“Where do you think the colonel went?” Moll asked. “It was odd not having him there at supper for the first time all week.”
John shrugged and slapped at a mosquito. “Who knows – he’s been acting aloof since he got here.”
Moll wondered if this was what was upsetting her brother. He and the colonel were very close with all the time John spent in Kingston. But no, it wasn’t that. The way he was looking around all the time there was something else going on.
“Are you planning on going somewhere?” she asked. He shot her a defiant look. Then she knew.
“John, don’t you go up there, it’s not safe.”
“You didn’t say it was a bad idea before.”
“That was during the day – it’s evening now and you’d be alone!” She held his stare but felt the weight of the decision he had made.
Just then a man Moll recognized as a farmer from atop the mountain came into the village with his horse and wagon team. His drove them at a full trot and headed straight toward John and Moll.
***
Darius Marshall knew that it took a visionary to be able to see what he could see. He pictured the ships that would unload hundreds of American soldiers, staged in intervals. They would fortify themselves and then launch destabilizing sneak attacks, both at York and at Kingston.
Of course it would take ongoing troops. But what better place for them to land than in an unexpected rural area, with an endless connection of waterways to key ports? From such a vantage point, Kingston and York would fall in no time.
He pictured Edgar, soft and corrupt, pleading for mercy from his home in York. He tried to think of what might happen to Sophia during such an encounter. Would he spare her life?
Darius absently looked toward the back of the room where Anson Rightmyer and Constable Ogden sat, slumped in their chairs, gagged and bound. The grinning farmer noted that both had once again exhausted themselves with their futile struggling. He was enjoying the quiet as he rubbed the frail sparrow beneath his thumb. The bird extended its wings and made a soft, chirping noise.
“Not yet, not yet.” Darius folded the bird’s wings gently to its side. “I know you’re restless. Shhh.”
It was all happening more quickly than he would have ever imagined. But truly, there was no better time. Darius was certain of former President Madison’s belief in the destiny of the United States of America. Surely President Adams felt the same way? The notion that the U.S. was destined to one day rule over the entire North American continent seemed logical. Unquestionable.
A shadow glided into the cabin and spoke. “I just sent out the word. A schooner flying the British flag has left the area, on its way to Oswego in the U.S. When it gets halfway across it will raise the American flag. How many ships will follow it back?”
“Another schooner will,” said Darius.
“That’s all? We need more.”
Darius waved him off. “It’s enough for now to secure the area. I’m sure more will follow once President Adams learns of our plans to liberate this colony.”
The shadow hesitated. “What do you mean, ‘learns?’ You told us the president already knows.”
“Yes,” said Darius soothingly. “Of course – that’s exactly what I meant.” Another shadow eased into the cabin.
“What is it?” asked Darius. He set the bird on the table and tucked it in with a soft cloth.
“There’s a child up here – one of the Macdonald girls. Do you want me to deal with this?” the voice said. Darius shook his head. “I’ll handle her. Give her something to remember.”
Chapter 20
‘That Lake’s o Good’
The farmer and his horses slowed in front of John and Moll.
“Hi, Mr. Purdy,” said John. “Are you leaving, too?”
“That’s right – had more than enough of this place, I have. Got a brother east of York who says there’s good land there, too. I’ll take him up on that idea, I will.”
“Alright, good luck,” said John. He wasn’t sure why the man had stopped.
“I just thought I’d mention,” said the farmer, “on account of you might not knowing.”
“What’s that?” asked John.
“I recognized your little sister up there. Saw her headed towards the lake just as I was heading down the mountain road. Thought you might want to know. That lake’s no good, you know.”
“Lou?” said Moll, putting a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God! She must have never gone back inside! But why would she go up there?”
“The lake’s no good at all,” repeated the farmer, who began to turn his wagon around for the road. “You’ll take care of it, then?”
“Yes, Mr. Purdy, thank you for stopping,” said Moll. She turned back to John, but her brother had vanished.
***
John climbed. The knot in his stomach grew tighter as he thought about Lou. He was afraid, before, when he thought about what he had seen in the lake. He was terrified now, to think that his little sister had gone there alone this evening.
He should have realized, when she was asking him questions about Pastor Macdowell’s service, that she was going to try something stupid. She didn’t want to move away either and was going to try and figure out what was in the lake. John knew Lou was feisty and strong. Determined. But she was only nine, thought John. He climbed faster.
He leaned into the great hill and scaled it, using the trees and firm roots to give him extra traction. Halfway up he looked back at the bay and the village below. It was quieter now. Even in the twilight, he could still see bateaux on the waters of the bay. The fear had spread like a great wave that threatened everything in its wake. He glanced at the looming saw mill to his left and avoided its dark gaze, turning right until he reached the plateau where the mountain flattened. As he scrabbled over, John carefully looked around. A strong wind blew in from the north and whipped John’s locks of hair.
Then he caught sight of Lou out on the lake, riding one of Nathaniel Pitman’s battered, wooden rafts. The saw mill operator had a few of them leaning against the mill to move wood. He ran to get his own raft into the water.
