Camping on the St. Lawrence; Or, On the Trail of the Early Discoverers

by Quincy Allen

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  HAMLICK.

  Early in the following evening the yacht stopped at Pine Tree Island,and after our boys had been received on board, proceeded on its way tothe Corners, where the entire party landed, and at once started up thevillage street toward the town hall, where "Hamlick" was to make hislong-expected appearance.

  It was soon discovered that many others were evidently going to thesame place, and along the dusty country roads teams could be seenapproaching from almost every direction. "Smart" appearing turnouts,along with others which must have done duty for several generationsfor the busy folk of the region, were seen, and Bob demurely pointedout what he declared to be the original of the "wonderful one hossshay."

  When our party climbed the rambling stairway which led to the room inthe third floor of the town hall where Hamlick was to appear, it wasan unusual sight upon which they looked. Old people and young wereentering the room; mothers with little babes in their arms; theever-present small boy, whose disposition does not vary materiallywhether he dwells in country or city; bashful young fellows, whoapparently were wondering what they should do with those hands oftheirs which, somehow, would protrude too far below the short sleevesof their coats; all these and many more were there.

  In the front of the room the platform was hidden from sight by someblue denim curtains hung on wires, which were to be manipulated bysome one behind the scenes. Some kerosene lamps were giving a faintlight from brackets on the walls, and a huge wood stove stood in onecorner of the room where it had done duty for years at the gatheringsin the bitter winter days.

  There was no usher to show our party the way, but as they perceivedthat no places had been reserved, and that all were free to go wherethey chose, they at once turned toward the few remaining seats whichwere well up in the front of the room and quietly seated themselves.These seats were benches, across the backs of which narrow strips ofboard had been nailed, and forced the occupant to maintain an attitudewhich was anything but comfortable. The whole scene was so strange andunlike anything which any of them had ever seen before, that thenovelty banished even the sense of discomfort, and all gazed aboutthem with an air of interest as keen as doubtless that of the goodpeople of the Corners would have been had they been privileged toenter some spacious hall in the great city from which the summervisitors had come.

  To add to the interest, Ethan was discovered seated in the end of oneof the pews or benches which our friends appropriated, but hisappearance was so markedly different from that to which the boys hadbeen accustomed that they had some difficulty in really persuadingthemselves that it was their boatman before them.

  Ethan was dressed in a suit of rusty black broadcloth, which evidentlyhad seen other days if it had not seen better, and his bearing was sosolemn that at first the boys fancied that he was conducting himselfas he would have done in church.

  "Aren't they almost ready to begin, Ethan?" inquired Jock, after hehad presented the sturdy boatman to his friends.

  "I s'pose so. They were to begin at seven-thirty sharp," repliedEthan, solemnly.

  "Tom must be excited," suggested Jock, for want of something else tosay.

  "I s'pose so."

  It was plain that Ethan considered the occasion too solemn for suchtrifling questions, and accordingly Jock turned to his other friends,who were not troubled by any such scruples, and was soon talking andlaughing with them.

  The interest in the scene did not decrease as the moments of waitingpassed. Boys entered and lurched heavily into their seats and began tosnap the peanuts, with which their pockets had been well supplied, orindustriously began to busy themselves with pieces of spruce gum whichthe present owners had wrested from the trees by their own efforts.

  Solemn-faced elderly people entered, and frequently a young mothercame, bringing with her a baby which was sleeping in her arms ornodding its head sagely, as with wide-open eyes it looked out uponthe assembly.

  The interest in the audience was speedily transferred to the stage,from which the curtains now began to be drawn back. Apparentlysomething was wrong in the apparatus, for they "hitched" when abouthalf of the platform appeared in sight, and after a whisperedconversation had taken place, in tones so shrill that they could beheard by the entire assembly, a well-grown lad stepped from behind thescenes and adjusted the strings by which the screens were worked.

  His appearance was greeted with a shout of delight from the small boysin the audience, as they called him familiarly by his name, andbestowed other signs of their approval upon him. The greeting,however, was not received in the spirit in which it had been given,and the "manager," after vainly striving for a moment to adjust theworkings, speedily retired in confusion. A yank upon the curtainsquickly followed, and though a sound as of tearing cloth was heard,the view of the platform was soon unobstructed, and the audiencebecame silent, waiting for the performance to begin.

  After a brief interval Bernardo appeared, gazing carefully about himfor Francisco, who, too tender-hearted to disappoint his commandingofficer, speedily strode forth upon the platform, prepared to do ordie.

  "Who's there?" began Bernardo, in a loud stage whisper.

  "Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself!" thundered Francisco inreply.

  "Long live the King!" responded the officer, as if he were trying tomake the people in Alexandria Bay aware of his patriotic feeling.

  "Bernardo?" exclaimed Francisco, in apparent surprise, though he hadbeen standing within a few feet of the man all the time.

  The conversation continued until Horatio and Marcellus joined them,and at once began to speak. Horatio was evidently master of thesituation, but poor Marcellus had an attack of stage fright. When itcame his turn to speak he began impulsively,--

  "And liegemen to--to--to--to--" but he could go no further. Again hebegan, in lower and more impressive tones: "A--a--and liegemento--to--" but the desired word would not come.

  "To the Dane," whispered some one behind the scenes in a penetratingvoice which reached to the utmost corners of the room.

  "And liegemen to the Dane," responded Marcellus, boldly.

