We must go back, for a very short time, to the spot where Edith and her Oneida captors set out upon what proved to them an unfortunate voyage across Lake Champlain, and to the very moment after their canoe had left the shore. The Long House of the Five Nations, as they were pleased to call their territory, extended from the Great Lakes and a point far west, to the banks of the Hudson, and Lakes Horicon and Champlain; but, as is always the case in border countries, the frontier was often crossed by wandering or predatory bands, and by outlaws from the Hurons and other nations under the sway of France, or from the Iroquois tribes attached to England. The peculiar habits and laws of the Indian tribes rendered the incorporation of fugitives with other nations a very easy matter, although the language of the Five Nations would seem to be radically different from that of the tribes originally inhabiting the seaboard of America. Thus, on the western shore of Lake Champlain, not a few pure Hurons were to be found; and, indeed, that tribe, during the successful campaigns of France against England, with which what is called the French and Indian war commenced, had somewhat encroached upon the Iroquois territory, supported in their daring by the redoubted name of Montcalm.
With some of these, it would seem, Apukwa and his companions had entered into a sort of tacit alliance; and towards their dwellings they had directed their steps after their attack upon Edith and her little escort, in the expectation of readily finding a canoe to waft them over the lake. At first, they had been disappointed; for the barques which had been there the day before were gone; and when they did find the canoe in which they ultimately commenced their voyage, the avaricious old man to whom it belonged would not let them use it without a world of bargaining; and it cost them a considerable portion of the little stock of ornaments and trinkets which they had found in Edith's plundered baggage, before the Huron consented to lend that which they did not dare to take by force.
Thus, more than an hour was passed after they reached the lake-shore before they departed; and their taking their course so boldly across the bows of the French boats was more a matter of necessity than choice, although they little doubted a good reception from the inveterate enemies of England. The moment, however, that the canoe had shot out into the water, a tall, dark woman emerged from the bushes of the low point under which the skiff had lain, and began wringing her hands with every appearance of grief and anxiety.
"Oh, what will poor massa do?" she cried, in a piteous voice; "what will poor massa do? Him son killed: him daughter stolen, and Chando tomahawked. Ah, me! ah, me! what will we all do?"
Her imprudent burst of grief had nearly proved destructive to poor Sister Bab. The old Huron had turned him quietly towards a small birch-bark cabin in the forest hard by, and would never have remarked the poor negress if she had confined the expression of her cares to mere gesture; but her moans and exclamations caught the quick ear of the savage, and he turned and saw her plainly gazing after the canoe.
With no other provocation than a taste for blood, he stole gently through the trees with the soft, gliding, noiseless motion peculiar to his race; and making a circuit so as to conceal his advance, came behind the poor creature just as she beheld the canoe which bore away her young mistress, stopped and surrounded by the little flotilla of the French.
Another moment would have been fatal to her (for the Indian was within three yards), when a large rattlesnake suddenly raised itself in his path, and made him recoil a step. Whether it was the small, but never-to-be-forgotten, sound of the reptile's warning, or some noise made by the Huron in suddenly drawing back, the poor negress turned her head, and saw her danger.
With a wild scream, she darted away towards the lake. The savage sprang after with a yell; and, though old, he retained much of the Indian lightness of foot. Onward towards the shore he drove her, meditating each moment to throw his hatchet, if she turned to the right or left.
But Sister Bab was possessed of qualities which would not have disgraced any of his own tribe; and, even while running at her utmost speed, she contrived continually to deprive him of his aim. Not a tree, not a shrub, not a heap of stone, that did not afford her a momentary shelter; and of every inequality of the ground she took advantage. Now she whirled sharply round the little shoulder of the hill; now, as the tomahawk was just balanced to be thrown with more fatal certainty, she sprang down a bank which almost made the Indian pause. Then she plunged head-foremost like a snake through the thick brushwood, and again appeared in a different spot from that where he had expected to see her.
Still, however, he was driving her towards the lake, at a spot where the shores were open, and where he felt certain of overtaking her. Nevertheless, on she went to the very verge of the lake, gazed to the right and left, and, seeing, with apparent consternation, that the banks rounded themselves on both sides, forming a little bay, near the centre of which she stood, she paused for a single instant, as if in despair. The Huron sprang after with a wild whoop, grasping the tomahawk firmly to strike the fatal blow.
But Sister Bab was not yet in his power; and, with a bold leap, she sprang from the ledge into the water. Her whole form instantly disappeared; and, for at least a minute, her savage pursuer stood gazing at the lake in surprise and disappointment, when, suddenly he saw a black object appear at the distance of twenty or thirty yards, and as suddenly sink again. A few moments after, it rose once more, still further out; and then the brave woman was seen striking easily away towards the south.
Rendered only more eager by the chase, and more fierce by disappointment, the Huron ran swiftly along the shore, thinking that he could easily tire her out or cut her off; but, in sunny waters, in far distant lands, she had sported with the waves, in infancy; and, taking the chord of the bow where he was compelled to take the arc, she gained from distance what she lost in speed. So calm was she, so cool, that, turning her eyes from her pursuer, she gazed over the water in the direction where she had seen her beloved young mistress carried, and had the satisfaction of beholding the canoe in which she was towed along by one of the French boats. Why she rejoiced, she hardly knew, for her notions on such matters were not very definite; but anything seemed better than to remain in the hands of the murderers of poor Chando.
Her thoughts were still of Edith; and she asked herself,--
"Where are they taking her to, I wonder? Perhaps I may come up with them, if that red-skin would but leave off running along by the shore, and let me land, and cross the narrow point. He may run, the devil-foot! He can't catch Bab. I'll dive again. He think her drowned."
