Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman

by Willie Walker Caldwell

  CHAPTER XXI

  For four days, a fine, thick rain had been descending persistently fromthe low, gray-blanketed sky, and a wet mist rose from the sodden earthto meet it. The soil reeked with dampness; it oozed from the walls ofthe stone or stuccoed houses, dripped from the sloping roofs of ramblingporches, saturated one's clothes, and permeated one's blood. TheKaskaskia River, pushed out of its banks by its swollen tributaries, hadoverflowed all the bottoms, and banked the waters of the bayous up intothe hills. The village was surrounded by water on three sides, and fromthe fort one could see nothing save the dreary waste of still, dullwater. Even the reeds, canes, and grasses which ordinarily fringed thebayous, adding something of life and grace, were now submerged.

  In all the village there was but one cheerful, wooing spot:--the room inthe late Commandant's house, made bright by the presence of Ellen, andkept warm and cheery by the crackling logs piled high in the widefireplace. Here Ellen gave gracious welcome to officer and private,priest and native, coureur de bois from Canada, trader from New Orleans,and scout from the eastern settlements--whoever might chance our way, sohe deport himself gentlemanwise. And now, since the winter and the rainshad settled upon us, since the Indian deputations had ceased to troubleus, and traders were rare, the town afforded the officers no otherdiversion than a twice daily visit to Queen Eleanor's audience chamber.

  Colonel Clark, Captains Bowman, Montgomery, Harrod and I, with Legereand Dr. Lafonte occupied usually the inner circle around the fire, Ellenthroned in our midst. My quill falls from my hand and I lose myself inthe scenes which my memory recalls so vividly that almost I live themover again. Ellen's graceful head, outlined by dark ringlets, restsagainst the white bear skin which covers her chair; her slender handsare crossed in her lap, and her arched feet, in their gay moccasins, arehalf buried in the panther's skin thrown over her foot rest. The fire,of seasoned logs three feet in length, lights the low-ceiled stone roomwith a vivid glow and suffuses the atmosphere with a fragrant warmth.This glow of the flames plays becomingly on Ellen's rich, soft coloring,and even brings out the shadows made by the long lashes upon her cheeks.Also it shows plainly the varied colors and markings of the wild skinshung thick upon the wall, and the gay stripes in the heavy Indian matsupon the floor.

  Better still than the cheerful scene was the pleasant talk that filledthe room, the bright, earnest discussions which did more to keep uskeyed to our otherwise dreary task than all the promises that we couldmake ourselves of future fortune and renown. Who can gauge the value ofwoman's social tact and sympathy? In all ages they have been magnetsaround which great thoughts and noble deeds have focused. Some of theconversations held in the long, stone room at Kaskaskia seem to me tohave been worthy the most brilliant salons in Paris, or the most famousof London coffee-houses. Ellen was never one of those chatteringwomen--though she could express herself pithily and gracefully when shehad anything to say--but she was the most inspiring listener I have everseen.

  Colonel Clark was a bold and brilliant talker, though sometimes arrogantand boastful. Legere, who had been bred and educated in Paris, hadculture, and a keen tongue. Bowman was a man of careful observation,shrewd thinking, and close reasoning; and my own love of mental exercisemade me an ambitious aspirant in these conversational bouts, over whichEllen presided with inspiring guidance.

  The future of America was the subject we oftenest discussed, perhaps,and the one upon which we diverged, too, most widely. Colonel Clarkfavored the organization of thirteen free states, confederated asloosely as possible. I was for a close federation with a strong centralgovernment. All the delays and difficulties of our war were due to thelack of a central authority, it seemed to me. And even after ourindependence should be achieved we must fall to pieces, I argued, orbecome the prey of European powers unless we sought strength in a firmlycemented union.

  "But Virginia," argued Clark, "had everything to lose, and nothing togain by union. With the Illinois territory added to her possessions shewould be the largest, richest, and strongest, of the States, and coulddominate the rest. No union would be agreed to by the other States whichdid not provide for the territorial reduction of the Old Dominion--forher relinquishment, doubtless, of all we had won for her, and that wewould never consent to. Why should Virginia voluntarily weaken herselfin order to strengthen a union which would control all her resources?"

  To this Ellen responded, taking sides with me: "A course of unselfishpatriotism was the only course worthy of Virginia, and the only oneconsistent with her admirable policy so far. The building of a free,mighty, and glorious republic in America which might become a patternfor future democracies was the object for which all true Virginians andall enlightened patriots should be willing to sacrifice everything."

  Legere agreed with Clark, Bowman with me, and our argument waxedwarm--always to be quieted or diverted by Ellen's skillful management.One day, however, Clark was more arrogant than usual, and I morevehement, so that at last we quarreled like school boys.

  Ellen's sarcasm, as she rebuked us, seemed directed at me rather than atClark, and I left the room in an unseemly rage, being for several daystoo sore, and too much ashamed of myself, to return.

