The Sun of Quebec: A Story of a Great Crisis

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER VIII

  MAKING THE BEST OF IT

  After his return in the dinghy Robert decided that he would have somefresh beef and also a little sport. Although the island contained noindigenous wild animals of any size, there were the wild cattle, and hehad seen they were both long of horn and fierce. If he courted peril hemight find it in hunting them, and in truth he rather wanted a littlerisk. There was such an absence of variety in his life, owing to thelack of human companionship, that an attack by a maddened bull, forinstance, would add spice to it. The rifle would protect him from anyextreme danger.

  He knew he was likely to find cattle near the larger lake, and, as hehad expected, he saw a herd of almost fifty grazing there on a flat atthe eastern edge. Two fierce old bulls with very long, sharp horns wereon the outskirts, as if they were mounting guard, while the cows andcalves were on the inside near the lake.

  Robert felt sure that the animals, although unharried by man, wouldprove wary. For the sake of sport he hoped that it would be so, and,using all the skill that he had learned in his long association withWillet and Tayoga, he crept down through the woods. The bulls would betoo tough, and as he wanted a fat young cow it would be necessary forhim to go to the very edge of the thickets that hemmed in the littlesavanna on which they were grazing.

  The wind was blowing from him toward the herd and the bulls very soontook alarm, holding up their heads, sniffing and occasionally shakingtheir formidable horns. Robert picked a fat young cow in the grassalmost at the water's edge as his target, but stopped a little while inorder to disarm the suspicion of the wary old guards. When the two wentback to their pleasant task of grazing he resumed his cautious advance,keeping the fat young cow always in view.

  Now that he had decided to secure fresh beef, he wanted it very badly,and it seemed to him that the cow would fulfill all his wants. A longexperience in the wilderness would show him how to prepare juicy andtender steaks. Eager to replenish his larder in so welcome a way, herose and crept forward once more in the thicket.

  The two bulls became suspicious again, the one on the right, which wasthe larger, refusing to have his apprehension quieted, and advancingpart of the way toward the bushes, where he stood, thrusting forwardangry horns. His attitude served as a warning for the whole herd, which,becoming alarmed, began to move.

  Robert was in fear lest they rush away in a panic, and so he took a longshot at the cow, bringing her down, but failing to kill her, as she roseafter falling and began to make off. Eager now to secure his game hedrew the heavy pistol that he carried at his belt, and, dropping hisrifle, rushed forward from the thicket for a second shot.

  The cow was not running fast. Evidently the wound was serious, butRobert had no mind for her to escape him in the thickets, and he pursuedher until he could secure good aim with the pistol. Then he fired andhad the satisfaction of seeing the cow fall again, apparently to staydown this time.

  But his satisfaction was short. He heard a heavy tread and an angrysnort beside him. He caught the gleam of a long horn, and as he whirledthe big bull was upon him. He leaped aside instinctively and escaped thethrust of the horn, but the bull whirled also, and the animal's heavyshoulder struck him with such force that he was knocked senseless.

  When Robert came to himself he was conscious of an aching body and anaching head, but he recalled little else at first. Then he rememberedthe fierce thrusts of the angry old bull, and he was glad that he wasalive. He felt of himself to see if one of those sharp horns had enteredhim anywhere, and he was intensely relieved to find that he had sufferedno wound. Evidently it had been a collision in which he had been thesufferer, and that he had fallen flat had been a lucky thing for him, asthe fierce bull had charged past him and had then gone on.

  Robert was compelled to smile sourly at himself. He had wanted theelement of danger as a spice for his hunting, and he had most certainlyfound it. He had been near death often, but never nearer than when theold bull plunged against him. He rose slowly and painfully, shookhimself several times to throw off as well as he could the effect of hisheavy jolt, then picked up his rifle at one point and his pistol atanother.

  The herd was gone, but the cow that he had chosen lay dead, and, as hercondition showed him that he had been unconscious not more than fiveminutes, there was his fresh beef after all. As his strength was fastreturning, he cut up and dressed the cow, an achievement in which a longexperience in hunting had made him an expert. He hung the quarters in adense thicket of tall bushes where vultures or buzzards could not get atthem, and took some of the tenderest steaks home with him.

