University of Virginia Library

21. EDGAR HUNTLY.
CHAPTER XXI.

I reached without difficulty
the opposite bank, but the steep was
inaccessible. I swam along the edge in
hopes of meeting with some projection
or recess where I might, at least, rest my
weary limbs, and if it were necessary to
recross the river, to lay in a stock of
recruited spirits and strength for that
purpose. I trusted that the water would
speedily become shoal, or that the steep
would afford rest to my feet. In both
these hopes I was disappointed.

There is no one to whom I would
yield the superiority in swimming, but
my strength, like that of other human
beings, had its limits. My previous
fatigues had been enormous, and my
clothes, heavy with moisture, greatly
incumbered and retarded my movements.
I had proposed to free myself from this
imprisonment, but I foresaw the inconveniences
of wandering over this scene
in absolute nakedness, and was willing
therefore, at whatever hazard, to retain
them. I continued to struggle with the
current and to search for the means of
scaling the steeps. My search was fruitless,
and I began to meditate the recrossing
of the river.

Surely my fate has never been paralleled!
Where was this series of hardships
and perils to end? No sooner was one
calamity eluded, than I was beset by
another. I had emerged from abhorred

darkness in the heart of the earth, only
to endure the extremities of famine and
encounter the fangs of a wild beast.
From these I was delivered only to be
thrown into the midst of savages, to wage
an endless and hopeless war with adepts
in killing; with appetites that longed to
feast upon my bowels and to quaff my
heart's-blood. From these likewise was I
rescued, but merely to perish in the gulfs
of the river, to welter on unvisited shores
or to be washed far away from curiosity
or pity.

Formerly water was not only my field
of sport but my sofa and my bed. I
could float for hours on the surface, enjoying
its delicious cool, almost without the
expense of the slightest motion. It was
an element as fitted for repose as for exercise,
but now the buoyant spirit seemed
to have flown. My muscles were shrunk,
the air and water were equally congealed,

and my most vehement exertions were
requisite to sustain me on the surface.

At first I had moved along with my
wonted celerity and ease, but quickly my
forces were exhausted. My pantings
and efforts were augmented and I saw
that to cross the river again was impracticable.
I must continue, therefore, to
search out some accessible spot in the
bank along which I was swimming.

Each moment diminished my stock
of strength, and it behoved me to make
good my footing before another minute
should escape. I continued to swim, to
survey the bank, and to make ineffectual
attempts to grasp the rock. The shrubs
which grew upon it would not uphold me,
and the fragments which, for a moment,
inspired me with hope, crumbled away
as soon as they were touched.

At length, I noticed a pine, which
was rooted in a crevice near the water.

The trunk, or any part of the root, was
beyond my reach, but I trusted that I
could catch hold of the branch which
hung lowest, and that, when caught, it
would assist me in gaining the trunk,
and thus deliver me from the death which
could not be otherwise averted.

The attempt was arduous. Had it
been made when I first reached the bank,
no difficulty had attended it, but now,
to throw myself some feet above the
surface could scarcely be expected from
one whose utmost efforts seemed to be
demanded to keep him from sinking.
Yet this exploit, arduous as it was, was
attempted and accomplished. Happily
the twigs were strong enough to sustain
my weight till I caught at other branches
and finally placed myself upon the trunk.

This danger was now past, but I
admitted the conviction that others, no

less formidable remained to be encountered
and that my ultimate destiny was
death. I looked upward. New efforts
might enable me to gain the summit of this
steep, but, perhaps, I should thus be
placed merely in the situation from which
I had just been delivered. It was of
little moment whether the scene of my
imprisonment was a dungeon not to be
broken, or a summit from which descent
was impossible.

The river, indeed, severed me from
a road which was level and safe, but my
recent dangers were remembered only to
make me shudder at the thought of incurring
them a second time, by attempting
to cross it. I blush at the recollection
of this cowardice. It was little akin to
the spirit which I had recently displayed.
It was, indeed, an alien to my
bosom, and was quickly supplanted by
intrepidity and perseverance.

I proceeded to mount the hill. From
root to root, and from branch to branch,
lay my journey. It was finished, and I
sat down upon the highest brow to meditate
on future trials. No road lay
along this side of the river. It was
rugged and sterile, and farms were sparingly
dispersed over it. To reach one of
these was now the object of my wishes.
I had not lost the desire of reaching
Solebury before morning, but my wet
clothes and the coldness of the night
seemed to have bereaved me of the power.

I traversed this summit, keeping the
river on my right hand. Happily, its
declinations and ascents were by no
means difficult, and I was cheered in
the midst of my vexations, by observing
that every mile brought me nearer to my
uncle's dwelling. Meanwhile I anxiously
looked for some tokens of an habitation.

These at length presented themselves.
A wild heath, whistled over by October
blasts, meagrely adorned with the dry
stalks of scented shrubs and the bald
heads of the sapless mullen, was succeeded
by a fenced field and a corn-stack.
The dwelling to which these belonged
was eagerly sought.

