 | CHAPTER X. The wept of Wish-ton-Wish |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
“Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partizan?
Hor. Do, if it will not stand.
Mar. 'Tis here!
Hor. 'Tis here!
Mar. 'Tis gone!”
Hamlet.
The time that this unexpected visiter stood uncloaked
and exposed to recognition, before the eyes
of the curious group in the outer room, did not much
exceed a minute. Still it was long enough to allow
men who rarely overlooked the smallest peculiarity
of dress or air, to note some of the more distinguishing
accompaniments of his attire. The heavy horseman's
pistols, once before exhibited, were in his
girdle, and young Mark got a glimpse of a silver-handled
dagger which had pleased his eye before
that night. But the passage of his grandfather and
the stranger from the room prevented the boy from
determining whether it was entirely of the same
fashion as that, which, rather as a memorial of by-gone
scenes than for any service that it might now
be expected to perform, hung above the bed of the
former.
“The man hath not yet parted with his arms!”
exclaimed the quick-sighted youth, when he found
that every other tongue continued silent. “I would
he may now leave them with my grand'ther, that
I may chase the skulking Wampanoag to his hiding—”
“Hot-headed boy! Thy tongue is too much given
to levity,” said Ruth, who had not only resumed her
seat, but the light employment that had been interrupted
by the blast at the gate, with a calmness of
her maidens. “Instead of cherishing the lessons of
peace that are taught thee, thy unruly thoughts
are ever bent on strife.”
“Is there harm in wishing to be armed with a
weapon suited to my years, that I may do service
in beating down the power of our enemies; and perhaps
aid something, too, in affording security to my
mother?”
“Thy mother hath no fears,” returned the matron
gravely, while grateful affection prompted a
kind but furtive glance towards the high-spirited
though sometimes froward lad. “Reason hath already
taught me the folly of alarm, because one
has knocked at our gate in the night-season. Lay
aside thy arms, men; you see that my husband no
longer clings to the musket. Be certain that his eye
will give us warning, when there shall be danger at
hand.”
The unconcern of her husband was even more
strikingly true, than the simple language of his wife
would appear to convey. Content had not only laid
aside his weapon, but he had resumed his seat near
the fire, with an air as calm, as assured, and it might
have seemed to one watchfully observant, as understanding,
as her own. Until now, the stout Dudley
had remained leaning on his piece, immovable and
apparently unconscious as a statue. But, following
the injunctions of one he was accustomed to obey,
he placed the musket against the wall, with the care
of a hunter, and then running a hand through his
shaggy locks, as though the action might quicken
ideas that were never remarkably active, he bluntly
exclaimed—
“An armed hand is well in these forests, but an
armed heel is not less wanting to him who would
push a roadster from the Connecticut to the Wish-Ton-Wish,
between a rising and a setting sun! The
by the sign that his boot beareth no spur. When he
worried, by dint of hard pricking, the miserable
hack that proved food for the wolves, through
the forest, he had better appointments. I saw the
bones of the animal no later than this day. They
have been polished by fowls and frost, till the driven
snow of the mountains is not whiter!”
Meaning and uneasy, but hasty glances of the eye
were exchanged between Content and Ruth, as Eben
Dudley thus uttered the thoughts which had been
suggested by the unexpected return of the stranger.
“Go you to the look-out at the western palisadoes,”
said the latter; “and see if perchance the
Indian may not be lurking near the dwellings,
ashamed of his delay, and perchance fearful of calling
us to his admission. I cannot think that the child
means to desert us, with no sign of kindness, and
without leave-taking.”
“I will not take upon me to say, how much
or how little of ceremony the youngster may fancy
to be due to the master of the valley and his kin;
but if not gone already, the snow will not melt more
quietly in the thaw, than the lad will one day disappear.
Reuben Ring, thou hast an eye for light
or darkness; come forth with me, that no sign escape
us. Should thy sister, Faith, make one of our
party, it would not be easy for the red-skin to pass
the clearing without a hail.”
“Go to,” hurriedly answered the female; “it is
more womanly that I tarry to see to the wants of him
who hath journeyed far and hard, since the rising
of the sun. If the boy pass thy vigilance, wakeful
Dudley, he will have little cause to fear that of
others.”
Though Faith so decidedly declined to make one
of the party, her brother complied without reluctance.
