The Sun of Quebec: A Story of a Great Crisis

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER IX

  THE VOICE IN THE AIR

  Robert slept long and peacefully the night after his Christmas dinner,and, when he rose the next morning, he felt more buoyant and hopefulthan for days past. The celebration had been a sort of anchor to hisspirit, keeping him firm against any tide of depression that in hissituation might well have swept him toward despair. As he recalled itthe day after, Tayoga, Willet and Grosvenor were very vivid figures athis table, sitting opposite him, and to right and left. They hadresponded to his toast, he had seen the flash in their eyes, and theirtones were resonant with hope and confidence. It was clear they hadmeant to tell him that rescue was coming.

  He accepted these voices out of the distance as definite and real. Itcould not be long until he saw the hunter, the Onondaga and the youngEnglishman once more. His lonely life caused him, despite himself, tolend a greater belief to signs and omens. Tayoga was right when hepeopled the air with spirits, and most of the spirits on that islandmust be good spirits, since all things, except escape, had been madeeasy for him, house, clothes, food and safety.

  The day itself was singularly crisp and bright, inciting to furthercheerfulness. It was also the coldest he had yet felt on the island,having a northern tang that stirred his blood. He could shut his eyesand see the great forests, not in winter, but as they were in autumn,glowing in many colors, and with an air that was the very breath oflife. The sea also sang a pleasant song as it rolled in and broke on therocks, and Robert, looking around at his island, felt that he could havefared far worse.

  Rifle on shoulder he went off for a long and brisk walk, and his stepsunconsciously took him, as they often did, toward the high hill in thecenter of the island, a crest that he used as a lookout. On his way hepassed his friend, the old bull, grazing in a meadow, and, watching hisherd, like the faithful guardian he was. Robert called to himcheerfully. The big fellow looked up, shook his horns, not in hostilefashion but in the manner of comrade saluting comrade, and then wentback, with a whole and confident heart, to his task of nipping thegrass. Robert was pleased. It was certain that the bull no longerregarded him with either fear or apprehension, and he wanted to beliked.

  It was nearly noon when he reached his summit, and as he was warm fromexercise he sat down on a rock, staying there a long time and scouringthe horizon now and then through the glasses. The sea was a circle ofblazing blue, and the light wind sang from the southwest.

  He had brought food with him and in the middle of the day he ate it.With nothing in particular to do he thought he would spend the afternoonthere, and, making himself comfortable, he waited, still takingoccasional glances through the glasses. While he sat, idling more thananything else, his mind became occupied with Tayoga's theory of spiritsin the air--less a theory however than the religious belief of theIndians.

  He wanted to believe that Tayoga was right, and his imagination was sovivid and intense that what he wished to believe he usually ended bybelieving. He shut his eyes and tested his power of evocation. He knewthat he could create feeling in any part of his body merely byconcentrating his mind upon that particular part of it and by continuingto think of it. Physical sensation even came from will. So he wouldimagine that he heard spirits in the air all about him, not anythingweird or hostile, but just kindly people of the clouds and winds, suchas those created by the old Greeks.

  Fancying that he heard whispers about him and resolved to hear them, heheard them. If a powerful imagination wanted to create whispers it couldcreate them. The spirits of the air, Tayoga's spirits, the spirits ofold Hellas, were singing in either ear, and the song, like that of thesea, like the flavor breathed out by his Christmas celebration, was fullof courage, alive with hope.

  He had kept his eyes closed a full half hour, because, with sight shutoff, the other senses became much more acute for the time. The powerthat had been in the eyes was poured into their allies. Imagination, inparticular, leaped into a sudden luxuriant growth. It was true, ofcourse it was quite true, that those friendly spirits of the air weresinging all about him. They were singing in unison a gay and brilliantsong, very pleasant to hear, until he was startled by a new note thatcame into it, a note not in harmony with the others, the voice ofCassandra herself. He listened and he was sure. Beyond a doubt it was anote of warning.

  Robert opened his eyes and everything went away. There was the pleasant,green island, and there was the deep blue sea all about it. He laughedto himself. He was letting imagination go too far. One could makebelieve too much. He sat idly a few minutes and then, putting theglasses to his eyes, took another survey of the far horizon where bluesky and blue water met. He moved the focus slowly around the circle, andwhen he came to a point in the east he started violently, then sprang tohis feet, every pulse leaping.