  He broiled the steaks over a fine bed of coals in front of the house andate them with bread that he baked himself from the ship's flour. Heenjoyed his dinner and he was devoutly grateful for his escape. But howmuch pleasanter it would have been if Willet and Tayoga, those faithfulcomrades of many perils, were there with him to share it! He wonderedwhat they were doing. Doubtless they had hunted for him long, and theyhad suspected and sought to trace Garay, but the cunning spy doubtlesshad fled from Albany immediately after his capture. Willet and Tayoga,failing to find him, would join in the great campaign which the Britishand Americans would certainly organize anew against Canada.

  It was this thought of the campaign that was most bitter to Robert. Hewas heart and soul in the war, in which he believed mighty issues to beinvolved, and he had seen so much of it already that he wanted to be init to the finish. When these feelings were strong upon him it was almostintolerable to be there upon the island, alone and helpless. All theworld's great events were passing him by as if he did not exist. But theperiods of gloom would not last long. Despite his new gravity, hischeerful, optimistic spirit remained, and it always pulled him away fromthe edge of despair.

  Although he had an abundance of fresh meat, he went on a second hunt ofthe wild cattle in order to keep mind and body occupied. He wantedparticularly to find the big bull that had knocked him down, and he knewthat he would recognize him when he found him. He saw a herd grazing onthe same little savanna by the lake, but when he had stalked it withgreat care he found that it was not the one he wanted.

  A search deeper into the hills revealed another herd, but still thewrong one. A second day's search disclosed the right group grazing in asnug little valley, and there was the big bull who had hurt so sorelyhis body and his pride. A half hour of creeping in the marsh grass andthickets and he was within easy range. Then he carefully picked out thatspot on the bull's body beneath which his heart lay, cocked his rifle,took sure aim, and put his finger to the trigger.

  But Robert did not pull that trigger. He merely wished to show tohimself and to any invisible powers that might be looking on that hecould lay the bull in the dust if he wished. If he wanted revenge forgrievous personal injury it was his for the taking. But he did not wantit. The bull was not to blame. He had merely been defending his own froma dangerous intruder and so was wholly within his rights.

  "Now that I've held you under my muzzle you're safe from me, oldfellow," were Robert's unspoken words.

  He felt that his dignity was restored and that, at the same time, hissense of right had been maintained. Elated, he went back to the houseand busied himself, arranging his possessions. They were so numerousthat he was rather crowded, but he was not willing to give up anything.One becomes very jealous over his treasures when he knows the source ofsupplies may have been cut off forever. So he rearranged them, trying tosecure for himself better method and more room, and he also gave them amore minute examination.

  In a small chest which he had not opened before he found, to his greatdelight, a number of books, all the plays of Shakespeare, several byBeaumont and Fletcher, others by Congreve and Marlowe, Monsieur Rollin'sAncient History, a copy of Telemachus, translations of the Iliad andOdyssey, Ovid, Horace, Virgil and other classics. Most of the bookslooked as if they had been read and he thought they might have belongedto the captain, but there was no inscription in any of them, and, on theother hand, they might have been ta
ken from a captured ship.

  With plenty of leisure and a mind driven in upon itself, Robert now reada great deal, and, as little choice was left to him, he read books thathe might have ignored otherwise. Moreover, he thought well upon what heread. It seemed to him as he went over his Homer again and again thatthe gods were cruel. Men were made weak and fallible, and then they werepunished because they failed or erred. The gods themselves were not atall exempt from the sins, or, rather, mistakes for which they punishedmen. He felt this with a special force when he read his Ovid. Hethought, looking at it in a direct and straight manner, that Niobe had aright to be proud of her children, and for Apollo to slay them becauseof that pride was monstrous.

  His mind also rebelled at his Virgil. He did not care much for theelderly lover, AEneas, who fled from Carthage and Dido, and when AEneasand his band came to Italy his sympathies were largely with Turnus, whotried to keep his country and the girl that really belonged to him. Hewas quite sure that something had been wrong in the mind of Virgil andthat he ought to have chosen another kind of hero.

  Shakespeare, whom he had been compelled to read at school, he now readof his own accord, and he felt his romance and poetry. But he lingeredlonger over the somewhat prosy ancient history of Monsieur Rollin. Hisimaginative mind did not need much of a hint to attempt thereconstruction of old empires. But he felt that always in them too muchdepended upon one man. When an emperor fell an empire fell, when a kingwas killed a kingdom went down.

