CHAPTER XLVIII.
Calm, and bright, and beautiful, the Sabbath morning broke over thewoody world around Edith Prevost. Through the tall pine-trees leftstanding within the earthwork, the rosy light streamed sweetly; andthough no birds deserving the name of songsters inhabit the forests ofAmerica, yet many a sweet short note saluted the rising day.
Edith, with the good negro woman lying near, had slept more soundlythan she had hoped; but she was awake with the first ray, and rousingher dark companion, she said,--
"We must not forget that this is Sunday, Bab. Call in our good friend,Woodchuck; and we will pray before the noise and bustle of the daybegins. I am sure he will be glad to do so."
"But you have no book, missy," answered the woman.
"That matters not," returned Edith; "I know almost all the prayers byheart, from reading them constantly."
Sister Bab opened the little hurdle-door, and looked round. She couldnot see the person she sought. Three sentinels were pacing to and froat different points; one man was rousing himself slowly from the sideof an extinguished fire; but all the rest within sight were fastasleep. It was useless for Sister Bab to ask the neighbouring sentinelany questions, and she looked round in vain.
"He has most likely gone to sleep in one of the huts," said Edith,when the woman told her Woodchuck was not to be seen; "we will notwait for him." And, closing the door again, she kneeled and prayedwith the poor negress by her side.
It was a great comfort to her, for her heart that day was sad. Perhapsit was the memory of many a happy Sabbath with those she loved, andthe contrast of those days with her situation at the time; perhaps itwas the uncertainty of her brother's fate; and doubtless, too, thethought that every rising sun brought nearer the hour when a parentand a lover were to be exposed to danger--perhaps to death, had itsweight likewise. But she was that day very sad, and prayer was arelief--a blessing.
Before she had concluded, a good deal of noise and turmoil was heardwithout; voices speaking sharply; calls such as Edith had not heardbefore; and in a moment after, the door of the hut opened, for it hadno latch, and Monsieur le Courtois appeared, inquiring if she had seenanything of her English companion.
"No, indeed," replied Edith. "I sent my servant out to seek for himhalf an hour ago; but she could not find him, and I concluded that hewas in one of the huts."
The Frenchman stamped his foot upon the ground, and, forgetting hisusual politeness, uttered some hasty and angry words which implied abelief that "Mademoiselle knew where Woodchuck was," and had aided hisescape. Edith drew herself up with an air of dignity, and replied,--
"You make me feel, sir, that I am a prisoner. But you mistake megreatly. I do not permit myself to speak falsely on any occasion. Ifhe have escaped, and I trust he has, I know nothing of it."
"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," returned the officer; "but this tome is a very serious matter. I may be subject to the severest militarypunishment for this unfortunate affair. It was of the utmostimportance that the existence of this post should be kept a secret.The utmost precautions have been taken to keep its existenceconcealed, even from the forces in Fort Carillon; and now this man isat large, to bear the intelligence to the enemy. This must excuse alittle heat. How he has escaped, it is impossible to divine; for Iordered him to be kept in sight by the sentinels continually, as wellas the Indians who came with you. He must be worse than an Indian, for_they_ are all safe and quiet enough; but he has disappeared, thoughthe sentinel swears he passed him sleeping on the ground, under thegreat pine-tree, not an hour ago."
"Half an hour ago, he certainly was gone," observed Edith; "for theservant went to look for him, and could not find him."
"He may be still in the bushes," said the French officer. "I will senda party to search." And he turned from the door of the hut.
Edith followed a step or two, to see the result; but hardly hadMonsieur Le Courtois given his orders, and about a dozen men issuedforth--some clambering over the breastwork, some running round by theflanks--when a French officer, brilliantly dressed, rode into theredoubt, followed by a mounted soldier; and Edith retired into the hutagain.
Le Courtois saluted the new-comer reverently; and the other gave ahasty glance round, saying,--
"Get your men under arms as speedily as possible. On the maintenanceof this post and the _abattis_ depends the safety of the fortress. Itrust them to the honour of a French gentleman, and the faith of ourIndian allies. Neither will tarnish the glory of France, or their ownrenown, by yielding a foot of ground while they can maintain it."
