NARRATIVE OF THE TRADER, MOUNTAIN.
The crew that went up the river under the joint command of Captain Harrisand the Master numbered in all nine persons, of whom (if I exceptSecundra Dass) there was not one that had not merited the gallows. FromHarris downward the voyagers were notorious in that colony for desperate,bloody-minded miscreants; some were reputed pirates, the most hawkers ofrum; all ranters and drinkers; all fit associates, embarking togetherwithout remorse, upon this treacherous and murderous design. I could nothear there was much discipline or any set captain in the gang; but Harrisand four others, Mountain himself, two Scotchmen—Pinkerton and Hastie—anda man of the name of Hicks, a drunken shoemaker, put their heads togetherand agreed upon the course. In a material sense, they were well enoughprovided; and the Master in particular brought with him a tent where hemight enjoy some privacy and shelter.
Even this small indulgence told against him in the minds of hiscompanions. But indeed he was in a position so entirely false (and evenridiculous) that all his habit of command and arts of pleasing were herethrown away. In the eyes of all, except Secundra Dass, he figured as acommon gull and designated victim; going unconsciously to death; yet hecould not but suppose himself the contriver and the leader of theexpedition; he could scarce help but so conduct himself and at the leasthint of authority or condescension, his deceivers would be laughing intheir sleeves. I was so used to see and to conceive him in a high,authoritative attitude, that when I had conceived his position on thisjourney, I was pained and could have blushed. How soon he may haveentertained a first surmise, we cannot know; but it was long, and theparty had advanced into the Wilderness beyond the reach of any help, erehe was fully awakened to the truth.
It fell thus. Harris and some others had drawn apart into the woods forconsultation, when they were startled by a rustling in the brush. Theywere all accustomed to the arts of Indian warfare, and Mountain had notonly lived and hunted, but fought and earned some reputation, with thesavages. He could move in the woods without noise, and follow a traillike a hound; and upon the emergence of this alert, he was deputed by therest to plunge into the thicket for intelligence. He was soon convincedthere was a man in his close neighbourhood, moving with precaution butwithout art among the leaves and branches; and coming shortly to a placeof advantage, he was able to observe Secundra Dass crawling briskly offwith many backward glances. At this he knew not whether to laugh or cry;and his accomplices, when he had returned and reported, were in much thesame dubiety. There was now no danger of an Indian onslaught; but on theother hand, since Secundra Dass was at the pains to spy upon them, it washighly probable he knew English, and if he knew English it was certainthe whole of their design was in the Master’s knowledge. There was onesingularity in the position. If Secundra Dass knew and concealed hisknowledge of English, Harris was a proficient in several of the tonguesof India, and as his career in that part of the world had been a greatdeal worse than profligate, he had not thought proper to remark upon thecircumstance. Each side had thus a spy-hole on the counsels of theother. The plotters, so soon as this advantage was explained, returnedto camp; Harris, hearing the Hindustani was once more closeted with hismaster, crept to the side of the tent; and the rest, sitting about thefire with their tobacco, awaited his report with impatience. When hecame at last, his face was very black. He had overheard enough toconfirm the worst of his suspicions. Secundra Dass was a good Englishscholar; he had been some days creeping and listening, the Master was nowfully informed of the conspiracy, and the pair proposed on the morrow tofall out of line at a carrying place and plunge at a venture in thewoods: preferring the full risk of famine, savage beasts, and savage mento their position in the midst of traitors.
What, then, was to be done? Some were for killing the Master on thespot; but Harris assured them that would be a crime without profit, sincethe secret of the treasure must die along with him that buried it.Others were for desisting at once from the whole enterprise and makingfor New York; but the appetising name of treasure, and the thought of thelong way they had already travelled dissuaded the majority. I imaginethey were dull fellows for the most part. Harris, indeed, had someacquirements, Mountain was no fool, Hastie was an educated man; but eventhese had manifestly failed in life, and the rest were the dregs ofcolonial rascality. The conclusion they reached, at least, was more theoffspring of greed and hope, than reason. It was to temporise, to bewary and watch the Master, to be silent and supply no further aliment tohis suspicions, and to depend entirely (as well as I make out) on thechance that their victim was as greedy, hopeful, and irrational asthemselves, and might, after all, betray his life and treasure.
Twice in the course of the next day Secundra and the Master must haveappeared to themselves to have escaped; and twice they were circumvented.The Master, save that the second time he grew a little pale, displayed nosign of disappointment, apologised for the stupidity with which he hadfallen aside, thanked his recapturers as for a service, and rejoined thecaravan with all his usual gallantry and cheerfulness of mien andbearing. But it is certain he had smelled a rat; for from thenceforth heand Secundra spoke only in each other’s ear, and Harris listened andshivered by the tent in vain. The same night it was announced they wereto leave the boats and proceed by foot, a circumstance which (as it putan end to the confusion of the portages) greatly lessened the chances ofescape.
And now there began between the two sides a silent contest, for life onthe one hand, for riches on the other. They were now near that quarterof the desert in which the Master himself must begin to play the part ofguide; and using this for a pretext of persecution, Harris and his mensat with him every night about the fire, and laboured to entrap him intosome admission. If he let slip his secret, he knew well it was thewarrant for his death; on the other hand, he durst not refuse theirquestions, and must appear to help them to the best of his capacity, orhe practically published his mistrust. And yet Mountain assures me theman’s brow was never ruffled. He sat in the midst of these jackals, hislife depending by a thread, like some easy, witty householder at home byhis own fire; an answer he had for everything—as often as not, a jestinganswer; avoided threats, evaded insults; talked, laughed, and listenedwith an open countenance; and, in short, conducted himself in such amanner as must have disarmed suspicion, and went near to staggerknowledge. Indeed, Mountain confessed to me they would soon havedisbelieved the Captain’s story, and supposed their designated victimstill quite innocent of their designs; but for the fact that he continued(however ingeniously) to give the slip to questions, and the yet strongerconfirmation of his repeated efforts to escape. The last of these, whichbrought things to a head, I am now to relate. And first I should saythat by this time the temper of Harris’s companions was utterly worn out;civility was scarce pretended; and for one very significant circumstance,the Master and Secundra had been (on some pretext) deprived of weapons.On their side, however, the threatened pair kept up the parade offriendship handsomely; Secundra was all bows, the Master all smiles; andon the last night of the truce he had even gone so far as to sing for thediversion of the company. It was observed that he had also eaten withunusual heartiness, and drank deep, doubtless from design.
