CHAPTER III.
A full half hour had succeeded to these sounds of conflict, and yetnothing could be seen of the contending boats. Doubt and anxiety nowtook the place of the confidence that had hitherto animated the bosomsof the spectators, and even Henry Grantham--his heart throbbingpainfully with emotions induced by suspense--knew not what inference todraw from the fact of his brother's protracted absence. Could it be thatthe American, defended as she was by a small force of armed men, hadsucceeded, not only in defeating the aim of her pursuer, but also incapturing her. Such a result was not impossible. The enemy against whomthey had to contend yielded to none in bravery; and as the small barkwhich had quitted the gun-boat was not one third of the size of thatwhich they pursued, it followed of necessity, that the assailants mustbe infinitely weaker in numbers than the assailed. Still no signal ofalarm was made by the gun-boat, which continued to lie to, apparently inexpectation of the return of the detached portion of her crew. Granthamknew enough of his brother's character to feel satisfied that he was inthe absent boat, and yet it was impossible to suppose that one so imbuedwith the spirit of generous enterprise should have succumbed to hisenemy, after a contest of so short duration, as, from the number ofshots heard, this had appeared to be. That it was terminated, therecould be no doubt. The cheers, which had been followed by an universalsilence, had given evidence of this fact; yet why, in that case, if hisbrother had been victorious, was he not already on his return?Appearances, on the other hand, seemed to induce an impression of hisdefeat. The obvious course of the enemy, if successful, was to abandontheir craft, cut off from escape by the gun-boat without, and to makethe best of their way through the woods, to their place of destination,the American fort of Detroit--and, as neither party was visible, it wasto be feared this object had been accomplished.
The minds of all were more or less influenced by these doubts, but thatof Henry Grantham was especially disturbed. From the first appearance ofthe gun-boat his spirits had resumed their usual tone, for he had lookedupon the fleeing bark as the certain prize of his brother, whoseconquest was to afford the flattest denial to the insinuation that hadbeen urged against him. Moreover, his youthful pride had exulted in thereflection that the first halo of victory would play around the brow ofone for whom he could have made every personal sacrifice; and now, tohave those fair anticipations clouded at the very moment when he wasexpecting their fullest accomplishment, was almost unendurable. He felt,also, that, although his resolution was thus made to stand prominentlyforth, the prudence of his brother would assuredly be called inquestion, for having given chase with so inferior a force, when a singlegun fired into his enemy must have sunk her. In the impatience of hisfeelings, the excited young soldier could not refrain from adding hisown censure of the imprudence, exclaiming, as he played his footnervously upon the ground: "Why the devil did he not fire and sink her,instead of following in that nutshell?"
While he was yet giving utterance to his disappointment, a hastyexclamation met his ear from the chieftain at his side, who, placing onehand on the shoulder of the officer, with a familiar and meaning grasp,pointed, with the fore-finger of the other, in the direction in whichthe boats had disappeared. Before Grantham's eye could follow, anexulting yell from the distant masses of Indians announced an advantagethat was soon made obvious to all. The small dark boat of the pursuingparty was now seen issuing from behind the point, and pulling slowlytowards the gun-boat. In the course of a minute or two afterwardsappeared the American, evidently following in the wake of the former,and attached by a tow-line to her stern. The yell pealed forth by theIndians when the second boat came in view, was deafening in the extreme;and everything became commotion along the bank, while the little fleetof canoes, which still lay resting on the beach, put off one after theother to the scene of action.
Meanwhile, both objects had gained the side of the gun-boat, which,favored by a partial shifting of the wind, now pursued her course downthe river with expanded sails. Attached to her stern, and following atquarter cable distance, was to be seen her prize, from which theprisoners had been removed.
Informed of the success which had crowned the enterprise of theirofficer, the crews of the several vessels in the harbor swelled thecrowd assembled on the bank near the fort, to which point curiosity anda feeling of interest had moreover brought many of the town's people, sothat the scene finally became one of great animation.
The gun-boat had now arrived opposite the fort, when the small bark,which had recently been used in pursuit, was again drawn up to thequarter. Into this, to the surprise of all, was first lowered a female,hitherto unobserved; next followed an officer in the blue uniform of theUnited States regular army; then another individual, whose garbannounced him as being of the militia, and whose rank as an officer wasonly distinguishable from the cockade surmounting his round hat, and anornamented dagger thrust into a red morocco belt encircling his waist.After these came the light and elegant form of one, habited in theundress of a British naval officer, who, with one arm supported by ablack silk handkerchief, evidently taken from his throat, and suspendedfrom his neck, and with the other grasping the tiller of the rudder,stood upright in the boat, which, urged by six stout rowers, now stoodat his command towards the landing place, above which lingered,surrounded by several officers of either service, General Brock andCommodore Barclay.