He spoke aloud, so as to make his voice heard all over the enclosure;but then, bending down his head till it was close to Le Courtois' ear,he added, in a low tone, almost a whisper,--
"The English are within sight. Their first boats are disembarking thetroops. Monsieur de L----, with our reinforcements, has not appeared.All depends upon maintaining the outposts till he can come up. This,sir, I trust to you with full confidence, as a brave man and anexperienced soldier. I must now visit the other posts. Farewell!Remember, the glory of France is in your hands."
Thus saying, he rode away; and the bustle of instant preparationspread through the little fort. The French soldiers were drawn upwithin the breastworks; the stores and ammunition gathered togethernear the centre of the open space, so as to be readily availablewhenever they were wanted; two parties of Hurons were placed upon theflanks, so as to be ready to rush out with the tomahawk the momentopportunity offered; next came the long lines of French muskets, andin the centre of the longest face of the breastwork were placed Apukwaand his companions, with their rifles in their hands, and a smallparty of French soldiers forming a second line behind them, thusinsuring their faith, and rendering the fire in the centre morefierce. Their presence, indeed, was needed at the moment; for themen who had been sent out in pursuit of Woodchuck had either mistakenthe order not to go far, or had lost their way; and they had notre-appeared when the whole preparations were complete.
These had taken some time, although Monsieur le Courtois had shown allthe activity and precision of a thorough soldier, giving his ordersrapidly, but coolly and clearly, and correcting any error as soon asmade. The Indians, indeed, gave him the greatest embarrassment; forthey were too eager for the fight, and never having been subjected tomilitary discipline, were running hither and thither to the pointsthey thought most advantageous without consideration for the generalarrangements.
The Frenchman found time, however, for a few courteous words to Edith.
"I am greatly embarrassed, my dear young lady," he said, "by yourpresence here, as we expect to be attacked every instant. I wish toHeaven, Monsieur de Montcalm had taken you away with him; but in thehurry of the moment I did not think of it, and I have no means ofsending you away now; and, besides, the risk to yourself would bestill greater than staying here. I believe you are as safely posted inthis hut as anywhere. It is near enough to the breastwork to beprotected from the fire of the enemy; but you may as well lie downupon the bear-skin if you hear musketry."
"Could I not place myself actually under the breastwork?" asked Edith,remembering the instructions sent to her.
"Impossible," replied the officer. "That space is all occupied by thesoldiers and Indians. You are better here. If we should be drivenback, which God forbid, you will be safe, as you speak English, andcan say who you are; but, remember, address yourself to an officer,for the canaille get mad in time of battle, and on no account trust toan Indian."
"I speak the Iroquois tongue," answered Edith.
"My dear young lady, there is no trusting them," said the officer;"friends or enemies are the same to them when their blood's hot. Allthey want is a scalp; and that they _will_ have. It would be terribleto see your beautiful tresses hanging at an Indian's belt."
As he spoke, one of the men who had been sent forth came running up,exclaiming,--
"They are coming now, captain,--they are coming."
"Who?" demanded Le Courtois, briefly.
> "The red-coats, the English," replied the man. "I saw theiradvance-guard with my own eyes; they are not two hundred yards'distance."
"Where are your companions?" asked Le Courtois. "We want everymusket."
"I do not know," answered the man; "they have lost their way, I fancy,as I did. I saw two amongst the bushes just in front, trying to getback."
"_Sacre Dieu_, they will discover us!" said the captain.
And, running forward, he jumped upon the parapet just behind one ofthe highest bushes, and looked over. The next instant, he sprangdown again, saying, in a low tone, to the corporal near him,--
"Stand to your arms! present! pass the word along not to fire,whatever you see, till I give the order."
At the same moment, he made a sign with his hand to the renegadeOneidas; but probably they did not see it, for their keen black eyeswere all eagerly bent forward, peeping through the bushes, which nowseemed agitated at some little distance. A moment after, a stragglingshot or two was heard, and instantly the Honontkoh fired. The orderwas then given by Le Courtois, and the whole front poured forth avolley, which was returned by a number of irregular shots blazing outof the bushes in front.
Then succeeded a silence of a few moments, and then a loud cheer, suchas none but Anglo-Saxon lungs have ever given.
