Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled

by Major Richardson

  CHAPTER XXII.

  Meanwhile the preparations for the departure of the expedition for theMiami were rapidly completing. To the majority of the regular force ofthe two garrisons were added several companies of militia, and aconsiderable body of Indians, under Tecumseh--the two former portions ofthe force being destined to advance by water, the latter by land. Thespring had been unusually early, and the whole of April remarkably warm;on some occasions sultry to oppressiveness--as for instance on themorning of the tempest. They were now in the first days of the last weekof that month, and everywhere, quick and luxuriant vegetation hadsucceeded to the stubborn barrenness and monotony of winter. Not avestige of that dense mass of ice which, three months previously, hadborne them over lake and river, was now to be seen. The sun dancedjoyously and sportively on the golden wave, and where recently toweredthe rugged surface of the tiny iceberg, the still, calm, unbroken levelof the mirroring lake was only visible. On the beach, just below thetown, and on a line with the little fleet, that lay at anchor betweenthe island and the main, were drawn up numerous batteaux, ready for thereception of the troops, while on the decks of two gun-boats, that weremoored a few yards without them, were to be seen the battering train andentrenching tools intended to accompany the expedition. Opposite to eachbatteau was kindled a fire, around which were grouped the _voyageurs_composing the crew, some dividing their salt pork or salt fish upontheir bread, with a greasy clasped knife, and quenching the thirstexcited by this with occasional libations from tin cans, containing amixture of water and the poisonous distillation of the country,miscalled whiskey. In other directions, those who had dined sat puffingthe smoke from their dingy pipes, while again, they who had sufficientlyluxuriated on the weed, might be seen sleeping, after the manner of theIndians, with their heads resting on the first rude pillow that offereditself, and their feet close upon the embers of the fire on which theyhad prepared their meal. The indolence of inactivity was more or lessupon all, but it was the indolence consequent on previous exertion, anda want of further employment. The whole scene was characteristic of thepeculiar manners of the French Canadian boatmen.

  Since the morning of the long and partial explanation between thebrothers, no further allusion had been made to the forbidden subject.Henry saw, with unfeigned satisfaction, that Gerald not only abstainedfrom the false excitement to which he had hitherto had recourse, butthat he apparently sought to rally against his dejection. It is truethat whenever he chanced to surprise him alone, he observed him pale,thoughtful, and full of care, but, as he invariably endeavored to hidethe feeling at his approach, he argued favorably even from the effort.Early on the day previous to that of the sailing of the expedition,Gerald asked leave for a visit of a few hours to Detroit, urging adesire to see the family of his uncle, who still remained quartered atthat post, and whom he had not met since his return from captivity. Thishad been readily granted by the Commodore, in whom the change in thehealth and spirits of his young favorite had excited both surprise andconcern, and who, anxious for his restoration, was ready to promotewhatever might conduce to his comfort. He had even gone so far as tohint the propriety of his relinquishing his intention of accompanyingthe expedition, (which was likely to be attended with much privation andexposure to those engaged in it), and suffering another officer to besubstituted to his command, while he remained at home to recruit hishealth. But Gerald heard the well meant proposal with ill disguisedimpatience, and he replied with a burning cheek, that if his absence fora day could not be allowed without inconvenience to the service, he wasready to submit; but, as far as regarded his making one of theexpedition, nothing short of a positive command should compel him toremain behind. Finding him thus obstinate, the Commodore good humoredlycalled him a silly, wilful, fellow, and bade him have his own way;however he felt confident that, if he accompanied the Miami expeditionin his then state of health, he never would return from it.

  Gerald submitted it was probable enough he should not, but, although hedeeply felt the kindness of his Commander's motive in wishing him toremain, he was not the less determined, since the matter was left to hisown choice, to go where his duty led him. Then, promising to be backlong before the hour fixed for sailing the ensuing day, he warmlypressed the cordially extended hand, and soon afterwards, accompanied bySambo, whose skill as a rider was in no way inferior to his dexterity asa steersman, mounted a favorite horse, and was soon far on his road toDetroit.