The young men were about to quit the place
Dudley was already laid, rose quietly without aid
from his finger, the door opened, and the object of
their intended search glided past them, and took his
customary position in one of the more retired corners
of the room. There was so much of the ordinary,
noiseless manner of the young captive in this
entrance, that for a moment they who witnessed the
passage of his dark form across the apartment, were
led to think the movement no more than the visit
he was always permitted to make at that hour. But
recollection soon came, and with it not only the suspicious
circumstance of his disappearance, but the
inexplicable manner of his admission within the
gates.
“The pickets must be looked to!” exclaimed
Dudley, the instant a second look assured him that
his eyes in truth beheld him who had been missing.
“The place that a stripling can scale, might well
admit a host.”
“Truly,” said Content, “this needeth explanation.
Hath not the boy entered when the gate was
opened for the stranger?—Here cometh one that
may speak to the fact!”
“It is so,” said the individual named, who re-entered
from the inner room in season to hear the nature
of the remark. “I found this native child near
thy gate, and took upon me the office of a Christian
man to bid him welcome. Certain am I, that one,
kind of heart and gently disposed, like the mistress
of this family, will not turn him away in anger.”
“He is no stranger at our fire, or at our board,”
said Ruth; “had it been otherwise, thou wouldst
have done well.”
Eben Dudley looked incredulous. His mind had
been powerfully exercised that day with visions of
the marvellous, and, of a certainty, there was some
of the youth had been made.
“It will be well to look to the fastenings,” he
muttered, “lest others, less easy to dispose of, should
follow. Now that invisible agencies are at work in
the Colony, one may not sleep too soundly!”
“Then go thou to the look-out, and keep the
watch, till the clock shall strike the hour of midnight;”
said the Puritan, who uttered the command
in a manner to show that he was in truth moved
by considerations far deeper than the vague apprehensions
of his dependant. “Ere sleep overcome
thee, another shall be ready for the relief.”
Mark Heathcote seldom spoke, but respectful
silence permitted the lowest of his syllables to be
audible. On the present occasion, when his voice
was first heard, such a stillness came over all in
presence, that he finished the sentence amid the
nearly imperceptible breathings of the listeners.
In this momentary but death-like quiet, there arose
a blast from the conch at the gate, that might have
seemed an echo of that which had so lately startled
the already-excited inmates of the dwelling. At the
repetition of sounds so unwonted, all sprang to their
feet, but no one spoke. Content cast a hurried and
inquiring glance at his father, who in his turn had
anxiously sought the eye of the stranger. The latter
stood firm and unmoved. One hand was clenched
upon the back of the chair from which he had
arisen, and the other grasped, perhaps unconsciously,
the handle of one of those weapons which had attracted
the attention of young Mark, and which
still continued thrust through the broad leathern
belt that girded his doublet.
“The sound is like that, which one little used to
deal with earthly instruments might raise!” muttered
one of those whose mind had been prepared,
marvellous.
“Come from what quarter it may, it is a summons
that must be answered;” returned Content.
“Dudley, thy musket; this visit is so unwonted,
that more than one hand should do the office of
porter.”
The borderer instantly complied, muttering between
his teeth as he shook the priming deeper into
the barrel of his piece, “Your over-sea gallants are
quick on the trial to-night!” Then throwing the
musket into the hollow of his arm, he cast a look
of discontent and resentment towards Faith Ring,
and was about to open the door for the passage of
Content, when another blast arose on the silence
without. The second touch of the shell was firmer,
longer, louder, and more true, than that by which
it had just been preceded.
“One might fancy the conch was speaking in
mockery,” observed Content, looking with meaning
towards their guest. “Never did sound more resemble
sound than these we have just heard, and
those thou drew from the shell when asking admission.”
A sudden light appeared to break in upon the
intelligence of the stranger. Advancing more into
the circle, rather with the freedom of long familiarity
than with the diffidence of a newly-arrived
guest, he motioned for silence as he said—
“Let none move, but this stout woodsman, the
young captain and myself. We will go forth, and
doubt not that the safety of those within shall be
regarded.”
Notwithstanding the singularity of this proposal,
as it appeared to excite neither surprise nor opposition
in the Puritan or his son, the rest of the family
offered no objection. The stranger had no sooner
spoken, than he advanced near to the torch, and
turning to old Mark, he continued in an under tone—
“Peradventure there will be more worldly strife
than any which can flow from the agencies that
stir up the unquiet spirits of the Colonies. In such
an extremity, it may be well to observe a soldier's
caution.”
“I like not this mockery of sound,” returned
the Puritan; “it argueth a taunting and fiend-like
temper. We have, of late, had in this Colony
tragical instances of what the disappointed malice
of Azazel can attempt; and it would be vain to
hope that the evil agencies are not vexed with the
sight of my Bethel.”
