CHAPTER LII. Intentique Ora tenebant
"We continued for months our weary life at the fort, and the commandantand I had our quarrels and reconciliations, our greasy games at cards,our dismal duets with his asthmatic flute and my cracked guitar. Thepoor Fawn took her beatings and her cans of liquor as her lord andmaster chose to administer them; and she nursed her papoose, or hermaster in the gout, or her prisoner in the ague; and so matters went onuntil the beginning of the fall of last year, when we were visited by ahunter who had important news to deliver to the commandant, and such asset the little garrison in no little excitement. The Marquis de Montcalmhad sent a considerable detachment to garrison the forts already in theFrench hands, and to take up further positions in the enemy's--that is,in the British--possessions. The troops had left Quebec and Montreal,and were coming up the St. Lawrence and the lakes in bateaux, withartillery and large provisions of warlike and other stores. Museau wouldbe superseded in his command by an officer of superior rank, who mightexchange me, or who might give me up to the Indians in reprisal forcruelties practised by our own people on many and many an officerand soldier of the enemy. The men of the fort were eager for thereinforcements; they would advance into Pennsylvania and New York; theywould seize upon Albany and Philadelphia; they would drive the Rosbifsinto the sea, and all America should be theirs from the Mississippi toNewfoundland.
"This was all very triumphant: but yet, somehow, the prospect of theFrench conquest did not add to Mr. Museau's satisfaction.
"'Eh, commandant!' says I, ''tis fort bien, but meanwhile your farm inNormandy, the pot of cider, and the trippes a la mode de Caen, where arethey?'
"'Yes; 'tis all very well, my garcon,' says he. 'But where will yoube when poor old Museau is superseded? Other officers are not goodcompanions like me. Very few men in the world have my humanity. Whenthere is a great garrison here, will my successors give thee theindulgences which honest Museau has granted thee? Thou wilt be kept ina sty like a pig ready for killing. As sure as one of our officers fallsinto the hands of your brigands of frontier-men, and evil comes to him,so surely wilt thou have to pay with thy skin for his. Thou wilt begiven up to our red allies--to the brethren of La Biche yonder. Didstthou see, last year, what they did to thy countrymen whom we took inthe action with Braddock? Roasting was the very smallest punishment, mafoi--was it not, La Biche?'
"And he entered into a variety of jocular descriptions of torturesinflicted, eyes burned out of their sockets, teeth and nails wrenchedout, limbs and bodies gashed--You turn pale, dear Miss Theo! Well, Iwill have pity, and will spare you the tortures which honest Museaurecounted in his pleasant way as likely to befall me.
"La Biche was by no means so affected as you seem to be, ladies, by therecital of these horrors. She had witnessed them in her time. She camefrom the Senecas, whose villages lie near the great cataract betweenOntario and Erie; her people made war for the English, and against them:they had fought with other tribes; and, in the battles between usand them, it is difficult to say whether whiteskin or redskin is mostsavage.
"'They may chop me into cutlets and broil me, 'tis true, commandant,'says I, coolly. 'But again, I say, you will never have the farm inNormandy.'
"'Go get the whisky-bottle, La Biche,' says Museau.
"'And it is not too late, even now. I will give the guide who takes mehome a large reward. And again I say, I promise, as a man of honour,ten thousand livres to--whom shall I say? to one who shall bring me anytoken--who shall bring me, say, my watch and seal with my grandfather'sarms--which I have seen in a chest somewhere in this fort.'
"'Ah, scelerat!' roars out the commandant, with a hoarse yell oflaughter. 'Thou hast eyes, thou! All is good prize in war.'
"'Think of a house in your village, of a fine field hard by with ahalf-dozen of cows--of a fine orchard all covered with fruit.'
"'And Javotte at the door with her wheel, and a rascal of a child,or two, with cheeks as red as the apples! O my country! O my mother!"whimpers out the commandant. 'Quick, La Biche, the whisky!'
"All that night the commandant was deep in thought, and La Biche, too,silent and melancholy. She sate away from us, nursing her child, andwhenever my eyes turned towards her I saw hers were fixed on me. Thepoor little infant began to cry, and was ordered away by Museau, withhis usual foul language, to the building which the luckless Bicheoccupied with her child. When she was gone, we both of us spoke ourminds freely; and I put such reasons before monsieur as his cupiditycould not resist.
"'How do you know,' he asked, 'that this hunter will serve you?'
"'That is my secret,' says I. But here, if you like, as we are not onhonour, I may tell it. When they come into the settlements for theirbargains, the hunters often stop a day or two for rest and drink andcompany, and our new friend loved all these. He played at cards withthe men: he set his furs against their liquor: he enjoyed himself atthe fort, singing, dancing, and gambling with them. I think I said theyliked to listen to my songs, and for want of better things to do, I wasoften singing and guitar-scraping: and we would have many a concert,the men joining in chorus, or dancing to my homely music, until it wasinterrupted by the drums and the retraite.