  Towards midnight of that day, two men were observed by the Americantanner to enter by the gate that led into the grounds of the cottage,and, after lingering for a few moments, near the graves to whichtradition had attached so much of the marvellous, to disappear round theangle of the building into the court behind. Curiosity induced him tofollow and watch their movements, and, although he could not refrainfrom turning his head at least a dozen times, as if expecting at eachmoment to encounter some dread inhabitant of the tomb, he at lengthcontrived to place himself in the very position in which Gerald hadformerly been a witness of the attempt at assassination. From the samewindow now flashed a strong light upon the court below, and by this thefeatures of the officer and his servant were distinctly revealed to theastonished tanner, who, ignorant of their return, and scarcely knowingwhether he gazed upon the living or the dead, would have fled, had henot, as he afterwards confessed, been rooted by fear, and a species offascination, to the spot. The appearance and actions of the partiesindeed seemed to justify, not only the delusion, but the alarm of theworthy citizen. Both Gerald and Sambo were disguised in large darkcloaks, and as the light fell upon the thin person and pale, attenuated,sunken countenance of the former, he could scarcely persuade himselfthis was the living man, who a few months before, rich in beauty and inhealth, had questioned him of the very spot in which he now, under suchstrange circumstances, beheld him. Nor was the appearance of the negromore assuring. Filled with the terror that ever inspired him onapproaching this scene of past horrors, his usually dark cheek wore thedingy paleness characteristic of death in one of his color, while everymuscle, stiff, set, contracted by superstitious fear, seemed to havelost all power of relaxation. The solemnity moreover of the manner ofboth, was in strict keeping with their personal appearance, so that itcan scarcely be wondered that in a mind not the strongest nor the mostfree from a belief in the supernatural, a due quantum of awe and alarmshould have been instilled. Fear, however, had not wholly subduedcuriosity, and even while trembling to such a degree that he couldscarcely keep his teeth from chattering, the tanner followed with eagereye the movements of those he knew not whether to look upon as ghosts orliving beings. The room was exactly in the state in which we lastdescribed it, with this difference merely, that the table, on which thelamp and books had been placed now lay overturned, as if in the courseof some violent scuffle, and its contents distributed over the floor.The bed still remained, in the same corner, unmade, and its coveringtossed. It was evident no one had entered the apartment since the nightof the attempted assassination.

  The first act of Gerald, who bore the light, followed closely by Sambo,was to motion the latter to raise the fallen table. When this was donehe placed his lamp upon it, and sinking upon the foot of the bed, andcovering his eyes with his hands, seemed utterly absorbed in bitterrecollections. The negro, meanwhile, an apparent stranger to the scene,cast his eyes around him with the shrinking caution of one who findshimself in a position of danger, and fears to encounter some terrificsight, then, as if the effort was beyond his power, he drew the collarof his cloak over his face, and shuffling to get as near as possible tothe bed as though in the act he came more immediately under theprotection of him who sat upon it, awaited, in an attitude ofstatue-like immobility, the awakening of his master from his reverie.

  Gerald at length withdrew his hands from his pallid face, on which theglare of the lamp rested forcibly, and, with a wild look and low, butimperative voice, bade the old negro seat himself beside him still loweron the bed.

  "Sambo," he inquired abruptly--"how old were you
when the Indianmassacre took place near this spot. You were then, I think I have heardit stated, the servant of Sir Everard Valletort?"

  The old negro looked aghast. It was long since direct allusion had beenmade to his unfortunate master or the events of that period. Questionedin such a spot, and at such an hour, he could not repress the feeling ofterror conjured up by the allusion. Scarcely daring to exceed a whisper,he answered.

