University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

As the day advanced, that portion of the inmates of the
vessel which had the liberty of doing so, appeared on deck.
As yet, the sea was not very high, from which it was inferred,
that the cutter was still under the lee of the islands; but
it was apparent to all who understood the lake, that they
were about to experience one of the heavy autumnal gales
of that region. Land was nowhere visible; and the horizon,
on every side, exhibited that gloomy void, which lends to all
views, on vast bodies of water, the sublimity of mystery.
The swells, or, as landsmen term them, the waves, were
short and curling, breaking of necessity sooner than the
longer seas of the ocean; while the element itself, instead of
presenting that beautiful hue, which rivals the deep tint of
the southern sky, looked green and angry, though wanting
in the lustre that is derived from the rays of the sun.

The soldiers were soon satisfied with the prospect, and,
one by one, they disappeared, until none were left on deck,
but the crew, the serjeant, Cap, Pathfinder, the Quarter-Master,
and Mabel. There was a shade on the brow of the

latter, who had been made acquainted with the real state of
things; and who had fruitlessly ventured an appeal in favour
of Jasper's restoration to the command. A night's rest, and a
night's reflection, appeared also to have confirmed the Pathfinder
in his opinion of the young man's innocence; and
he, too, had made a warm appeal in behalf of his friend,
though with the same want of success.

Several hours passed away, the wind gradually getting to
be heavier, and the sea rising, unfil the motion of the cutter
compelled Mabel and the Quarter-Master to retreat, also.
Cap wore several times; and it was now evident that the
Scud was drifting into the broader and deeper parts of the
lake, the seas raging down upon her in a way that none
but a vessel of superior mould and build could have long
ridden, and withstood. All this, however, gave Cap no
uneasiness; but like the hunter that pricks his ears at the
sound of the horn, or the war-horse that paws and snorts
with pleasure at the roll of the drum, the whole scene
awakened all that was man within him; and instead of the
captious, supercilious, and dogmatic critic, quarrelling with
trifles, and exaggerating immaterial things, he began to exhibit
the qualities of the hardy and experienced seaman, that
he truly was. The hands soon imbibed a respect for his
skill; and, though they wondered at the disappearance of
their old commander, and the pilot, for which no reason had
been publicly given, they soon yielded an implicit and cheerful
obedience to the new one.

“This bit of fresh-water, after all, brother Dunham, has
some spirit, I find,” cried Cap, about noon, rubbing his
hands in pure satisfaction at finding himself once more
wrestling with the elements. “The wind seems to be an
honest old-fashioned gale, and the seas have a fanciful resemblance
to those of the gulf stream. I like this, serjeant,
I like this; and shall get to respect your lake, if it hold out
twenty-four hours longer in the fashion in which it has begun.”

“Land, ho!” shouted the man who was stationed on the
forecastle.

Cap hurried forward; and there, sure enough, the land
was visible through the drizzle, at the distance of about half
a mile,—the cutter heading directly towards it. The first
impulse of the old seaman was to give an order to “stand

by, to ware off shore;” but the cool-headed soldier restrained
him.

“By going a little nearer,” said the serjeant, “some of
us may recognize the place. Most of us know the American
shore, in this part of the lake; and it will be something
gained to learn our position.”

“Very true—very true; if, indeed, there is any chance
of that, we will hold on. What is this off here, a little on
our weather bow? It looks like a low headland.”

“The garrison, by Jove!” exclaimed the other, whose
trained eye sooner recognized the military outlines than the
less instructed senses of his connection.

The serjeant was not mistaken. There was the fort, sure
enough, though it looked dim and indistinct through the fine
rain, as if it were seen in the dusk of evening, or the haze
of morning. The low, sodded, and verdant ramparts, the
sombre palisades, now darker than ever with water, the roof
of a house or two, the tall, solitary flag-staff, with its halyards
blown steadily out, into a curve that appeared traced
in immovable lines in the air, were all soon to be seen,
though no sign of animated life could be discovered. Even
the sentinel was housed; and, at first, it was believed that
no eye would detect the presence of their own vessel. But
the unceasing vigilance of a border garrison did not slumber.
One of the look-outs probably made the interesting discovery;
a man or two were seen on some elevated stands, and then
the entire ramparts, next the lake, were dotted with human
beings.

