The Leatherstocking Tales II

by James Fenimore Cooper

“And what could you find to say, in my behalf, Quarter Master?”

  “Why, d’ye understand, my friend, I was ruled by circumstances, and no ventured indiscreetly into generalities, but was preparing to meet particulars, as it might be, with particulars. If you were thought wild, half-savage, or of a frontier formation, I could tell her, ye know, that it came of the frontier, wild and half-savage life ye’d led; and all her objections must cease at once, or there would be a sort of misunderstanding with Providence.”

  “And did you tell her this, Quarter Master?”

  “I’ll no swear to the exact words, but the idea was prevalent in my mind, ye’ll understand. The girl was impatient, and would not hear the half I had to say; but away she skipped, as ye saw with your own eyes, Pathfinder, as if her opinion were fully made up, and she cared to listen no longer. I fear her mind may be said to have come to its conclusion!”

  “I fear it has, indeed, Quarter Master, and her father, after all, is mistaken. Yes, yes; the sarjeant has fallen into a grievous error.”

  “Well, man, why need ye lament, and undo all the grand reputation ye’ve been so many years making? Shoulder the rifle that ye use so well, and off into the woods with ye, for there’s not the female breathing that is worth a heavy heart for a minute, as I know from experience. Tak’ the word of one who knows the sax, and has had two wives, that women, after all, are very much the sort of creatures we do not imagine them to be. Now, if you would really mortify Mabel, here is as glorious an occasion, as any rejected lover could desire.”

  “The last wish I have, Lieutenant, would be to mortify Mabel.”

  “Well, ye’ll come to that in the end, notwithstanding; for it’s human nature to desire to give unpleasant feelings to them, that give unpleasant feelings to us. But a better occasion never offered to make your friends love you, than is to be had at this very moment, and that is the certain means of causing one’s enemies to envy us.”

  “Quarter Master, Mabel is not my inimy; and if she was, the last thing I could desire, would be to give her an uneasy moment.”

  “Ye say so, Pathfinder—ye say so, and I dare say, ye think so; but reason and nature are both against you, as ye’ll find in the end. Ye’ve heard the saying of ‘love me, love my dog:’ well, now, that means, read backwards, ‘do’n’t love me, do’n’t love my dog.’ Now, listen to what is in your power to do. You know we occupy an exceedingly precarious and uncertain position, here, almost in the jaws of the lion, as it were?”

  “Do you mean the Frenchers, by the lion, and this island as his jaws, lieutenant?”

  “Metaphorically only, my friend, for the French are no lions, and this island is not a jaw—unless, indeed, it may prove to be, what I greatly fear may come true, the jaw-bone of an ass!”

  Here the Quarter Master indulged in a sneering laugh, that proclaimed any thing but respect and admiration for his friend Lundie’s sagacity in selecting that particular spot for his operations.

  “The post is as well chosen, as any I ever put foot in,” said Pathfinder, looking around him, as one surveys a position.

  “I’ll no deny it—I’ll no deny it. Lundie is a great soldier, in a small way, and his father was a great laird, with the same qualifications. I was born on the estate, and have followed the Major so long that I’ve got to reverence all he says and does. That’s just my weakness, ye’ll know, Pathfinder. Well, this post may be the post of an ass, or of a Solomon, as men fancy, but it’s most critically placed, as is apparent by all Lundie’s precautions and injunctions. There are savages out, scouting through these thousand islands, and over the forest, searching for this very spot, as is known to Lundie himself, on certain information, and the greatest service you can render the 55th, is to discover their trails, and lead them off, on a false scent. Unhappily, Serjeant Dunham has taken up the notion, that the danger is to be apprehended from up stream, because Frontenac lies above us, whereas all experience tells us, that Indians come on the side that is most contrary to reason, and, consequently, are to be expected from below. Take your canoe, therefore, and go down stream, among the islands, that we may have notice if any danger approaches from that quarter. If ye should look a few miles on the main, especially on the York side, the information you’d bring in would be all the more accurate, and consequently the more valuable.”