At least, about three in the morning, he came out of the tent into theopen air, audibly mourning and complaining, with all the manner of asufferer from surfeit. For some while, Secundra publicly attended on hispatron, who at last became more easy, and fell asleep on the frostyground behind the tent, the Indian returning within. Some time after,the sentry was changed; had the Master pointed out to him, where he layin what is called a robe of buffalo: and thenceforth kept an eye upon him(he declared) without remission. With the first of the dawn, a draughtof wind came suddenly and blew open one side the corner of the robe; andwith the same puff, the Master’s hat whirled in the air and fell someyards away. The sentry thinking it remarkable the sleeper should notawaken, thereupon drew near; and the next moment, with a great shout,informed the camp their priso
ner was escaped. He had left behind hisIndian, who (in the first vivacity of the surprise) came near to pay theforfeit of his life, and was, in fact, inhumanly mishandled; butSecundra, in the midst of threats and cruelties, stuck to it withextraordinary loyalty, that he was quite ignorant of his master’s plans,which might indeed be true, and of the manner of his escape, which wasdemonstrably false. Nothing was therefore left to the conspirators butto rely entirely on the skill of Mountain. The night had been frosty,the ground quite hard; and the sun was no sooner up than a strong thawset in. It was Mountain’s boast that few men could have followed thattrail, and still fewer (even of the native Indians) found it. The Masterhad thus a long start before his pursuers had the scent, and he must havetravelled with surprising energy for a pedestrian so unused, since it wasnear noon before Mountain had a view of him. At this conjuncture thetrader was alone, all his companions following, at his own request,several hundred yards in the rear; he knew the Master was unarmed; hisheart was besides heated with the exercise and lust of hunting; andseeing the quarry so close, so defenceless, and seeming so fatigued, hevain-gloriously determined to effect the capture with his single hand. Astep or two farther brought him to one margin of a little clearing; onthe other, with his arms folded and his back to a huge stone, the Mastersat. It is possible Mountain may have made a rustle, it is certain, atleast, the Master raised his head and gazed directly at that quarter ofthe thicket where his hunter lay; “I could not be sure he saw me,”Mountain said; “he just looked my way like a man with his mind made up,and all the courage ran out of me like rum out of a bottle.” Andpresently, when the Master looked away again, and appeared to resumethose meditations in which he had sat immersed before the trader’scoming, Mountain slunk stealthily back and returned to seek the help ofhis companions.
And now began the chapter of surprises, for the scout had scarce informedthe others of his discovery, and they were yet preparing their weaponsfor a rush upon the fugitive, when the man himself appeared in theirmidst, walking openly and quietly, with his hands behind his back.
“Ah, men!” says he, on his beholding them. “Here is a fortunateencounter. Let us get back to camp.”
Mountain had not mentioned his own weakness or the Master’s disconcertinggaze upon the thicket, so that (with all the rest) his return appearedspontaneous. For all that, a hubbub arose; oaths flew, fists wereshaken, and guns pointed.
“Let us get back to camp,” said the Master. “I have an explanation tomake, but it must be laid before you all. And in the meanwhile I wouldput up these weapons, one of which might very easily go off and blow awayyour hopes of treasure. I would not kill,” says he, smiling, “the goosewith the golden eggs.”
The charm of his superiority once more triumphed; and the party, in noparticular order, set off on their return. By the way, he found occasionto get a word or two apart with Mountain.
“You are a clever fellow and a bold,” says he, “but I am not so sure thatyou are doing yourself justice. I would have you to consider whether youwould not do better, ay, and safer, to serve me instead of serving socommonplace a rascal as Mr. Harris. Consider of it,” he concluded,dealing the man a gentle tap upon the shoulder, “and don’t be in haste.Dead or alive, you will find me an ill man to quarrel with.”
When they were come back to the camp, where Harris and Pinkerton stoodguard over Secundra, these two ran upon the Master like viragoes, andwere amazed out of measure when they were bidden by their comrades to“stand back and hear what the gentleman had to say.” The Master had notflinched before their onslaught; nor, at this proof of the ground he hadgained, did he betray the least sufficiency.
“Do not let us be in haste,” says he. “Meat first and public speakingafter.”
With that they made a hasty meal: and as soon as it was done, the Master,leaning on one elbow, began his speech. He spoke long, addressinghimself to each except Harris, finding for each (with the same exception)some particular flattery. He called them “bold, honest blades,” declaredhe had never seen a more jovial company, work better done, or pains moremerrily supported. “Well, then,” says he, “some one asks me, Why thedevil I ran away? But that is scarce worth answer, for I think you allknow pretty well. But you know only pretty well: that is a point I shallarrive at presently, and be you ready to remark it when it comes. Thereis a traitor here: a double traitor: I will give you his name before I amdone; and let that suffice for now. But here comes some other gentlemanand asks me, ‘Why, in the devil, I came back?’ Well, before I answerthat question, I have one to put to you. It was this cur here, thisHarris, that speaks Hindustani?” cries he, rising on one knee andpointing fair at the man’s face, with a gesture indescribably menacing;and when he had been answered in the affirmative, “Ah!” says he, “thenare all my suspicions verified, and I did rightly to come back. Now,men, hear the truth for the first time.” Thereupon he launched forth ina long story, told with extraordinary skill, how he had all alongsuspected Harris, how he had found the confirmation of his fears, and howHarris must have misrepresented what passed between Secundra and himself.At this point he made a bold stroke with excellent effect. “I suppose,”says he, “you think you are going shares with Harris; I suppose you thinkyou will see to that yourselves; you would naturally not think so flat arogue could cozen you. But have a care! These half idiots have a sortof cunning, as the skunk has its stench; and it may be news to you thatHarris has taken care of himself already. Yes, for him the treasure isall money in the bargain. You must find it or go starve. But he hasbeen paid beforehand; my brother paid him to destroy me; look at him, ifyou doubt—look at him, grinning and gulping, a detected thief!” Thence,having made this happy impression, he explained how he had escaped, andthought better of it, and at last concluded to come back, lay the truthbefore the company, and take his chance with them once more: persuaded ashe was, they would instantly depose Harris and elect some other leader.“There is the whole truth,” said he: “and with one exception, I putmyself entirely in your hands. What is the exception? There he sits,”he cried, pointing once more to Harris; “a man that has to die! Weaponsand conditions are all one to me; put me face to face with him, and ifyou give me nothing but a stick, in five minutes I will show you a sop ofbroken carrion, fit for dogs to roll in.”