The whole scene was one in which sublimity was singularly
relieved by the picturesque. The raging of the tempest
had a character of duration, that rendered it easy to imagine
it might be a permanent feature of the spot. The
roar of the wind was without intermission, and the raging
water answered to its dull but grand strains, with hissing
spray, a menacing wash, and sullen surges. The drizzle
made a medium for the eye which closely resembled that
of a thin mist, softening and rendering mysterious the images
it revealed, while the genial feeling that is apt to accompany
a gale of wind on water, contributed to aid the milder influences
of the moment. The dark, interminable forest hove
up out of the obscurity, grand, sombre and impressive, while

the solitary, peculiar and picturesque glimpses of life that
were caught in and about the fort, formed a refuge for the
eye to retreat to, when oppressed with the more imposing
objects of nature.

“They see us,” said the serjeant, “and think we have
returned on account of the gale, and have fallen to leeward
of the port. Yes, there is Major Duncan himself, on the
north-eastern bastion; I know him by his height, and by the
officers around him!”

“Serjeant, it would be worth standing a little jeering, if we
could fetch into the river, and come safely to an anchor! In
that case, too, we might land this Master Eau-douce, and
purify the boat.”

“It would indeed; but as poor a sailor as I am, I well know
it cannot be done. Nothing that sails the lake can turn to
windward against this gale; and there is no anchorage outside,
in weather like this.”

“I know it—I see it—serjeant, and pleasant as is that
sight to you landsmen, we must leave it. For myself, I am
never as happy, in heavy weather, as when I am certain that
the land is behind me.”

The Scud had now forged so near in, that it became indispensable
to lay her head off shore, again, and the necessary
orders were given. The storm-staysail was set forward, the
gaff lowered, the helm put up, and the light craft, that seemed
to sport with the elements like a duck, fell off a little, drew
ahead swiftly, obeyed her rudder, and was soon flying away
on the top of the surges, dead before the gale. While making
this rapid flight, though the land still remained in view,
on her larboard beam, the fort, and the groups of anxious
spectators on its rampart, were swallowed up in the mist.
Then followed the evolutions necessary to bring the head of
the cutter up to the wind, when she again began to wallow
her weary way towards the north shore.

Hours now passed, before any further change was made, the
wind increasing in force, until even the dogmatical Cap fairly
admitted it was blowing a thorough gale of wind. About
sunset the Scud wore again, to keep her off the north shore,
during the hours of darkness; and at midnight her temporary
master, who, by questioning the crew in an indirect manner,
had obtained some general knowledge of the size and shape

of the lake, believed himself to be about midway between the
two shores. The height and length of the seas, aided this
impression; and it must be added that Cap, by this time,
began to feel a respect for fresh-water, that twenty-four hours
earlier, he would have derided as impossible. Just as the
night turned, the fury of the wind became so great, that he
found it impossible to bear up against it, the water falling on
the deck of the little craft in such masses as to cause it to
shake to the centre, and, though a vessel of singularly lively
qualities, to threaten to bury it beneath its weight. The people
of the Scud averred that never before had they been out
in such a tempest; which was true; for, possessing a perfect
knowledge of all the rivers and head-lands and havens, Jasper
would have carried the cutter in shore, long ere this, and
placed her in safety, in some secure anchorage. But, Cap
still disdained to consult the young master, who continued
below, determining to act like a mariner of the broad
ocean.