  “The Big Sarpent is on the look out, in that quarter, and as he knows the station well, no doubt he will give us timely notice, should any wish to sarcumvent us, in that direction.”

  “He is but an Indian, after all, Pathfinder, and this is an affair that calls for the knowledge of a white man. Lundie will be eternally grateful to the man that shall help this little enterprise to come off with flying colours. To tell you the truth, my friend, he is conscious it should never have been attempted, but he has too much of the old laird’s obstinacy about him, to own an error, though it be as manifest as the morning star.”

  The Quarter Master then continued to reason with his companion, in order to induce him to quit the island, without delay, using such arguments as first suggested themselves, sometimes contradicting himself, and not unfrequently urging at one moment a motive that at the next was directly opposed by another. The Pathfinder, simple as he was, detected these flaws in the Lieutenant’s philosophy, though he was far from suspecting that they proceeded from a desire to clear the coast, of Mabel’s suitor. He met bad reasons by good ones, resisted every inducement that was not legitimate, by his intimate acquaintance with his peculiar duties, and was blind, as usual, to the influence of every incentive that could not stand the test of integrity. He did not exactly suspect the secret objects of Muir, but he was far from being blind to his sophistry. The result was that the two parted, after a long dialogue, unconvinced and distrustful of each other’s motives, though the distrust of the guide, like all that was connected with the man, partook of his own upright, disinterested and ingenuous nature.

  A conference that took place, soon after, between Serjeant Dunham and the Lieutenant led to more consequences. When it was ended, secret orders were issued to the men, the blockhouse was taken possession of, the huts were occupied, and one accustomed to the movements of soldiers, might have detected that an expedition was in the wind. In fact, just as the sun was setting, the Serjeant who had been much occupied at what was called the harbor, came into his own hut, followed by Pathfinder and Cap, and, as he took his seat at the neat table that Mabel had prepared for him, he opened the budget of his intelligence.

  “You are likely to be of some use, here, my child,” the old soldier commenced, “as this tidy and well ordered supper can testify, and, I trust, when the proper moment arrives, you will show yourself to be the descendant of those who know how to face their enemies.”

  “You do not expect me, dear father, to play Joan of Arc, and to lead the men to battle?”

  “Play whom, child—Did you ever hear of the person Mabel mentions, Pathfinder?”

  “Not I, sarjeant, but what of that? I am ignorant and onedicated, and it is too great a pleasure to me to listen to her voice, and take in her words, to be particular about persons.”

  “I know her,” said Cap, decidedly. “She sailed a privateer out of Morlaix, in the last war; and good cruises she made of them.”

  Mabel blushed at having inadvertently made an allusion that went beyond her father’s reading, to say nothing of her uncle’s dogmatism; and perhaps a little at the Pathfinder’s simple ingenuous earnestness, but she did not forbear the less to smile.

  “Why, father, I am not expected to fall in with the men, and help defend the island.”

  “And, yet, women have often done such things, in this quarter of the world, girl, as our friend, the Pathfinder, here, will tell you. But lest you should be surprised at not seeing us, when you awake in the morning, it is proper that I now tell you we intend to march in the course of this very night.”

  “We, father—and leave me and Jennie on this island alone!”

  “No, my daughter, not
quite as unmilitary as that. We shall leave Lt. Muir, brother Cap, Corporal McNab, and three men, to compose the garrison during our absence. Jennie will remain with you, in this hut, and brother Cap will occupy my place.”

  “And Mr. Muir?” said Mabel, half unconscious of what she uttered, though she foresaw a great deal of unpleasant persecution in the arrangement.

  “Why, he can make love to you, if you like it, girl, for he is an amorous youth, and having already disposed of four wives, is impatient to show how much he honors their memories, by taking a fifth.”

  “The Quarter Master tells me,” said Pathfinder, innocently, “that when a man’s feelings have been harrowed by so many losses, there is no wiser way to soothe them, than by ploughing up the soil anew, in such a manner as to leave no traces of what have gone over it afore.”

  “Ay, that is just the difference between ploughing and harrowing,” returned the Serjeant with a grim smile. “But let him tell Mabel his mind, and there will be an end of his suit. I very well know that my daughter will never be the wife of Lieutenant Muir.”

