 | CHAPTER XXII. The King of the Hurons |  |
22. CHAPTER XXII.
Where the Burford reared her sail,
With three thousand ghosts beside him,
And in groans did Vernon hail.”
—Richard Glover.
It was near sunset on the day succeeding the events last related,
that the travellers, having gained Lake George in safety, were
passing near a prominent cape or headland on its eastern shore,
when the apparition of a solitary Indian, standing motionless upon
its summit, attracted general attention, and excited no little alarm.
He was evidently watching the approaching party; and, as his
elevated position exhibited his tall, manly figure in distinct relief
against the sky, it seemed to assume vaster proportions than those
of humanity, and awakened superstitious fears in some of the beholders.
“It's such a sight as I have been looking for,” said Mallory, in a
mysterious whisper to one of his fellow-soldiers; “this is called the
haunted lake, and these high hills have been for ages the burying-place
of the Indians: look closely and you'll see him fade into mist
in a moment, and float away.”
“After which,” replied Francis, to whom these words had been
addressed, “we may look for thunder and lightning, I suppose; it
may be as you say, but ghosts don't often carry guns, and yonder
fellow, if I am not mistaken, has one which might trouble us, even
at this distance, if he chose to use it.”
“It's mere vapor, I tell you,” responded the other, more earnestly,
very waters; why, when the great Iroquois chief, Whirlwind, was
killed, many years ago, in the first battle with the old Marquis Vaudreuil,
who was in his prime then, the sachem's body was carried
down this lake, by night, in a canoe, followed by not more than a
dozen real boats,—for his men were cut up, and scattered, like
foxes in the forest; but, sir, those who saw it told me, with lips
whiter than yonder foam, there was a fleet of canoes in that procession
which no man could number; it reached from shore to
shore, besides being miles in length, and every one was filled with
forms which held up wailing hands, and their sighs swelled into a
breeze that shook the lake till it rocked like a cradle: they were the
dead warriors of the nation for many generations.”
“It may be so,” again responded Francis, more seriously; “at
any rate, it won't do to make fun of Satan in his own territory; if
he sees fit to give these Iroquois ghosts a furlough, now and then, to
attend the funeral of a friend, why that's his business and none of
mine; but as to this gentleman on the hill —”
“Holy mother!—he's gone!” interrupted Mallory, gazing with a
look of fear upon the spot so suddenly vacated,—“and as I told
you,—into the air; I think it grows darker, and the wind comes
strangely here off the shore—hark!—was not that thunder?”
“It may be so—there has been a heavy cloud in the south-west
this last half hour.”
“Aye—aye—ever since he made his appearance; and, perhaps,
by this time he is on its back, guiding it down the lake, as if he had
bit and bridle upon it; thanks to St. Francis, we are not far from
shore—but what will that avail us? we may be in the middle of
the lake in a twinkling—aye, and at the bottom of it, too.”
If the phantom of the hill had anything to do with the storm
which was now springing up, it was a spirit of no little potency.
The cloud which Francis had pointed out, rose rapidly towards the
zenith, followed by successive layers of the same tenebrious hue,
beneath the horizon, and which expanded in every direction, with no
apparent diminution of their density. As the black canopy came
sailing northward the wave grew darker in its path, and the rippling
waters in the distance told that the wind was brushing their surface,
and waking them into life; the lightning began to dart in long
chain-like streaks across the sky, and the moaning thunder came
faintly as yet, but threateningly to the ear.
While Carlton, environed between two varieties of peril, hesitated
what course to pursue, the increasing fury of the storm scarcely left
him the privilege of a choice. The darkness almost of night was
gathering around him; the wind had become a gale, and was violently
rocking his boats; the lake was rolling in long ridge-like
undulations; while the electrical flashes, prolonged and painfully
vivid, were followed, or rather accompanied by detonations, which
now in stunning cannon-like reports, and now in long bellowing
peals, shook the air with little intermission, and added an awful sublimity
to the scene. The alarmed ladies implored to be taken to
the shore; and Carlton, scarcely less disconcerted, issued the
necessary orders for that purpose; but as the boats, guided with
difficulty, were progressing slowly towards the nearest beach, there
was the sound of a terrific explosion seemingly in their very path,
shaking the waters like an earthquake, and a towering oak, riven to
its base, fell quivering across the margin of the lake. Shrieks of
alarm arose from the ladies, and Mallory, dropping his oar, fell upon
his knees, calling on a hundred saints for help, and pointing at
intervals of his hasty prayers towards the hill.
“I said it!—I said it! St. Francis defend us! he's there again,
—see—see, he's calling for another thunderbolt, and pointing
towards us: St. James and St. Peter, orate pro nobis!”