It was one in the morning, when the storm-staysail was
again got on the Scud, the head of the mainsail lowered, and
the cutter put before the wind. Although the canvass now
exposed was merely a rag in surface, the little craft nobly
justified the use of the name she bore. For eight hours did
she scud, in truth; and it was almost with the velocity of the
gulls that wheeled wildly over her in the tempest, apparently
afraid to alight in the boiling caldron of the lake. The
dawn of day brought little change; for no other horizon became
visible, than the little circle of drizzling sky and water,
already described, in which it seemed as if the elements were
rioting in a sort of chaotic confusion. During this time the
crew and passengers of the cutter were of necessity passive.
Jasper and the pilot remained below; but, the motion of the
vessel having become easier, nearly all the rest were on deck.
The morning meal had been taken in silence, and eye met
eye, as if their owners asked each other, in dumb show, what
was to be the end of this strife in the elements. Cap, however,
was perfectly composed, and his face brightened, his
step grew firmer, and his whole air more assured, as the
storm increased, making larger demands on his professional
skill, and personal spirit. He stood on the forecastle, his
arms crossed, balancing his body with a seaman's instinct,

while his eyes watched the caps of the seas, as they broke and
glanced past the reeling cutter, itself in such swift motion,
as if they were the scud flying athwart the sky. At this
sublime instant one of the hands gave the unexpected cry of
“a sail!”

There was so much of the wild and solitary character of
the wilderness about Ontario, that one scarcely expected to
meet with a vessel on its waters. The Scud, herself, to
those who were in her, resembled a man threading the forest
alone, and the meeting was like that of two solitary hunters
beneath the broad canopy of leaves that then covered so
many millions of acres on the continent of America. The
peculiar state of the weather served to increase the romantic,
almost supernatural appearance of the passage. Cap alone
regarded it with practised eyes, and even he felt his iron
nerves thrill under the sensations that were awakened by the
wild features of the scene.

The strange vessel was about two cables' length ahead of
the Scud, standing by the wind athwart her bows, and steering
a course to render it probable that the latter would pass
within a few yards of her. She was a full-rigged ship,
and seen through the misty medium of the tempest, the most
experienced eye could detect no imperfection in her gear or
construction. The only canvass she had set, was a close-reefed
main-top-sail, and two small storm-staysails, one forward
and the other aft. Still the power of the wind pressed
so hard upon her as to bear her down nearly to her beamends,
whenever the hull was not righted by the buoyancy of
some wave under her lee. Her spars were all in their places,
and by her motion through the water, which might have
equalled four knots in the hour, it was apparent that she
steered a little free.

“The fellow must know his position well,” said Cap, as
the cutter flew down towards the ship, with a velocity almost
equalling that of the gale, “for he is standing boldly to the
southward, where he expects to find anchorage or a haven.
No man in his senses would run off free in that fashion, that
was not driven to scudding, like ourselves, who did not perfectly
understand where he was going.”

“We have made an awful run, captain,” returned the man
to whom this remark had been addressed. “That is the

French king's ship, Lee-my-calm, (le Montcalm,) and she is
standing in for the Niagara, where her owner has a garrison
and a port. We 've have made an awful run of it!”

“Ay, bad luck to him! Frenchman like, he skulks into
port the moment he sees an English bottom.”

“It might be well for us, if we could follow him,” returned
the man shaking his head despondingly, “for we are getting
into the end of a bay up here at the head of the lake,
and it is uncertain whether we ever get out of it again!”

“Poh! man, poh!—We have plenty of sea room, and a
good English hull beneath us. We are no Johnny Crapauds
to hide ourselves behind a point or a fort, on account of a
puff of wind. Mind your helm, sir!”

The order was given on account of the menacing appearance
of the approaching passage. The Scud was now heading
directly for the fore-foot of the Frenchman; and, the distance
between the two vessels having diminished to a hundred
yards, it was momentarily questionable if there was room to
pass.

“Port, sir—port!” shouted Cap. “Port your helm and
pass astern!”