  He applied many of the lessons from those old, old wars to the great warthat was now raging, and he was confirmed in his belief that England andher colonies would surely triumph. The French monarchy, to judge fromall that he had heard, was now in the state of one of those old orientalmonarchies, decayed and rotten, spreading corruption from a poisonedcenter to all parts of the body. However brave and tenacious the Frenchpeople might be, and he knew that none were more so, he was sure theycould not prevail over the strength of free peoples like those whofought under the British flag, free to grow, whatever their faults mightbe. So, old Monsieur Rollin, who had brought tedium to many, broughtrefreshment and courage to Robert.

  But he did not bury himself in books. He had been a creature of actiontoo long for that. He hunted the wild cattle over the hills, and, nowand then, taking the dinghy he hunted the sharks also. Whenever he foundone he did not spare the bullets. His finger did not stop at thetrigger, but pulled hard, and he rarely missed.

  But in spite of reading and action, time dragged heavily. The oldloneliness and desolation would return and they were hard to dispel. Hecould not keep from crying aloud at the cruelty of fate. He was young,so vital, so intensely alive, so anxious to be in the middle of things,that it was torture to be held there. Yet he was absolutely helpless. Itwould be folly to attempt escape in the little dinghy, and he must waituntil a ship came. He would spend hours every day on the highest hill,watching the horizon through his glasses for a ship, and then, bitterwith disappointment, he would refuse to look again for a long time.

  Whether his mind was up or down its essential healthiness and sanityheld true. He always came back to the normal. Had he sought purposely todivest himself of hope he could not have done it. The ship was coming.Its coming was as certain as the rolling in of the tide, only one had towait longer for it.

  Yet time passed, and there was no sign of a sail on the horizon. Hisisland was as lonely as if it were in the South Seas instead of theAtlantic. He began to suspect that it was not really a member of anygroup, but was a far flung outpost visited but rarely. Perhaps the warand its doubling the usual dangers of the sea would keep a ship of anykind whatever from visiting it. He refused to let the thought remainwith him, suppressing it resolutely, and insisting to himself that sucha pleasant little island was bound to have callers some time or other,some day.

  But the weeks dragged by, and he was absolutely alone in his world. Hehad acquired so many stores from the schooner that life was comfortable.It even had a touch of luxury, and the struggle for existence was farfrom consuming all his hours. He found himself as time went on drivenmore and more upon his books, and he read them, as few have ever readanything, trying to penetrate everything and to draw from them the bestlessons.

  As a student, in a very real sense of the term, Robert became morereconciled to his isolation. His mind was broadening and deepening, andhe felt that it was so. Many things that had before seemed a puzzle tohim now became plain. He was compelled, despite his youth, to meditateupon life, and he resolved that when he took up its thread again amonghis kind he would put his new knowledge to the best of uses.

  He noted a growth of the body as well as of the mind. An abundant andvaried diet and plenty of rest gave him a great physical stimulus. Itseemed to him that he was taller, and he was certainly heavier. Wishingto profit to the utmost, and, having a natural neatness, he looked afterhimself with great care, bathing inside the reefs once every day, and,whether there was work to be done or not, taking plenty of exercise.

  He lost count of the days, but he knew that he was far into the autumn,that in truth winter must have come in his own and distant north. Thatthought at times was almost maddening. Doubtless the snow was alreadyfalling on the peaks that had seen so many gallant exploits by hiscomrades and himself, and on George and Champlain, the lakes sobeautiful and majestic under any aspect. Those were the regions heloved. When would he see them again? But such thoughts, too, he crushedand saw only the ship that was to take him back to his own.

  Some change in the weather came, and he was aware that the winter of thesouth was at hand. Yet it was not cold. There was merely a fresh sparklein the air, a new touch of crispness. Low, gray skies were a relief,after so much blazing sunshine, and the cool winds whipped his blood tonew life. The house had a fireplace and chimney and often he built a lowfire, not so much for the sake of warmth as for the cheer that thesparkling blaze gave. Then he could imagine that he was back in hisbeloved province of New York. Now the snow was certainly pouring downthere. The lofty peaks were hidden in clouds of white, and the ice wasforming around the edges of Andiatarocte and Oneadatote. Perhaps Willetand Tayoga were scouting in the snowy forests, but they must often hangover the blazing fires, too.