  This was said in a way that was tantamount to declaring that no daughter of his, ever should become the wife of the person in question. Mabel had coloured, trembled, half laughed, and looked uneasy, but rallying her spirit, she said in a voice so cheerful as completely to conceal her agitation—

  “But, father, we might better wait until Mr. Muir manifests a wish that your daughter would have him—or rather a wish to have your daughter, lest we get the fable of sour grapes thrown into our faces.”

  “And what is that fable, Mabel,” eagerly demanded Pathfinder, who was any thing but learned in the ordinary lore of white men—“tell it to us, in your own pretty way; I dare say the sarjeant never heard it.”

  Mabel repeated the well known fable, and as her suitor had desired, in her own pretty way, which was a way to keep his eyes rivetted on her face, and the whole of his honest countenance covered with a smile.

  “That was like a fox!” cried Pathfinder, when she had ceased, “ay, and like a Mingo, too. Cunning and cruel; that is the way with both the riptyles. As to grapes, they are sour enough in this part of the country, even to them that can get at them, though I dare say there are seasons, and times, and places, where they are sourer to them that can’t. I should judge, now, my scalp is very sour in Mingo eyes.”

  “The sour grapes will be the other way, child, and it is Mr. Muir who will make the complaint. You would never marry that man, Mabel?”

  “Not she,” put in Cap, “a fellow who is only half a soldier, after all! The story of them there grapes, is quite a circumstance.”

  “I think little of marrying any one, dear father, and dear uncle, and would rather talk about it less, if you please. But, did I think of marrying at all, I do believe a man whose affections have already been tried by three or four wives would scarcely be my choice.”

  The serjeant nodded at the guide, as much as to say, you see how the land lies, and then he had sufficient consideration for his daughter’s feelings to change the subject.

  “Neither you, nor Mabel, brother Cap,” he resumed, “can have any legal authority with the garrison I leave behind, on the island, but you may counsel and influence. Strictly speaking Corporal McNab will be the commanding officer, and I have endeavored to impress him with a sense of his dignity, lest he might give way too much to the superior rank of Lieutenant Muir, who, being a volunteer, can have no right to interfere with the duty. I wish you to sustain the corporal, brother Cap, for should the Quarter Master once break through the regulations of the expedition, he may pretend to command me, as well as McNab.”

  “More particularly, should Mabel really cut him adrift, while you are absent. Of course, Serjeant, you’ll leave every thing that is afloat, under my care? The most d____le confusion has grown out of misunderstandings between commanders in chief, ashore and afloat.”

  “In one sense, brother, though, in a general way, the corporal is commander in chief. History does indeed tell us that a division of command leads to difficulties, and I shall avoid that danger. The corporal must command, but you can counsel freely, particularly in all matters relating to the boats, of which I shall leave one behind, to secure your retreat should there be occasion. I know the corporal well; he is a brave man, and a good soldier; and one that may be relied on, if the Santa Cruz can be kept from him. But then he is a Scotchman, and will be liable to the Quarter Master’s influence, against which I desire both you and Mabel to be on your guard.”

  “But why leave us behind, dear father?—I have come thus far to be a comfort to you, and why not go farther?”

  “You are a good girl, Mabel, and very like the Dunhams! But you must halt here. We shall leave the island to-morrow, before the day dawns, in order not to be seen by any prying eyes, coming from our cover, and we shall take the two largest boats, leaving you the other, and one bark canoe. We are about to go into the channel used by the French, where we shall lie in wait, perhaps a week, to intercept their supply boats that are about to pass up, on their way to Frontenac, loaded, in particular, with a heavy amount of Indian goods.”

  “Have you looked well to your papers, brother?” Cap anxiously demanded. “Of course, you know a capture on the high seas is piracy, unless your boat is regularily commissioned, either as a public, or a private armed cruiser.”

  “I have the honor to hold the colonel’s appointment as Serjeant Major of the 55th,” returned the other, drawing himself up with dignity, “and that will be sufficient even for the French King. If not, I have Major Duncan’s written orders.”