  No loafing place was left me, now, save the large room in the barracks,where the men were accustomed to assemble. On a certain afternoon itbecame unbearable. The chimney smoked, the damp logs burned grudgingly,the soldiers, who were now in the town, slept snoring on the floor,wrapped in their blankets, or sprawled on the benches, and smoked strongpipes. My heart ached with home longing; for but an hour with the dearcircle around the cheerful hearth, in the big room, I would at thatmoment have resigned all the prospects of my life--save only my hope ofwinning Ellen. I could stand it within no longer, and wrapping my cloakaround me, and pulling my bearskin cap over my ears, set out to walk tothe boat landing. It would afford me a moment's diversion to see how farthe water had risen since yesterday. Then the lower end of the wharf wasan inch under water.

  Now it was completely submerged, and the ground all about it. If a boatshould chance to come to Kaskaskia it must seek precarious landing upona rock, which in dry weather, was half way up the low bluff on this sideof the river, below the town. I made my way to this rock, and stoodlooking out on the formless waste of waters with a new sympathy for thevictims of the flood, and a sudden emotion of deep thankfulness for therock-ribbed mountains, rolling hills, upland meadows and wellrestricted, gentle streams of our dear valley. He who would might comewest to dwell in the rich alluvial valley of the Mississippi, and hertributaries--as for me, I wished no other heritage than one of thefertile, smiling farms in the valley of Virginia.

  As I gazed thus, my mind upon my own land rather than upon thisdesolation, a moving speck appeared upon the waters, and rapidlyapproached. Yes, it was a boat, one of those long, deep, swift boatsused by the coureurs, and the traders. The two men propelling it werestanding, evidently looking for the wharf. I called and signaled to themto drift a little down stream, and land upon the rock; then I clamberedto its lower edge, and stood in readiness to help them. I had by thistime recognized Colonel Vigo and his servant. A month before they hadstopped with us on their way to the Illinois country, when Colonel Vigohad offered to spy out for Colonel Clark the real condition of affairsat Vincennes, and to send or to bring him word. His coming back so soonforeboded ill news; he would hardly have returned at such inclementseason, but to warn us. We had hardly counted on such friendship fromhim, though we knew that he wished well to the cause of America.Moreover, he had seemed to conceive a strong friendship both for ColonelClark and myself.

  Sardinian by birth, soldier of fortune by profession, Spanish officer byrank won in Spanish wars, he was to me a most interesting character.Bold, yet cautious, rash yet diplomatic, shrewd yet daring, accomplishedgentleman yet reckless adventurer, Indian by mode of life, but in mannerand preferred tongue French--he was a type of that age and thatcivilization, which alone could have produced his like.

  "Ah, McElroy," he called to
me, as I gave him my hand to help him springashore, speaking in what he called English tongue, but which was reallyan impossible dialect, composed of a conglomerate of English, French,Italian, Spanish and Indian words, so that I do not attempt to reproduceit, but give only the substance of his utterances, "It is you then, andwhere is the Colonel?"

  "Visiting," I answered, rather curtly; "do you come from Vincennes?"

  "So the Colonel is courting the fair Americaness, eh?--and you, mon ami,sulk upon the rock! Is it that you have surrendered? I thought it notpossible for a stubborn Scotchman to own defeat--but this is no time forbanter. Yes, Captain McElroy, I come from Vincennes, and I have for theColonel important news. He must arouse himself from the idle pleasure ofpaying court to beauty, and go back to the arduous work of a soldierwould he hold his footing on the Wabash."

  Meantime we had reached the village, and were soon before theCommandant's house. A panin summoned Clark for us, and together wewalked toward the fort, while Colonel Vigo told how Vincennes hadfallen, and outlined clearly the present state of affairs at that place.The fort had been repaired and restocked, and was garrisoned by a forceof eighty mixed English and Canadians. The French inhabitants wereover-awed, and the Wabash Indians were in sympathy with the English. TheMiamis, who had recently made a pretended treaty with us, were reallyagents of Hamilton, having been hired by him to kill or capture Clark,and as many of his men as possible. Having been disappointed in theiranticipations of big scalp money, they were awaiting surlily a chance ofrevenge. The French were, however, in heart, still loyal to us, andFather Gibault--who had been all the time with Captain Helm, as also hadScout Givens--was using all his diplomacy for us. It was due to hisinsistence that Colonel Vigo was released, and allowed to leave thetown, even though he refused to swear that he would do nothing hostileto the British cause.

  Clark heard Colonel Vigo to the end, then asked two or three questionsas to General Hamilton's expectation of reenforcements, or apparentapprehension lest he be attacked by the Americans. Colonel Vigo answeredthat he seemed to anticipate neither the one nor the other, whereuponClark turned to his officers, now gathered about him, and said in thetone of a man promulgating some joyful news.

  "Men, we march at once to Vincennes! We are too near success to yield tothe first reverse. Have the drum beat for roll call, McElroy!"