It was dark night when he made an end; they had listened in almostperfect silence; but the firelight scarce permitted any one to judge,from the look of his neighbours, with what result of persuasion orconviction. Indeed, the Master had set himself in the brightest place,and kept his face there, to be the centre of men’s eyes: doubtless on aprofound calculation. Silence followed for awhile, and presently thewhole party became involved in disputation: the Master lying on his back,with his hands knit under his head and one knee flung across the other,like a person unconcerned in the result. And here, I daresay, hisbravado carried him too far and prejudiced his case. At least, after acast or two back and forward, opinion settled finally against him. It’spossible he hoped to repeat the business of the pirate ship, and behimself, perhaps, on hard enough conditions, elected leader; and thingswent so far that way, that Mountain actually threw out the proposition.But the rock he split upon was Hastie. This fellow was not well liked,being sour and slow, with an ugly, glowering disposition, but he hadstudied some time for the church at Edinburgh College, before ill conducthad destroyed his prospects, and he now remembered and applied what hehad learned. Indeed he had not proceeded very far, when the Masterrolled carelessly upon one side, which was done (in Mountain’s opinion)to conceal the beginnings of despair upon his countenance. Hastiedismissed the most of what they had heard as nothing to the matter: whatthey wanted was the treasure. All that was said of Harris might be true,and they would have to see to that in time. But what had that to do withthe treasure? They had heard a vast of words; but the truth was justthis, that Mr. Durie was damnably frightened and had several times runoff. Here he was—whether caught or come back was all one to Has
tie: thepoint was to make an end of the business. As for the talk of deposingand electing captains, he hoped they were all free men and could attendtheir own affairs. That was dust flung in their eyes, and so was theproposal to fight Harris. “He shall fight no one in this camp, I cantell him that,” said Hastie. “We had trouble enough to get his arms awayfrom him, and we should look pretty fools to give them back again. Butif it’s excitement the gentleman is after, I can supply him with morethan perhaps he cares about. For I have no intention to spend theremainder of my life in these mountains; already I have been too long;and I propose that he should immediately tell us where that treasure is,or else immediately be shot. And there,” says he, producing his weapon,“there is the pistol that I mean to use.”
“Come, I call you a man,” cries the Master, sitting up and looking at thespeaker with an air of admiration.
“I didn’t ask you to call me anything,” returned Hastie; “which is it tobe?”
“That’s an idle question,” said the Master. “Needs must when the devildrives. The truth is we are within easy walk of the place, and I willshow it you to-morrow.”
With that, as if all were quite settled, and settled exactly to his mind,he walked off to his tent, whither Secundra had preceded him.
I cannot think of these last turns and wriggles of my old enemy exceptwith admiration; scarce even pity is mingled with the sentiment, sostrongly the man supported, so boldly resisted his misfortunes. Even atthat hour, when he perceived himself quite lost, when he saw he had buteffected an exchange of enemies, and overthrown Harris to set Hastie up,no sign of weakness appeared in his behaviour, and he withdrew to histent, already determined (I must suppose) upon affronting the incrediblehazard of his last expedient, with the same easy, assured, genteelexpression and demeanour as he might have left a theatre withal to join asupper of the wits. But doubtless within, if we could see there, hissoul trembled.
Early in the night, word went about the camp that he was sick; and thefirst thing the next morning he called Hastie to his side, and inquiredmost anxiously if he had any skill in medicine. As a matter of fact,this was a vanity of that fallen divinity student’s, to which he hadcunningly addressed himself. Hastie examined him; and being flattered,ignorant, and highly auspicious, knew not in the least whether the manwas sick or malingering. In this state he went forth again to hiscompanions; and (as the thing which would give himself most consequenceeither way) announced that the patient was in a fair way to die.
“For all that,” he added with an oath, “and if he bursts by the wayside,he must bring us this morning to the treasure.”
But there were several in the camp (Mountain among the number) whom thisbrutality revolted. They would have seen the Master pistolled, orpistolled him themselves, without the smallest sentiment of pity; butthey seemed to have been touched by his gallant fight and unequivocaldefeat the night before; perhaps, too, they were even already beginningto oppose themselves to their new leader: at least, they now declaredthat (if the man was sick) he should have a day’s rest in spite ofHastie’s teeth.
The next morning he was manifestly worse, and Hastie himself began todisplay something of humane concern, so easily does even the pretence ofdoctoring awaken sympathy. The third the Master called Mountain andHastie to the tent, announced himself to be dying, gave them fullparticulars as to the position of the cache, and begged them to set outincontinently on the quest, so that they might see if he deceived them,and (if they were at first unsuccessful) he should be able to correcttheir error.