Her resolution was instantly executed; and--whether it was that her stratagem was successful, or that the Huron had less than Indian perseverance, and gave up the chase--when she rose again, she saw him turning towards the woods, as if about to go back to his lodge. But Bab had learned caution, and she pursued her way towards the small peninsula where stood the French fort of Crown Point, which, at the period I speak of, had been nearly stripped of its garrison to reinforce Ticonderoga.
She chose her spot, however, with great care; for, though in her wanderings she had made herself well acquainted with the country, she was, of course, ignorant of the late movements of the troops, and fancied that the French posts extended as far beyond the walls of the fortress as they had formerly done. A little woody island, hardly separated from the main land, covered her approach; and the moment her feet touched the shore, she darted away into the forest, and took the trail which led nearly due south. The neck of the point was soon passed; and once more she caught sight of the French boats still towing the canoe on which her thoughts so pertinaciously rested.
The short detention of the French party, and the advantage she gained by her direct course across the point, had put her a little in advance; and she ran rapidly on till she reached the mouth of the small river, now called Putnam's Creek, which, being flooded by the torrents of rain which had fallen in the earlier part of the day, made her pause for a moment, gazing at the rushing and eddying waters coming down, and doubting whether she had strength left to swim across it.
The boats, by this time, were somewhat in advance; and, when she gazed after them, she naturally came to the conclusion that they were bound for what she called, after the Indian fashion, Cheeconderoga.
Suddenly, however, as she watched, she saw their course altered; and it soon became evident that they intended to land considerably north of the fort. Running up the creek, then, till she found a place where she could pass, she followed an Indian trail through the woods lying a little to the west of the present line of road, and at length reached an eminence nearly opposite to Shoreham--a spur of Mount Hope, in fact, where she once more saw the lake just in time to catch a view of the disembarkation of the French troops and the Indians.
Notwithstanding her great strength, the poor negress was, by this time, exceedingly tired; still, that persevering love which is one of the brightest traits of her unfortunate race, carried her on.
"If I can but catch sight of them again," she thought, "before night I can carry old massa tidings of where she be."
Encouraged by this idea, she pushed on without pause. But night overtook her before she had seen any more of the party; and poor Bab's spirit began to fail. More slowly she went, somewhat doubtful of her way; and, in the solitude, the darkness, and the intricacy of the woods, fears began to creep over her which were not familiar to her bosom.
At length, however, she thought she heard voices at a distance; and, a minute or two after, found herself on the banks of a small brook. She paused and listened; the voices were now distinct; and, without hesitation, she crossed, and crept cautiously along in the direction from which the sounds came. A moment or two after, the flickering of a fire through the trees attracted her attention; and more and more carefully she stole on upon her hands and knees through the low brush, still seeing the blaze of the firelight when she raised her eyes, but unable to perceive the spot whence it proceeded. A small pine cut down then met her hand as she crept along, and then a number of loose branches tossed together. And now sister Bab began to get an inkling of the truth.
"It must be what dey call an ambush," she thought; and, raising herself gently, she found that she was close to a bank of earth, over which the firelight was streaming. The sounds of voices were now distinctly heard; but she could not understand a syllable, for it seemed to her that they were speaking in two different languages, if not more, and each of them was strange to her. At one time, she fancied she heard Edith's voice; still, the language spoken was a strange one; and, although the bank of earth was not more than shoulder-high, she did not venture at first to rise to her whole stature in order to look over.
At length, however, came some words of English; and the voice which she judged to be Edith's was plainly heard, saying,--
"This gentleman is asking you, my good friend, if you will not go and take some supper with him where the people have spread a cloth yonder."
Bab could resist no more, but raised herself sufficiently to bring her eyes above the top of the breastwork, and gazed over into the little rude redoubt. On the right, and at the further part of the enclosure, were a number of Indians, seated on the ground; and, besides the fire already burning, several others were being piled up amidst the various groups of natives. Somewhat on the left, and stretching well nigh across the western side of the open space, were the French soldiers, in groups of five or six, with their arms piled near them. Other straggling parties were scattered over the ground; and two sentinels, each with musket on shoulder, appeared on the other side of the redoubt.
But the group which attracted the poor woman's chief attention was one on the left, near a spot where some small huts had been erected. It consisted of three persons--a gaily-dressed French officer, a man in the garb of a soldier, but with his weapons cast aside, and, lastly, a powerful man in a yellowish-brown hunting-shirt, whom sister Bab instantly recognized as her old acquaintance, the Woodchuck. That sight was quite enough; and, sinking again amongst the bushes, she crept slowly away to a little distance, and there lay down to meditate as to what was next to be done.
At one time she was tempted to enter the French redoubt, and remain with her young mistress. Several considerations seemed in favour of this course; and let it be no imputation upon poor Bab, that hunger, and the savoury odours which came wafted over the earthwork, were not without their influence. But then she thought,--"If I do, how will old massa ever know where missy is?"
And this remembrance enabled her to resist the strong temptation.
"I will stay here and rest till de moon get up," thought the poor woman. "I know dey must be coming up de lake by dis time, and I can catch dem before to-morrow."
To prevent herself from sleeping too long, if slumber should overtake her, she crept further out of the thick wood, and seated herself in a more open spot, with her clasped hands over her knees, but with nothing else to support her. Various sorts of fears suggested themselves to her mind, as she thus sat; but oppressive weariness was more powerful than thought, and in a few moments her head was nodding. Often she woke up at first; but then she slept more profoundly, bending forward till her forehead actually rested on her knees. It is probable, too, that she dreamed, for, in the course of the next two hours, several broken sentences issued from her lips in a low murmur. At length, however, she woke with a start, and found the moon silvering the whole sky to the eastward, though some bold heights, towering up, still obscured the face of the orb of night.