The crew of the Frenchman were seen assembling to windward,
and a few muskets were pointed, as if to order the people
of the Scud to keep off. Gesticulations were observed, but
the sea was too wild and menacing to admit of the ordinary
expedients of war. The water was dripping from the muzzles
of two or three light guns on board the ship, but no one
thought of loosening them for service in such a tempest. Her
black sides, as they emerged from a wave, glistened and
seemed to frown, but the wind howled through her rigging,
whistling the thousand notes of a ship; and the hails and cries
that escape a Frenchman with so much readiness, were inaudible.

“Let him hollow himself hoarse!” growled Cap. “This
is no weather to whisper secrets in. Port, sir, port!”

The man at the helm obeyed, and the next send of the sea
drove the Scud down upon the quarter of the ship, so near her
that the old mariner, himself, recoiled a step, in a vague expectation
that, at the next surge ahead, she would drive bows
foremost directly into the planks of the other vessel. But
this was not to be. Rising from the crouching posture she

had taken, like a panther about to leap, the cutter dashed onward,
and, at the next instant, she was glancing past the stern
of her enemy, just clearing the end of her spanker-boom with
her own lower yard.

The young Frenchman, who commanded the Montcalm,
leaped on the taffrail, and with that high-toned courtesy which
relieves even the worst acts of his countrymen, he raised his
cap and smiled a salutation as the Scud shot past. There
were bonhommie and good taste in this act of courtesy, when
circumstances allowed of no other communications; but they
were lost on Cap, who, with an instinct quite as true to his
race, shook his fist menacingly, and muttered to himself—

“Ay—ay—it 's d—d lucky for you I 've no armament
on board here, or I 'd send you in to get new cabin-windows
fitted. Serjeant, he 's a humbug.”

“'T was civil, brother Cap,” returned the other, lowering
his hand from the military salute which his pride as a soldier
had induced him to return—“'t was civil, and that 's as much
as you can expect from a Frenchman. What he really meant
by it, no one can say.”

“He is not heading up to this sea without an object, neither!
Well, let him run in, if he can get there; we will
keep the lake, like hearty English mariners.”

This sounded gloriously, but Cap eyed with envy, the glittering
black mass of the Montcalm's hull, her waving top-sail,
and the misty tracery of her spars, as she grew less and less
distinct, and finally disappeared in the drizzle, in a form as
shadowy as that of some unreal image. Gladly would he
have followed in her wake, had he dared; for to own the truth,
the prospect of another stormy night in the midst of the wild
waters that were raging around him, brought little consolation.
Still he had too much professional pride to betray his
uneasiness, and those under his care relied on his knowledge
and resources, with the implicit and blind confidence that the
ignorant are apt to feel.

A few hours succeeded, and darkness came again to increase
the perils of the Scud. A lull in the gale, however,
had induced Cap to come by the wind once more, and throughout
the night, the cutter was lying-to, as before, headreaching
as a matter of course, and occasionally waring to
keep off the land. It is unnecessary to dwell on the incidents

of this night, which resembled those of any other gale
of wind. There were the pitching of the vessel, the hissing
of the waters, the dashing of spray, the shocks that menaced
annihilation to the little craft as she plunged into the seas, the
undying howling of the wind, and the fearful drift. The
last was the most serious danger; for, though exceedingly
weatherly under her canvass, and totally without top-hamper,
the Scud was so light, that the combing of the swells would
seem, at times, to wash her down to leeward, with a velocity
as great as that of the surges themselves.

During this night, Cap slept soundly and for several hours.
The day was just dawning, when he felt himself shaken by
the shoulder, and arousing himself, he found the Pathfinder
standing at his side. During the gale, the guide had appeared
little on deck, for his natural modesty told him that
seamen alone should interfere with the management of the
vessel; and he was willing to show the same reliance on those
who had charge of the Scud, as he expected those who followed
through the forest to manifest in his own skill. But
he now thought himself justified in interfering, which he did
in his own unsophisticated and peculiar manner.