Though the stranger listened to the words of his
host with respect, it was plain that his thoughts
dwelt on dangers of a different character. The
member that still rested on the handle of his weapon,
was clenched with greater firmness; and a grim,
though a melancholy expression was seated about
a mouth, that was compressed in a manner to denote
the physical, rather than the spiritual resolution of
the man. He made a sign to the two companions
he had chosen, and led the way to the court.
By this time, the shades of night had materially
thickened, and, although the hour was still early, a
darkness had come over the valley that rendered it
difficult to distinguish objects at any distance from
the eye. The obscurity made it necessary that
they, who now issued from the door of the dwelling,
should advance with caution, lest, ere properly admonished
of its presence, their persons should be
exposed to some lurking danger. When the three,
however, were safely established behind the thick
curtain of plank and earth that covered and commanded
the entrance, and where their persons, from
the shoulders downward, were completely protected,
alike from shot and arrow, Content demanded to
hour when they were habitually closed for the
night. Instead of receiving, as before, a ready
answer, the silence was so profound, that his own
words were very distinctly heard repeated, as was
not uncommon at that quiet hour, among the recesses
of the neighboring woods.
“Come it from Devil, or come it from man, here
is treachery!” whispered the stranger after a fitting
pause. “Artifice must be met by artifice; but thou
art much abler to advise against the wiles of the
forest, than one trained, as I have been, in the less
cunning deceptions of Christian warfare.”
“What think'st, Dudley?” asked Content—“Will
it be well to sally, or shall we wait another signal
from the conch?”
“Much dependeth on the quality of the guests
expected,” returned he of whom counsel was asked.
“As for the braggart gallants, that are over-valiant
among the maidens, and heavy of heart when they
think the screech of the jay an Indian whoop, I care
not if ye beat the pickets to the earth, and call
upon them to enter on the gallop. I know the
manner to send them to the upper story of the
block, quicker than the cluck of the turkey can
muster its young; but—”
“'Tis well to be discreet in language, in a moment
of such serious uncertainty!” interrupted the stranger.
“We look for no gallants of the kind.”
“Then will I give you a conceit that shall know
the reason of the music of yon conch. Go ye two
back into the house, making much conversation by
the way, in order that any without may hear.
When ye have entered, it shall be my task to find
such a post nigh the gate, that none shall knock
again, and no porter be at hand to question them
in the matter of their errand.”
“This soundeth better,” said Content; “and that
young men, who are accustomed to this species of
artifice, shall issue by the secret door and lie in wait
behind the dwellings, in order that support shall
not be wanting in case of violence. Whatever else
thou dost, Dudley, remember that thou dost not
undo the fastenings of the postern.”
“Look to the support,” returned the woodsman;
“should it be keen-eyed Reuben Ring, I shall feel
none the less certain that good aid is at my back.
The whole of that family are quick of wit and
ready of invention, unless it may be the wight who
hath got the form without the reason of a man.”
“Thou shalt have Reuben, and none other of his
kin,” said Content. “Be well advised of the fastenings,
and so I wish thee all fitting success, in a deception
that cannot be sinful, since it aims only at
our safety.”
With this injunction, Content and the stranger
left Dudley to the practice of his own devices, the
former observing the precaution to speak aloud
while returning, in order that any listeners without
might be led to suppose the whole party had retired
from the search, satisfied of its fruitlessness.
In the mean time, the youth left nigh the postern
set about the accomplishment of the task he had
undertaken, in sober earnest. Instead of descending
in a direct line to the palisadoes, he also ascended,
and made a circuit among the out-buildings on the
margin of the acclivity. Then bending so low as
to blend his form with objects on the snow, he gained
an angle of the palisadoes, at a point remote from
the spot he intended to watch, and, as he hoped,
aided by the darkness of the hour and the shadows
of the hill, completely protected from observation.
When beneath the palisadoes, the sentinel crouched
to the earth, creeping with extreme caution along
the timber which united their lower ends, until he
that was erected for the very purpose to which he
now intended it should be applied. Once within the
cover of this little recess, the sturdy woodsman
bestowed his large frame, with as much attention
to comfort and security as the circumstances would
permit. Here he prepared to pass many weary
minutes, before there should be further need of his
services.