  "Oh Massa Geral, for Hebben's sake no talkee dat. It berry long timeago, and break poor nigger heart to tink ob it----"

  "But I insist on knowing," returned Gerald loudly and peremptorily;"were you old enough to recollect the curse that poor heart-brokenwoman, Ellen Halloway, uttered on all our race, and if so what was it?"

  "No, Massa Geral, I no sabby dat. Sambo den only piccaninny, and SirEbbered make him top in he fort--oh berry bad times dat, Massa Geral.Poor Frank Hallabay he shot fust, because he let he grandfadder out obhe fort, and den ebery ting go bad--berry bad indeed."

  "But the curse of Ellen Halloway, Sambo, you must have heard of itsurely--even if you were not present at the utterance. Did she not," hecontinued, finding that the other replied not: "Did she not pray thatthe blood of my great grandfather's children might be spilt on the veryspot that had been moistened with that of her ill-fated husband--and,that if any of the race should survive, it might be only with a view totheir perishing in some horrible manner. Was not this the case?"

  "Oh yes, Massa Geral, berry bad tongue Ellen, affer he lose hehusband--but, poor ting, he half mad and no sabby what he say. He timeto start for he gun-boat, Massa Geral."

  The part Sambo had sustained in this short dialogue was a forced one. Hehad answered almost mechanically, and not altogether withoutembarrassment, the few queries that were put to him. Nay, so far was hegoverned by surrounding local influences, that the anguish he would,under other circumstances, have experienced, at this raking up ofrecollections he so sedulously avoided, was lost in terror, produced byhis near and midnight propinquity to the fatal theatre of death. Hisonly idea now was to leave the spot as quickly as he could.

  Gerald had again covered his face with his hands, and appeared to belaboring under strong agitation of mind. At length he started abruptlyup, and seizing the light, held it forward, stooping over the bed, as ifgazing fixedly on some object within.

  "No," he said with vehemence, "it shall never be. That part of themalediction, at least, shall _not_ be accomplished. For once shall thecurse of the innocent be unheeded."

  The strange action and words of the excited officer, by no meanscontributed to allay the nervousness of the brave but superstitiousnegro. He had approached as near as he could to Gerald, without actuallytouching him, but when he remarked his abrupt movement, and heard thesudden outburst feeling which accompanied it, he half fancied he wasapostrophizing some spirit visible only to himself, and shocked andterrified at this idea, he turned away his head.

  Sambo's alarm was not to terminate here. Scarcely had he bent his glanceupon the window when he beheld two glaring eyes, magnified by his fearinto thrice their natural size, fixed intently on that part of the roomin which they stood. He attempted to cry out, but the sound was stifledin his throat, and he sank upon his knees, holding up his hands in anattitude of prayer--his teeth chattering, and his eyes fascinated bythose which had produced in him this paroxysm of terror. Presently hethought he saw a mouth open, and a row of large and ragged teeth displaythemselves in a grin of derision. With a desperate effort he broke thespell that seemed to enchain every faculty, and called piteously andimploringly on the name of Gerald. The officer, who had continued gazingon the untenanted bed in deep abstraction, and seeming forgetfulness ofall surrounding objects, turned hastily round, and was much concerned toobserve the terrified expression of the old man's countenance. Followingthe direction of his fixed gaze, he looked toward the window for asolution of the cause. At that moment a noise was heard without, as of afalling body. Gerald sprang towards the window, and hastily lifting it,thrust the lamp through; but nothing was visible, neither was theresound of footsteps to be heard.

  Before daybreak on the following morning, the poor old negro, whom noliving danger could daunt, had given but too alarming evidence that hisreason was utterly alienated. His ravings were wild and fearful, andnothing could remove the impression that the face he had beheld was thatof the once terrible Wacousta--the same face which had presented itself,under such extraordinary circumstances, at the window of the Canadian'shut, on the night of the departure of his master, Sir Everard Valletort,and Captain De Haldimer, for Michillimackinac in 1763. Nay, so rootedwas this belief, that, with the fervor of that zeal which had governedhis whole life and conduct towards each succeeding generation of thefamily, he prayed and obtained, during a momentary gleam of reason, thepromise of the much shocked Gerald, that he would never again set footwithin the precincts of these fatal grounds.