Bab sat and gazed, somewhat bewildered, and hardly knowing where she was. But the musical voice of the falling waters, which has gained for the outlet of Lake Horicon an ever-enduring name, and the grand outline of Mount Defiance seen through the trees, soon showed her that she was on that narrow point of land lying between Trout Brook and the Falls. She waited till the moon had fully risen, and then stole quietly away again, keeping a south-western course nearly up the current of the brook, and for three hours she pursued her way with a rapid and untiring foot. She had no idea of the time, and wondered if the day would never break; but the moonlight was beautifully clear, and the calm beams, as if they had some affinity with the woodland solitude, seemed to penetrate through the branches and green leaves, even more easily than was usual with the sunshine.
Bab's fears had now nearly passed away; for she knew that she must be far beyond the French and Huron posts, and could only expect to meet either with the scouts and outposts of the English army, or with parties of Indians, and she consequently went on without care or precaution. Suddenly she found herself emerging from the wood into one of those low open savannahs, of which I have already spoken, close to the spot where the embers of a fire were still glowing. The grass was soft, and her tread was light, but the sleep of the Indian is lighter still; and, in an instant, three or four warriors started up around her.
"I am a friend, I am a friend!" cried the negress, in the Iroquois tongue. "Who are you? Mohawks?"
"Children of the Stone," replied the man nearest to her, gazing at her earnestly by the moonlight. "I have seen the Black Cloud before. Does she not dwell in the house of our brother Prevost?"
"Yes, yes!" cried Sister Bab, eagerly. "I'm his slave girl, Bab, who came to the Oneida Castle with my own missy. But now she is the prisoner of bad men; and I have escaped, tired and hungry, and am nearly dead."
"Come with me," said the Indian; "I will take thee where thou shalt have rest to comfort thee, and meat to support thee, till the Black Eagle comes. He will not be long, for he will keep the war-path night and day till he is here; and his wings are swift."
The poor woman shuddered at the name, of the terrible chief, for it was closely connected in her mind with the circumstances of her young master's fate; but, wearied and exhausted, the prospect of food and repose was a blessing, and she followed him in silence to the other side of the savannah.
Sixteen thousand gallant men, led by a brave and experienced general, and supported by a fine, though not very large, park of artillery, seemed certainly sufficient for the reduction of a small fortress, not very well garrisoned, nor supplied with any great abundance of stores. But it seemed the fate of English officers in North America to adhere strictly to all ancient rules, when ancient rules could be of no service in face of a new and totally different mode of warfare, and to abandon those rules at times and in circumstances when only they could be available.
A large fleet ofbateauxhad been collected at the southern extremity of Lake George, ready to transport the troops to the destined point of attack; and a council of the most experienced officers was held on the morning of the third of July, to consider the further proceedings of the army.
All had now assembled at what was then commonly called in the province "Fort Lyman," although the name was already changed to "Fort Edward."
General Abercrombie was there in person; and a number of other officers appeared at the council likewise, whose experience in Indian warfare was superior to his own. There is much reason to believe, that had Abercrombie's own opinion been followed in acting against a French fort under French command, all the operations would have been conducted in the same manner, and upon the same system which would have guided a similar enterprise in Europe; and thus much bloodshed and some disgrace would have been spared.
It was represented to the Commander-in-Chief, however, that numerous bodies of Indians were acting upon the side of France, and that all operations carried on according to European rules had hitherto failed in America; and more than one bloody disaster was held up as a warning to his eyes, which he unhappily suffered to bias his own better judgment. In a word, as it was known that every day fresh reinforcements were being thrown into Ticonderoga, that large bodies of Indians were collected for its defence, and that preparations of every kind were in progress, it was determined that a sudden and rapid rush should be made upon the fort, and that no consideration should be put in competition with celerity of movement and boldness of attack. Lord H---- alone represented that, from what he had personally learned during the last six months, it was absolutely necessary to employ cannon, though, perhaps, with a want of proper confidence in his own reputation, he offered to lead the advanced parties, lest the opinion he expressed should seem to any one to savour of timidity.
At as early an hour as possible the march commenced along what was called the King's Road; and in high spirits regiment after regiment entered the forest, confident in their numbers and their prowess. The regular troops pursued the well-constructed causeway, while clouds of Mohawks were scattered on the flanks, sweeping the forest ground on either side. The artillery, on the heavy and clumsy carriages of that day, the tumbrils and the baggage-waggons, came lumbering in the rear, and a large crowd of stragglers followed, comprising the scouts, who might have been much more advantageously employed in the front, but who, for some reason unexplained, had very little service assigned them on the expedition. General Abercrombie and his staff, with several of the superior officers, followed slowly, well aware that the advance of the forces would meet with no opposition, at least upon the first day's march. To this group, from every quarter, came numerous messengers throughout the day; some bringing news of a fresh levy marching up from the eastern states; some from the front seeking clearer orders when any little difficulty or impediment occurred; some from Albany, with intelligence from that city or New York; and several Indian runners from the west, bearing far more important tidings from the Indian tribes, now all in movement to support their British allies.
Amongst the rest appeared the silent runner Proctor, with a letter to General Abercrombie, who, as soon as he had read it, turned to Lord H----, saying,--
"This is a communication from your friends, the Oneidas, my lord, but written by some Englishman, who signs himself 'Gore.' He states that a war-party of the nation is already on the western bank of the lake, and that the main body, under Black Eagle himself, is expected in the course of the day. I suppose we may therefore consider ourselves secure upon our left flank."