  He had seen a tiny black dot upon the water, one that broke thecontinuity of the horizon line, and, for a little while, he was tooexcited to look again. He stood, the glasses in his trembling fingersand stared with naked eyes that he knew could not see. After a while heput the glasses back and then followed the horizon. He was afraid thatit was an illusion, that his imagination had become too vivid, creatingfor him the thing that was not, and now that he was a little calmer hemeant to put it to the proof.

  He moved the glasses slowly from north to east, following the line wheresky and water met, and then the hands that held them trembled again.There was the black spot, a trifle larger now, and, forcing his nervesto be calm, he stared at it a long time, how long he never knew, butlong enough for him to see it grow and take form and shape, for theinfinitesimal but definite outline of mast, sails and hull to emerge,and then for a complete ship to be disclosed.

  The ship was coming toward the island. The increase in size told himthat. It was no will-o'-the-wisp on the water, appearing a moment, thengone, foully cheating his hopes. If she kept her course, and there wasno reason why she should not, she would make the island. He had no doubtfrom the first that a landing there was its definite purpose, mostlikely for water.

  When he took the glasses from his eyes the second time he gave way tojoy. Rescue was at hand. The ship, wherever she went, would take him tosome place where human beings lived, and he could go thence to his owncountry. He would yet be in time to take part in the great campaignagainst Quebec, sharing the dangers and glory with Willet, Tayoga,Grosvenor and the others. The spirits in the air had sung to him a truesong, when his eyes were shut, and, in his leaping exultation, he forgotthe warning note that had appeared in their song, faint, almost buried,but nevertheless there.

  He put the glasses to his eyes a third time. The ship was tacking, butthat was necessary, and it was just as certain as ever that herdestination was the island. Owing to the shifts and flaws in the wind itwould be night before she arrived, but that did not matter to him.Having waited months he could wait a few hours longer. Likely as not shewas an English ship out of the Barbadoes, bound for the Carolinas. Hemust be somewhere near just such a course. Or, maybe she was a colonialschooner, one of those bold craft from Boston. There was a certainluxury in speculating on it, and in prolonging a doubt which wouldcertainly be solved by midnight, and to his satisfaction. It was notoften that in real life one looked at a play bound to develop within agiven time to a dramatic and satisfying finish.

  He remained on the crest until late in the afternoon, watching the shipas she tacked with the varying winds, but, in the end, always bearingtoward the island. He was quite sure now that her arrival would be afterdark. She would come through the opening in the reefs that he and theslaver had made so hardly in the storm, but on the night bound to followsuch a day it would be as easy as entering a drawing room, with thedoors held open, and the guest made welcome. He would be there to givethe welcome.

  He was able to see more of the ship now. As he had surmised, she was aschooner, apparently very trim and handled well. Doubtless she was fast.The faster the better, because he was eager to get back to the provinceof New York.

  Late in the afternoon, he left the hill
and went swiftly back to hishouse, where he ate an early supper in order that he might be on thebeach to give welcome to the guest, and perhaps lend some helpful adviceabout making port. There was none better fitted than he. He was theoldest resident of the island. Nobody could be jealous of his positionas adviser to the arriving vessel.

  This was to be a great event in his life, and it must be carried out inthe proper manner with every attention to detail. He put on the uniformof an English naval officer that he had found on the ship, and thenrifle on shoulder and small sword in belt went through the forest towardthe inlet.

  The night was bright and beautiful, just fitted for a rescue, and anescape from an island. All the stars had come out to see it, and, withhis head very high, he trod lightly as he passed among the trees,approaching the quiet beach. Before he left the wood he saw the top ofthe schooner's mast showing over a fringe of bushes. Evidently she hadanchored outside the reefs and was sending in a boat to look further.Well, that was fit and proper, and his advice and assistance would bemost timely.

  The wind rose a little and it sang a lilting melody among the leaves.His imagination, alive and leaping, turned it into the song of atroubadour, gay and welcoming. Tayoga's spirits were abroad again,filling the air in the dusk, their favorite time, and he rejoiced, untilhe suddenly heard once more that faint note of warning, buried underthe volume of the other, but nevertheless there.

