6 Belt’s Ghost

I found Belt fast asleep. The two draughts of whisky, heavy and hot, had been a blanket to his senses, and he had gone off for a while to another world to think and to struggle still, for he muttered and squirmed in his restless slumber. His hand when I touched it was yet hot with fever. He might, most likely would, be better when he awoke in the morning, but he would be flat aback the remainder of the night. He could conduct no further search in that house before the next day.

I was uncertain what to do, whether to remain there with Belt or go out and help Whitestone with the watch. Duty to our cause said the latter, but in truth other voices are sometimes as loud as that of duty. I listened to one of the other.

I drew a chair near to Belt’s couch and sat down. He was still muttering in his hot, sweaty sleep like one with anger at things, and now and then threw out his long thin legs and arms. He looked like a man tied down trying to escape.

The candle still burned on the table, but its light was feeble at best. Shadows filled the corners of the room. I like sick-bed watches but little, and least of all such as that. They make me feel as if I had lost my place in a healthy world. To such purpose was I thinking when Belt sat up with a suddenness that made me start, and cried in a voice cracked with fever:

“Shelby, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” I replied with a cheeriness that I did not feel. “Lie down and go to sleep, lieutenant, or you’ll be a week getting well.”

“I can’t go to sleep, and I haven’t been to sleep,” he said, raising his voice, which had a whistling note of illness in it.

His eyes sparkled, and I could see that the machinery of his head was working badly. I took him by the shoulders with intent to force him down upon the couch; but he threw me off with sudden energy that took me by surprise.

“Let me go,” he said, “till I say what I want to say.”

“Well, what is it?” I asked, thinking to pacify him.

“Shelby,” said he, belief showing all over his face, “I’ve seen a ghost!”

A strong desire to laugh was upon me, but I did not let it best me, for I had respect for Belt, who was my superior officer. I don’t believe in ghosts; they never come to see me.

“You’re sick, and you’ve been dreaming, lieutenant,” I said. “Go to sleep.”

“I’ll try to go to sleep,” he replied, “but what I say is truth, and I’ve seen a ghost.”

“What did it look like?” I asked, remembering that it is best to fall in with the humor of mad people.

“Like a woman,” he replied, “and that’s all I can say on that point, for this cursed fever has drawn a veil over my eyes. I had shut them, trying to go to sleep, but something kept pulling my eyelids apart, and open they came again; there was the ghost, the ghost of a woman; it had come through the wall, I suppose. It floated all around the room as if it were looking for something, but not making a breath of a noise, like a white cloud sailing through the air. I tell you, Shelby, I was in fear, for I had never believed in such things, and I had laughed at them.”

“What became of the ghost?” I asked.

“It went away just like it came, through the wall, I guess,” said Belt. “All I know is that I saw it, and then I didn’t. And I want you to stay with me, Shelby; don’t leave me!”

This time I laughed, and on purpose. I wanted to chirk Belt up a bit, and I thought I could do it by ridiculing such a fever dream. But I could not shake the conviction in him. Instead, his temper took heat at my lack of faith. Then I affected to believe, which soothed him, and exhaustion falling upon him I saw that either he would slumber again or weakness would steal his senses. I thought to ease his mind, and told him everything outside was going well; that Whitestone was the best sentinel in the world, and not even a lizard could creep past him though the night might be black as coal. Whereat he smiled, and presently turning over on his side began to mutter, by which I knew that a hot sleep was again laying hold of him.

After the rain it had turned very warm again, and I opened the window for unbreathed air. Belt’s request that I stay with him, given in a sort of delirium though it was, made good excuse for my remaining. If ever he said anything about it I could allege his own words.

The candle burned down more on one side than on the other and its blaze leaned over like a man sick. It served but to distort.

I looked at Belt and wondered why the mind too should grow weak, as it most often does when disease lays hold of the body. In his healthy senses, Belt—who, like most New Englanders, believed only what he saw—would have jeered at the claims of a ghost. There, was little credulity in that lank, bony frame.