"Well, Commodore, what think you of your Lieutenant now?" observed theformer to his friend; "the young Canadian you must admit, has noblyredeemed my pledge. On the score of his fidelity there could exist nodoubt, and as for his courage, you see," pointing to the young man'sarm, "his conquest has not been bloodless to himself, at least."
"With all my soul do I disclaim the wrong I have done him," was theemphatic and generous rejoinder. "He is, indeed, a spirited youth; andwell worthy of the favorable report which led me to entrust him with thecommand--moreover he has an easy grace of carriage which pleased andinterested me in his favor, when I first saw him. Even now, observe howcourteously he bends himself to the ear of his female prisoner, as if toencourage her with words of assurance, that she may sustain the presenceand yells of these clamorous beings."
The boat had now reached the beach, but the difficulty of effecting apassage, through the band of wild Indians that crowded, yelling, inevery direction, to take a nearer view of the prisoners, would, perhaps,have proved insurmountable, had it not been for the interference of onewho alone possessed the secret of restraining their lawlessness.Tecumseh had descended to the beach, eager to be the first tocongratulate his young friend. He pressed the hand promptly extended toreceive his, and then, at a single word, made those give way whosepresence impeded the landing of the party.
Pursuing their way up the rude steps by which Lieutenant Raymond hadpreviously descended, the little band of prisoners soon stood in thepresence of the group assembled to receive them. On alighting from theboat, the youthful captor had been seen to make the tender of hisuninjured arm to the lady, who, however, had rejected it, with amovement, seemingly of indignant surprise, clinging in the same momentto her more elderly companion. A titter among the younger officers, atGerald Grantham's expense had followed this rejection of his profferedarm.
The young sailor was the first to gain the summit of the bank.Respectfully touching his hat, and pointing to the captives, whofollowed a few paces in his rear:
"General--Commodore," he observed, his cheek flushing with aconsciousness of the gratifying position in which he stood, "I have thehonor to present to you the first fruits of your good fortune. Thisgentleman," pointing to the elder officer, "is the commander of theparty, and the lady I believe is----"
"Certainly a non-combatant on this occasion," interrupted the General,raising his plumed hat, and bowing to the party alluded to; "Gentlemen,"he pursued, addressing the two officers, "I am sorry we do not meetexactly on the terms to which we have so long been accustomed; but,although the fortune of war has made you rather unwilling guests in thepresent instance, the rites of hospitali
ty shall not be the lessobserved. But Mr. Grantham, you have forgotten to introduce theseofficers by name."
"I plead guilty, General, but the truth is I have neglected to make theinquiry myself."
"Major Montgomerie, sir, of the United States Infantry," interposed theelderly officer, completely set at his ease by the affable and attentivemanner of the British leader. "This young lady is my niece."
Again the general slightly, but courteously, bowed. "I will not, MajorMontgomerie, pay you the ill timed compliment of expressing pleasure inseeing you on an occasion like the present, since we must unquestionablyconsider you a prisoner of war; but if the young lady your niece, hasany desire to continue her journey to Detroit, I shall feel pleasure inforwarding her thither under a flag of truce."
"I thank you much, General, for this mark of your attention," returnedthe American; "but I think I may venture to answer for my niece, thatshe will prefer remaining with me."
"Not so, sir;" said a voice deep but femininely soft. "General," shecontinued, throwing aside her veil, which had hitherto concealedfeatures pale even to wanness, "I have the strongest--the most urgentreasons--for the prosecution of my journey, and gladly do I accept youroffer."
The earnest manner of her address struck every hearer with surprise,contrasting as it did, with the unchanging coldness of her look; but thematter was a source of serious concern to her uncle. He regarded herwith an air of astonishment, not unmixed with displeasure.
"How is this, Matilda," he asked; "after having travelled thus far intothe heart of this disturbed district would you now leave me?"
"Major Montgomerie," she pursued, somewhat impatiently, "we are in thepresence of strangers, to whom this discussion must be uninteresting--Mymind is fully made up, and I avail myself of the British General'soffer."
"Certainly, certainly," observed that officer, somewhat disconcerted bythe scene; "and I can do it the more readily, as it is my intention tosend an instant summons to the garrison of Detroit. Miss Montgomeriewill, however, do well to consider before she decides. If the summons benot obeyed, another week will see our columns marching to the assault,and she must be prepared for all the horrors of such an extremity,aided, as I am compelled to be, (and he glanced at the groups of Indianswho were standing around, but at some distance, looking silently yeteagerly at the prisoners,) by these wild and ungovernable warriors.Should she, on the contrary, decide on remaining here with her uncle,she will be perfectly safe."