But here arose a difficulty on which he doubtless counted. None of thesemen would trust another, none would consent to stay behind. On the otherhand, although the Master seemed extremely low, spoke scarce above awhisper, and lay much of the time insensible, it was still possible itwas a fraudulent sickness; and if all went treasure-hunting, it mightprove they had gone upon a wild-goose chase, and return to find theirprisoner flown. They concluded, therefore, to hang idling round thecamp, alleging sympathy to their reason; and certainly, so mingled areour dispositions, several were sincerely (if not very deeply) affected bythe natural peril of the man whom they callously designed to murder. Inthe afternoon, Hastie was called to the bedside to pray: the which(incredible as it must appear) he did with unction; about eight at night,the wailing of Secundra announced that all was over; and before ten, theIndian, with a link stuck in the ground, was toiling at the grave.Sunrise of next day beheld the Master’s burial, all hands attending withgreat decency of demeanour; and the body was laid in the earth, wrappedin a fur robe, with only the face uncovered; which last was of a waxywhiteness, and had the nostrils plugged according to some Oriental habitof Secundra’s. No sooner was the grave filled than the lamentations ofthe Indian once more struck concern to every heart; and it appears thisgang of murderers, so far from resenting his outcries, although bothdistressful and (in such a country) perilous to their own safety, roughlybut kindly endeavoured to console him.
But if human nature is even in the worst of men occasionally kind, it isstill, and before all things, greedy; and they soon turned from themourner to their own concerns. The cache of the treasure being hard by,although yet unidentified, it was concluded not to break camp; and theday passed, on the part of the voyagers, in unavailing exploration of thewoods, Secundra the while lying on his master’s grave. That night theyplaced no sentinel, but lay altogether about the fire, in the customarywoodman fashion, the heads outward, like the spokes of a wheel. Morningfound them in the same disposition; only Pinkerton, who lay on Mountain’sright, between him and Hastie, had (in the hours of darkness) beensecretly butchered, and there lay, still wrapped as to his body in hismantle, but offering above that ungodly and horrific spectacle of thescalped head. The gang were that morning as pale as a company ofphantoms, for the pertinacity of Indian war (or to speak more correctly,Indian murder) was well known to all. But they laid the chief blame ontheir unsentinelled posture; and fired with the neighbourhood of thetreasure, determined to continue where they were. Pinkerton was buriedhard by the Master; the survivors again passed the day in exploration,and returned in a mingled humour of anxiety and hope, being partlycertain they were now close on the discovery of what they sought, and onthe other hand (with the return of darkness) were infected with the fearof Indians. Mountain was the first sentry; he declares he neither sleptnor yet sat down, but kept his watch with a perpetual and strainingvigilance, and it was even with unconcern that (when he saw by the starshis time was up) he drew near the fire to awaken his successor. This man(it was Hicks the shoemaker) slept on the lee side of the circle,something farther off in consequence than those to windward, and in aplace darkened by the blowing smoke. Mountain stooped and took him bythe shoulder; his hand was at once smeared by some adhesive wetness; and(the wind at the moment veering) the firelight shone upon the sleeper,and showed him, like Pinkerton, dead and scalped.
It was clear they had fallen in the hands of one of those matchlessIndian bravos, that will sometimes follow a party for days, and in spiteof indefatigable travel, and unsleeping watch, continue to keep up withtheir advance, and steal a scalp at every resting-place. Upon thisdiscovery, the treasure-seekers, already reduced to a poor half dozen,fell into mere dismay, seized a few necessaries, and deserting theremainder of their goods, fled outright into the forest. Their fire theyleft still burning, and their dead comrade unburied. All day they ceasednot to flee, eating by the way, from hand to mouth; and since they fearedto sleep, continued to advance at random even in the hours of darkness.But the limit of man’s endurance is soon reached; when they rested atlast it was to sleep profoundly; and when they woke, it was to find thatthe enemy was still upon their heels, and death and mutilation had oncemore lessened and deformed their company.
By this they had become light-headed, they had quite missed their path inthe wilderness, their stores were already running low. With the furtherhorrors, it is superfluous that I should swell this narrative, alreadytoo prolonged. Su
ffice it to say that when at length a night passed byinnocuous, and they might breathe again in the hope that the murderer hadat last desisted from pursuit, Mountain and Secundra were alone. Thetrader is firmly persuaded their unseen enemy was some warrior of his ownacquaintance, and that he himself was spared by favour. The mercyextended to Secundra he explains on the ground that the East Indian wasthought to be insane; partly from the fact that, through all the horrorsof the flight and while others were casting away their very food andweapons, Secundra continued to stagger forward with a mattock on hisshoulder, and partly because, in the last days and with a great degree ofheat and fluency, he perpetually spoke with himself in his own language.But he was sane enough when it came to English.
“You think he will be gone quite away?” he asked, upon their blestawakening in safety.
“I pray God so, I believe so, I dare to believe so,” Mountain had repliedalmost with incoherence, as he described the scene to me.
And indeed he was so much distempered that until he met us, the nextmorning, he could scarce be certain whether he had dreamed, or whether itwas a fact, that Secundra had thereupon turned directly about andreturned without a word upon their footprints, setting his face for thesewintry and hungry solitudes, along a path whose every stage wasmile-stoned with a mutilated corpse.
CHAPTER XII.—THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS (_continued_).
Mountain’s story, as it was laid before Sir William Johnson and my lord,was shorn, of course, of all the earlier particulars, and the expeditiondescribed to have proceeded uneventfully, until the Master sickened. Butthe latter part was very forcibly related, the speaker visibly thrillingto his recollections; and our then situation, on the fringe of the samedesert, and the private interests of each, gave him an audience preparedto share in his emotions. For Mountain’s intelligence not only changedthe world for my Lord Durrisdeer, but materially affected the designs ofSir William Johnson.
These I find I must lay more at length before the reader. Word hadreached Albany of dubious import; it had been rumoured some hostility wasto be put in act; and the Indian diplomatist had, thereupon, sped intothe wilderness, even at the approach of winter, to nip that mischief inthe bud. Here, on the borders, he learned that he was come too late; anda difficult choice was thus presented to a man (upon the whole) not anymore bold than prudent. His standing with the painted braves may becompared to that of my Lord President Culloden among the chiefs of ourown Highlanders at the ’forty-five; that is as much as to say, he was, tothese men, reason’s only speaking trumpet, and counsels of peace andmoderation, if they were to prevail at all, must prevail singly throughhis influence. If, then, he should return, the province must lie open toall the abominable tragedies of Indian war—the houses blaze, the wayfarerbe cut off, and the men of the woods collect their usual disgusting spoilof human scalps. On the other side, to go farther forth, to risk sosmall a party deeper in the desert, to carry words of peace among warlikesavages already rejoicing to return to war: here was an extremity fromwhich it was easy to perceive his mind revolted.