But I stopped short in such thoughts, for I noticed that which made my blood quicken in surprise. Belt’s uniform was gone. I rose and looked behind the couch, thinking the lieutenant in his uneasy squirmings might have knocked it over there. But he had not done so; nor was it elsewhere in the room. It had gone clean away—perhaps through the wall, like Belt’s ghost. I wondered what Whitestone’s emotions would be if a somewhat soiled and worn Continental uniform, with no flesh and bones in it, should come walking down his beat.

I understood that it was a time for me to think my best, and I set about it. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the wall in the manner of those who do strenuous thinking. I shifted my gaze but once, and then to put it upon Belt, who I concluded would not come back to earth for a long time.

At the end of ten minutes I rose from my chair and went out into the hall, leaving the candle still burning on the table. Perhaps I, too, might find a ghost. I did not mean to lose the opportunity which might never seek me again.

The hall ran the full width of the house and was broad. There was a window at the end, but the light was so faint I could scarce see, and in the corners and near the walls so much dusk was gathered that the eye was of no use there. Yet, by much stealing about and reaching here and there with my hands, I convinced myself that no ghost lurked in that hall. But there was a stairway leading into an upper hall, and, as silent as a ghost myself, for which I take pride, I stole up the steps.

Just before I reached the top step I heard a faint shuffling noise like that which a heavy and awkward ghost with poor use of himself would most likely make. Nay, I have heard that ghosts never make noise, but I see no reason why they shouldn’t, at least a little.

I crouched down in the shadow of the top step and the banisters. The faint shuffling noise came nearer, and Belt’s lost uniform, upright and in its proper shape, drifted past me and down the steps. I followed lightly. I was not afraid. I have never heard, at least not with the proper authenticity, that ghosts strike one, or do other deeds of violence; so I followed, secure in my courage. The brass buttons on the uniform gleamed a little, and I kept them in clear view. Down the steps went the figure, and then it sped along the hall, with me after it. It reached the front door, opened it half a foot and stood there. That was my opportunity to hold discussion with a ghost, and I did not neglect it. Forward I slipped and tapped with my fingers an arm of the uniform, which inclosed not empty air but flesh and blood. Startled, the figure faced about and saw my features, for a little light came in at the door.

“I offer congratulations on your speedy recovery from fever, Lieutenant Belt,” I said, in a subdued tone.

“It was quick, it is true,” he replied, “but I need something more.”

“What is that?” I asked.

“Fresh air,” he replied. “I think I will go outside.”

“I will go with you,” I said. “Fevers are uncertain, and one can not tell what may happen.”

He hesitated as if he would make demur, but I said:

“It is necessary to both of us.”

He hesitated no longer, but opened the door wider and stepped out into the portico. I looked with much anxiety to see what sort of watch was kept, and no doubt my companion did the same. It was good. Three sentinels were in sight. Directly in front of us, and about thirty feet away, was Whitestone. The skirmishers and their rifles had not yet gone to sleep, for twice while we stood on the portico we saw the flash of powder on the distant hills.

“Lieutenant, I think we had best walk in the direction of the firing and make a little investigation,” I said.

“The idea is good,” he replied. “We will do it.”

We walked down the steps and into the yard. I was slightly in advance, leading the way. We passed within a dozen feet of Whitestone, who saluted.

“Sergeant,” said I, “Lieutenant Belt, who feels much better, and I, wish to inquire further into the skirmishing. There may be some significance for us in it. We will return presently.”

Whitestone saluted again and said nothing. Once more I wish to commend Whitestone as a jewel. He did not turn to look at us when we passed him, but stalked up and down as if he were a wooden figure moving on hinges.

We walked northward, neither speaking. Some three or four hundred yards from the house both of us stopped. Then I put my hand upon his arm again.

“Albert,” I said, “your fortune is far better than you deserve, or ever will deserve.”