“Sleep is sweet, Master Cap,” he said, as soon as the eyes
of the latter were fairly open, and his consciousness had sufficiently
returned—“Sleep is sweet, as I know from experience,
but life is sweeter still. Look about you, and say if
this is exactly the moment for a commander to be off his feet.”

“How now — how now — Master Pathfinder!” growled
Cap, in the first moments of his awakened faculties—“Are
you, too, getting on the side of the grumblers? When ashore,
I admired your sagacity in running through the worst shoals,
without a compass, and since we have been afloat, your
meekness and submission have been as pleasant, as your
confidence on your own ground; I little expected such a
summons from you.”

“As for myself, Master Cap, I feel I have my gifts, and I
believe they 'll interfere with those of no other man; but the
case may be different with Mabel Dunham. She has her gifts,
too, it is true; but they are not rude like ours, but gentle, and
womanish, as they ought to be. It 's on her account that I
speak, and not on my own.”

“Ay—ay—I begin to understand. The girl is a good

girl, my worthy friend, but she is a soldier's daughter and a
sailor's niece, and ought not to be too tame, or too tender, in
a gale. Does she show any fear?”

“Not she—not she. Mabel is a woman, but she is reasonable
and silent. Not a word have I heard from her, concerning
our doings; though I do think, Master Cap, she would
like it better, if Jasper Eau-douce were put into his proper
place, and things were restored to their old situation, like.
This is human natur'.”

“I 'll warrant it!—Girl-like, and Dunham-like, too. Anything
is better than an old uncle, and everybody knows more
than an old seaman! This is human natur', Master Pathfinder,
and d—e, if I 'm the man to sheer a fathom, starboard
or port, for all the human natur' that can be found in
a minx of twenty—ay,—or”—lowering his voice a little—
“for all that can be paraded in his majesty's 55th regiment
of foot. I 've not been at sea forty years, to come up on this
bit of fresh-water to be taught human natur'.—How this gale
holds out! It blows as hard, at this moment, as if Boreas
had just clapped his hand upon the bellows. And what is all
this to leeward?” rubbing his eyes—“land, as sure as my
name is Cap;—and high land, too!”

The Pathfinder made no immediate answer, but shaking
his head, he watched the expression of his companion's face,
with a look of strong anxiety, in his own.

“Land, as certain as this is the Scud!”—repeated Cap—
“a lee shore, and that, too, within a league of us, with as
pretty a line of breakers as one could find on the beach of
all Long Island!”

“And is that encouraging, or is it disheartening?” demanded
the Pathfinder.

“Ha! encouraging, disheartening?—Why, neither. No,
no—there is nothing encouraging about it; and, as for disheartening,
nothing ought to dishearten a seaman. You
never get disheartened or afraid in the woods, my friend.”

“I 'll not say that—I 'll not say that. When the danger
is great, it is my gift to see it, and know it, and to try to
avoid it; else would my scalp, long since, have been drying
in a Mingo wigwam. On this lake, however, I can see no
trail, and I feel it my duty to submit; though I think we
ought to remember there is such a person as Mabel Dunham

on board. But here comes her father, and he will naturally
feel for his own child.”

“We are seriously situated, I believe, brother Cap,” said
the serjeant, when he had reached the spot, “by what I can
gather from the two hands on the forecastle. They tell me
the cutter cannot carry any more sail, and her drift is so
great we shall go ashore in an hour or two. I hope their
fears have deceived them?”

Cap made no reply, but he gazed at the land with a rueful
face, and then looked to windward, with an expression of ferocity,
as if he would gladly have quarrelled with the weather.

“It may be well, brother,” the serjeant continued, “to
send for Jasper and consult him as to what is to be done.
There are no French here to dread, and, under all circumstances,
the boy will save us from drowning if possible.”

“Ay—ay—'t is these cursed circumstances that have done
all the mischief! But let the fellow come; let him come; a
few well-managed questions will bring the truth out of him,
I 'll warrant you.”