  Apparently he had recovered now, and all went well until the time camewhen the Ghost was to enter. Whether it was the terrifying dread ofthe nocturnal visitor, or the evident alarm of the four who wereconversing so eagerly upon the stage that produced the trouble whichfollowed, is not known; but no sooner had he glided in with hisunearthly tread, and no less unearthly glances, which he cast aboutthe room, than Marcellus, in his most awe-inspiring whisper, began,"Peace! Break thee off; look where it comes again;" and then one ofthe babies in the room began to scream.

  Bernardo boldly continued, "In the same figure, like the king that'sdead."

  "Thou art a scholar," responded Marcellus. "Speak to it, Horatio."

  But the wailing infant in the front seat was not to be suppressed, andhis screams of terror or rage were becoming more and more shrill, andwere dividing the attention and sympathy of the audience and evendiverting their gaze from the stage.

  Apparently human nature could not endure the strain, and suddenlyresuming an upright attitude and speaking in tones marvellously likethose of an angry man, the Ghost turned to the audience, and saidsharply, "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but we'll have to stop theperformance till the mother removes that yelling young 'un from thishall."

  Without a protest the young mother rose, and, despite the increasedlamentations of her offspring and his vigorous bodily contortions,departed; and at last, when "the infant with no language but a cry,"as Bob afterward described the scene, could no longer be heard, theplay was resumed.

  No one had appeared to be surprised at the interruption, and Ethan hadnever once glanced at the boys. Dignified and unmoved he sat watchingthe stage as if such slight deviations from the words of the "ImmortalShakespeare" were not able to divert his attention, and he had slightsympathy for those who would even look about them to discover whosebaby it was that was now creating the disturbance.


  "Without a protest the young mother rose."--_Page356._]

  Babies were expected to be present on such occasions, and if presentthey were in duty bound to make themselves heard--that was a matter ofcourse; and which particular baby it was exercising its lungs at thepresent moment was, in his opinion, too insignificant a matter tointerest any one.

  The interruption seemed, however, to have wrought havoc once more withMarcellus, for when the play was resumed he began to falter andhesitate, and like all people who hesitate, was speedily lost.

  After he had boldly bidden Horatio to question the terror-inspiringvisitor, and had declared "it was offended," he seemed to lose heart.

  "'Tis gone, and will not--not--will not--not-- 'Tis gone andwill--will. 'Tis will and not gone. No," he added abruptly, apparentlyas much to the surprise of the Ghost himself, who could be seenpeering from behind the curtain, as to that of his audience, "No,'tisn't ''tis will,' it's ''tis gone.' 'Tis gone and--and--and--"

  Poor Marcellus gazed about him in despair, as if he was looking forhelp; but no help came, except from the side of the platform, wherethe prompter tried in a loud whisper to aid the desperate player.

  Horatio, to help his comrade, went back to the last line he hadspoken, and repeated, "Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!"

  "That's what I'm trying to do, but can't," replied Marcellus, castingShakespeare and discretion aside at the same time.

  The words were too much for our boys, who, up to this time, had beenstriving desperately to remain quiet. Jock had stuffed hishandkerchief into his mouth, but the explosive force of the lastdespairing speech of Marcellus had proved too much for him to bear,and a prolonged squeal came from his lips which forced even thehandkerchief from its place.

  "He-e-e-e-e-e!" he cried, and in a moment his companions were allclinging to the back of the seat in front of them and shaking withlaughter. But few others in the audience seemed to be similarlyaffected, and Ethan turned and gave them a look which greatly aided inrestoring their composure.

  Marcellus was thoroughly angry now, however, and glared down upon theoffending Jock as if he were minded to add other words whichShakespeare might perhaps have used, but which he certainly had notincorporated in the tragedy.

  In a moment he rushed from the stage, seized the book from the handsof the prompter, and, returning to his place, read his part as theplay was resumed. Then for a time all went well, and the eager boysfound themselves looking forward to the time when "Hamlick" himselfshould appear.

  True to his part, in the second scene the hero appeared, and our boyswere soon all listening attentively. Tom's first words were uttered ina voice that trembled, but he soon was master of himself and wasgiving his mother that sage counsel which has done so much to makeboth her and him remembered.

  The king stalked about the stage with a crown that fairly glitteredwith jewels upon his head, and as for the queen, her gorgeous trainwas sadly in the way of Polonius and Laertes, and even "Hamlick"himself once trod upon it and received a look from her which wellmight have caused him to pause in his undutiful language.

  Marcellus, too, returned; but this time he was equipped with a book,as well as with a sword, and though he followed the lines with hisfinger as he read, and seldom glanced at his companions, and once hiswords, "my good lord," were evidently misunderstood by his audience,still no further interruptions came until the Ghost once more joinedthe group.

  Then a fresh trouble arose. Just at the most impressive part, along-drawn-out sigh seemed to come from Ethan, who had remainedquietly in his seat at the end of the bench.

  Marcellus had just been strongly warning Hamlet not to go with theuntimely visitor, and Horatio had added, "No, by no means," when thesigh from Ethan's corner rose again, louder, longer, and more intense.All in the audience could hear it, and as it came once more our fourboys glanced quickly at the boatman.

  His head was thrown back against the wall, his eyes were closed, andhis mouth was wide open. It was evident that Ethan was sleeping.

  "It will not speak; then I will follow it," Hamlet was just remarkingon the stage.

  "O-o-o-h-h-h!" responded Ethan, in something more pronounced now thana sigh. His voice trembled and quavered, and seemed to gather force ason it went.

  "Wake him up, Jock," whispered Ben.

  "Stick a pin in him. He'll spoil the play," whispered Bert.

  Jock turned to shake the boatman lightly and strive to restore him bygentle means, but his efforts were not required; for one of the smallboys seated directly behind Ethan acted promptly, and at once producedresults as startling as they were unexpected.