"Undoubtedly," replied Lord H----, with a look of so much anxiety, as almost to induce the Commander-in-Chief to believe that he entertained doubts which he did not choose to express.
"Youthinkso, I presume," interposed Abercrombie, gazing at him.
"Entirely," replied Lord H----; "but I was in hopes of hearing some other intelligence of a private nature, concerning Mr. Prevost's son, whose alarming position amongst the Oneidas I mentioned to you, if you recollect."
"There is nothing more," said General Abercrombie, handing him the letter; "but there is the messenger. Probably he can give you some information."
Lord H---- immediately turned towards Proctor, who was running at a sort of trot by the side of the general's horse, and inquired if he had been at the Castle of the Oneidas. The man shook his head, and trotted on.
"Then where did you last come from?" asked Lord H----.
But Proctor only lifted his hand, and pointed towards the north-west.
"How many miles?" demanded the nobleman, determined to get some speech out of him.
But he lifted up his hands three times with the ten fingers spread abroad, without ever opening his lips.
"Did you hear amongst those who sent you," asked Lord H----, "any tidings of young Mr. Prevost?"
The man shook his head; but then suddenly stopped in his trot, and said, as if upon recollection,--
"They thought he had been put to death."
He paused, as if what he had said had cost him a great effort; but then added, slowly, when he saw the painful expression of the young nobleman's countenance, "They onlythought. They did notknow. They left before."
"Did you see or hear of a man whom you know as Woodchuck--the man you saw with me at Albany?" asked Lord H----.
But the other shook his head; and nothing more could be extracted from him. He was then sent forward to join the rear-guard; but his taciturnity gave Lord H---- good assurance that Mr. Prevost, who had gone forward, would not be pained by the terrible rumour which he bore.
The long and fatiguing march to the nearest point of Lake Horicon I need not describe. Many of the scenes recorded in the life of the gallant Putnam passed near or on the very route pursued; and the feats of daring and the escapes of that fine soldier are almost as marvellous still in our eyes as in those of the savage Indians of his own time, who supposed him to bear a charmed life. Suffice it, that, after encountering great difficulty and severe fatigue in dragging the cannon over a road which in the neighbourhood of the settled portion of the colony was good enough, but which became almost impassable near the lake, in consequence of the heavy rains, the whole army arrived in safety at the newly-constructed and yet incomplete works of Fort George, lying a little to the east of the site of ever-memorable Fort William-Henry.
By the care and diligence of the commissary-general, everything that could refresh the weary soldiers was found prepared; a fleet of one hundred and thirty-five large boats and nine hundredbateauxwas seen lying along the shore of the lake of pure and holy waters; and hardly a head was laid down to slumber in the tents that night, which did not fondly fancy that Ticonderoga must inevitably fall.
As usual in camp, or on the march, Lord H---- dined with his soldiers, and shared their simple fare; but he passed the evening with Mr. Prevost, who had found quarters in the fort. Both were grave, but the deeper gravity was with Lord H----; for though through the mind of the elder man continually flitted painful fancies--thoughts, images, or whatever they may be called--of the fate of poor Brooks, and his lips murmured twice, almost involuntarily, the words, "Poor Woodchuck!" yet the certainty which he felt of the safety of his son, however great the sacrifice which purchased it, was a comfort--a great, a mighty consolation, although he almost reproached himself for the sensation of rejoicing, which he could not help experiencing.
Lord H----, on the contrary, felt no such certainty. Ever since his conversation with Proctor, if conversation it can be called, a gloomy feeling of apprehension had rested on him. He did not doubt poor Woodchuck in the least: he was sure that he would hold fast to his resolution. Neither had he any fears that the execution of his purpose would be delayed or prevented by any such accident as that which had in reality occurred. But he asked himself, "Might he not come too late?" They had been told the time allowed by the Oneida chief to provide a substitute for Walter, and had taken it at the European calculation of months; but, since he heard that a rumour of the young man's death was prevalent amongst the Indians, he doubted whether there had not here been a mistake. The very rumour showed that some of the natives, at least, imagined the time had expired, and implied that their calculation was different. The effect upon the mind of Edith, he knew, would be terrible, when she found that her brother might have been saved, but that his life had been lost by such a mistake.
From Mr. Prevost, he strove to hide his apprehensions as far as possible; knowing well that previous anxiety never diminishes an inevitable evil; and soon after nightfall he left him, to seek thought in his own tent.
The sky was clear and cloudless; the stars shining out with a largeness and a lustre such as European skies can never give; a light breeze stirred the waters of the lake, and made them musical along the shore; and one of the voyageurs was singing a tranquil song of home in a clear, mellow voice, as he sat in his bark. The air was mild and gentle as a morning dream: yet the whole had that solemn calmness which is always allied to melancholy. All things which, in their calmness, detach us from this untranquil earth, bring with them the feeling of parting from old friends.
Under the influence of such sensations, he went not more than a hundred steps from the gates of the fort; but seated himself upon a mass of the dark gray marble recently quarried for building, and gave himself up to the thoughts in which he would have indulged had he been in his tent. They were sadder perhaps than they had ever been before in life--without anything like presentiment, without anything like apprehension, on his own account. But new ties, new affections, tenderer sympathies, warmer hopes, than any he had yet tasted in existence, had lately grown up around him; and it is a sad fact, with man, as with states, that the more he increases his possessions--be they mundane, or be they of the heart--the more defenceless points does he expose to ever-ready enemies.