  The coldness without, the blaze on the hearth, and the warmth withinincreased his taste for reading and his comprehension seemed to growalso. He found new meanings in the classics and he became saturated alsowith style. His were the gifts of an orator, and it was often said inafter years, when he became truly great, that his speech, in words, inmetaphor and in illustration followed, or at least were influenced, bythe best models. Some people found in him traces of Shakespeare, thelofty imagery and poetry and the deep and wide knowledge of humanemotions, of life itself. Others detected the mighty surge of Homer, orthe flow of Virgil, and a few discerning minds found the wit shown inthe comedies of the Restoration, from which he had unconsciously pluckedthe good, leaving the bad.

  It is but a truth to say that every day he lived in these days he liveda week or maybe a month. The stillness, the utter absence of his kind,drove his mind inward with extraordinary force. He gained a breadth ofvision and a power of penetration of which he had not dreamed. Heacquired toleration, too. Looking over the recent events in his perilouslife, he failed to find hate for anybody. Perhaps untoward events hadturned the slaver into his evil career, and at the last he had shownsome good. The French were surely fighting for what they thought wastheir own, and they struck in order that they might not be struck.Tandakora himself was the creature of his circumstances. He hated thepeople of the English colonies, because they were spreading over theland and driving away the game. He was cruel because it was the Ojibwaynature to be cruel. He would have to fight Tandakora, but it was becauseconditions had made it necessary.

  His absorption as a student now made him forget often that he was alone,and there were long periods when he was not unhappy, especially when hewas trying to solve some abstruse mental problem. He regretted sometimesthat he did not have a
ny book on mathematics, but perhaps it was as wellfor him that he did not. His mind turned more to the other side of life,to style, to poetry, to the imagination, and, now, as he was movingalong the line of least resistance, under singularly favorablecircumstances, he made extraordinary progress.

  Heavy winds came and Robert liked them. He had plenty of warm clothingand it pleased him to walk on the beach, his face whipped by the gale,and to watch the great waves come in. It made him stronger to fight thestorm. The response to its challenge rose in his blood. It was curious,but at such times his hope was highest. He stood up, defying the lash ofwind and rain, and felt his courage rise with the contest. Often, he ranup and down the beach until he was soaked through, letting the fiercewaves sweep almost to his feet, then he would go back to the house,change to dry clothing, and sleep without dreams.

  There was no snow, although he longed for it, as do those who are bornin northern regions. Once, when he stood on the crest of the tallesthill on the island, he thought he saw a few tiny flakes floating in theair over his head, but they were swept away by the wind, as if they weredown, and he never knew whether it was an illusion or reality. But hewas glad that it had happened. It gave him a fleeting touch of home, andhe could imagine once more, and, for a few seconds, that he was notalone on the island, but back in his province of New York, with hisfriends not far away.

  Then came several days of fierce and continuous cold rain, but he put onan oilskin coat that he found among the stores and spent much of thetime out of doors, hunting ducks along the edges of the larger lake,walking now and then for the sake of walking, and, on rare occasions,seeking the wild cattle for fresh meat. The herds were in the timbermost of the time for shelter, but he was invariably able to secure atender cow or a yearling for his larder. He saw the big bull often, and,although he was charged by him once again, he refused to pull trigger onthe old fellow. He preferred to look upon him as a friend whom he hadmet once in worthy combat, but with whom he was now at peace. When thebull charged him he dodged him easily among the bushes and called outwhimsically:

  "Let it be the last time! I don't mean you any harm!"

  The fierce leader went peacefully back to his grazing, and it seemed toRobert that he had been taken at his word. The old bull apparentlyrealized at last that he was in no danger from the human being who cameto look at him at times, and he also was willing to call a truce. Robertsaw him often after that, and invariably hailed him with words offriendship, though at a respectful distance. The old fellow would lookup, shake his big head once or twice in a manner not at all hostile, andthen go on peacefully with his grazing. It pleased Robert to think thatin the absence of his own kind he had a friend here, and--still at arespectful distance--he confided to him some of his opinions uponmatters of importance. He laughed at himself for doing so, but he wasaware that he found in it a certain relief, and he continued thepractice.

  The dinghy became one of his most precious possessions. A little fartherto the north he had found a creek that flowed down from the center ofthe island, rising among the hills. It was narrow and shallow, exceptnear the mouth, but there it had sufficient depth for the boat, and hemade of it a safe anchorage and port during the winter storms. He sleptmore easily now, as he knew that however hard the wind might blow therewas no danger of its being carried out to sea. He thought several timesof rigging a mast and sails for it and trying to make some other island,but he gave up the idea, owing to the smallness of the boat, and his owninexperience as a sailor. He was at least safe and comfortable where hewas, and a voyage of discovery or escape meant almost certain death.