  Alone, driven in upon himself for so many months, he was a creature ofmysticism that night. What he imagined he believed, and, obedient to thewarning, he drew back. All the caution of the northern wildernessreturned suddenly to him. He was no longer rushing forward to make awelcome for guests awaited eagerly. He would see what manner of peoplecame before he opened the door. Putting the rifle in the hollow of hisarm he crept forward through the bushes.

  A large boat was coming in from the schooner, and the bright moonlightenabled him to see at first glance that the six men who sat in it werenot men of Boston. Nor were they men of England. They were too dark, andthree of them had rings in their ears.

  Perhaps the schooner was a French privateer, wishing to make a secretlanding, and, if so, he had done well to hold back. He had no mind to betaken a prisoner to France. The French were brave, and he would not beill-treated, but he had other things to do. He withdrew a little fartherinto the undergrowth. The door of welcome was open now only a fewinches, and he was peering out at the crack, every faculty alive andready to take the alarm.

  The boat drew closer, grounded on the beach, and the men, leaping out,dragged it beyond the reach of the low waves that were coming in. Then,in a close group, they walked toward the forest, looking aboutcuriously. They were armed heavily, and every one of them had a drawnweapon in his hand, sword or pistol. Their actions seemed to Robertthose of men who expected a stranger, as a matter of course, to be anenemy. Hence, they were men whose hands were against other men, and soalso against young Robert Lennox, who had been alone so long, and whocraved so much the companionship of his kind.

  He drew yet deeper into the undergrowth and taking the rifle out of thehollow of his arm held it in both hands, ready for instant use. The mencame nearer, looking along the edge of the forest, perhaps for water,and, as he saw them better, he liked them less. The apparent leader wasa short, broad fellow of middle years, and sinister face, with huge goldrings in his ears. All of them were seamed and scarred and to Roberttheir looks were distinctly evil.

  The door of welcome suddenly shut with a snap, and he meant to bar it onthe inside if he could. His instinct gave him an insistent warning.These men must not penetrate the forest. They must not find his houseand treasures. Fortunately the dinghy was up the creek, hidden underoverhanging boughs. But the event depended upon chance. If they foundquickly the water for which they must be looking, they might take it andleave with the schooner before morning. He devoutly hoped that it wouldbe so. The lad who had been so lonely and desolate an hour or twobefore, longing for the arrival of human beings, was equally eager, nowthat they had come, that they should go away.

  The men began to talk in some foreign tongue, Spanish or Portuguese or aLevantine jargon, perhaps, and searched assiduously along the edges ofthe forest. Robert, lurking in the undergrowth, caught the word "aqua"or "agua," which he knew meant water, and so he was right in his surmiseabout their errand. There was a fine spring about two hundred yardsfarther on, and he hoped they would soon stumble upon it.

  All his skill as a trailer, though disused now for many months, cameback to him. He was able to steal through the grass and bushes withoutmaking any noise and to creep near enough to hear the words they said.They went half way to the spring, then stopped and began to talk. Robertwas in fear lest they turn back, and a wider search elsewhere wouldsurely take them to his house. But the men were now using English.

  "There should be water ahead," said the swart leader. "We're going downinto a dip, and that's just the place where springs are found."

  Another man, also short and dark, urged that they turn back, but theleader prevailed.

  "There must be water farther on," he said. "I was never on this islandbefore, neither were you, Jose, but it's not likely the trees and busheswould grow so thick down there if plenty of water didn't soak theirroots."

  He had his way and they went on, with Robert stalking them on a parallelline in the undergrowth, and now he knew they would find the water. Thespirit of the island was watching over its own, and, by giving them whatthey wanted at once, would send these evil characters away. The leaderuttered a shout of triumph when he saw the water gleaming through thetrees.

  "I told you it was here, didn't I, Jose?" he said. "Trust me, a sailorthough I am, to read the lay of the land."

  The spring as it ran from under a rock formed a little pool, and all ofthe men knelt down, drinking with noise and gurglings. Then the leaderwalked back toward the beach, and fired both shots from adouble-barreled pistol into the air. Robert judged that it was a signal,probably to indicate that they had found water. Presently a second andlarger boat, containing at least a dozen men, put out from the schooner.A third soon followed and both brought casks which were filled at thespring and which they carried back to the ship.