The overcast sky had conspired with twilight leaving the sky paralyzed in grey. A great wind swarmed the lakeside as John bent down and shoved the flat, wooden square toward the lake, grabbing a thick oar at the same time. The scent of a dead fish caught in his nostrils as he struggled with the raft.
“Lou!” he called out just loud enough for her to hear. He didn’t want them to be heard on the lake and nor did he want anything living in the lake to come at them. All he knew was that he had to help Lou.
Lou turned her head and frowned. “Go away, John. I’m going to find that fish thing. I don’t want to leave here either, you know.”
“Lou – get back here!” John said. He waded up to his calves and gave a final look at the saw mill to make sure no one had seen. John then leapt aboard and pushed off. With the help of the wooden oar and an urgent wind, he pushed off toward the middle of Lake on the Mountain.
Chapter 21
The Leviathan
Moll hurried and gathered the rest of the vegetables into the bushel basket.
“Moll, John, Lou!” shouted Helen from the doorway. “Are you waiting for more vegetables to grow?”
“Coming!” Moll shouted back, even though she was the only one left. Moll heard the door shut again and took a deep breath, wondering what to do. Just then, she saw George sprinting down the main path into the village.
“Moll, where is John?” he asked.
She held her hand to her lips and motioned him over to the garden, behind the Macdonald house. “He just went up there,” she said. She pointed to the dark, forested mountain.
“What? To the lake – by himself? Mon dieu, why would he –”
“Because we found out Lou went up to the lake alone. Mother and Father don’t even know yet and Mother’s just called us in! What are you doing here?”
“I was not allowed to come over earlier – too much work to do. Mother asked me to borrow some tea for her. It has darkened quickly,” said George, looking around.
A strong wind whipped Moll’s bronze-coloured hair into her face. She looked up at the great hill. “I’m going up there, too,” she said to herself, as much as to George. “I will go with you,” George said.
Moll glanced over her shoulder to ensure they were not seen running behind the house toward the forested mountain. She did not notice a handful of long, lean boats in the Bay of Quinte, as they eased onto the shore.
***
John steadied himself in the centre of the raft, using the oar for balance. He dropped to his knees once he got farther out, dipping the oar from side to side to gain momentum.
“I’m coming, Lou.” It was obvious she was having trouble with the weight of the oar she was using. It looked like it might pull her overboard, if she wasn’t careful. The strong wind and her growing fears had forced her onto her knees as well.
John remembered the time Cornelius had let him control the bateau on the bay. It took balance and skill and that was a larger vessel. John had never done anything like this with winds this strong, though, or on a small raft. He didn’t know what to expect as he rowed out.
Focusing his eyes into the middle of the dark lake, John studied its surface. He watched the wind draw long, trembling lines onto the surface of the water. He clenched his stomach. But there was no sign of anything else. There was no sign of the leviathan.
He closed in on Lou who was still struggling with her oar in the wind. As she turned, her dark hair blew back and John could see her anxious face.
“John? I don’t think I can do this,” Lou said. “It’s so windy.” She turned carefully on her knees on top of her raft to face John who was now only fifteen feet away. “That’s okay, Lou. Easy now on that thing. You’re doing great. Listen, I’m going to try to pull up close and…”
“John!”
John turned his head toward the shore at the sound of his name and nearly lost his balance. “Moll? George?” he yelled over the wind.
“What are you doing?” screamed Moll. “Get off the lake!” They were running around the perimeter of the lake, trying to get closer.
“That’s what we’re trying to –” John began.
“Oh, no!” George yelled. “Behind you – near Lou!”
The sound of breaking water caught John’s ear. He looked deeper into the centre of the lake and his heart raced. Cresting the surface of the lake, the same serpent-like, green neck and head they had seen before near the old tree appeared directly in front of Lou’s raft. The serpent advanced.
Lou screamed. She fell onto her back on the raft, holding her arms up instinctively. The creature, dark green and distorted in twilight, continued to move silently toward her.
John looked at his little sister on the raft and thought of James as he paddled hard toward her. Maybe it hadn’t been directly his fault, but he had failed his little brother. He wouldn’t fail his sister, too. John pointed his raft straight toward the creature.
“Hey! Ugly!” John yelled. The creature paused in the water as if aware of a second person out on the lake for the first time. It slowly turned its head. John’s momentum was carrying his raft straight toward the creature.
He moved from his knees to his feet. Hunched, at first, he tightened his grip on the long, thick oar. John could see the creature’s head and neck move ever closer. He heard Moll scream again from the shore.
“Come on,” said John under his breath. “Just a little closer.”
John bent his knees and gripped the oar as tightly as he could. As his raft floated close enough to reach the serpent, John swung. He aimed at the creature’s neck and twisted the oar at the last second to ensure the narrow, sharper side would strike.
With a dull series of cracks the creature’s neck crumpled in half. Segments of dark, green cloth separated and floated on the water. Now uncovered, John could see long, bent branches tied together, many broken where the oar had struck.