"General," emphatically returned Miss Montgomerie, "were I certain thatthe columns to which you allude would not be repulsed whenever they mayventure upon that assault, and were I as certain of perishing beneaththe tomahawk and scalping knife of these savages"--and she lookedfearlessly towards them--"still would my determination remain the same."
As she concluded, a hectic spot rose to either cheek, lingered there amoment, and then left it colorless as before.
"Be it so, Miss Montgomerie, my word is pledged and you shallgo--Grantham, I had intended sending one of my personal staff with thesummons, but, on reflection, you shall be the bearer. As the captor ofthe lady, to you shall be awarded the charge of delivering her over toher friends."
"Friends!" involuntarily repeated the American, her cheek becoming evenpaler than before, and her lips compressed in a way to indicate somedeep and painful emotion. Again she dropped her veil.
No other notice was taken of the interruption than what the surprisedmanner of Major Montgomerie manifested, and the General proceeded;
"I would ask you, Major Montgomerie, to become my guest while you remainwith us, but I fear that, as a bachelor, I have but indifferentaccommodation to offer to your niece."
"If Miss Montgomerie will accept it," said Colonel D'Egville,interposing, "I shall be most happy to afford her the accommodation of ahome until she finally departs for the opposite shore. If the attentionof a family of daughters," he continued, more immediately addressinghimself to the young lady, "can render your temporary sojourn among usless tedious, you have but to command them."
So friendly an offer could not well be refused. Miss Montgomerieinclined her head in acquiescence, and Colonel D'Egville drew her armwithin his own.
"It were unkind," remarked the general, good-humoredly, "to separateMajor Montgomerie altogether from his niece. Either the young lady mustpartake of our rude fare, or we shall consider ourselves included inyour dinner party."
"You could not confer on me a greater pleasure, General, and indeed Iwas about to solicit it. Commodore Barclay, may I hope that so short andunceremonious an invitation will be excused by the circumstances? Good,I shall expect you. But there is yet another to be included among ourguests. Gerald, you will not fail to conduct this gentleman, whose nameI have not yet had the pleasure of hearing"--and he looked at thelatter, as if he expected him to announce himself.
"I fear, sir," observed the young officer, pointedly, "that your dinnerparty would be little honored by such an addition. Although he wears theuniform of an American officer, this person is wholly unworthy of it andof a seat at your table."
Every eye was turned with an expression of deep astonishment on thespeaker, and thence upon the form of the hitherto scarcely noticedmilitia officer; who, with his head sunk sullenly upon his chest, and aneye now and then raised stealthily to surrounding objects, made noattempt to refute, or even to express surprise at, the singularaccusation of his captor.
"This is strong language to apply to a captive enemy, and that enemyapparently an officer," gravely remarked the general; "yet I cannotbelieve Mr. Grantham to be wholly without grounds for his assertion."
Before Grantham could reply, a voice in the crowd exclaimed, as if theutterer had been thrown off his guard, "What--Phil!"
On the mention of this name, the younger prisoner looked suddenly upfrom the earth on which his gaze had been riveted, and cast a rapidglance around him.
"Nay, nay, my young friend, do not, as I see you are, feel hurt at myobservation," resumed the general, extending his hand to GeraldGrantham; "I confess I did at one moment imagine that you had been rashin your assertion, but from what has this instant occurred, it isevident your prisoner is known to others as well as to yourself. Nodoubt we shall have everything explained in due season. By the bye, ofwhat nature is your wound? slight, I should say, from the indifferencewith which you treat it."
"Slight, General--far slighter," he continued, coloring, "than the woundthat was sought to be affixed to my fair name in my absence."
All looked at the speaker, and at each other with surprise, for, as yet,there could have been no communication to him of the doubts which hadbeen entertained.
"Who is it of you all, gentlemen," pursued the young man, with the samecomposedness of voice and manner, and turning particularly to theofficers of the forty-first regiment, who were grouped around theirchief, "Who is it, I ask, on whom has devolved the enviable duty ofreporting me as capable of violating my faith as a subject, and my honoras an officer?"
There was no reply, although the same looks of surprise wereinterchanged; but, as he continued to glance his eye around the circle,it encountered, either by accident or design, that of Captain Molineux,on whose rather confused countenance the gaze of Henry Grantham was atthat moment bent with an expression of much meaning.
"No one answers," continued the youth; "then the sting has beenharmless. But I crave your pardon, General--I am claiming an exemptionfrom censure which may not be conceded by all. Commodore, how shall Idispose of my prisoners?"