This acquiescence on the part of the dogmatical Cap was
no sooner obtained, than Jasper was sent for. The young
man instantly made his appearance, his whole air, countenance
and mien, expressive of mortification, humility, and,
as his observers fancied, rebuked deception. When he first
stepped on deck, Jasper cast one hurried anxious glance
around, as if curious to know the situation of the cutter; and
that glance sufficed, it would seem, to let him into the secret-of
all her perils. At first he looked to windward, as is usual
with every seaman; then he turned round the horizon, until
his eye caught a view of the highlands to leeward, when the
whole truth burst upon him at once.

“I 've sent for you, Master Jasper,” said Cap, folding his
arms, and balancing his body with the dignity of the forecastle,
“in order to learn something about the haven to leeward.
We take it for granted, you do not bear malice so hard, as
to wish to drown us all, especially the women; and I suppose
you will be man enough to help us to run the cutter into
some safe berth, until this bit of a gale has done blowing?”

“I would die myself, rather than harm should come to
Mabel Dunham,” the young man earnestly answered.

“I knew it!—I knew it!” cried the Pathfinder, clapping

his hand kindly on Jasper's shoulder. “The lad is as true
as the best compass that ever run a boundary, or brought a
man off from a blind trail! It is a moral sin to believe
otherwise.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Cap, “especially the women!—As
if they were in any particular danger. Never mind, young
man; we shall understand each other by talking like two
plain seamen. Do you know of any port under our lee?”

“None. There is a large bay at this end of the lake, but
it is unknown to us all; and not easy of entrance.”

“And this coast to leeward — it has nothing particular to
recommend it, I suppose?”

“It is a wilderness until you reach the mouth of the
Niagara, in one direction, and Frontenac in the other. North
and west, they tell me, there is nothing but forest and prairies,
for a thousand miles.”

“Thank God, then, there can be no French. Are there
many savages, hereaway, on the land?”

“The Indians are to be found in all directions; though
they are nowhere very numerous. By accident, we might
find a party at any point on the shore; or, we might pass
months there, without seeing one.”

“We must take our chance, then, as to the blackguards—
but, to be frank with you, Master Western—if this little unpleasant
matter about the French had not come to pass, what
would you now do with the cutter?”

“I am a much younger sailor than yourself, Master Cap,”
said Jasper, modestly, “and am hardly fitted to advise you.”

“Ay—ay—we all know that. In a common case, perhaps
not. But this is an uncommon case, and a circumstance;
and on this bit of fresh-water, it has what may be called,
its peculiarities; and so, every thing considered, you may be
fitted to advise even your own father. At all events, you can
speak, and I can judge of your opinions, agreeably to my
own experience.”

“I think, sir, before two hours are over, the cutter will
have to anchor.”

“Anchor! — not out here, in the lake?”

“No, sir; but in yonder, near the land.”

“You do not mean to say, Master Eau-deuce, you would
anchor on a lee shore, in a gale of wind!”

“If I would save my vessel, that is exactly what I would
do, Master Cap.”

“Whe—e—e—w!—this is fresh-water, with a vengeance.
Harkee, young man, I 've been a seafaring animal, boy and
man, forty-one years, and I never yet heard of such a thing.
I 'd throw my ground-tackle overboard, before I would be
guilty of so lubberly an act!”

“That is what we do, on this lake,” modestly replied
Jasper, “when we are hard pressed. I dare say, we might
do better, had we been better taught.”

“That you might indeed! No; no man induces me to
commit such a sin against my own bringing up. I should
never dare show my face inside of Sandy Hook again,
had I committed so know-nothing an exploit. Why, Pathfinder,
here, has more seamanship in him than that comes to.
You can go below, again, Master Eau-deuce.”

Jasper quietly bowed and withdrew; still, as he passed
down the ladder, the spectators observed that he cast a lingering,
anxious look at the horizon to windward, and the land
to leeward, and then disappeared with concern strongly expressed
in every lineament of his face.