  Inexpressibly grieved as Gerald was at this sad and unexpectedtermination to his adventure, he had no time to linger near hisunfortunate servant. The expedition was to set out in a few hours, andhe had too completely bent his mind upon accompanying it to incur theslightest chance of a disappointment. Leaving the faithful andunfortunate creature to the care of his uncle's family, by every memberof whom he was scarcely less loved than by himself, he took the ferry tothe opposite shore within an hour after daybreak, and made such speedthat, when Henry came down to breakfast he found, to his surprise, hisbrother already there.

  During his ride, Gerald had had leisure to reflect on the events of thepreceding night, and bitterly did he regret having yielded to acuriosity which had cost the unfortunate Sambo so much. He judgedcorrectly that they had been followed in their nocturnal excursion, andthat it was the face of some prying visitant which Sambo's superstitiousdread had transformed into a hideous vision of the past. He recalled theinsuperable aversion the old man had ever entertained to approach oreven make mention of the spot, and greatly did he blame himself forhaving persisted in offering a violence to his nature, the extent ofwhich had been made so fearfully obvious. It brought no consolation tohim to reflect that the spot itself contained nought that should haveproduced so alarming an effect on a mind properly constituted. He feltthat, knowing his weakness as he did, he ought not to have trifled withit, and could not deny to himself, that in enforcing his attendance,with a view to obtain information on several points connected with thepast, he had been indirectly the destroyer of his reason. There had beena season when the unhappy sailor would have felt a sorrow even deeperthan he did, but Gerald was indeed an altered being--too much rapt inhimself to give heed to others.

  The painful nature of his reflections, added to the fatigue he hadundergone, had given to his countenance a more than usually haggardexpression. Henry remarked it and inquired the cause, when his brother,in a few brief sentences, explained all that had occurred during hisabsence. Full of affection as he was for the old man, and utterlyunprepared for such a communication, Henry could not avoid expressingdeep vexation that his brother, aware as he was of the peculiar weaknessof their aged friend, should have been inconsiderate enough to havedrawn him thither. Gerald felt the reproof to be just, and for that veryreason grew piqued under it. Pained as he was at the condition of Sambo,Henry was even more distressed at witnessing the apparent apathy of hisbrother for the fate of one who had not merely saved his life on arecent occasion, but had evinced a devotedness--a love for him--in everycircumstance of life, which seldom had had their parallel in the annalsof human servitude. It was in vain that he endeavored to follow theexample of Gerald, who, having seated himself at the breakfast table,was silently appeasing an appetite such as he had not exhibited sincehis return. Incapable of swallowing his food, Henry paced up and downthe room, violently agitated and sick at heart. It seemed to him as ifSambo had been a sort of connecting link between themselves and thedeparted parents; and now that he was suddenly and fearfully afflicted,he thought he could see in the vista of futurity a long train of evilsthat threw thei
r shadows before, and portended the consummation of someunknown, unseen affliction, having its origin in the incomprehensiblealienation of his brother's heart from the things of his early love.

  While he was yet indulging in these painful thoughts, the firing of agun from the harbor--the signal for the embarkation of thetroops--brought both Gerald and himself to a sense of otherconsiderations. The latter was the first to quit the house. "Henry," hesaid, with much emotion, "God bless you. It is possible that, as ourservice lies in different lines, we shall see but little of each otherduring this expedition. Of one thing, however, be assured--that althoughI am an unhappy man, I am anything but dead to feeling.--Henry," hecontinued pressing his hand with warmth, "think not unkindly hereafterof your poor brother Gerald." A long embrace, in which each, although insilence, seemed to blend heart with heart, ensued, and both greatlyrelieved, as they always were after this generous expansion of theirfeelings, separated forthwith whither their respective duties summonedthem.