I was not surprised that all voices
were still and all lights extinguished, for
this was the hour of repose. Having
reached a piazza before the house, I
paused. Whether, at this drousy time,
to knock for admission, to alarm the
peaceful tenants and take from them the
rest which their daily toils and their
rural innocence had made so sweet, or
to retire to what shelter an hay-stack or
barn could afford, was the theme of my
deliberations.

Meanwhile I looked up at the house.
It was the model of cleanliness and comfort.

It was built of wood; but the
materials had undergone the plane, as
well as the axe and the saw. It was
painted white, and the windows not only
had sashes, but these sashes were
supplied, contrary to custom, with glass.
In most cases, the aperture where glass
should be is stuffed with an old hat or a
petticoat. The door had not only all its
parts entire, but was embellished with
mouldings and a pediment. I gathered
from these tokens that this was the abode
not only of rural competence and innocence,
but of some beings, raised by
education and fortune, above the intellectual
mediocrity of clowns.

Methought I could claim consanguinity
with such beings. Not to share
their charity and kindness would be
inflicting as well as receiving injury.
The trouble of affording shelter, and
warmth, and wholesome diet to a wretch

destitute as I was, would be eagerly
sought by them.

Still I was unwilling to disturb them.
I bethought myself that their kitchen
might be entered, and all that my necessities
required be obtained without interrupting
their slumber. I needed nothing
but the warmth which their kitchen
hearth would afford. Stretched upon
the bricks, I might dry my clothes, and
perhaps enjoy some unmolested sleep.
In spite of presages of ill and the horrid
remembrances of what I had performed
and endured. I believed that
nature would afford a short respite to my
cares.

I went to the door of what appeared
to be a kitchen. The door was wide
open. This circumstance portended evil.
Though it be not customary to lock or
to bolt, it is still less usual to have entrances
unclosed. I entered with suspicious

steps, and saw enough to confirm my
apprehensions. Several pieces of wood
half burned, lay in the midst of the floor.
They appeared to have been removed
hither from the chimney, doubtless with
a view to set fire to the whole building.

The fire had made some progress on
the floor, but had been seasonably extinguished
by pail's-full of water, thrown
upon it. The floor was still deluged
with wet, the pail not emptied of all its
contents stood upon the hearth. The
earthen vessels and plates whose proper
place was the dresser, were scattered in
fragments in all parts of the room. I
looked around me for some one to explain
this scene, but no one appeared.

The last spark of fire was put out,
so that had my curiosity been idle, my
purpose could not be accomplished.
To retire from this scene, neither curiosity
nor benevolence would permit. That

some mortal injury had been intended
was apparent. What greater mischief had
befallen, or whether greater might not,
by my interposition, be averted, could
only be ascertained by penetrating further
into the house. I opened a door
on one side which led to the main body
of the building and entered to a bed-chamber.
I stood at the entrance and
knocked, but no one answered my signals

The sky was not totally clouded, so
that some light pervaded the room. I
saw that a bed stood in the corner, but
whether occupied or not, its curtains
hindered me from judging. I stood in
suspense a few minutes, when a motion
in the bed shewed me that some one was
there. I knocked again but withdrew to
the outside of the door. This roused
the sleeper, who, half-groaning and
puffing the air through his nostrils,

grumbled out in the hoarsest voice that
I ever heard, and in a tone of surly impatience...
Who is there?

I hesitated for an answer, but the
voice instantly continued in the manner
of one half-asleep and enraged at being
disturbed... Is't you Peg? Damn ye, stay
away, now; I tell ye stay away, or, by
God I will cut your throat... I will... He
continued to mutter and swear, but without
coherence or distinctness.

These were the accents of drunkenness,
and denoted a wild and ruffian life.
They were little in unison with the
external appearances of the mansion, and
blasted all the hopes I had formed of
mecting under this roof with gentleness
and hospitality. To talk with this being,
to attempt to reason him into humanity
and soberness, was useless. I was at a
loss in what manner to address him, or

whether it was proper to maintain any
parley. Meanwhile, my silence was
supplied by the suggestions of his own
distempered fancy. Ay, said he, ye
will, will ye? well come on, let's see who's
the better at the oak-stick. If I part
with ye, before I have bared your bones
... I'll teach ye to be always dipping in
my dish, ye devil's dam! ye!

So saying, he tumbled out of bed.
At the first step, he struck his head
against the bed-post, but setting himself
upright, he staggered towards the spot
where I stood. Some new obstacle occurred.
He stumbled and fell at his
length upon the floor.

To encounter or expostulate with a
man in this state was plainly absurd. I
turned and issued forth, with an aching
heart, into the court before the house.
The miseries which a debauched husband
or father inflicts upon all whom

their evil destiny allies to him were
pictured by my fancy, and wrung from
me tears of anguish. These images,
however, quickly yielded to reflections on
my own state. No expedient now remained,
but to seek the barn, and find a covering
and a bed of straw.

