University of Virginia Library

LETTER VI.

Through the assemblage of armed men at the
garrison, Weshop held his way, without stopping
to make inquiries: for his eye conjectured the
meaning of all that he saw. He went directly to
Van Tromp's room, and found him alone. With
a motion of the hand, which native feeling rendered
graceful, he introduced to one another, these
long separated friends, who fairly rushed into each
other's arms, and shed tears of joy at so unexpected
a meeting. Du Quesne who felt at the moment
happier, perhaps, than he had ever been before,
pointed in silence to the Indian as his deliverer;
and Van Tromp, was astonished at the success of
his achievement, and additionally grateful on this
emergency, because he should have the assistance
of his friend. He clasped the hand of Weshop
strongly, and looking full upon his quiet features,
while his own were agitated with different emotions,
spoke to him a few words in Indian, to which
Weshop replied, for he loved to hear the sound of
his native tongue, particularly from Van Tromp.

The Patroon, for so was Van Tromp commonly
called, relaxed his grasp, and left the Indian to supply
his wants, and consult his pleasure: adding
only, “You will not go?” “No,” said the warrior,
“not now, perhaps never.” The two friends,
left to themselves, commenced that sort of conversation
which was natural on the occasion, in the
course of which they explained, each to the other,
whatever was the subject of mutual inquiry, till Du
Quesne declared that as it was the first undisturbed
moment that he had enjoyed for long and long before,
he would retire. “What a luxury,” said he
“once more to sleep in safety after all my troubles.”

“But you will wait for the evening service,”
said the Patroon, “the drum beats in a few moments.”
“What, do you muster your men for exercise?”
“No—our people shoot best without a
manual, but we meet, men, women, and children,
when the drum beats, for prayers.” “What, and
the Indians too? I should think they would be
disorderly.” “They are full as quiet as the rest.
We have with us a young clergyman by the name
of Elliot, from Massachusetts, who performs part of
his service in their language; and there is no doubt
they are benefitted by his instruction. They only
require attention.”

“The Indians,” said Du Quesne, “seem a mysterious
people, about whom little can be known,
though they swarm about us in such numbers.
They are savage, bloodthirsty, and implacable. I
don't think they can ever be civilized.” “What
think you of that specimen which came to you in
prison?” said Van Tromp. “Ah! that indeed—
think of him? he is a wonder any where—I owe
him my life. That man could redeem his tribe if
they were all murderers.” “He has been cultivated
some,” said Van Tromp, “but you may one

day see him use his tomahawk, and bow, and not
wait your bidding, or ask your advice; and use
the rifle too, with as little remorse as any of his
countrymen. One reason why so little has ever
been known about the Indians, is, that they will
not communicate. They have a religion, it is certain;
and I suspect they observe their articles of
faith, though they seldom tell what they are, not
for want of language, for if you understand their
language you will find it sufficiently copious; and
if you listen to their conversation, you will be convinced
that the sounds are softer than those of any
other tongue that is spoken. When the English
undertake to write them in words, they fairly exhaust
their liquids and vowels, and the reader who
is acquainted with the spoken language, is as much
at a loss to utter it, as if he stood at a desk of printers'
types; I have heard a better speech from an Indian
chief, than that Greek oration of Dudley's Peri
ton Indianon, but I forget my Greek, and I could
not think of the word for civilized, if it was to civilize
the whole tribe. Hark, the drum beats, you
will know more of these in time—let us go.”

The religious service of the evening was performed,
and the friends retired; Du Quesne to a
repose, which after his fatigue, was as sweet as the
sleep of infancy, and Van Tromp, to visit his new
inmates and to go the rounds of his duty—after
which, at the winding of a horn, the garrison was
silent.

Meanwhile Weshop, after eating and drinking
among the people, and learning the particulars of
the gathering, was retiring to the kitchen where he
meant to spend the night. One Jonathan Hodges,
a Yankee man, had taken up his quarters with
Shadrach, and the black was just saying to him,
“I wonder what's become of our runaway Indian,”

as the door opened. “Ah here he comes,” continued
the speaker, “glad to see you old friend,
help yourself,” as Weshop unasked was taking up
their mug of cider, the remains of which he drank
without stopping for breath. “Well, Weshop,”
said Jonathan, “what's the news; you must have
been somewhere, by the strange gentleman I saw
tagging at your heels—who was he, Weshop; I
say, Weshop, who was he?” “Why don't you tell
him, dumbhead,” said the black, (“can't get nothing
out of him;) or here, help clear away these
things, —never was so poor a tool in a house as
an Indian.”

“Come, Bearskin,” said Jonathan, “clear your
clam with some more cider, and give us the news.
Did you see any thing of my brindle cow that I
lost last June? I always thought Jim Staines shot
that cow for a grudge he owed me, or I owed him.”

“My name an't Bearskin, it's Weshop, I hav'nt
seen your cow.” “Nobody cares for your name;”
was the reply—“Blueskin, Redbird, Yellowlegs:
any thing is name enough for an Indian—the
name of an Indian!” and he uttered it very much
as Dr. Doubty does “the form of a hat!”

Weshop motioned towards an unfinished hoe-handle
that stood in the corner.