  “No papers them, for a warlike cruiser.”

  “They must suffice, brother, as I have no other. It is of vast importance to His Majesty’s interests, in this part of the world, that the boats in question should be captured and carried into Oswego. They contain the blankets, trinkets, rifles, ammunition,—in short, all the stores with which the French bribe their accursed savage allies to commit their unholy acts, setting at naught our holy religion and its precepts, the laws of humanity, and all that is sacred and dear among men. By cutting off these supplies, we shall derange their plans, and gain time on them, for the articles cannot be sent across the ocean again, this autumn.”

  “But, father, does not His Majesty employ Indians also?” asked Mabel, with some curiosity.

  “Certainly, girl, and he has a right to employ them—God bless him! It’s a very different thing, whether an Englishman or a Frenchman employs a savage, as every body can understand.”

  “That is plain enough, brother Dunham;—but I do not see my way so clear, in the matter of the ship’s papers.”

  “An English colonel’s appointment ought to satisfy any Frenchman of my authority; and what is more, brother, it shall.”

  “But I do not see the difference, father, between an Englishman’s and a Frenchman’s employing savages in war?”

  “All the odds in the world, child, though you may not be able to see it. In the first place, an Englishman is naturally humane and considerate, while a Frenchman is naturally ferocious and timid.”

  “And you may add, brother, that he will dance from morning ’till night, if you’ll let him.”

  “Very true,” gravely returned the Serjeant.

  “But, father, I cannot see that all this alters the case. If it be wrong in a Frenchman to hire savages to fight his enemies, it would seem to be equally wrong in an Englishman. You will admit this, Pathfinder.”

  “It’s reasonable—it’s reasonable, and I have never been one of them that has raised a cry ag’in the Frenchers for doing the very thing we do ourselves. Still, it is worse to consort with a Mingo, than to consort with a Delaware. If any of that just tribe were left, I should think it no sin to send them out ag’in the foe.”

  “And yet they scalp, and slay young and old—women and children!”

  “They have their gifts, Mabel, and are not to be blamed for following them. Natur’ is natur’, though the different trib
es have different ways of showing it. For my part, I am white, and endivor to maintain white feelings.”

  “This is all unintelligible to me,” answered Mabel. “What is right in King George, it would seem ought to be right in King Lewis.”

  “The King of France’s real name is Caput,” observed Cap, with his mouth full of venison. “I once carried a great scholar, as a passenger, and he told me that these Lewises thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth were all humbugs, and that the men’s real name was Caput, which is French for ‘foot,’ meaning that they ought to be put at the foot of the ladder, until ready to go up to be hanged.”

  “Well this does look like being given to scalping, as a nat’ral gift,” Pathfinder remarked, with the air of surprise with which one receives a novel idea, “and I shall have less compunction than ever in sarving ag’in the miscreants, though I can’t say I ever yet felt any worth naming.”

  As all parties, Mabel excepted, seemed satisfied with the course the discussion had taken, no one appeared to think it necessary to pursue the subject. The trio of men, indeed, in this particular, so much resembled the great mass of their fellow creatures, who usually judge of character equally without knowledge and without justice, that we might not have thought it necessary to record the discourse, had it not some bearing in its facts, on the incidents of the legend, and in its opinions on the motives of the characters.

  Supper was no sooner ended, than the Serjeant dismissed his guests, and then held a long and confidential dialogue with his daughter. He was little addicted to giving way to the gentler emotions, but the novelty of his present situation awakened feelings that he was unused to experience. The soldier, or the sailor, so long as he acts under the immediate supervision of a superior, thinks little of the risks he runs, but the moment he feels the responsibility of command, all the hazards of his undertaking begin to associate themselves in his mind, with the chances of success or failure. While he dwells less on his own personal danger, perhaps, than when that is the principal consideration, he has more lively general perceptions of all the risks, and submits more to the influence of the feelings which doubt creates. Such was now the case with Serjeant Dunham, who, instead of looking forward to victory as certain, according to his usual habits, began to feel the possibility that he might be parting with his child, forever.