Edith sat deadly pale and trembling in the hut; but it is not too muchto say that but a small portion of her terror was for herself. Thebattle had begun--the battle in which father and lover were to risklife, in which, among all the human beings destined to bleed and diethat day, her love singled out two, while her fancy painted them asthe aim of every shot. It was of them she thought, much more than ofherself.
The door of the hut was turned, as I have shown, towards the inside ofthe square; and Captain le Courtois had left it open behind him. But,as Edith sat a little towards one side of the entrance, she had aview, both of a great part of the square itself, and of the whole ofthe inner front of the western face of the redoubt, along which wereposted a few French soldiers and a considerable body of Hurons.
The firing was soon resumed, but in a somewhat different manner frombefore. There were no longer any volleys, but frequent, repeated,almost incessant, shots, sometimes two or three together, makingalmost one sound. Twice she saw a French soldier carried across theopen space; and laid down at the foot of a tree. One remained quitestill where he had been placed; one raised himself for a moment uponhis arm, and then sank down again; and Edith understood the signs fullwell. Clouds of bluish-white smoke then began to roll over theredoubt, and curl along as the gentle wind carried it towards thebroad trail by which she had been brought thither. The figures of theIndians became indistinct, and looked like beings seen in a dream.
Still the firing continued, drawing apparently more towards thewestern side, and still the rattle of the musketry was mingled withloud cheers from without.
But suddenly those sounds were crossed, as it were, with a wild yell,such as Edith had heard only once in life before, but which now seemedto issue from a thousand throats, instead of a few. It came from thenorthwest, right in the direction of the broad trail. The Frenchsoldiers and the Hurons, who had been kneeling to fire over thebreastwork, sprang upon their feet, looked round, and from that side,too, burst forth at once the war-whoop.
"O missy, missy, let us run!" cried Sister Bab, catching Edith'swrist.
"Hush, hush, be quiet!" ejaculated the young lady. "These may befriends coming."
As she spoke, pouring on like a dark torrent was seen a crowd of duskyforms rushing along the trail, emerging from amongst the trees, andspreading over the ground; and, amidst them all, a youth dressed likean Indian, and mounted on a grey horse which Edith recognized as herown. The sight confused and dazzled her. Feathers and plumes andwar-paints, rifles and tomahawks and knives, grim countenances andbrandished arms, swam before her like the things that fancy sees for amoment in a cloud; while still the awful war-whoop rang horriblyaround, drowning even the rattle of the musketry, and seeming to rendthe air. Two figures only were distinct: the youth upon the horse, andthe towering form of Black Eagle himself, close to the lad's side.
Attacked in flank and front and rear, the French and Hurons werebroken in a moment, driven from the breastworks, beat back into thecentre of the square, and separated into detached bodies. Still theyfought with desperation; still the rifles and the muskets pealed;still the cheer, and the shout, and the war-whoop, resounded on theair. A large party of the French soldiery were cast between the hutsand the Oneidas, and the young man on the horse strove in vain,tomahawk in hand, to force his way through.
But there are episodes in all combats; and a pause took place when agigantic Huron rushed furiously against the Black Eagle. It may bethat they were ancient enemies; but, at all events, each seemedanimated with the fury of a fiend. Each cast away his rifle, andbetook himself to the weapons of his race--the knife and the tomahawk;but it is almost impossible to describe, it was almost impossible tosee, the movements of the two combatants, such was their marvellousrapidity. Now here, now there, they turned, the blows seeming to falllike hail, the limbs writhing and twisting, the weapons whirling andflashing round. Each was the giant of his tribe, each its mostrenowned warrior; and each fought for more than life--for the closingact of a great renown. But the sinewy frame of the Black Eagle seemedto prevail over the more bulky strength of his opponent; the Huronlost ground; he was driven back to the great pine-tree near the centreof the square; he was forced round and round it; the knife of theBlack Eagle drank his blood, but missed his heart, and only woundedhim in the shoulder.