“I don’t know about that,” he replied.

“I do,” I said. “Now, beyond those hills are the camp-fires of Burgoyne. You came thus far easily enough in your effort to get out, though Martyn, who came with you, failed, and you can go back the same way; but, before you start, take off Belt’s uniform. I won’t have you masquerading as an American officer.”

Without a word he took off the Continental uniform and stood in the citizen’s suit in which I had first seen him, Belt being a larger man than he. I rolled them up in a bundle and put the bundle under my arm.

“Shake hands,” he said. “You’ve done me a good turn.”

“Several of them,” I said, as I shook his hand, “which is several more than you have done for me.”

“I don’t bear you any grudge on that account,” he said with a faint laugh, as he strode off in the darkness toward Burgoyne’s army.

Which, I take it, was handsome of him.

I watched him as long as I could. You may not be able sometimes to look in the darkness and find a figure, but when that figure departs from your side and you never take your eyes off it, you can follow it for a long way through the night. Thus I could watch Albert a hundred yards or more, and I saw that he veered in no wise from the course I had assigned to him, and kept his face turned to the army of Burgoyne. But I had not doubted that he would keep his word and would not seek to escape southward; nor did I doubt that he would reach his comrades in safety.

I turned away, very glad that he was gone. Friends cause much trouble sometimes, but girls’ brothers cause more.

I took my thoughts away from him and turned them to the business of going back into the house with the wad of uniform under my arm, which was very simple if things turned out all right. I believed that Whitestone would be on guard at the same place, which was what I wanted. I knew Whitestone would be the most vigilant of all the sentinels, but I was accustomed to him. One prefers to do business with a man one knows.

I sauntered back slowly, now and then turning about on my heels as if I would spy out the landscape, which in truth was pretty well hid by the thickness of the night.

As I approached the yard my heart gave a thump like a hammer on the anvil; but there was Whitestone on the same beat, and my heart thumped again, but with more consideration than before.

I entered the yard, and Whitestone saluted with dignity.

“Sergeant,” said I, “Lieutenant Belt is looking about on the other side of the house. He fears that his fever is coming on him again, and he will re-enter the house, but by the back door. I am to meet him there.”

Sergeant Whitestone saluted again. I said naught of the bundle in the crook of my arm, which he could plainly see.

“Sergeant,” said I, “what do you think of a man who tells all he knows?”

“Very little, sir,” he replied.

“So do I,” I said; “but be that as it may, you know that you and I are devoted to the patriot cause.”

“Aye, truly, sir!” he said.

We saluted each other again with great respect, and I passed into the house.

Belt was still asleep upon the sofa and his fever was going down, though he talked now and then of the things that were on his brain when awake. The candle was dying, the tallow sputtering as the blaze reached the last of it, and without another the thickness of the night would be upon us.

I ascended the stairway into the upper hall again, but this time with no attempt to rival a ghost in smoothness of motion. Instead, I stumbled about like a man in whose head hot punch has set everything to dancing. Presently Mistress Kate, bearing a candle in her hand and dressed as if for the day—at which I was not surprised—appeared from the side door.

I begged her for another candle, if the supply in the house were not exhausted, and stepping back she returned in a moment with what I desired; then in a tone of much sympathy she inquired as to the state of Lieutenant Belt’s health. I said he was sleeping peacefully, and suggested that she come and look at him, as she might have sufficient knowledge of medicine to assist me in the case. To which she consented, though ever one of the most modest of maidens.

I held the candle near Belt’s face, but in such position that the light would not shine into his eyes and awaken him.

“But the lieutenant would rather be on his feet again and in these garments,” I said, turning the light upon Belt’s uniform, which I had carefully spread out again on the foot of the couch. Then I added:

“The wearer of that uniform has had many adventures, doubtless, but he has not come to any harm yet.”

I might have talked further, but I knew that naught more was needed for Kate Van Auken.

Moreover, no words could ever be cited against me.

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