Nor was he in the fresh hey-day of life, when the down of the butterfly has never been crushed--when all is joy: the present in fruition--the future in anticipation--the past forgotten. He knew that there were sorrows: he felt that there were dangers to his peace; he was conscious how frail is the thread upon which mortal happiness is poised in the midst of the dark abyss. True, he would not have yielded the blessing of Edith's love for all that earth could give of security; still, he was well aware that his heart had now a vulnerable point to be reached by weapons which had never yet been encountered. All that touched her, touched him; and the uncertainty of Walter's fate threw a sadness over his meditations. What would have been his sensations, had he known that for Walter he need have no fear? that it washerfate he had to dread? But that was spared him.
He sat there long: no inclination to sleep interrupted his reveries, notwithstanding the fatigues of the day; and at length the moon rose over the high eastern hills, showing an unrivalled scene of solemn beauty. The moment the beams touched the waters, they were converted into a flood of liquid silver: the grand forms of Rattlesnake Mountain, and its fellow giants, to the east, and of that high hill now called French Mountain to the north-west, the deep gloomy woods, the walls of the fortress, picturesque in their rugged incompleteness, the tents of the sleeping army, with here and there the light of a night-Gwatcher gleaming amongst them, and the slopes of the nearer hills dotted with Indian fires, formed a scene such as the eye of man has seldom rested on; while over all poured the lustrous stream of light, calm and passionless like the look of a good, pure being cast over the troublous scene of mortal life.
Lord H---- rose; and, after gazing round him for a few moments, drinking in as it were the solemn loveliness, walked on slowly towards the blackened remains of Fort William-Henry. Little was to be seen there. Montcalm had not left his work half done; for all had been destroyed, and little beyond some irregularities in the ground, and some large detached fragments of masonry, showed where so many gallant men had fought in their country's cause, only to be slaughtered after surrender by a treacherous enemy.
By report, he knew the ground well; and after pausing for a minute or two amongst the ruins, he turned down the dark and fearful dell where the horrible massacre was perpetrated. Every rock around had echoed to the yell of the Indians, the groan of the dying soldier, or the shrieks of defenceless women and children. Every tree had seen beneath its boughs some of the deeds of horror and of blood which went to make up that great crime. The bones of hundreds were lying still unburied; and where the moonlight fell on the western side of the gorge, some portion of a woman's garment, which had caught upon a bush, was seen fluttering in the breeze.
The immediate path along which Lord H---- went, was still in profound shadow; but, suddenly, across the moonlight side, a little in advance of him, he saw, gliding along with noiseless step, a troop of eight or ten shadowy figures, looking like ghosts in the pale moonlight. So much was their colour the same as the rocks around, that you might almost fancy you saw through them, and that they were but the shadows from some other objects cast upon the broken crags as they passed.
Lord H---- stood and gazed; when suddenly the band stopped, and, comprehending that he had been perceived, he challenged them in English, judging at once that they must be a troop of friendly Indians. A deep voice replied in the same language, but with a strong Indian accent, "We are friends--children of the Stone. Can you tell us where to find Prevost?"
As he spoke, the leader of the Indians had advanced nearer down the sloping ground at the foot of the rocks, and there seemed something in his tall, powerful form, and majesty of carriage, familiar to the eyes of the young nobleman, who exclaimed, "Is that the Black Eagle?"
"It is," answered the other, whose limited knowledge of English did not suffer him to indulge in his usual figurative language. "Art not thou the Falling Cataract?"
"I am he to whom you gave that name," returned Lord H----. "But what want you with Mr. Prevost? Where is his son?"
"On yonder side of Horicon," answered the Indian chief, pointing with his hand towards the western side of the lake. "The boy is safe; be thy mind at rest."
Lord H---- took the hand he proffered, and pressed it in his; but at the same time he asked, "And poor Woodchuck--what of him?"
"I know not," answered Black Eagle; "we have not beheld him."
"That is strange," rejoined the nobleman; "he set out to deliver himself up to you, to save the young man's life."
"He is brave," answered Black Eagle; "the Good Spirit kept him away."
"Then, how was the boy delivered?" asked Lord H----. "We feared that your people would be inexorable."
"The Great Spirit spoke by the voices of the women," answered the chief. "She who sees beyond the earth in her visions, heard the voice, and told its words. It was decreed that if the boy died, our wives, our daughters, our sisters, should all die with him; and we listened to the voice, and obeyed."
"Come with me quickly," said Lord H---- eagerly; "let us carry the news to Mr. Prevost. He is here at the fort, now holding an office in our army."
"I know it," replied Black Eagle. "I have been to his lodge, and found no one but the slaves, who told me. The boy I sent on with my people; for the children of the Stone have taken the war-path for England, and a thousand warriors are on their way to the place of the Sounding Waters. He goes to fight amongst us as our son. But I must speak with Prevost before I go, for the wings of the Black Eagle are spread, perhaps, for his last flight; and who knows but he will leave his scalp on the war-post of the Huron?"
Lord H---- led the way with a quick step; and the chief and his companions followed. At the first outpost they were of course challenged; and, strict orders having been given to admit no troop of Indians within the limits of the fort, the young nobleman and the chief proceeded alone to the quarters of Mr. Prevost. They found him still up, and busily writing orders for the following morning. When he beheld the face of Black Eagle following his noble friend, he started up, and, at first, drew back; but then, with a sudden change of feeling, he seized the warrior's hand, exclaiming, "My son lives! my son lives, or you would not be here!"
"He lives," replied Black Eagle.
He then proceeded to give the same account to Mr. Prevost which had been heard by Lord H----. The former, however, understanding the Indian better, soon drew from him, partly in English, and partly in Iroquois, the whole particulars of Walter's deliverance.
"And would you really have slain him?" asked Mr. Prevost.
"I would," replied Black Eagle, calmly and firmly. "I would have torn out my own heart, had the laws of my people required it."