Those nearest to the scene had actually paused in the contest for amoment to witness the fierce single combat going on; but in otherparts of the square the bloody fight was still continued. For aninstant, the French party in front of the huts, by desperate efforts,seemed likely to overpower the Oneidas before them. A tall Frenchgrenadier bayoneted the Night Hawk before Edith's eyes; and then,seeing the Huron chief staggering under the blows of his enemy, hedashed forward, and, not daring in the rapid whirls of the twocombatants to use his bayonet there, he struck the Black Eagle on thehead with the butt of his musket. The blow fell with tremendous force,and drove the great chief on his knee, with one hand on the ground.His career seemed over, his fate finished. The Huron raised histomahawk high to strike; the Frenchman shortened his musket to pin thechief to the earth.
But, at that moment, a broad, powerful figure dropped down from thebranches of the pine-tree between the Oneida and the grenadier, bentslightly with his fall, but even in rising lifted a rifle to hisshoulder, and sent the ball into the Frenchman's heart. With a yell oftriumph, Black Eagle sprang up from the ground, and in an instant histomahawk was buried in the undefended head of his adversary.
Edith beheld not the end of the combat; for, in the swaying to and froof the fierce struggle, the French soldiery had, by this time, beendriven past the huts, and the eye of one who loved her was upon her.
"Edith, Edith!" cried the voice of Walter Prevost, forcing the horseforward through the struggling groups, amidst shots and shouts andfalling blows. She saw him, she recognized him, she stretched forthher arm towards him; and, dashing between two parties, Walter forcedthe horse up to the door of the hut, and caught her hand.
"Spring up, spring up!" he cried, bending down, and casting his armsaround her. "This is not half over; I must carry you away."
Partly lifted, partly springing from the ground, Edith bounded upbefore him; and, holding her tightly to his heart, Walter turned therein, and dashed away through friends and enemies, trampling,unconscious of what he did, alike on the dead and the dying. Thewestern side of the square was crowded with combatants, and hedirected his horse's head towards the east, reached the angle, andturned sharp round to get in the rear of the English column, which wasseen forcing its way onward to support the advance party of MajorPutnam. He thought only of his sister, and pressing her closer to hisheart, he said,--
"We are safe, Edith--we are
safe!"
Alas, he said it too soon! One group in the square had stood almostaloof from the combat. Gathered together in the south-eastern angle,Apukwa and his companions seemed watching an opportunity for flight.But their fierce eyes had seen Walter, and twice had a rifle clangedat him from that spot, but without effect. They saw him snatch hissister from the hut, place her on the horse, and gallop round. Apukwa,the brother of the Snake, and two others, jumped upon the parapet, andscarcely had Walter uttered the words, "We are safe!" when the fireblazed at once from the muzzles of their rifles. One ball whistled byhis ear, another passed through his hair; but, clasping Edith somewhatcloser, he galloped on, and in two minutes after came to a spot wherethree or four men were standing, and one kneeling with his hand underthe head of a British officer who had fallen.
Walter reined up the horse sharply, for he was almost over them beforehe saw them; but the sight of the features of the dead man drew thesudden exclamation from his lips of "Good God!" They were those ofLord H----. Edith's face, as he held her, was turned towards him, andhe fancied that she rested her forehead on his bosom to shut out theterrible sights around. He looked down at her to see whether she hadcaught even a glimpse of the features of the corpse. Her forehead wasresting there still; but over the arm that held her so closely to hisheart Walter saw welling a dark red stream of blood. He trembled likea leaf.
"Edith!" he exclaimed, "Edith!"
There was no answer. He pushed the bright chestnut curls from herforehead; and, as he did so, the head fell back, showing the face aspale as marble. She had died without a cry, without a sound.
Walter bent his head, and kissed her cheek, and wept.
"What is the matter, sir?" said the sergeant, rising from beside thebody of Lord H----. "Did you know my lord?"
"Look here!" cried Walter. It was all he uttered. But in an instantthey gathered round him, and lifted Edith from the horse. The sergeantput his hand upon the wrist, then shook his head sadly, and they laidher gently by the side of Lord H----. They knew not with how muchpropriety,--but thus she would have loved to rest.
Thus they met, and thus they parted; thus they loved and thus theydied. But in one thing they were happy; for neither, at the last hourof life, knew the other's peril or the other's fate.
The Black Eagle; or, Ticonderoga Page 48