“I have come too late,” he said more than once, and would fall into adeep consideration, his head bowed in his hands, his foot patting theground.
At length he raised his face and looked upon us, that is to say upon mylord, Mountain, and myself, sitting close round a small fire, which hadbeen made for privacy in one corner of the camp.
“My lord, to be quite frank with you, I find myself in two minds,” saidhe. “I think it very needful I should go on, but not at all proper Ishould any longer enjoy the pleasure of your company. We are here stillupon the water side; and I think the risk to southward no great matter.Will not yourself and Mr. Mackellar take a single boat’s crew and returnto Albany?”
My lord, I should say, had listened to Mountain’s narrative, regardinghim throughout with a painful intensity of gaze; and since the taleconcluded, had sat as in a dream. There was something very daunting inhis look; something to my eyes not rightly human; the face, lean, anddark, and aged, the mouth painful, the teeth disclosed in a perpetualrictus; the eyeball swimming clear of the lids upon a field of blood-shotwhite. I could not behold him myself without a jarring irritation, suchas, I believe, is too frequently the uppermost feeling on the sickness ofthose dear to us. Others, I could not but remark. were scarce able tosupport his neighbourhood—Sir William eviting to be near him, Mountaindodging his eye, and, when he met it, blenching and halting in his story.At this appeal, however, my lord appeared to recover his command uponhimself.
“To Albany?” said he, with a good voice.
“Not short of it, at least,” replied Sir William. “There is no safetynearer hand.”
“I would be very sweir {11} to return,” says my lord. “I am notafraid—of Indians,” he added, with a jerk.
“I wish that I could say so much,” returned Sir William, smiling;“although, if any man durst say it, it should be myself. But you are tokeep in view my responsibility, and that as the voyage has now becomehighly dangerous, and your business—if you ever had any,” says he,“brought quite to a conclusion by the distressing family intelligence youhave received, I should be hardly justified if I even suffered you toproceed, and run the risk of some obloquy if anything regrettable shouldfollow.”
My lord turned to Mountain. “What did he pretend he died of?” he asked.
“I don’t think I understand your honour,” said the trader, pausing like aman very much affected, in the dressing of some cruel frost-bites.
For a moment my lord seemed at a full stop; and then, with someirritation, “I ask you what he died of. Surely that’s a plain question,”said he.
“Oh! I don’t know,” said Mountain. “Hastie even never knew. He seemedto sicken natural, and just pass away.”
“There it is, you see!” concluded my lord, turning to Sir William.
“Your lordship is too deep for me,” replied Sir William.
“Why,” says my lord, “this in a matter of succession; my son’s title maybe called in doubt; and the man being supposed to be dead of nobody cantell what, a great deal of suspicion would be naturally roused.”
“But, God damn me, the man’s buried!” cried Sir William.
“I will never believe that,” returned my lord, painfully trembling.“I’ll never believe it!” he cried again, and jumped to his feet. “Did he_look_ dead?” he asked of Mountain.
“Look dead?” repeated the trader. “He looked white. Why, what would hebe at? I tell you, I put the sods upon him.”
My lord caught Sir William by the coat with a hooked hand. “This man hasthe name of my brother,” says he, “but it’s well understood that he wasnever canny.”
“Canny?” says Sir William. “What is that?”
“He’s not of this world,” whispered my lord, “neither him nor the blackdeil that serves him. I have struck my sword throughout his vitals,” hecried; “I have felt the hilt dirl {12} on his breastbone, and the hotblood spirt in my very face, time and again, time and again!” herepeated, with a gesture indescribable. “But he was never dead forthat,” said he, and I sighed aloud. “Why should I think he was dead now?No, not till I see him rotting,” says he.
Sir William looked across at me with a long face. Mountain forgot hiswounds, staring and gaping.
“My lord,” said I, “I wish you would collect your spirits.” But mythroat was so dry, and my own wits so scattered, I could add no more.
“No,” says my lord, “it’s not to be supposed that he would understand me.Mackellar does, for he kens all, and has seen him buried before now.This is a very good servant to me, Sir William, this man Mackellar; heburied him with his own hands—he and my father—by the light of two sillercandlesticks. The other man is a familiar spirit; he brought him fromCoromandel. I would have told ye this long syne, Sir William, only itwas in the family.” These last remarks he made with a kind of amelancholy composure, and his time of aberration seemed to pass away.“You can ask yourse
lf what it all means,” he proceeded. “My brotherfalls sick, and dies, and is buried, as so they say; and all seems veryplain. But why did the familiar go back? I think ye must see foryourself it’s a point that wants some clearing.”
“I will be at your service, my lord, in half a minute,” said Sir William,rising. “Mr. Mackellar, two words with you;” and he led me without thecamp, the frost crunching in our steps, the trees standing at our elbow,hoar with frost, even as on that night in the Long Shrubbery. “Ofcourse, this is midsummer madness,” said Sir William, as soon as we weregotten out of bearing.
“Why, certainly,” said I. “The man is mad. I think that manifest.”
“Shall I seize and bind him?” asked Sir William. “I will upon yourauthority. If these are all ravings, that should certainly be done.”
I looked down upon the ground, back at the camp, with its bright firesand the folk watching us, and about me on the woods and mountains; therewas just the one way that I could not look, and that was in Sir William’sface.
“Sir William,” said I at last, “I think my lord not sane, and have longthought him so. But there are degrees in madness; and whether he shouldbe brought under restraint—Sir William, I am no fit judge,” I concluded.