I had scarcely set foot within the
barn-yard when I heard a sound as o
the crying of an infant. It appeared to
issue from the barn. I approached softly
and listened at the door. The cries of
the babe continued, but were accompanied
by intreaties of a nurse or a mother
to be quiet. These intreaties were
mingled with heart-breaking sobs and
exclamations of... Ah! me, my babe!
Canst thou not sleep and afford thy
unhappy mother some peace? Thou art
cold, and I have not sufficient warmth
to cherish thee! What will become of us?

Thy deluded father cares not if we both
perish.

A glimpse of the true nature of the
scene seemed to be imparted by these
words. I now likewise recollected incidents
that afforded additional light. Somewhere
on this bank of the river, there
formerly resided one by name Selby.
He was an aged person, who united science
and taste to the simple and laborious
habits of an husbandman. He had a son
who resided several years in Europe,
but on the death of his father, returned
home, accompanied by a wife. He had
succeeded to the occupation of the farm,
but rumour had whispered many tales to
the disadvantage of his morals. His
wife was affirmed to be of delicate and
polished manners, and much unlike her
companion.

It now occured to me that this was the
dwelling of the Selby's, and I seemed to

have gained some insight into the discord
and domestic miseries by which the unhappy
lady suffered. This was no time
to waste my sympathy on others. I could
benefit her nothing. Selby had probably
returned from a carousal, with all his
malignant passions raised into phrensy
by intoxication. He had driven his desolate
wife from her bed and house, and to
shun outrage and violence she had fled,
with her helpless infant, to the barn.
To appease his fury, to console her, to
suggest a remedy for this distress, was
not in my power. To have sought an
interview would be merely to excite her
terrors and alarm her delicacy, without
contributing to alleviate her calamity.
Here then was no asylum for me. A
place of rest must be sought at some
neighbouring habitation. It was probable
that one would be found at no great
distance, the path that led from the spot
where I stood, through a gate into a
meadow, might conduct me to the nearest
dwelling, and this path I immediately resolved
to explore.

I was anxious to open the gate
without noise, but I could not succeed.
Some creaking of its hinges, was unavoidably
produced, which I feared would be
overheard by the lady and multiply her
apprehensions and perplexities. This
inconvenience was irremediable. I
therefore closed the gate and pursued
the foot way before me with the utmost
expedition. I had not gained the further
end of the meadow when I lighted on
something which lay across the path,
and which, on being closely, inspected,
appeared to be an human body. It was
the corse of a girl, mangled by an hatchet.
Her head gory and deprived of its looks,
easily explained the kind of enemies by

whom she had been assailed. Here was
proof that this quiet and remote habitation
had been visited, in their destructive
progress by the Indians. The girl had
been slain by them, and her scalp, according
to their savage custom, had been
torn away to be preserved as a trophy.

The fire which had been kindled on
the kitchen floor was now remembered,
and corroborated the inferences which
were drawn from this spectacle. And
yet that the mischief had been thus
limited, that the besotted wretch who lay
helpless on his bed, and careless of
impending danger, and that the mother
and her infant should escape, excited
some degree of surprise. Could the
savages have been interrupted in their
work, and obliged to leave their vengeance
unfinished?

Their visit had been recent. Many
hours had not elapsed since they prowled

about these grounds. Had they wholly
disappeared and meant they not to
return? To what new danger might I
be exposed in remaining thus guideless
and destitute of all defence?

In consequence of these reflections,
I proceeded with more caution. I looked
with suspicious glances, before and on
either side of me. I now approached
the fence which, on this side, bounded
the meadow. Something was discerned
or immagined, stretched close to the
fence, on the ground, and filling up the
path-way. My apprehensions of a
lurking enemy, had been previously
awakened, and my fancy instantly figured
to itself an armed man, lying on the
ground and waiting to assail the unsuspecting
passenger.

At first I was prompted to fly, but a
second thought shewed me that I had
already approached near enough to be

endangered. Notwithstanding my pause,
the form was motionless. The possibility
of being misled in my conjectures was
easily supposed. What I saw might be a
log or it might be another victim to savage
ferocity. This tract was that which my
safety required me to pursue. To turn
aside or go back would be merely to
bewilder myself anew.

Urged by these motives, I went
nearer, and at least was close enough to
perceive that the figure was human.
He lay upon his face, near his right hand
was a musquet, unclenched. This circumstance,
his death-like attitude and
the garb and ornaments of an Indian,
made me readily suspect the nature and
cause of this catastrophe. Here the
invaders had been encountered and
repulsed, and one at least of their number
had been left upon the field.

I was weary of contemplating these
rueful objects. Custom, likewise, even
in so short a period, had innured me to
spectacles of horror. I was grown callous
and immoveable. I staid not to ponder
on the scene, but snatching the musquet,
which was now without an owner, and
which might be indispensable to my defence,
I hastened into the wood. On
this side the meadow was skirted by a
forest, but a beaten road lead into it,
and might therefore be attempted without
danger.