"Our guest the hunter was present at one or two of these concerts, and Ithought I would try if possibly he understood English. After we had hadour little stock of French songs, I said, 'My lads, I will give you anEnglish song,' and to the tune of 'Over the hills and far away,' whichmy good old grandfather used to hum as a favourite air in Marlborough'scamp, I made some doggerel words:--'This long, long year, a prisonerdrear; Ah, me! I'm tired of lingering here: I'll give a hundred guineasgay, To be over the hills and far away.'
"'What is it?' says the hunter. 'I don't understand.'
"''Tis a girl to her lover,' I answered; but I saw by the twinkle in theman's eye that he understood me.
"The next day, when there were no men within hearing, the trapper showedthat I was right in my conjecture, for as he passed me he hummed in alow tone, but in perfectly good English, 'Over the hills and far away,'the burden of my yesterday's doggerel.
"'If you are ready,' says he, 'I am ready. I know who your people are,and the way to them. Talk to the Fawn, and she will tell you what todo. What! You will not play with me?' Here he pulled out some cards, andspoke in French as two soldiers came up. 'Milor est trop grand seigneur?Bonjour, my lord!'
"And the man made me a mock bow, and walked away, shrugging up hisshoulders, to offer to play and drink elsewhere.
"I knew now that the Biche was to be the agent in the affair, and thatmy offer to Museau was accepted. The poor Fawn performed her part veryfaithfully and dexterously. I had not need of a word more with Museau;the matter was understood between us. The Fawn had long been allowedfree communication with me. She had tended me during my wound and in myillnesses, helped to do the work of my little chamber, my cooking, andso forth. She was free to go out of the fort, as I have said, and tothe river and the fields whence the corn and garden-stuff of the littlegarrison were brought in.
"Having gambled away most of the money which he received for hispeltries, the trapper now got together his store of flints, powder, andblankets, and took his leave. And, three days after his departure, theFawn gave me the signal that the time was come for me to make my littletrial for freedom.
"When first wounded, I had been taken by my kind Florac and placed onhis bed in the officers' room. When the fort was emptied of all officersexcept the old lieutenant left in command, I had been allowed to remainin my quarters, sometimes being left pretty free, sometimes being lockedup and fed on prisoners' rations, sometimes invited to share his mess bymy tipsy gaoler.
"This officers' house, or room, was of logs like the half-dozen otherswithin the fort, which mounted only four guns of small calibre, of whichone was on the bastion behind my cabin. Looking westward over this gun,you could see a small island at the confluence of the two rivers Ohioand Monongahela whereon Duquesne is situated. On the shore opposite thisisland were some trees.<
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"'You see those trees?' my poor Biche said to me the day before, in herFrench jargon. 'He wait for you behind those trees.'
"In the daytime the door of my quarters was open, and the Biche free tocome and go. On the day before she came in from the fields with a pickin her hand and a basketful of vegetables and potherbs for soup. She satdown on a bench at my door, the pick resting against it, and the basketat her side. I stood talking to her for a while: but I believe I was soidiotic that I never should have thought of putting the pick to any usehad she actually pushed it into my open door, so that it fell into myroom. 'Hide it' she said; 'want it soon.' And that afternoon it was, shepointed out the trees to me.
"On the next day, she comes, pretending to be very angry, and calls out,'My lord! my lord! why you not come to commandant's dinner? He very bad!Entendez-vows?' And she peeps into the room as she speaks, and flings acoil of rope at me.
"'I am coming, La Biche,' says I, and hobbled after her on my crutch.As I went in to the commandant's quarters she says, 'Pour ce soir.' Andthen I knew the time was come.
"As for Museau, he knew nothing about the matter. Not he! He growled atme, and said the soup was cold. He looked me steadily in the face, andtalked of this and that; not only whilst his servant was present, butafterwards as we smoked our pipes and played our game at piquet; whilstaccording to her wont, the poor Biche sate cowering in a corner.
"My friend's whisky-bottle was empty; and he said, with rather a knowinglook, he must have another glass--we must both have a glass that night.And rising from the table he stumped to the inner room where he kept hisfire-water under lock and key, and away from the poor Biche, who couldnot resist that temptation.
"As he turned his back the Biche raised herself; and he was no soonergone but she was at my feet, kissing my hand, pressing it to her heart,and bursting into tears over my knees. I confess I was so troubled bythis testimony of the poor creature's silent attachment and fondness,the extent of which I scarce had suspected before, that when Museaureturned, I had not recovered my equanimity, though the poor Fawn wasback in her corner again and shrouded in her blanket.