“I will be the judge,” said he. “I ask for facts. Was there, in allthat jargon, any word of truth or sanity? Do you hesitate?” he asked.“Am I to understand you have buried this gentleman before?”
“Not buried,” said I; and then, taking up courage at last, “Sir William,”said I, “unless I were to tell you a long story, which much concerns anoble family (and myself not in the least), it would be impossible tomake this matter clear to you. Say the word, and I will do it, right orwrong. And, at any rate, I will say so much, that my lord is not socrazy as he seems. This is a strange matter, into the tail of which youare unhappily drifted.”
“I desire none of your secrets,” replied Sir William; “but I will beplain, at the risk of incivility, and confess that I take little pleasurein my present company.”
“I would be the last to blame you,” said I, “for that.”
“I have not asked either for your censure or your praise, sir,” returnedSir William. “I desire simply to be quit of you; and to that effect, Iput a boat and complement of men at your disposal.”
“This is fairly offered,” said I, after reflection. “But you must sufferme to say a word upon the other side. We have a natural curiosity tolearn the truth of this affair; I have some of it myself; my lord (it isvery plain) has but too much. The matter of the Indian’s return isenigmatical.”
“I think so myself,” Sir William interrupted, “and I propose (since I goin that direction) to probe it to the bottom. Whether or not the man hasgone like a dog to die upon his master’s grave, his life, at least, is ingreat danger, and I propose, if I can, to save it. There is nothingagainst his character?”
“Nothing, Sir William,” I replied.
“And the other?” he said. “I have heard my lord, of course; but, fromthe circumstances of his servant’s loyalty, I must suppose he had somenoble qualities.”
“You must not ask me that!” I cried. “Hell may have noble flames. Ihave known him a score of years, and always hated, and always admired,and always slavishly feared him.”
“I appear to intrude again upon your secrets,” said Sir William, “believeme, inadvertently. Enough that I will see the grave, and (if possible)rescue the Indian. Upon these terms, can you persuade your master toreturn to Albany?”
“Sir William,” said I, “I will tell you how it is. You do not see mylord to advantage; it will seem even strange to you that I should lovehim; but I do, and I am not alone. If he goes back to Albany, it must beby force, and it will be the death-warrant of his reason, and perhaps hislife. That is my sincere belief; but I am in your hands, and ready toobey, if you will assume so much responsibility as to command.”
“I will have no shred of responsibility; it is my single endeavour toavoid the same,” cried Sir William. “You insist upon following thisjourney up; and be it so! I wash my hands of the whole matter.”
With which word, he turned upon his heel and gave the order to breakcamp; and my lord, who had been hovering near by, came instantly to myside.
“Which is it to be?” said he.
“You are to have your way,” I answered. “You shall see the grave.”
* * * * *
The situation of the Master’s grave was, between guides, easilydescribed; it lay, indeed, beside a chief landmark of the wilderness, acertain range of peaks, conspicuous by their design and altitude, and thesource of many brawling tributaries to that inland sea, Lake Champlain.It was therefore possible to strike for it direct, instead of followingback the blood-stained trail of the fugitives, and to cover, in somesixteen hours of march, a distance which their perturbed wanderings hadextended over more than sixty. Our boats we left under a guard upon theriver; it was, indeed, probable we should return to find them frozenfast; and the small equipment with which we set forth upon theexpedition, included not only an infinity of furs to protect us from thecold, but an arsenal of snow-shoes to render travel possible, when theinevitable snow should fall. Considerable alarm was manifested at ourdeparture; the march was conducted with soldierly precaution, the camp atnight sedulously chosen and patrolled; and it was a consideration of thissort that arrested us, the second day, within not many hundred yards ofour destination—the night being already imminent, the spot in which westood well qualified to be a strong camp for a party of our numbers; andSir William, therefore, on a sudden thought, arresting our advance.
Before us was the high range of mountains toward which we had been allday deviously drawing near. From the first light of the dawn, theirsilver peaks had been the goal of our advance across a tumbled lowlandforest, thrid with rough streams, and strewn with monstrous boulders; thepeaks (as I say) silver, for already at the higher altitudes the snowfell nightly; but the woods and the low ground only breathed upon withfrost. All day heaven had been charged with ugly vapours, in the whichthe sun swam and glimmered like a shilling piece; all day the wind blewon our left cheek barbarous cold, but very pure to breathe. With the endof the afternoon, however, the wind fell; the clouds, being no longerreinforced, were scattered or drunk up; the sun set behind us with somewintry splendour, and the white brow of the mountains shared its dyingglow.
It was dark ere we had supper; we ate in silence, and the meal was scarcedespatched before my lord slunk from the fireside to the margin of thecamp; whither I made haste to follow him. The camp was on high ground,overlooking a frozen lake, perhaps a mile in its longest measurement; allabout us, the forest lay in heights and hollows; above rose the whitemountains; and higher yet, the moon rode in a fair sky. There was nobreath of air; nowhere a twig creaked; and the sounds of our own campwere hushed and swallowed up in the surrounding stillness. Now that thesun and the wind were both gone down, it appeared almost warm, like anight of July: a singular illusion of the sense, when earth, air, andwater were strained to bursting with the extremity of frost.
My lord (or what I still continued to call by his loved name) stood withhis elbow in one hand, and his chin sunk in the other, gazing before himon the surface of the wood. My eyes followed his, and rested almostpleasantly upon the frosted contexture of the pines, rising in moonlithillocks, or sinking in the shadow of small glens. Hard by, I toldmyself, was the grave of our enemy, now gone where the wicked cease fromtroubling, the earth heaped for ever on his once so active limbs. Icould not but think of him as somehow fortunate to be thus done withman’s anxiety and weariness, the daily expense of spirit, and that dailyriver of circumstance to be swum through, at any hazard, under thepenalty of shame or death. I could not but think how good was the end ofthat long travel; and with that, my mind swung at a tangent to my lord.For was not my lord dead also? a maimed soldier, looking vainly fordischarge, lingering derided in the line of battl
e? A kind man, Iremembered him; wise, with a decent pride, a son perhaps too dutiful, ahusband only too loving, one that could suffer and be silent, one whosehand I loved to press. Of a sudden, pity caught in my windpipe with asob; I could have wept aloud to remember and behold him; and standingthus by his elbow, under the broad moon, I prayed fervently either thathe should be released, or I strengthened to persist in my affection.