  Robert, still and well hidden, watched everything, and he was glad thathe had obeyed his instinct not to trust them. He had never seen a crewmore sinister in looks, not even on the slaver, and they were probablypirates. They were a jumble of all nations, and that increased hissuspicion. So mixed a company, in a time of war, could be broughttogether only for evil purposes.

  It was hard for him to tell who was the captain, but the leader who hadfirst come ashore seemed to have the most authority, although nearly alldid about as they pleased to the accompaniment of much talk and manyoaths. Still they worked well at filling the water casks, and Roberthoped they would soon be gone. Near midnight, however, one of the boatscame back, loaded with food, and kegs and bottles of spirits. His heartsank. They were going to have a feast or an orgie on the beach and theday would be sure to find them there. Then they might conclude toexplore the island, or at least far enough to find his house.

  They dragged up wood, lighted a fire, warmed their food and ate anddrank, talking much, and now and then singing wild songs. Robert knewwith absolute certainty that this was another pirate ship, a rover ofthe Gulf or the Caribbean, hiding among the islands and preying uponanything not strong enough to resist her.

  The men filled him with horror and loathing. The light of the flamesfell on their faces and heightened the evil in them, if that werepossible. Several of them, drinking heavily of the spirits, were alreadyin a bestial state, and were quarreling with one another. The otherspaid no attention to them. There was no discipline.

  Apparently they were going to make a night of it, and Robert watched,fascinated by the first sight of his own kind in many months, butrepelled by their savagery when they had come. Some of the men fell downbefore the fires and went to sleep. The others did not awaken them,which he took to be clear proof
that they would remain until the nextday.

  A drop of water fell on his face and he looked up. He had been there solong, and he was so much absorbed in what was passing before his eyesthat he had not noted the great change in the nature of the night. Moonand stars were gone. Heavy clouds were sailing low. Thunder muttered onthe western horizon, and there were flashes of distant lightning.

  Hope sprang up in Robert's heart. Perhaps the fear of a storm woulddrive them to the shelter of the ship, but they did not stir. Eitherthey did not dread rain, or they were more weatherwise than he. Theorgie deepened. Two of the men who were quarreling drew pistols, but theswart leader struck them aside, and spoke to them so fiercely that theyput back their weapons, and, a minute later, Robert saw them drinkingtogether in friendship.

  The storm did not break. The wind blew, and, now and then, drops of rainfell, but it did not seem able to get beyond the stage of thunder andlightning. Yet it tried hard, and it became, even to Robert, used to thevagaries of nature, a grim and sinister night. The thunder, in itssteady growling, was full of menace, and the lightning, reddish incolor, smelled of sulphur. It pleased Robert to think that the islandwas resenting the evil presence of the men from the schooner.

  The ruffians, however, seemed to take no notice of the change. It waslikely that they had not been ashore for a long time before, and theywere making the most of it. They continued to eat and the bottles ofspirits were passed continuously from one to another. Robert had heardmany a dark tale of piracy on the Spanish Main and among the islands,but he had never dreamed he would come into such close contact with itas he was now doing for the second time.

  He knew it was lucky for the men that the storm did not break. Theschooner in her position would be almost sure to drag her anchor andthen would drive on the rocks, but they seemed to have no apprehensions,and, it was quite evident now, that they were not going back to thevessel until the next day. The ghastly quality of the night increased,however. The lightning flared so much and it was so red that it wasuncanny, it even had a supernatural tinge, and the sullen rumbling ofthe distant thunder added to it.

  The effect upon Robert, situated as he was and alone for many months,was very great. Something weird, something wild and in touch with thestorm that threatened but did not break, crept into his own blood. Hewas filled with hatred and contempt of the men who caroused there. Hewondered what crimes they had committed on those seas, and he had notthe least doubt that the list was long and terrible. He ought to be anavenging spirit. He wished intensely that Tayoga was with him in thebush. The Onondaga would be sure to devise some plan to punish them orto fill them with fear. He felt at that moment as if he belonged to asuperior race or order, and would like to stretch forth his hand andstrike down those who disgraced their kind.

  The swart leader at last took note of the skies and their sinisteraspect. Robert saw him walking back and forth and looking up. More thanhalf of his men were stretched full length, either asleep or in astupor, but some of the others stood, and glanced at the skies. Robertthought he saw apprehension in their eyes, or at least his imaginationput it there.