The father mused for a few moments, and then said, in a thoughtful tone,--
"I believe you would. Dear Otaitsa, did she then really peril her life to save her young friend?"
"She did more," answered Black Eagle; "she was one of those prepared to go to the happy hunting-ground, with him; but I tell thee, Prevost, not the sight of my child, with the knife in her hand ready to plunge it into her own heart, made the Black Eagle pause or hesitate. It was, that we heard the voice of the Great Spirit in the words that were spoken. He only can change the laws of the Oneida, and he changed them. But now hear me, Prevost, for I must back to my people and thy son. I sent them forward towards the Sounding Waters, while I sought thee first at thy lodge, and then here; and I must join them, for they must not throw a hatchet or fire a rifle without the Black Eagle."
He had seated himself when first he entered, but now he rose, and stood erect, as if about to make a speech.
"There is a Blossom on the Black Eagle's tree," he said, "which is dear to his eyes; and thou hast a Bough on thy tree, which is dear to thee. Otaitsa is a Christian--believes in your Good Spirit. She is descended from a race of warriors, every one of whom has left a name in the hearts of his people. She is of the highest race of the highest tribe of the children of the Stone. The blood of the red man is as fine as the blood of the white. Her mother was the daughter of a great chief, and of a race as good as thine own; a race that is renowned."
Mr. Prevost bent down his head; but he knew the Indian customs too well to interrupt, and the chief went on:--
"The Blossom loves the Bough: the Bough loves the Blossom. She has purchased him; she has bought him for herself; she has offered her heart's blood for his price. Is he not hers? If the Black Eagle should never return from his war-flight--if the bullet of the French should break his wing, or the arrow of the Huron pierce his heart, will his brother Prevost bind the Blossom and the Bough together as the white men bind them, and as the Christian people unite those who love? Will he take the Blossom to his own home, and make her indeed his daughter?"
Mr. Prevost rose, and threw his arms round the chief, saying,--
"Thou art my brother; I will do as thou hast said; and may the Good Spirit deal with me as I deal with thee in this matter!Thydaughter ismydaughter;myson isthyson. But thou knowest not, perhaps----"
Black Eagle raised his hand, saying, in Iroquois,--
"Forbear! I know what I know; thou knowest what thou knowest. We may believe much that it is not right to prove. Silence is a good thing when secrets are dangerous. Now go I to my people with my heart at rest."
And, without more words, he glided out of the room.
Day dawned brightly and clearly over the wild woods, the green savannahs, the streams, the lakes, and mountains that lay between Horicon, or Lake George, and the small chain of Indian lakes. The advanced party of the Oneidas were up, and bustling with the earliest beam--bustling, but in their quiet manner. All were actively clearing away every trace of their sojourn from the face of the savannah as far as possible, and preparing to betake themselves to the shade of the neighbouring woods; but Sister Bab was still sound asleep.
Amongst those who have travelled much over that part of the country, there may be some who remember a beautiful and rich green meadow, extending for about a third of a mile from its inland extremity to the shores of Horicon. It has now--and it is not much altered since the time I speak of--a sloping ground, well covered with wood, to the northward of this grassy plot; and on the south is, a rocky but still well-wooded bank, in which several small caves are to be observed.
In one of these caves lay the negress, on the morning I have just mentioned; and though the Indians moved about in different directions, and removed a large iron pot of European workmanship which had been placed near the entrance of the cavern, the good woman, in the sleep of fatigue and exhaustion, showed no sign whatever of waking.
Few had been the explanations which she had given on the preceding night. She was too weary to indulge in her usual loquacity; and the Indian sat quietly before her, after having supplied all that she required, seeing her eat and drink, but putting no questions.
Now, however, he approached the hollow in the rock; and, after gazing at her for an instant as she lay, he moved her with his moccassined foot. She started up and rubbed her eyes, looking round with evident wonder; but the Indian said,--
"Get up, and follow into the woods, if thou wouldst see the Black Eagle. We must leave the ground that has no shadow, now that the day has come."
"Ah me!" cried Sister Bab, "what shall I do for my poor Missy? She is a prisoner with the French, not more than a few miles hence; and, what is worse still, the Woodchuck is with her, and all our people said he was going to give himself up to save Massa Walter."
Quietly and deliberately, the Indian seated himself on the ground, and remained silent for a moment or two. He then asked, without the slightest appearance of interest,--
"Where is the daughter of Prevost? Is she at the castle of the Sounding Waters?"
Sister Bab replied, "No;" and, as far as she could describe it, explained to her companion where Edith was, and gave him no very inaccurate notion of the sort of field-work on which she had stumbled the night before. Still not a muscle of the man's face moved; and he merely uttered a sort of hum at this intelligence, sitting for full two minutes without uttering a word.
"What can we do, brother, to save them?" asked Sister Bab at length, "I don't think there's any danger either to Missy or Massa Woodchuck, because the young man in the blue coat seemed very civil; but then, if Massa Woodchuck not get away, your people will kill Massa Walter. For six months will be over very soon."
"Six moons have grown big and small since the Black Eagle spoke," said the Indian gravely; "but we will see whether there be not a trail the prisoners can tread. You must get up quickly, and walk before me, but without noise, to where you left them like a cloud upon the mountain-side."
"It's a long way," said the poor woman; "and my feet are all cut and torn with yesterday's ramble."
"We will give thee moccassins," answered the Indian. "The way is not long, even to the house of the Sounding Waters, if you keep the trail straight. Thou must show me, if thou wouldst save Prevost's daughter. Her fate is a toppling stone upon the edge of a precipice. A wind will blow it down. The French Hurons do not spare women. Come, get thee up; eat, and talk not. I must know this place, and that quickly."