"Not so, Mr. Grantham; you have sufficiently established your right torepose, and I have already issued the necessary instructions. Yet, whileyou have nobly acquitted yourself of _your_ duty, let me also perform_mine_. Gentlemen," he continued, addressing the large circle ofofficers, "I was the first to comment on Mr. Grantham's supposed neglectof duty, and to cast a doubt on his fidelity. That I was wrong I admit,but right I trust will be my reparation, and whatever momentary pain hemay experience in knowing that he has been thus unjustly
judged, itwill, I am sure, be more than compensated for, when he hears that byGeneral Brock himself his defence was undertaken, even to the pledgingof his own honor. Mr. Grantham," concluded the gallant officer, "how youhave obtained your knowledge of the conversation that passed here duringyour absence, is a mystery I will not now pause to inquire into, but Iwould fain apologize for the wrong I have done. Have I your pardon?"
At the commencement of this address, the visible heaving of his fullchest, the curling of his proud lip, and the burning flush of his darkcheek, betrayed the mortification Gerald felt, in having been placed ina position to be judged thus unjustly; but, as the commodore proceeded,this feeling gradually passed away, and when the warm defence of hisconduct by the general was alluded to, closed as the information waswith a request for pardon, his temporary annoyance was banished, and heexperienced only the generous triumph of one who is conscious of havingwon his way, through calumny and slander, to the well meritedapprobation of all right minded men.
"Come, come," interposed the general, more touched than he was willingto appear, by the expressive manner in which the only hand of thecommodore now grasped that of his lieutenant, and perceiving that thelatter was about to reply--"We will defer all further explanation untila later period. But, before we depart, this person must be disposed of;Major Montgomerie, excuse my asking if you will be personallyresponsible for your fellow prisoner?"
"Certainly not!" returned the Major quickly, and with something likealarm at the required responsibility; "that is to say, he does notbelong to the United States regular service, and I know nothing of him.Indeed, I never saw him before last night, when he joined me with averbal message from Detroit."
Hitherto the individual spoken of had preserved an unbroken silence,keeping, as we have already shown, his gaze riveted upon the ground,except at intervals, when he looked around with an eye of suspicion, asif to measure the distance that separated him from the groups of Indiansin the background. The disclaimer of the major had, however, the effectof restoring to him the use of his tongue. Casting his uncertain eye onthe gentlemanly person of the latter, he exclaimed, in a tone ofinsufferable vulgarity:
"I'll tell you what it is, Mister Major--you may think yourself adevilish fine feller, but I guess as how an officer of the MichiganMilitia is just as good and as spry as any blue coat in the UnitedStates rig'lars; so there's that (snapping his fingers) for pretendin'not to know me."
An ill-suppressed titter pervaded the group of British officers--thegeneral alone preserving his _serieux_.
"May I ask your name?" he demanded.
"I guess, gin'ril, it's Paul Emilius Theophilus Arnoldi, ensign in theUnited States Michigan Militia," was answered with a volubility stronglyin contrast with the preceding silence of the speaker.
"Then, Mr. Arnoldi, as an officer in the American militia, you shallenjoy your liberty on parole. I need not, I presume, sir, point out toyou the breach of private honor and national faith consequent on anyviolation of that parole."
"I guess not, gin'ril, for, I take it, the word of a Michigan militiaofficer is as good as that of any United States rig'lar as ever steppedin shoe leather."
Another very pardonable disposition on the part of the younger officersto indulge in mirth, was interrupted by the general, desiring a youngaide-de-camp to procure the necessary billet and accommodation forEnsign Arnoldi.
These two individuals having moved away in search of the requiredlodging, the general, with his staff and prisoner guests, withdrewtowards the fort. Their departure was the signal for the breaking up ofthe groups, and all dispersed to their several homes, and in pursuit oftheir various duties. The recently arrived Indians were distributedthroughout the encampment, already occupied as we have described, andthe prisoners taken in the morning were provided with suitableaccommodation.
As Colonel D'Egville was about to enter the gate of the fort, with hisfair charge leaning on his arm, Gerald Grantham approached the party,with the intention of addressing the general in regard to the prisonerArnoldi; but finding him engaged in close conversation with MajorMontgomerie, he lingered, as if awaiting a fitting opportunity to openthe subject.
While he yet loitered, the eye of Miss Montgomerie met his. What itexpressed we will not venture to describe, but its effect upon the youngofficer was profound. The moment before, discouraged by her apparentreserve, he had stood coldly by, but now startled into animation, hebent upon her an earnest and corresponding look; then, with a wildtumult at his heart, which he neither sought to stifle nor to analyze,and wholly forgetting what had brought him to the spot, he turned andjoined his brother, who, at a short distance, stood awaiting his return.
Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled Page 3