  But he used the dinghy in calm weather for bringing back some of thestores that he had left on the other side of the island. The lighterarticles he brought by land. There was not room for all of them in thehouse, but he built a shed under which he placed those not of aperishable nature, and covered them over with the tarpaulin and sails.He still had the feeling that he must not lose or waste anything,because he knew that in the back of his head lay an apprehension lesthis time on the island should be long, very long.

  He kept in iron health. His life in the wilderness had taught him how totake care of himself, and, with an abundant and varied diet and plentyof exercise, he never knew a touch of illness. He did not forget to begrateful for it. A long association with Tayoga had taught him toremember these things. It might be true that he was being guarded bygood spirits. The white man's religion and the red man's differed onlyin name. His God and Tayoga's Manitou were the same, and the spirits ofthe Onondaga were the same as his angels of divine power and mercy.

  Often in the moonlight he looked up at the great star upon which Tayogasaid that Tododaho dwelled, that wise Onondaga chieftain who had goneaway to the skies four hundred years before. Once or twice he thought hecould see the face of Tododaho with the wise snakes, coil on coil in hishair, but, without his full faith, it was not given to him to have thefull vision of Tayoga. He found comfort, however, in the effort. It gavenew strength to the spirit, and, situated as he was, it was his soul,not his body, that needed fortifying.

  He decided that Christmas was near at hand, and he decided to celebrateit. With the count of time lost it was impossible for him to know theexact day, but he fixed upon one in his mind, and resolved to use itwhether right or wrong in date. The mere fact that he celebrated itwould make it right in spirit. It might be the 20th or the 30th ofDecember, but if he chose to call it the 25th, the 25th it would be.Endowed so liberally with fancy and with such a power of projecting themind, it was easy for him to make believe, to turn imagination intoreality. And this power was heightened by his loneliness and isolation,and by the turning in of his mind so tremendously upon itself.

  After the thought of a Christmas dinner was struck out by his fancy itgrew fast, and he made elaborate preparations. Ducks were shot, ayearling from the wild cattle was killed, the stores from the ship weredrawn upon liberally, and he even found among them a pudding which couldyet be made savory. Long experience had made him an excellent cook andhe attended to every detail in the most thorough manner.

  The dinner set, he arrayed himself in the finest clothes to be found inhis stock, and then, when all was ready, he sat down to his improvisedboard. But there was not one plate alone, there were four, one forWillet opposite him, one for Tayoga at his right hand and one forGrosvenor at his left. And for every thing he ate he placed at least asmall portion on every plate, while with unspoken words he talked withthese three friends of his.

  It was a dark day, very cold and raw for the island, and while there wasno Christmas snow there was a cold rain lashing the windows that couldvery well take its place. A larger fire than usual, crackling andcheerful, was blazing on the hearth, throwing the red light of itsflames over the table, and the three places where his invisible friendssat.

  His power of evocation was so vivid and intense that he could very wellsay that he saw his comrades around the table. There was Willet big,grave and wise, but with the lurking humor in the corner of his eye,there was Tayoga, lean, calm, inscrutable, the young philosopher of thewoods and the greatest trailer in the world, and there was Grosvenor,ruddy, frank, tenacious, eager to learn all the lore of the woods. Yes,he could see them and he was glad that he was serving Christmas food tothem as well as to himself. Willet loved wild duck and so he gave him anextra portion. Tayoga was very partial to cakes of flour and so he gavehim a double number, and Grosvenor, being an Englishman, must love beef,so he helped him often to steak.

  It was fancy, but fancy breeds other and stronger fancies, and thefeeling that it was all reality grew upon him. Dreams are of thin andfragile texture, but they are very vivid while they last. Of courseWillet, Tayoga and Grosvenor were there, and when the food was allserved, course by course, he filled four glasses, one at each plate,from a bottle of the old cordial that he had saved from the ship, liftedhis own to his lips, tasted it and said aloud:

  "To the victory of our cause under the walls of Quebec!"

  Then he shut
his eyes and when he shut them he saw the three tastingtheir own glasses, and he heard them say with him:

  "To the victory of our cause under the walls of Quebec!"