The reader will find no difficulty in believing
that one of opinions like those of the borderer, did
not enter on his silent watch without much distrust
of the character of the guests that he might be
called upon to receive. Enough has been shown to
prove that the suspicion uppermost in his mind was,
that the unwelcome agents of the government had
returned on the heels of the stranger. But, notwithstanding
the seeming probability of this opinion,
there were secret misgivings of the earthly
origin of the two last windings of the shell. All the
legends, and all the most credited evidence in cases
of prestigious agency, as it had been exhibited in
the colonies of New-England, went to show the
malignant pleasure the Evil Spirits found, in indulging
their wicked mockeries, or in otherwise tormenting
those who placed their support on a faith,
that was believed to be so repugnant to their own
ungrateful and abandoned natures. Under the impressions,
naturally excited by the communication
he had held with the traveller in the mountains,
Eben Dudley found his mind equally divided between
the expectation of seeing, at each moment,
one of the men whom he had induced to quit the
valley so unceremoniously, returning to obtain, surreptitiously,
admission within the gate, or of being
made an unwilling witness of some wicked manifestation
of that power which was temporarily committed
to the invisibles. In both of these expectations,
Notwithstanding the strong spiritual bias of the
opinions of the credulous sentinel, there was too
much of the dross of temporal things in his composition,
to elevate him altogether above the weakness
of humanity. A mind so encumbered began
to weary with its own contemplations; and, as it
grew feeble with its extraordinary efforts, the
dominion of matter gradually resumed its sway.
Thought, instead of being clear and active, as the
emergency would have seemed to require, began to
grow misty. Once or twice the borderer half arose,
and appeared to look about him with observation;
and then, as his large frame fell heavily back into
its former semi-recumbent attitude, he grew tranquil
and stationary. This movement was several
times repeated, at intervals of increasing length,
till, at the end of an hour, forgetting alike the hunt,
the troopers, and the mysterious agents of evil, the
young man yielded to the fatigue of the day. The
tall oaks of the adjoining forest stood not more immovable
in the quiet of the tranquil hour, than his
frame now leaned against the side of its narrow
habitation.
How much time was thus lost in inactivity, Eben
Dudley could never precisely tell. He always
stoutly maintained it could not have been long, since
his watch was not disturbed by the smallest of those
sounds from the woods, which sometimes occur in
deep night, and which may be termed the breathing
of the forest in its slumbers. His first distinct recollection,
was that of feeling a hand grasped with
the power of a giant. Springing to his feet, the
young man eagerly stretched forth an arm, saying
as he did so, in words sufficiently confused—
“If the buck hath fallen by a shot in the head,
I grant him to be thine, Reuben Ring; but if struck
hand.”
“Truly, a very just division of the spoil,” returned
one in an under tone, and speaking as if sounds
too loud might be dangerous. “Thou givest the
head of the deer for a target to Reuben Ring, and
keepest the rest of the creature to thine own uses.”
“Who hath sent thee, at this hour, to the postern?
Dost not know that there are thought to be
strangers, outlying in the fields?”
“I know that there are some, who are not strangers,
in-lying on their watch!” said Faith Ring.
“What shame would come upon thee, Dudley, did
the Captain, and they who have been so strongly
exercised in prayer within, but suspect how little
care thou hast had of their safety, the while!”
“Have they come to harm? If the Captain hath
held them to spiritual movements, I hope he will
allow that nothing earthly hath passed this postern
to disturb the exercise. As I hope to be dealt honestly
by, in all matters of character, I have not
once quitted the gate, since the watch was set.”
“Else wouldst thou be the famousest sleep-walker
in the Connecticut Colony! Why, drowsy one, conch
cannot raise a louder blast than that thou soundest,
when eyes are fairly shut in sleep. This may be
watching, according to thy meaning of the word;
but infant in its cradle is not half so ignorant of
that which passeth around it, as thou hast been.”
“I think, Faith Ring, that thou hast gotten to
be much given to backbiting, and evil saying against
friends, since the visit of the gallants from over
sea.”
“Out upon the gallants from over sea, and thee
too, man! I am not a girl to be flouted with bold
speech from one who doth not know whether he be
sleeping or waking. I tell thee, thy good name
would be lost in the family, did it come to the ears
of that soldier stranger, up in the dwelling, of
whom even the Madam maketh so great ceremony,
that thou hast been watching with a tuneful nose,
an open mouth, and a sealed eye.”
“If any but thee hadst said this slander of me,
girl, it would go nigh to raise hot speech between
us! Thy brother, Reuben Ring, knows better than
to stir my temper, by such falsity of accusation.”
“Thou dealest so generously by him, that he is
prone to forget thy misdeeds. Truly he hath the
head of the buck, while thou contentest thyself with
the offals and all the less worthy parts! Go to, Dudley;
thou wast in a heavy dream when I caused
thee to awake.”