“Oh God,” said I, “this was the best man to me and to himself, and now Ishrink from him. He did no wrong, or not till he was broke with sorrows;these are but his honourable wounds that we begin to shrink from. Oh,cover them up, oh, take him away, before we hate him!”
I was still so engaged in my own bosom, when a sound broke suddenly uponthe night. It was neither very loud, nor very near; yet, bursting as itdid from so profound and so prolonged a silence, it startled the camplike an alarm of trumpets. Ere I had taken breath, Sir William wasbeside me, the main part of the voyagers clustered at his back, intentlygiving ear. Methought, as I glanced at them across my shoulder, therewas a whiteness, other than moonlight, on their cheeks; and the rays ofthe moon reflected with a sparkle on the eyes of some, and the shadowslying black under the brows of others (according as they raised or bowedthe head to listen) gave to the group a strange air of animation andanxiety. My lord was to the front, crouching a little forth, his handraised as for silence: a man turned to stone. And still the soundscontinued, breathlessly renewed with a precipitate rhythm.
Suddenly Mountain spoke in a loud, broken whisper, as of a man relieved.“I have it now,” he said; and, as we all turned to hear him, “the Indianmust have known the cache,” he added. “That is he—he is digging out thetreasure.”
“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Sir William. “We were geese not to havesupposed so much.”
“The only thing is,” Mountain resumed, “the sound is very close to ourold camp. And, again, I do not see how he is there before us, unless theman had wings!”
“Greed and fear are wings,” remarked Sir William. “But this rogue hasgiven us an alert, and I have a notion to return the compliment. Whatsay you, gentlemen, shall we have a moonlight hunt?”
It was so agreed; dispositions were made to surround Secundra at histask; some of Sir William’s Indians hastened in advance; and a strongguard being left at our headquarters, we set forth along the unevenbottom of the forest; frost crackling, ice sometimes loudly splittingunder foot; and overhead the blackness of pine-woods, and the brokenbrightness of the moon. Our way led down into a hollow of the land; andas we descended, the sounds diminished and had almost died away. Uponthe other slope it was more open, only dotted with a few pines, andseveral vast and scattered rocks that made inky shadows in the moonlight.Here the sounds began to reach us more distinctly; we could now perceivethe ring of iron, and more exactly estimate the furious degree of hastewith which the digger plied his instrument. As we neared the top of theascent, a bird or two winged aloft and hovered darkly in the moonlight;and the next moment we were gazing through a fringe of trees upon asingular picture.
A narrow plateau, overlooked by the white mountains, and encompassednearer hand by woods, lay bare to the strong radiance of the moon. Roughgoods, such as make the wealth of foresters, were sprinkled here andthere upon the ground in meaningless disarray. About the midst, a tentstood, silvered with frost: the door open, gaping on the black interior.At the one end of this small stage lay what seemed the tattered remnantsof a man. Without doubt we had arrived upon the scene of Harris’sencampment; there were the goods scattered in the panic of flight; it wasin yon tent the Master breathed his last; and the frozen carrion that laybefore us was the body of the drunken shoemaker. It was always moving tocome upon the theatre of any tragic incident; to come upon it after somany days, and to find it (in the seclusion of a desert) still unchanged,must have impressed the mind of the most careless. And yet it was notthat which struck us into pillars of stone; but the sight (which yet wehad been half expecting) of Secundra ankle deep in the grave of his latemaster. He had cast the main part of his raiment by, yet his frail armsand shoulders glistered in the moonlight with a copious sweat; his facewas contracted with anxiety and expectation; his blows resounded on thegrave, as thick as sobs; and behind him, strangely deformed and ink-blackupon the frosty ground, the creature’s shadow repeated and parodied hisswift gesticulations. Some night birds arose from the boughs upon ourcoming, and then settled back; but Secundra, absorbed in his toil; heardor heeded not at all.
I heard Mountain whisper to Sir William, “Good God! it’s the grave! He’sdigging him up!” It was what we had all guessed, and yet to hear it putin language thrilled me. Sir William violently started.
“You damned sacrilegious hound!” he cried. “What’s this?”
Secundra leaped in the air, a little breathless cry escaped him, the toolflew from his grasp, and he stood one instant staring at the speaker.The next, swift as an arrow, he sped for the woods upon the farther side;and the next again, throwing up his hands with a violent gesture ofresolution, he had begun already to retrace his steps.
“Well, then, you come, you help—” he was saying. But by now my lord hadstepped beside Sir William; the moon shone fair upon his face, and thewords were still upon Secundra’s lips, when he beheld and recognised hismaster’s enemy. “Him!” he screamed, clasping his hands, and shrinking onhimself.
“Come, come!” said Sir William. “There is none here to do you harm, ifyou be innocent; and if you be guilty, your escape is quite cut off.Speak, what do you here among the graves of the dead and the remains ofthe unburied?”
“You no murderer?” inquired Secundra. “You true man? you see me safe?”
“I will see you safe, if you be innocent,” returned Sir William. “I havesaid the thing, and I see not wherefore you should doubt it.”
“There all murderers,” cried Secundra, “that is why! He kill—murderer,”pointing to Mountain; “there two hire-murderers,” pointing to my lord andmyself—“all gallows—murderers! Ah! I see you all swing in a rope. Now Igo save the sahib; he see you swing in a rope. The sahib,” he continued,pointing to the grave, “he not dead. He bury, he not dead.”
My lord uttered a little noise, moved nearer to the grave, and stood andstared in it.
“Buried and not dead?” exclaimed Sir William. “What kind of rant isthis?”
“See, sahib,” said Secundra. “The sahib and I alone with murderers; tryall way to escape, no way good. Then try this way: good way in warmclimate, good way in India; here, in this dam cold place, who can tell?I tell you pretty good hurry: you help, you light a fire, help rub.”