“What, going to strike!” said Jonathan, “they
talk about civilizing the Indians! bless my soul—
I'd rather tame that wild cat that I shot night before
last.” “One thing I'll say for Weshop,” said
the black, “he an't a talking man.” “No,” said
Jonathan, “but to hear 'em yell in the woods, as
I have done, a body would think they could talk.
There is an oddity among people of different colors.”
“Talk to Shadrach about colors,” said the Indian.
“Different colors is nothing,” said the black. “O
no—its owing to heat, and cold, and shade, and

the sun, and moon, and the seven stars; but there
is a difference among nations,” said Jonathan,
“though, by the way, I was never out of this.”
“Pray Jonathan,” said Shadrach “how many nations
are there?” “Ten thousand; but what is that
to you? brush your master's boots, and have the
guns in order for the hunting that is to be on
Thursday; but put out the candle now—don't you
hear the horn blowing for nine o'clock? Weshop
has turned in I see, and I'll follow his example.”
So saying, Jonathan walked towards his bunk on
one side of the kitchen, muttering something about
Shadrach, Mesheck, and Abednego.

All was still, when Weshop, who awoke at the
slightest noise, heard the howling of a dog the
door. “Get up, Shadrach, and let in Dash.” The
Negro delayed some time, till the loudness of the
dog's cries urged him to open the door. “Lay
down, Dash,” said he, as the dog bounced into the
room; but he was not to be quieted. He overturned
stools and benches, howled, returned to the door,
and then back, till the astonished Negro exclaimed
“the dog is mad.” “Something is the matter,”
said the Indian, “where is your master?” Shadrach
lighted a candle, and the Indian springing on
his feet, opened the inner door, and followed by
the dog, went directly to the bedroom of Van
Tromp. It was empty, and the bed had not been
occupied during the night. He roused Du Quesne,
and told his conjectures. The newly arrived guest,
with the advice of his late guide, led the way, and
kept close to the dog, set out upon a search without
disturbing the garrison: attended by Shadrach
and Jonathan.

A few who had been detained for the duty of a
night watch, waited to prepare lanterns and horses,
and soon overtook the party in advance, but as

they found themselves at a loss in the dark, it was
agreed to take the dog for a guide. Weshop tied
a string to his collar, and hastened along at as
round a trot as the horsemen dared to venture.

After passing through woods and underbrush,
they came to something like a path, which led
along the brow of a steep declivity, whose sides
were covered with bushes, and too dark to be seen.
The turf was broken at the edge of the bank, and
there were some deep prints of a horse's hoofs.
Weshop let slip the dog, and followed him down
the descent, supporting by the way with shrubs
and stones. The result of the search was soon
known. Van Tromp's horse lay dead from the
fall, and he was almost senseless. He was carefully
conveyed to the garrison, without unnecessary
disturbance; and as Jonathan and Shadrach
were again betaking themselves to rest, they wondered
what he could have been doing there at that
time of night.

Van Tromp had rode out of the garrison, soon
after sunset, for the purpose, as those who saw him
supposed, of reconnoitering the country. His departure
was noticed only by a few, who might be
elsewhere at his return; and the constant hurrying
and shifting from place to place among the new
comers, left every one to suppose, when the horn
blew, that all was well, as the sentinel on his duty
declared. A large black dog, was the only attendant
that followed his master.

The manuscript, which is unusually brief in this
spot, makes mention of a family in the neighborhood,
where an elderly lady resided, and a young
lady lived, too, of uncommon beauty and accomplishments;
and adds, that, in peaceful times, Van
Tromp, for want of more edifying company, occasionally
rode that way. How that may have

been, is rather to be conjectured from the residue
of the story. The immediate result of the night's
adventure was, that he was so badly bruised as to
be scarcely able to turn himself in bed; and it was
certain he could not attend the hunting, which was
to take place three days after.

This hunting was not the common sporting chase
after a fox, or a tame deer, nor did the skill which
it required, depend on leaping fences, or clearing
ditches. It was not a search after “a partridge
among the mountains;”—provision, until more
quiet times, was to be made for nearly ninety souls,
including women and children; an extent of dangerous
country was to be scoured, embracing what
was called the Iroquois hunting ground, and the still
rougher tract beyond; and a fortnight might be
consumed in the enterprise. Meanwhile the garrison
would be stripped of its men, except a few
for immediate service, and left to the family discipline
of old and young women.

“I shall not be able to hunt with you, Du Quesne,”
said Van Tromp, “and you'll find it a bad
job for a beginner.” “I hope you'll find your hurt
not serious,” said he. “I shall not be able to endure
it,” was the reply; “but, after all, my mind
torments me most. I have a dreadful apprehension,
Du Quesne. This accident warus me that I
may meet with others, and for fear of what may
happen, must make you my confidant. What think
you I took this ride for? I'll tell you. About five
miles off, at a place near the lake which the Indians
call Manhaddock, and in the French, Point au Fer
—but no matter for the name—is a family, which,
except servants and laborers, consists of a lady, and
girl by the name of Dubourg. She was the daughter
of a French officer, who commanded a post on
the lines, I believe.

He married somewhere on the Hudson, and lost
his wife, and was then ordered abroad—but pshaw!
“what care you for that?” “Any thing that interests
you, I care for,” said Du Quesne. “O! it's
no interest of mine—that is, it would be very neglectful
in me to leave such a family, so helpless, at
such a time; so I meant to have brought the old
lady and her people here. But Du Quesne,” added
he, lowering his voice, “the house and buildings
are burnt to the ground; and what can have
become of the girl—so beautiful, I wish you could
have seen her. A horrid suspicion came across
my mind, as I wept over the spot. I raked the
ashes, not knowing but I might find human bones.”

Van Tromp made a pause of some moments,
which Du Quesne did not interrupt. He proceeded.
“There is one chance; the New-England
troops were to assemble on the other side of the
lake; and it may be, that they are there already.
If so, these people may have gone down the water,
to their protection. But what I mean to say—if
any thing befals me, remember to find them out,
and take care of them if they are living.”