The last words were spoken somewhat sternly; and Sister Bab rose up, and followed to one of the little groups of Indians, where she seated herself again, and ate some cakes of maize and dried deer's-flesh, while the chief who had been speaking with her held a consultation with several of the other warriors. Not much time was allowed her for her meal, for in less than five minutes she was called upon to lead the way; and, followed by a party of five Indians, she proceeded for a mile or two, till they reached a spot where the trail divided into two. She was about to take the left-hand path, knowing that it was the one which she had followed on the preceding night; but the chief commanded her in a low voice to turn her steps upon the other, adding, "We shall come upon thy foot-prints again speedily."
So indeed it proved, for she had wandered during the night far from the direct course; and after walking on for some ten minutes, they cut into the former path again, where, to Indian eyes, the traces of a negro foot were very apparent.
Twice the same thing occurred; and thus the distance was shortened to nearly one-half of that which she had travelled on the preceding night between the little masked redoubt of the French and the Indian camping-place.
At length, the objects which Sister Bab saw around her gave warning that she was approaching the spot of which they were in search. From time to time Mount Defiance was seen towering up on the right, and the character of the shrubs and trees was changed. The first hint sufficed to make the Indians adopt much greater precautions than those which they had previously used. They spread wide from the trail, the chief leading Sister Bab with him; and slowly and noiselessly they pursued their way, taking advantage of every tree and every rock to hide behind and gaze around.
Before five minutes more were over, Sister Bab paused suddenly, and pointed forward. The Indian gazed in silence. To an unpractised eye, nothing would have been apparent to excite the slightest suspicion of a neighbouring enemy; but some of the pine branches of what seemed a low copse in front, were a shade yellower than the other trees. Besides, they did not take the forms of young saplings. They were rounder, less taper, without leaving shoot or peak.
A grin came upon the Indian's countenance; and pointing with his finger to the ground, he seemed, without words, to direct the negress to remain exactly on the same spot where she stood behind a great butternut-tree. He then looked round him for his companions; but their movements were well combined and understood. Though at some distance from each other, each eye from time to time had been turned towards him as they advanced; and the moment it was perceived that he stopped, each of the others stopped also. His raised hand brought them all creeping quietly towards him; and then, after a few whispered words, each Indian sank down upon the ground, and, creeping along like a snake, disappeared amongst the bushes.
Sister Bab found her situation not altogether pleasant. The slightest possible rustle in the leaves was heard as her red companions disappeared; but then all sounds ceased, except from time to time when the wind, which had risen a little, bore her some murmurs from the redoubt, as if of voices speaking. Once she caught a few notes of a merry air, whistled by lips that were probably soon after doomed to everlasting silence. But that was all she heard, and the stillness grew oppressive to her.
After waiting for a moment or two, she sought a deeper shelter than the butternut-tree afforded, and crept amongst some thick shrubs at the foot of a large oak. She thought her Indian companions would never return; but at length one of the red men looked out from the bushes, and then another; and both gazed around as if in search of her. Following their example, she crept forth; and the chief, approaching, beckoned her away without speaking.
When far enough off to be quite certain that no sound of voices could reach the redoubt, he stopped suddenly and gazed in her face, saying,--
"You love the daughter of the pale-face; you followed her where there was danger; will you go where there is no danger, to bear her the words of warning?"
"I will go anywhere to do her any good," answered the woman warmly. "I am not afraid of danger. I had enough of it yesterday to make me careless of it, to-day."
"Well, then," said the chief, "thou seest this trail to the left; follow it till it crosses another. Then turn to the right on the one it crosses--it is a broad trail, thou canst not miss it. It will lead thee straight into the Frenchman's ambush. They will not hurt thee. Ask for the daughter of the pale-face Prevost. Tell them thou hast passed the night in the woods seeking for her, and they will let thee stay with her. Tell her she shall have deliverance before the sun has set to-morrow; but bid her, when she hears the war-whoop and the shot of the rifle, to cast herself down flat on the ground beneath the earth-heap, if she be near at the time. She knows the Oneida people; she can tell their faces from the Hurons, though the war-paint be bright upon them. She need not fear them. Tell her secretly when no one hears; and what I tell her to do, do thou, if thou wouldst save thy life."
"But," suggested Bab, with more foresight than the Indian, "perhaps they will not keep her there till to-morrow. They may send her into the fort--most likely will."
"Bid her stay, bid her stay," said the chief; "if they force her away, I have no arm to hold her. Go on. I have said."
The negress shook her head, as if much doubting the expediency of the plan proposed; but she obeyed without further remonstrance; and walking on upon the little narrow path which the Indian had pointed out, she reached, in about a quarter of an hour, the broader trail, along which Edith had been taken on the preceding night. Turning to the right, as directed, she followed it with slow and somewhat hesitating steps, till suddenly a sharp turn brought her in sight of two sentinels, pacing backwards and forwards, and a group of Indians seated on the ground round a fire, cooking their food. Then she halted abruptly, but she was already seen: and, receiving no answer to his challenge, one of the sentinels presented his musket, as if to fire. At the same moment a voice exclaimed in French, "What's that--what's that?" and a man in the garb of a soldier, but unarmed, came forward and spoke to her.
She could make no reply, for she did not understand a word he said; and, taking her by the wrist, the man led her into the redoubt, saying to a sentinel, with a laugh,--
"It's only a black woman; did you take her for a bear?"
The next instant poor Bab beheld her young mistress quietly seated on the ground, with a pure white tablecloth spread before her, and all the appurtenances of a breakfast-table, though not the table itself; while the officer she had seen in the redoubt the night before was applying himself assiduously to supply her with all she wanted. In a moment the good woman had shaken her wrist free from the man who held it; and, darting forward, she caught Edith's hand, and smothered it with kisses.