  A wild and fantastic impulse seized him. These men were children of thesea, superstitious, firm believers in omens, and witchcraft, ready tosee the ghosts of the slain, all the more so because they were stainedwith every crime, then committed so freely under the black flag. He hadmany advantages, too. He was a master of woodcraft, only theirwilderness was that of the waters.

  He gave forth the long, melancholy hoot of the owl, and he did it sowell that he was surprised at his own skill. The note, full ofdesolation and menace, seemed to come back in many echoes. He saw theswart leader and the men with him start and look fearfully toward theforest that curved so near. Then he saw them talking together and gazingat the point from which the sound had come. Perhaps they were trying topersuade themselves the note was only fancy.

  Robert laughed softly to himself. He was pleased, immensely pleased withhis experiment. His fantastic mood grew. He was a spirit of the woodshimself; one of those old fauns of the Greeks, and he was really thereto punish the evil invaders of his island. His body seemed to grow lightwith his spirit and he slid away among the trees with astonishing ease,as sure of foot and as noiseless as Tayoga himself. Then the owl gaveforth his long, lonely cry with increased volume and fervor. It was anote filled with complaint and mourning, and it told of the desolationthat overspread a desolate world.

  Robert knew now that the leader and his men were disturbed. He couldtell it by the anxious way in which they watched the woods, and, glidingfarther around the circle, he sent forth the cry a third time. He wasquite sure that he had made a further increase in its desolation andmenace, and he saw the swart leader and his men draw together as if theywere afraid.

  The owl was not the only trick in Robert's trade. His ambition took awide sweep and fancy was fertile. He had aroused in these men the fearof the supernatural, a dread that the ghosts of those whom they hadmurdered had come back to haunt or punish them. He had been an apt pupilof Tayoga before the slaver came to Albany, and now he meant to show theruffians that the owl was not the only spirit of fate hovering overthem.

  The deep growl of a bear came from the thicket, not the growl of anordinary black bear, comedian of the forest, but the angry rumble ofsome great ursine beast of which the black bear was only a dwarf cousin.Then he moved swiftly to another point and repeated it.

  He heard the leader cursing and trying to calm the fears of the menwhile it was evident that his own too were aroused. The fellow suddenlydrew a pistol and fired a bullet into the forest. Robert heard itcutting the leaves near him. But he merely lay down and laughed. Hisfantastic impulse was succeeding in more brilliant fashion than he hadhoped.

  Imitating their leader, six or eight of the men snatched out pistols andfired at random into the woods. The cry of a panther, drawn out, long,full of ferocity and woe, plaintive on its last note, like the hauntinglament of a woman, was their answer. He heard a gasp of fear from themen, but the leader, of stauncher stuff, cowed them with his curses.

  Robert moved back on his course, and then gave forth the shrill, fierceyelp of the hungry wolf, dying into an angry snarl. It was, perhaps, amore menacing note than that of the larger animals, and he plainly sawthe ruffians shiver. He was creating in them the state of mind that hewanted, and his spirits flamed yet higher. All things seemed possible tohim in his present mood.

  He moved once more and then lay flat in the dense bushes. He fanciedthat the pirates would presently fire another volley into the shadows,and, in a moment of desperate courage, might even come into the forest.His first thought was correct, as the leader told off the steadier men,and, walking up and down in front of the forest, they raked it for aconsiderable distance with pistol shots. All of them, of course, passedwell over Robert's head, and as soon as they finished he went back tohis beginnings, giving forth the owl's lament.

  He heard the leader curse more fiercely than ever before, and he sawseveral of the men who had been pulling trigger retreat to the fire. Itwas evident to him that the terror of the thing was entering theirsouls. The night itself, as if admiring his plan, was lending him thegreatest possible aid. The crimson lightning never ceased to quiver andthe sullen rumble of the distant thunder was increasing. It was easyenough for men, a natural prey to superstition, and, with the memoriesof many crimes, to believe that the island was haunted, that the ghostsof those they had slain were riding the lightning, and that demons,taking the forms of animals, were waiting for them in the bushes.