"He did not appear to remark anything strange in the behaviour ofeither. We sate down to our game, though my thoughts were so preoccupiedthat I scarcely knew what cards were before me.
"'I gain everything from you to-night, milor,' says he, grimly. 'We playupon parole.'
"'And you may count upon mine,' I replied.
"'Eh! 'tis all that you have!' says he.
"'Monsieur,' says I, 'my word is good for ten thousand livres;' and wecontinued our game.
"At last he said he had a headache, and would go to bed, and Iunderstood the orders too, that I was to retire. 'I wish you a goodnight, mon petit milor,' says he,--'stay, you will fall without yourcrutch,'--and his eyes twinkled at me, and his face wore a sarcasticgrin. In the agitation of the moment I had quite forgotten that I waslame, and was walking away at a pace as good as a grenadier's.
"'What a vilain night!' says he, looking out. In fact there was atempest abroad, and a great roaring, and wind. 'Bring a lanthorn, LaTulipe, and lock my lord comfortably into his quarters!' He stood amoment looking at me from his own door, and I saw a glimpse of the poorBiche behind him.
"The night was so rainy that the sentries preferred their boxes, and didnot disturb me in my work. The log-house was built with upright posts,deeply fixed in the ground, and horizontal logs laid upon it. I had todig under these, and work a hole sufficient to admit my body to pass. Ibegan in the dark, soon after tattoo. It was some while after midnightbefore my work was done, when I lifted my hand up under the log and feltthe rain from without falling upon it. I had to work very cautiously fortwo hours after that, and then crept through to the parapet and silentlyflung my rope over the gun; not without a little tremor of heart, lestthe sentry should see me and send a charge of lead into my body.
"The wall was but twelve feet, and my fall into the ditch easy enough. Iwaited a while there, looking steadily under the gun, and trying to seethe river and the island. I heard the sentry pacing up above and humminga tune. The darkness became more clear to me ere long, and the moonrose, and I saw the river shining before me, and the dark rocks andtrees of the island rising in the waters.
"I made for this mark as swiftly as I could, and for the clump of treesto which I had been directed. Oh, what a relief I had when I heard a lowvoice humming there, 'Over the hills and far away'!"
When Mr. George came to this part of his narrative, Miss Theo, who wasseated by a harpsichord, turned round and dashed off the tune on theinstrument, whilst all the little company broke out into the merrychorus.
"Our way," the speaker went on, "lay through a level tract offorest with which my guide was familiar, upon the right bank of theMonongahela. By daylight we came to a clearer country, and my trapperasked me--Silverheels was the name by which he went--had I ever seenthe spot before? It was the fatal field where Braddock had fallen, andwhence I had been wonderfully rescued in the summer of the previousyear. Now, the leaves were beginning to be tinted with the magnificenthues of our autumn."
"Ah, brother!" cries Harry, seizing his brother's hand. "I was gamblingand making a fool of myself at the Wells and in London, when myGeorge was flying for his life in the wilderness! Oh, what a miserablespendthrift I have been!"
"But I think thou art not unworthy to be called thy mother's son," saidMrs. Lambert, very softly, and with moistened eyes. Indeed, if Harryhad erred, to mark his repentance, his love, his unselfish joy andgenerosity, was to feel that there was hope for the humbled and kindyoung sinner.
"We presently crossed the river" George resumed, "taking our coursealong the base of the western slopes of the Alleghanies; and through agrand forest region of oaks and maple, and enormous poplars that growa hundred feet high without a branch. It was the Indians whom we hadto avoid, besides the outlying parties of French. Always of doubtfulloyalty, the savages have been specially against us, since ourill-treatment of them, and the French triumph over us two years ago.
"I was but weak still, and our journey through the wilderness lasted afortnight or more. As we advanced, the woods became redder and redder.The frost nipped sharply of nights. We lighted fires at our feet, andslept in our blankets as best we might. At this time of year the hunterswho live in the mountains get their sugar from the maples. We came uponmore than one such family, camping near their trees by the mountainstreams; and they welcomed us at their fires, and gave us of theirvenison. So we passed over the two ranges of the Laurel Hills and theAlleghanies. The last day's march of my trusty guide and myself took usdown that wild, magnificent pass of Will's Creek, a valley lying betweencliffs near a thousand feet high--bald, white, and broken into towerslike huge fortifications, with eagles wheeling round the summits of therocks, and watching their nests among the crags.
"And hence we descended to Cumberland, whence we had marched in the yearbefore, and where there was now a considerable garrison of our people.Oh! you may think it was a welcome day when I saw English colours againon the banks of our native Potomac!"
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