“What is the creature talking of?” cried Sir William. “My head goesround.”
“I tell you I bury him alive,” said Secundra. “I teach him swallow histongue. Now dig him up pretty good hurry, and he not much worse. Youlight a fire.”
Sir William turned to the nearest of his men. “Light a fire,” said he.“My lot seems to be cast with the insane.”
“You good man,” returned Secundra. “Now I go dig the sahib up.”
He returned as he spoke to the grave, and resumed his former toil. Mylord stood rooted, and I at my lord’s side, fearing I knew not what.
The frost was not yet very deep, and presently the Indian threw aside histool, and began to scoop the dirt by handfuls. Then he disengaged acorner of a buffalo robe; and then I saw hair catch among his fingers:yet, a moment more, and the moon shone on something white. AwhileSecundra crouched upon his knees, scraping with delicate fingers,breathing with puffed lips; and when he moved aside, I beheld the face ofthe Master wholly disengaged. It was deadly white, the eyes closed, theears and nostrils plugged, the cheeks fallen, the nose sharp as if indeath; but for all he had lain so many days under the sod, corruption hadnot approached him, and (what strangely affected all of us) his lips andchin were mantled with a swarthy beard.
“My God!” cried Mountain, “he was as smooth as a bab
y when we laid himthere!”
“They say hair grows upon the dead,” observed Sir William; but his voicewas thick and weak.
Secundra paid no heed to our remarks, digging swift as a terrier in theloose earth. Every moment the form of the Master, swathed in his buffalorobe, grew more distinct in the bottom of that shallow trough; the moonshining strong, and the shadows of the standers-by, as they drew forwardand back, falling and flitting over his emergent countenance. The sightheld us with a horror not before experienced. I dared not look my lordin the face; but for as long as it lasted, I never observed him to drawbreath; and a little in the background one of the men (I know not whom)burst into a kind of sobbing.
“Now,” said Secundra, “you help me lift him out.”
Of the flight of time, I have no idea; it may have been three hours, andit may have been five, that the Indian laboured to reanimate his master’sbody. One thing only I know, that it was still night, and the moon wasnot yet set, although it had sunk low, and now barred the plateau withlong shadows, when Secundra uttered a small cry of satisfaction; and,leaning swiftly forth, I thought I could myself perceive a change uponthat icy countenance of the unburied. The next moment I beheld hiseyelids flutter; the next they rose entirely, and the week-old corpselooked me for a moment in the face.
So much display of life I can myself swear to. I have heard from othersthat he visibly strove to speak, that his teeth showed in his beard, andthat his brow was contorted as with an agony of pain and effort. Andthis may have been; I know not, I was otherwise engaged. For at thatfirst disclosure of the dead man’s eyes, my Lord Durrisdeer fell to theground, and when I raised him up, he was a corpse.
* * * * *
Day came, and still Secundra could not be persuaded to desist from hisunavailing efforts. Sir William, leaving a small party under my command,proceeded on his embassy with the first light; and still the Indianrubbed the limbs and breathed in the mouth of the dead body. You wouldthink such labours might have vitalised a stone; but, except for that onemoment (which was my lord’s death), the black spirit of the Master heldaloof from its discarded clay; and by about the hour of noon, even thefaithful servant was at length convinced. He took it with unshakenquietude.
“Too cold,” said he, “good way in India, no good here.” And, asking forsome food, which he ravenously devoured as soon as it was set before him,he drew near to the fire and took his place at my elbow. In the samespot, as soon as he had eaten, he stretched himself out, and fell into achildlike slumber, from which I must arouse him, some hours afterwards,to take his part as one of the mourners at the double funeral. It wasthe same throughout; he seemed to have outlived at once and with the sameeffort, his grief for his master and his terror of myself and Mountain.
One of the men left with me was skilled in stone-cutting; and before SirWilliam returned to pick us up, I had chiselled on a boulder thisinscription, with a copy of which I may fitly bring my narrative to aclose:##
J. D.,
HEIR TO A SCOTTISH TITLE,
A MASTER OF THE ARTS AND GRACES,
ADMIRED IN EUROPE, ASIA, AMERICA,
IN WAR AND PEACE,
IN THE TENTS OF SAVAGE HUNTERS AND THE
CITADELS OF KINGS, AFTER SO MUCH
ACQUIRED, ACCOMPLISHED, AND
ENDURED, LIES HERE FORGOTTEN.
* * * * *
H. D.,
HIS BROTHER,
AFTER A LIFE OF UNMERITED DISTRESS,
BRAVELY SUPPORTED,
DIED ALMOST IN THE SAME HOUR,
AND SLEEPS IN THE SAME GRAVE
WITH HIS FRATERNAL ENEMY.
* * * * *
THE PIETY OF HIS WIFE AND ONE OLD
SERVANT RAISED THIS STONE
TO BOTH.
Footnotes.
{1} A kind of firework made with damp powder.
{2} _Note by Mr. Mackellar_. Should not this be Alan _Breck_ Stewart,afterwards notorious as the Appin murderer? The Chevalier is sometimesvery weak on names.
{3} _Note by Mr. Mackellar_. This Teach of the _Sarah_ must not beconfused with the celebrated Blackbeard. The dates and facts by no meanstally. It is possible the second Teach may have at once borrowed thename and imitated the more excessive part of his manners from the first.Even the Master of Ballantrae could make admirers.
{4} _Note by Mr. Mackellar_. And is not this the whole explanation?since this Dutton, exactly like the officers, enjoyed the stimulus ofsome responsibility.
{5} _Note by Mr. Mackellar_: A complete blunder: there was at this dateno word of the marriage: see above in my own narration.
{6} Note by Mr. Mackellar.—Plainly Secundra Dass.—E. McK.
{7} Ordered.
{8} Land steward.
{9} Fooling.
{10} Tear-marked.
{11} Unwilling.
{12} Ring.
The Master of Ballantrae: A Winter's Tale Page 13