Great was Edith's joy and satisfaction to see poor Bab still in life. It was soon explained to the French officer who she was, and how she came thither. But the object of her coming had nearly been frustrated before she had time to explain to her young mistress the promised rescue; for, ere she had been half an hour within the works, a non-commissioned officer from Ticonderoga appeared with a despatch for the commander of the party, who at once proposed to send the young lady and her dark attendant, under the officer's charge, to the fortress, expressing gallantly his regret to lose the honour and pleasure of her society, but adding that it would be for her convenience and safety.
The suggestion was made before he opened the despatch, and Edith eagerly caught at a proposal which seemed to offer relief from a very unpleasant situation. But as soon as the captain had seen the contents of his letter, his views were changed, and he explained to his young prisoner that, for particular reasons, the commander-in-chief thought it best that there should be as little passing to and fro, during the period of daylight, between the fortress and the redoubt, as possible. He would therefore, he said, be obliged to inform his superior officer, in the first place, of her being there, and of the circumstances in which she had fallen under his protection, as he termed it; adding that probably after nightfall, when the same objections would not exist, he would receive instructions as to what was to be done both with herself and companions, and with the Indians in whose power he had found her.
He then sat down to write a reply to the despatch he had received, and occupied fully half an hour in its composition, during which time all that sister Bab had to say was spoken. The very name of the Oneidas, however, awakened painful memories in Edith's breast; and, notwithstanding all the assurances she had received from Otaitsa, her heart sank at the thought of poor Walter's probable fate. She turned her eyes towards Woodchuck, who had refused to take any breakfast, and sat apart under a tree, not far from the spot where Apukwa and his companions, kept in sight constantly by a sentinel, were gathered round their cooking-fire. His attitude was the most melancholy that can be conceived; his eyes were fixed upon the ground, his head drooping, his brow heavy and contracted, and his hands clasped together on his knee. Edith moved quietly towards him, and seated herself near, saying,--
"What is the matter, my good friend?" She then added, in a low voice, "I have some pleasant news for you."
Woodchuck shook his head sadly, but made no answer; and Edith continued seeking to cheer him.
"The poor negro woman," added she, "who was with me when we were attacked, escaped the savages, it seems, and has brought an intimation that, before to-morrow's sunset, we shall be set free by a large party of the Oneidas."
"It is too late, my dear, it is too late!" ejaculated Woodchuck, pressing his hands tight together; "too late to do anything for your poor brother; it was him I was thinking of."
"But there are still four or five days of the time," said Edith, "and----"
"I've been a fool, Miss Prevost," interrupted Woodchuck bitterly; "and there's no use concealing it from you. I have mistaken moons for months. The man who brought me the news of what that stern old devil, Black Eagle, had determined, said the time allowed was six months, and I never thought of the Indians counting their months by moons, till I heard those Honontkoh saying something about it this morning. No, no! it's all useless now, it's all useless!"
Edith turned deadly pale, and remained so for a moment or two; but then she lifted her eyes to a spot of the blue sky shining through the trees above, and, with a deep sigh, ejaculated,--
"We must trust in God, then, and hope He has provided other and less terrible means. He can protect and deliver according to His will, without the aid or instrumentality of man. You have done your best, Woodchuck, and your conscience should rest satisfied."
"No, no!" he exclaimed bitterly; "if I had but thought of what I knew quite well, I should have gone a fortnight sooner, and the poor lad would have been saved. It's all the fault of my stupid mistake. A man should make no mistakes in such emergencies, Miss Edith."
He fell into a fit of thought again; and, seeing that, the attempt to comfort him was vain, Edith returned to the side of the black woman, and inquired eagerly if she had found any tidings of Walter amongst the Oneidas. Sister Bab, however, was more cautious than poor Woodchuck had been, and denied stoutly having heard anything, adding that she could not think they had done any harm to her young "massa," or they would not be so eager to help her young "missy."
The smallest gleam of hope is always a blessing; still, the day passed sadly enough to poor Edith. The commandant of the redoubt was occupied with military business which she did not comprehend, and which afforded no relief to her thoughts, even for a moment. She saw the soldiers parading, the sentinels relieved, the earthworks inspected, and the Indians harangued, without one thought being withdrawn from the painful circumstances of her own fate.
Shortly after dusk, however, the same servant who had brought the despatch in the morning, re-appeared with another letter, which the French commandant read, and then carried to Edith in the little hut where she was seated, with her lamp just trimmed and lighted.
"The Marquis of Montcalm informs Captain le Courtois that it will be greatly inconvenient to receive any additional mouths into Fort Carillon. Should he think fit, he can send the lady who has fallen into his hands, with the English gentleman, her companion, back to Crown Point[4]or Fort St. Frederick, as early to-morrow as he thinks fit. If the lady earnestly prefers to retire to Fort Carillon at once, the Marquis of Montcalm will not be so wanting in courtesy as to refuse; but he begs to warn her that she may be subjected to all the inconveniences of a siege, as he cannot at all tell what course of operations the enemy may think fit to pursue. The Indians taken, if willing, as they say, to serve, may be usefully employed within the redoubt, but with caution, and must not be suffered to operate upon the flanks as usual."
"It is for you to say, mademoiselle," observed Monsieur le Courtois, "whether you will now go to the fort or not."
Edith, however, declined, saying that the reasons given by Monsieur de Montcalm were quite sufficient to induce her to remain till it was convenient to send her elsewhere.
Thus ended that eventful week. The following day was Sunday--a day not fit to be desecrated by human strife, but one which was destined to behold on that very spot one of those scenes which write man's shame in letters of blood upon the page of history.