“A pretty time have we fallen upon, when petticoats
are used instead of beards and strong-armed
men, to go the rounds of the sentinels, and to say
who sleepeth and who is watchful! What hath
brought thee so far from the exercises and so nigh
the gates, Mistress Faith, now that there is no over-sea
gallant to soothe thy ears with lying speech
and light declarations.”
“If speech not to be credited is that I seek,” returned
the girl, “truly the errand hath not been
without its reward. What brought me hither, sooth!
why, the Madam hath need of articles from the
outer buttery—and—ay—and my ears led me to
the postern. Thou knowest, musical Dudley, that
I have had occasion to hearken to thy watchful
notes before this night. But my time is too useful
to be wasted in idleness; thou art now awake, and
may thank her who hath done thee a good turn
with no wish to boast of it, that one of a black
beard is not the laughing-stock of all the youths in
the family. If thou keepest thine own counsel, the
Captain may yet praise thee for a vigilant sentinel;
the truth!”
“Perhaps a little anger at unjust suspicions may
have prompted more than the matter needed, Faith,
when I taxed thee with the love of backbiting, and
I do now recall that word; though I will ever deny
that aught more, than some wandering recollection
concerning the hunt of this day, hath come over
my thoughts, and perhaps made me even forgetful
that it was needful to be silent at the postern; and
therefore, on the truth of a Christian man, I do forgive
thee, the—”
But Faith was already out of sight and out of
hearing. Dudley himself, who began to have certain
prickings of conscience concerning the ingratitude
he had manifested to one who had taken so much
interest in his reputation, now bethought him seriously
of that which remained to be done. He had
much reason to suspect that there was less of the
night before him than he had at first believed, and
he became in consequence more sensible of the necessity
of making some report of the events of his
watch. Accordingly, he cast a scrutinizing glance
around, in order to make sure that the facts should
not contradict his testimony, and then, first examining
the fastenings of the postern, he mounted the
hill, and presented himself before the family. The
members of the latter, having in truth passed most
of the long interval of his absence in spiritual exercises,
and in religious conversation, were not so
sensible of his delay in reporting, as they might
otherwise have been.
“What tidings dost thou bring us from without?”
said Content, so soon as the self-relieved sentinel
appeared. “Hast seen any, or hast heard that
which is suspicious?”
Ere Dudley would answer, his eye did not fail to
study the half-malicious expression of the countenance
directly opposite to the place where he stood. But
reading there no more than a glance of playful
though smothered irony, he was encouraged to proceed
in his report.
“The watch has been quiet,” was the answer;
“and there is little cause to keep the sleepers longer
from their beds. Some vigilant eyes, like those
of Reuben Ring and my own, had better be open
until the morning; further than that, is there no
reason for being wakeful.”
Perhaps the borderer would have dwelt more at
large on his own readiness to pass the remainder of
the hours of rest in attending to the security of
those who slept, had not another wicked glance
from the dark, laughing eye of her who stood so
favorably placed to observe his countenance, admonished
him of the prudence of being modest in his
professions.
“This alarm hath then happily passed away,”
said the Puritan, arising. “We will now go to our
pillows in thankfulness and peace. Thy service shall
not be forgotten, Dudley; for thou hast exposed
thyself to seeming danger, at least, in our behalf.”
“That hath he!” half-whispered Faith; “and
sure am I, that we maidens will not forget his readiness
to lose the sweets of sleep, in order that the
feeble may not come to harm.”
“Speak not of the trifle,” hurriedly returned the
other. “There has been some deception in the
sounds, for it is now my opinion, except to summon
us to the gate, that this stranger might enter—the
conch hath not been touched at all to night.”
“Then is it a deception which is repeated!” exclaimed
Content, rising from his chair as a faint and
broken blast from the shell, like that which had
first announced their visiter, again struggled among
dwelling.
“Here is warning as mysterious as it may prove
portentous!” said old Mark Heathcote, when the
surprise, not to say consternation of the moment,
had subsided. “Hast seen nothing that might justify
this?”
Eben Dudley, like most of the auditors, was too
much confounded to reply. All seemed to attend
anxiously for the second and more powerful blast,
which was to complete the imitation of the stranger's
summons. It was not necessary to wait long;
for in a time as near as might be, to that which had
intervened between the two first peals of the horn,
followed another, and in a note so true, again, as to
give it the semblance of an echo.
| CHAPTER X. The wept of Wish-ton-Wish | |