University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

The movement had been so instantaneous, the noise
was so slight, and the blow upon Waldon so stunning,
that nearly a minute elapsed before any intelligible
alarm was given. Shouts were then heard from the
shore, with the dash of oars, and all the signs of quick
pursuit. Shots were fired, but the arrowy flight of the
boat had already carried it too far into the obscurity
that yet rested upon the waters, to admit of a distinct
aim. The increasing light soon showed the fugitives
that they were pursued by a batteaux containing twelve
men, all of whom were Indians but one, who it is scarcely
necessary to say, was Waldon. The distance that
now separated the vessels was about a quarter of a mile.
Their motion was alarmingly accelerated, and the interval
between the parties was rapidly diminishing;
but the broad shoulders which had once proved so disastrous,
were now of essential service. Perceiving the
exigency, Wongah, the elder Indian, requested Dudley
to surrender his oar to him, and taking the forward pair
he bent to his task, like Samson beneath the gates of
Gaza. All looked on in amazement, and expected momentarily
to see the giant's strength give out; but mile
after mile was overcome without the least abatement of

speed. A glad smile of hope and encouragement lit up
every countenance, for the distance between the vessels
had already more than doubled, notwithstanding
the utmost efforts of the enemy. In vain did Dudley
implore Wongah to spare his strength, lest it might fail
altogether. The quiet smile, the calm, equable breathing,
the uniform ponderous motion, told him that there
was as little to fear from fatigue in the huge and compact
mass of muscles before him, as if it had been some
mighty machine of levers, wheels and springs.

When Dudley had relinquished his oar to the Indian,
his change of position brought him for the first time
near to Ellen; but the excitement of the race, and the
vigilant oversight now required of him, still prevented
him from disclosing himself. Ellen knew nothing of
the process by which her rescue was to be attempted,
and when she found herself once more seated in the
dreaded boat, she gave herself up for lost. The temporary
sense of relief now experienced by all, afforded
an opportunity to make himself known. The light had
fully dawned, and as he seized an opportune moment,
and turned with a smile of triumph and affection to
Ellen, a speechless surprise, and joy that knew no utterance,
pervaded her breast. But a sudden ejaculation
from the younger Indian, who was looking westward
with an earnest gaze, now attracted attention.
Turning, he spoke a few words in his native tongue
to his companion, and the latter immediately suspended
his labors and gazed intently in the same direction.

“What do the Oneidas see, Mr. Rogers?” inquired
Dudley, with ill-disguised alarm. Rogers listened a
moment to their guttural dialogue, and rising to his feet,
looked earnestly across the waters, then turning to the
lieutenant, he said in a low voice: “I see nothing myself,

but the Lynx says there are two armed canoes
turning yonder point, and coming down with the speed
of wind.”

“Is Wongah frightened?” said Dudley, turning to
the Indian, who was yet leaning on his oars; “does he
think they can evertake us?”

“Wongah does not fear,” was the characteristic reply;
“but the hawk is swifter than the heron.”

This figurative allusion to the fleetness of the birch
canoe, was not misunderstood, and every eye was now
strained to catch a glimpse of the new object of alarm.
The Indian, meanwhile, had resumed his labors with
all his former force, and without the least change of
countenance. The canoes were too much in the shade
of the shore to be perceptible to unpracticed eyes, but
the movement of the batteaux soon furnished additional
proof of their approach. She turned suddenly about
and hastening to meet her allies, was also soon lost to
view in the shadows. The canoes, dancing like corks
upon the water, were soon seen to emerge from the obscurity,
and seemed like distant sea-birds pluming their
wings for flight. They each contained seven men, of
whom, as before, all save one were Indians. It was
useless to disguise the alarm inspired by this new aspect
of affairs; for, although the pursuers were nearly a
mile behind, it was apparent to all that their present
speed would soon bring them up with the gondola.
The latter boat was already taxed to her full capacity,
but no human strength could impart to such a vessel the
impetus which two pairs of well-plied oars give to a
feathery canoe. A hasty consultation was held, at
which Rogers and the Lynx proposed running for the
shore, and trying to make good their retreat through
the forests. Wongah opposed this as fatal, but offered

no substitute. He gave his opinion with stoical calmness
when called upon, without at all suspending his
labors. Dudley spoke last.

“It is idle,” he said, “to think of escape through
twenty miles of wilderness, with such a pack of blood-hounds
on our track. But there is a small island which
cannot be many miles distant. Let us gain that, and
once under cover we can at least keep the fiends at
bay until dark, when some means of relief may possibly
be found.”

To this proposition, the Indians responded together,
with their sententious exclamation, “good.”

“So it is good,” said Rogers, energetically, recovering,
despite the danger, a portion of his natural humor.
“If the red devils can land under our four rifles, they
shall be welcome to the scalp of Joe Rogers. Pull
away Mr. Lynx, and three cheers for the skipper.”

Endeavoring thus to arouse his own failing spirits,
those of his companions, the noble hearted sergeant resumed
his labors at the oar. The refuge referred to by
Dudley, was a small wooded islet, scarcely forty rods
in length, which had attracted his attention on the preceding
day. It became visible on rounding a small
promontory, but still at the distance of several miles.
The pursuers seemed immediately to comprehend the
design of the fugitives, and the question became at
once which party should first reach the island. There
was no way to increas; the gondola's speed, and all
that remained was patiently to watch the chances.
Although the canoes were soon within rifle shot, neither
party seemed disposed to resort to fire-arms. Waldon
felt too sure of success to risk the life of Ellen unnecessarily,
and Dudley's company were all actively
employed in the management of their boat. For a

third of an hour the most perfect silence was preserved
in the gondola, while every nerve of the oarsmen
seemed strained to its utmost tension. The eyes of
Ellen wandered incessantly from boat to boat, and forward
to the island, measuring the rapidly diminishing
intervals between each, and resting occasionally upon
Dudley's countenance, as if they would read there a
solution of her dreadful doubts. At the distance of
half a mile from the island, the forward canoe was running
nearly abreast of the fugitives, about forty rods
distant, and making for the northern extremity of the
land. There seemed no longer any hope; but at this
critical moment a cracking noise was heard, and one
of the oar blades of the parallel boat was seen floating
astern. The speed of the canoe was sensibly diminished;
Wongah's ponderous blows fell with redoubled
rapidity upon the water; the gondola shot ahead, and
in three minutes touched the shore.