Before he could register surprise, John could hear furious splashing underneath the parts of the creature, including two light-weight, floating humps which rose to the surface, bobbing sideways.
John saw the back of a man begin to swim toward the shoreline but then lost sight of him as he ducked under the water’s surface. After helping Lou onto his raft, he turned toward the direction that the man was swimming. But the extra weight of Lou and the wind pushing against him made it difficult to move quickly.
When he finally began to move the raft toward shore, he realized the swimmer was heading straight for George.
And now, Moll was nowhere in sight.
Chapter 22
Battles Are Won in the Mind
“George! Run!” said John. He wondered where Moll had gone.
Home, I hope.
The man was an exceptionally fast swimmer. As he emerged from the water, John could see, even in the fading light, that it was Darius Marshall. Clad only in a thin, green, short-sleeved shirt and shorts, he rushed toward George even before he was out of the water. George pivoted away and ran along the beach toward the edge of the mountain. But within seconds, Darius closed the gap and reached out to grab him. His hand closed on George’s shirt.
But not for long. From the direction of the saw mill an immense, bearded man rushed toward Darius and seized him in a bear hug.
“It’s Mr. Pitman!” John said to Lou as they reached the shoreline in the raft. Darius struggled but the saw mill operator was too powerful. John and Lou could see their older sister running from the saw mill toward them. Obviously Moll had gone to get help, John realized.
John, George, Moll and Lou turned their attention on the still-struggling Darius Marshall. Nathaniel shoved him to the ground and held him using one knee and both of his tree-trunk-sized arms.
“Go get your father and any other men you can find,” he growled.
John nodded but before he could act he heard a series of clicks in the gathering dark. “Don’t move, boy.”
The voice was cold. Authoritative. John froze as he saw a long gun pointed at him. “You,” the same man said to Nathaniel. “Get off him – now.” He pointed the gun at the saw mill operator.
Other men emerged from the shadows of the forest, rifles aimed at Nathaniel Pitman and John, Moll and George. They wore knives strapped to their belts and were dressed in green and brown. John counted eight more men besides Darius Marshall. Judging by the way they moved, John was certain they were soldiers.
The burly saw mill operator rose to his feet and released Darius, who leaped from the ground and wiped his brow with his forearm. He laughed and rubbed his thinning, wet hair with his hands. His face was now dirty but his smile was as wide as John had ever seen. Blood began to spill out of his mouth where he had been hurt in the scuffle. He spit on the ground in front of Nathaniel Pitman.
“What a grip, yes siree,” he said. He glared through his twitching smile. John was still trying to make sense of everything that was happening.
“Why did you do it?” asked John. “Why did you create that…thing out there?” John glanced at the darkened lake. “And who are they?”
Darius smirked. “They’re soldiers of the United States of America.” The soldiers stood stiffly with their backs to the edge of the mountain.
“And even they didn’t think it would work,” Darius said. “Look around, John. Battles are won in the mind, aren’t they?” He tapped his head. “I have to say, for a Brit I was surprised you would challenge like that. Out in the middle of a supposedly haunted, dark lake.” He sighed and wrung the water out of the front of his sh
irt. “I think you’ve gone and wrecked my little creature’s neck.”
John realized Darius sounded different now – he had an accent he didn’t recognize. “I thought you were a friend,” said John.
“Changed my mind. Is that allowed in your Upper Canada, son? Or does the Family Compact control that too? You see, once you started talking politics with me, I knew you were like all the rest.”
“The Tories – or anyone else – didn’t make you frighten everyone away from Stone Mills,” said Moll. “And no one is making you point guns at us – except you,” said George.
Darius began to pace in front of them, keeping his distance from Nathaniel Pitman, even though there were eight men pointing guns to protect him. “What you people don’t understand is that it takes sacrifice to build a democracy. It takes courage,” he said.
Hearing no reply he pounded his open palm. “It takes sweat and dedication,” he shouted.
“And it takes a coward to point guns at children,” said Nathaniel. John wondered if the saw mill operator would end up getting them all killed.
“I don’t go out of my way to harm people,” said Darius. His grin was lopsided now. “But when stumbling neighbours and prying, law enforcement types come calling, then it leaves a man no choice.”
John swallowed. “You’re the one…you killed Mr. Rightmyer and Constable Ogden!”
Darius sighed. “Did I? Oh, it’s possible, son. Interfering, they were. Very nosy. My cabin was set up as my base, you see. That’s not for outsiders to poke around at, especially Brits.”
Darius spun around and faced one of the men working for him. “How many people are left in this pathetic village?”
“Very few. At last check even the British colonel seems to have left. From what we’ve seen, the only ones remaining are the Macdonald’s…”
John, Moll and Lou all looked at one another. “…the shipbuilder, Solomon Brook. Him,” the soldier said, nodding to Nathaniel. “The general store owner. And there’s a handful of farmers left on the perimeter.”
The Legends of Lake on the Mountain Page 10