  But the swart leader was a man of courage and he still held his ruffianstogether. He cursed them fiercely, told them to stand firm, to reloadtheir pistols and to be ready for any danger. Those who still slumberedby the fire were kicked until they awoke, and, with something of acommander's skill, the man drew up his besotted band against the mysticdangers that threatened so closely.

  But Robert produced a new menace. He was like one inspired that night.The dramatic always appea
led to him and his success stimulated him tonew histrionic efforts. He had planted in their minds the terror ofanimals, now he would sow the yet greater terror of human beings,knowing well that man's worst and most dreaded enemy was man.

  He uttered a deep groan, a penetrating, terrible groan, the wail of asoul condemned to wander between the here and the hereafter, a cry fromone who had been murdered, a cry that would doubtless appeal to everyone of the ruffians as the cry of his own particular victim. The effectwas startling. The men uttered a yell of fright, and started in a panicrun for the boats, but the leader threatened them with his leveledpistol and stopped them, although the frightful groan came a secondtime.

  "There's nothing in the bush!" Robert heard him say. "There can't be!The place has no people and we know there are no big wild animals on theislands in these seas! It's some freak of the wind playing tricks withus!"

  He held his men, though they were still frightened, and to encouragethem and to prove that no enemy, natural or supernatural, was near, heplunged suddenly into the bushes to see the origin of the terrifyingsounds. His action was wholly unexpected, and chance brought him to thevery point where Robert was. The lad leaped to his feet and the piratesprang back aghast, thinking perhaps that he had come face to face witha ghost. Then with a snarl of malignant anger he leveled the pistol thathe held in his hand. But Robert struck instantly with his clubbedrifle, and his instinctive impulse was so great that he smote withtremendous force. The man was caught full and fair on the head, and,reeling back from the edge of the bushes in which they stood, fell deadin the open, where all his men could see.

  It was enough. The demons, the ghosts that haunted them for theircrimes, were not very vocal, but they struck with fearful power. Theyhad smitten down the man who tried to keep them on their island, andthey were not going to stay one second longer. There was a combined yellof horror, the rush of frightened feet, and, reaching their boats, theyrowed with all speed for the schooner, leaving behind them the body oftheir dead comrade.

  Robert, awed a little by his own success in demonology, watched untilthey climbed on board the ship, drawing the boats after them. Then theyhoisted the anchor, made sail, and presently he saw the schooner tackingin the wind, obviously intending to leave in all haste that terribleplace.

  She became a ghost ship, a companion to the _Flying Dutchman_, outlinedin red by the crimson lightning that still played at swift intervals.Now she turned to the color of blood, and the sea on which she swam wasa sea of blood. Robert watched her until at last, a dim, red haze, shepassed out of sight. Then he turned and looked at the body of the manwhom he had slain.

  He shuddered. He had never intended to take the leader's life. Fiveminutes before it occurred he would have said such a thing wasimpossible. It was merely the powerful impulse of self-protection thathad caused him to strike with such deadly effect, and he was sorry. Theman, beyond all doubt, was a robber and murderer who had forfeited hislife a dozen times, and still he was sorry. It was a tragedy to him totake the life of any one, no matter how evil the fallen might be.

  He went back to the house, brought a shovel, one of the numerous ship'sstores, and buried the body at once high up the beach where the greatestwaves could not reach it and wash it away. He did his task to the rumbleof thunder and the flash of lightning, but, when he finished it, dawncame and then the storm that had threatened but that had never burstpassed away. He felt, though, that it had not menaced him. To him it wasa good storm, kindly and protecting, and giving sufficient help in hispurpose that had succeeded so well.

  It was a beautiful day, the air crisp with as much winter as the islandever knew, and shot with the beams from a brilliant sun, but Robert wasexhausted. He had passed through a night of intense emotions, various,every one of them poignant, and he had made physical and mental effortsof his own that fairly consumed the nerves. He felt as if he could liedown and sleep for a year, that it would take at least that long tobuild up his body and mind as they were yesterday.

  He dragged himself through the woods, forced his unwilling muscles tocook a breakfast which he ate. Then he laid himself down on his bed, hisnerves now quiet, and fell asleep at once. When he awoke it was nightand he lay giving thanks for his great escape until he slept again. Whenhe awoke a second time day had returned, and, rising, he went about hisusual tasks with a light heart.