a　window　filled　with　men　gesticulating　wildly。　Instantly　the　troop。　wheeled；　raised　their　muskets；　and　a　line　of　fire　and　smoke　belched　forth。

A　terrible　fear；　that　paled　men's　faces；　followed　by　a　moment　of　ominous　silence；　seized　upon　the　mob；　and　then　a　wild　roar　burst　out　from　thousands　of　human　throats。　The　rectangular　body　of　soldiers　and　the　ragged…edged　mob　merged　into　a　common　mass。　Men　wrenched　the　guns　from　the　soldiers　and　beat　them　down　with　the　butt　ends　of　the　muskets。　　Frenzied　policemen　hurled　themselves　into　the　midst　of　the　disorganized　militia；　knocking　up　the　ends　of　their　muskets；　begging　the　men　to　hold　their　fire。　The　air　was　thick　with　missiles；　bricks　from　the　house…tops；　sticks　of　wood　and　coal　from　the　fireplaces　　of　the　offices；　iron　bolts；　castings；　anything　the　crazed　mob　could　find　with　which　to　kill　their　fellow…men。　The　roar　was　deafening；　drowning　the　orders　of　the　officers。

Oliver　clung　to　his　post；　not　knowing　whether　to　drop　into　the　seething　mass　or　to　run　the　risk　of　being　shot　where　he　was。　Suddenly　his　eye　singled　out　a　soldier　who　stood　at　bay　below　him；　swinging　his　musket；　　widening　the　circle　about　him　with　every　blow。　The　soldier's　movements　were　hampered　by　his　heavy　overcoat　and　army　blanket　slung　across　his　shoulder。　His　face　and　neck　were　covered　with　blood　and　dirt；　disfiguring　him　beyond　recognition。

At　the　same　instant　Oliver　became　conscious　that　a　man　in　blue　overalls　was　creeping　up　on　the　soldier's　　rear　to　brain　him　with　a　cart…rung　that　he　held　in　his　hand。

A　mist　swam　before　the　boy's　eyes；　and　a　great　lump　rose　in　his　throat。　The　cowardice　of　the　attack　incensed　him；　some　of　the　hot　blood　of　the　old　ancestor　　that　had　crossed　the　flood　at　Trenton　flamed　up　in　his　face。　With　the　quickness　of　a　cat　he　dropped　to　the　sidewalk；　darted　forward；　struck　the　coward　full　in　the　face　with　his　clenched　fist；　tumbling　him　to　the　ground；　wrenched　the　rung　from　his　hands；　and；　jumping　in　front　of　the　now　almost　overpowered　soldier；　swung　the　heavy　stick　about　him　like　a　flail；　clearing　the　space　before　him。

The　assaulting　crowd　wavered；　fell　back；　and　then；　maddened　at　Oliver's　defence　of　the　invader；　with　a　wild　yell　of　triumph；　swept　the　two　young　men　off　their　feet；　throwing　them　bodily　down　the　steps　of　a　ship…chandler's　shop；　the　soldier　knocked　senseless　by　a　blow　from　a　brick　which　had　struck　him　full　in　the　chest。

Oliver　lay　still　for　a　moment；　raised　his　head　cautiously　　and；　putting　forth　all　his　strength；　twisted　his　arms　around　the　stricken　man　and　rolled　with　him　into　the　cellar。　Then；　springing　to　his　feet；　he　slammed　the　door　behind　them　and　slipped　in　the　bolt；　before　the　mob　could　guess　his　meaning。

Listening　at　the　crack　of　the　door　for　a　moment　and　finding　they　were　not　pursued；　he　stood　over　the　limp　body；　lifted　it　in　his　arms；　laid　it　on　a　pile　of　sails；　and　ran　to　the　rear　of　the　cellar　for　a　bucket　standing　under　a　grimy　window；　scarcely　visible　in　the　gloom；　now　that　the　door　was　shut。

Under　the　touch　of　the　cold　water；　the　soldier　slowly　opened　his　eyes；　straining　them　toward　Oliver；　as　if　in　pain。

The　two　men　looked；　intently　at　each　other；　the　soldier　passing　his　hand　across　his　forehead　as　if　trying　　to　clear　his　brain。　Then　lifting　himself　up　on　his　elbow　he　gasped：

〃Horn！　Horn！　My　God！〃

Oliver's　heart　stopped　beating。

〃Who　are　you？〃

〃John　Grant。〃

Oliver　saw　only　Margaret's　face！

As　though　he　were　working　for　the　woman　he　loveddoing　what　she　would　have　donehe　knelt　beside　the　wounded　man；　wiped　the　blood　and　grime　from　his　cheeks　with　his　own　handkerchief；　loosening　his　coat；　rubbing　his　hands；　murmuring　〃Old　fellow；〃　　〃Dear　John　〃：　there　was　no　time　for　other　interchange　of　speech。

When　at　last　Grant　was　on　his　feet　the　two　men　barricaded　the　doors　more　strongly；　rolling　heavy　barrels　against　them；　the　sounds　from　the　street　seeming　　to　indicate　that　an　attack　might　be　made　upon　them。　But　the　mob　had　swept　on　and　forgotten　them；　as　mobs　often　do；　while　the　fugitives　waited；　hardly　daring　to　speak　except　in　detached　whispers；　lest　some　one　of　the　inmates　of　the　warehouse　overhead　　might　hear　them。

Toward　noon　a　low　tap　was　heard　at　the　window；　which　was　level　with　an　alley　in　the　rear；　and　a　man's　hand　was　thrust　through　a　broken　pane。　Oliver　pressed　Grant's　arm；　laid　his　finger　on　his　lips；　caught　up　a　heavy　hammer　lying　on　an　oil…barrel；　crept　noiselessly　along　the　wall　toward　the　sound；　and　stopped　to　listen。　Then　he　heard　his　name　called　in　a　hoarse　whisper。

〃Marse　Ollie！　Marse　Ollie！　Is　you　in　here？〃

〃Who　is　it？〃　Oliver　called　back；　crouching　beneath　　the　window；　his　fingers　tight　around　the　handle　　of　the　hammer。

〃It's　me；　Marse　Ollie。〃

〃You！　Malachi！〃

〃Yassir；　I'se　been　a…followin'　ye　all　de　mawnin'；　I　see　'em　tryin'　to　kill　ye　an'　I　tried　to　git　to　ye。　I　kin　git　throughyer　needn't　help　me；〃　and　he　squeezed　himself　under　the　raised　sash。　〃Malachi　like　de　snakecrawl　through　anywheres。　An'　ye　ain't　hurted？〃　he　asked　when　he　was　inside。　〃De　bressed　Lord；　ain't　dat　good！　I　been　a…wai