  When all the men, and many of the villagers, were assembled on theparade ground before the fort, Clark clambered upon the body of acaleche and made them one of his stirring speeches, recalling thetreachery of General Hamilton and the successful stratagem of CaptainHelm.

  At its conclusion, loud cheers rang forth, and the men crowded about thecaleche.

  "Right, Colonel," called one of the men, "we must thrash this'hair-buyer' General; he has been needing a lesson for some time."

  "We'll thrash him, Colonel, never doubt it!" called another.

  "If the Kaskaskians wish to help us--if they have found us true alliesand kind friends, we promise them full recognition and reward with ourregular soldiers," added Clark. "Wish any of you to enlist with us?"

  "I! I! I!" came from a dozen throats, in chorus.

  "Legere shall captain you, if as many as twenty-five enlist," addedClark. "Will you take down their names, Legere, and organize yourcompany?" turning to that Frenchman, who accepted both the honor and thetask with enthusiasm.

  The commons now presented a lively and almost a cheerful scene; the mengathered in groups here and there, talking excitedly; drums werebeating, and the villagers chattering and gesticulating. Suddenly, too,the western sun broke through environing mist and cloud, and poured overthe scene a crimson glow, which might have been a word of promise spokenfrom Heaven, so much it cheered them.

  "McElroy," said Clark in my ear, "I would like a word apart with you,please"; then as we walked off together: "It is time this rivalrybetween us were somehow put an end to; there are too few of us pledgedto this dangerous enterprise to risk personal bitterness, especiallyamong the officers, who should be in entire accord. You love yourcousin, Ellen O'Neil, and so do I. You wish to marry her, so do I. Whichone of us she prefers I defy angel, devil, or man to determine. But shemust decide between us, and quickly. If it is you she loves, she mustsay so, and I will resign all claim, and cease to trouble either of you.If it is I, can you agree to do the same?"

  "Yes," I answered a little reluctantly. "If she loves you, ColonelClark, I promise to withdraw my suit. Only as her cousin and presentguardian, I would have a right, I think, to exact one promise of you,and that is that you will forswear a single habit, and promise to settledown when this war is over. Can a man who loves adventure, as you do,resign it for the love of a woman--Colonel Clark--to say nothing of thatother passion which sometimes overmasters you?"

  Clark's face darkened and flushed, but with an effort he controlledhimself. "As her kinsman, McElroy, you doubtless have a right to speakthus to me. You refer to my love for strong drink, and speak of mypassion for adventure. The one I could easily resign for Ellen's sake;the other--'tis embedded in my nature, yet even adventure, methinks,might be well exchanged for the love of such a woman; for domestic joyswith her to share them; for friends, home and children. Yes, McElroy, Ican imagine myself a quiet, respectable, church-going citizen--and yetcontent."

  "Then the decision rests with Ellen alone. Should she choose you, Ipromise to give my sanction to her choice. But I fear there is smallhope for either of us. Have you not heard her say that she intends totake the veil, to be a nun?"

  "Yes, but I have never believed that she meant it in her heart ofhearts, though she has deceived herself into thinking she does, bytelling herself that it is her holy duty."

  "She does not seem to me called to the vocation of a nun." I was smilingat the mere thought of the brilliant Ellen in a nunnery.

  "Surely she is not, McElroy; could she be happy, think you, shut outfrom a world which interests her so fully? Your quiet valley, with itsdull routine of duty and religion made her rebellious, then how wouldshe endure life in a convent? No, she greatly misunderstands herself. Ishould rather, by far, see her your wife, McElroy, than to know that allher brilliancy and charms were hidden behind the chill walls of aconvent."

  "And I would far rather see her your wife than a nun."

  "Then let us pledge mutual aid, thus far--that we will both use all theinfluence we may have with her to keep her from a convent. Shall we gonow to see her, and bid her choose between us?"

  "It does not seem to me to be the wisest course. Suppose she shouldabsolutely refuse both of us? or even in case we can persuade her thatshe is not called to a convent life, and can induce her to make choice,suppose one of us should be killed in this attack upon Vincennes, and hethe one she had chosen? Might she not afterwards feel it disloyal to thememory of that one to listen to the addresses of the other, and so bemore than ever disposed to think herself set apart to virginconsecration? Let us leave the matter undecided until one or both of usreturn from Vincennes. I can trust you to take no less interest in mysafety on that account, and you, I think, can likewise trust me. ShouldI fall, my rights in Ellen, such as they are, become yours. Should yoube killed, I inherit your claim to her. Meantime both are pledged to useour utmost endeavors to keep her out of a convent--even though to do so,we must help the other to win her."

  "Shrewdly said, McElroy," replied the Colonel, with a hearty laugh. "Itis a true Scotch-Irishman's bargain you propose--many chances to win,few to lose. Your hand on it. Once more we are good friends, and loyalcomrades, pledged together and twice over to two noble causes: one--theindependence of the United States of America and the saving of the worldfor democracy, and the other--to preserve to the world the beauty, thewit, and the spirit of Ellen O'Neil."