All eyes were turned towards the hill, where a singular sight,
indeed, was beheld, which, to the excited imagination of the spectators,
seemed almost to justify the fears of the soldier. The Indian
discovered, but he was no longer motionless as before; on the contrary,
he was making the most frantic gestures, throwing his arms
violently into the air, now singly and now together, and anon pointing
towards the forest, nearly in the direction of the fallen tree. A
long, whistling call was at the same moment heard from the Lynx's
boat, which had been following the barge at a short remove; and,
on turning to learn its meaning, the count discovered that the canoe
had turned back, and was proceeding rapidly towards the centre of
the lake. Utterly bewildered by these strange events, he hesitated
what course to pursue; he was within thirty yards of the land, and
was drifting, by the action of the waves, rapidly nearer; the shrill
whistling continued from his friends, followed now by loud calls and
shouts; the gestures of the lone Indian grew more violent; and ere
he had decided aught, twenty Iroquois warriors sprang from a covert,
and rushed to the water's edge.
It was a moment of unmitigated horror. Francis and Mallory,
unordered, regained their oars, and brought the boat quickly around;
but several of the savages had rushed meanwhile into the shallow
water, with the view of seizing the vessel and forcing it to the land,
while others, with presented weapons, stood on the beach waiting
the issue of the attempt. There seemed no possible escape; the
count, whose hands alone were disengaged, appeared paralyzed with
fear, and unconscious that there were three loaded guns lying at his
feet; and, to add to the terror of the moment, the tall Indian on the
hill, who was now supposed to be the leader of the band, was seen
taking deliberate aim with his rifle, apparently towards the barge.
A flash and report succeeded; but instead of the shot harming the
fugitives, as they fully expected, the foremost savage was seen suddenly
to leap upwards and fall back into the lake, crimsoning its surface
with his blood. A howl of fury arose from his comrades, who
turned quickly around to look for their unknown enemy; but the
spot where he had stood was vacant, although the smoke of his gun
the Lynx's boat, which also proved fatal to one of the assailants, the
remainder of whom, finding themselves, as they supposed, between
two parties of their foes, hastened back to their cover, to plan some
safer mode of attack.
Ignorant how numerous or how near might be the party in their
rear, they were fortunately afraid to expend their fire upon the
retreating barge, the occupants of which could otherwise scarcely
have escaped complete destruction. Still, one of the few balls which
were discharged towards them slightly wounded Francis, and a second
pierced the boat scarcely a foot from where Carlton was crouching to
avoid the dreaded missiles. Blanche and Emily, being in the fore
part of the vessel, were partly sheltered by the oarsmen, by whose
advice they had taken a recumbent and comparatively unexposed
position. It was many minutes, however, before the boat attained
a safe offing, and occasional shots continued to be fired from the
shore, and returned by the Lynx and Algonquin; but the roughness
of the water and the dancing motion of the canoes, preventing any
distinct aim in either direction, rendered them innocuous.
The storm was still raging, although, in view of the greater peril,
it had been for some minutes nearly unnoticed by the voyagers;
but, like most sudden tempests, its fury was soon expended, and the
boats were enabled to effect a junction for the purpose of consultation
on future movements. The companions met, deeply impressed with
a sense of the danger they had so narrowly escaped, and of that
which still impended over them; for they were yet more than a
hundred miles from the southern line of the French territory, and
the war party which was now on their track was evidently of a most
formidable character.
“How was it,” asked Carlton of the Lynx, “that you became
aware of the ambuscade at so timely a moment?”
“Did you not see him?” responded the Huron; “the Indian on
the hill, warning us to keep off the shore?”
“Ah, yes; I remember now that his gestures were those of warning,
though he seemed like some madman at the time, and he did
us vast service with his gun; but who can he be, and how is it that
he befriends us?”
The Lynx replied that he might be some stray hunter from the
north—a Huron, perhaps, or Algonquin—and that if so, he would
doubtless join them before morning.
Night was fast closing in, and the anxious countenances of Blanche
and Emily showed that they looked forward to its events with the
most painful forebodings. Miss Montaigne experienced that fearful
sinking of the spirits which seems like a presentiment of calamity;
she had felt, ever since Huntington's departure, such utter loneliness
as the absence of one only congenial companion in the hour of adversity
is calculated to produce; but now, when unwonted perils were
besetting her, how would her desolate heart have welcomed the
presence of one whose courage and hope were so exuberant and so
contagious, and whose single arm had seemed like a very host for
her defence. Bitter and irrepressible tears were Blanche's, welling
profusely from a heart which, whatever had been its previous lessons
of suffering, had now found “in lowest depths a lower deep” of
grief.
The consultation resulted in a decision to retrace their route and
proceed towards the south until the darkness should conceal their
movements, when they would resume their northward course,
scarcely expecting, however, thus to deceive an enemy to whom wiles
and artifices were the familiar events of life. Their chief hope consisted
in the probability that their pursuers were unprovided with
boats; for, if such was the case, the voyagers could set them quite at
defiance during that part of their journey which was confined to the
lakes. But between the Horicon and Champlain was an interval of
several miles, which was to be traversed by means of a narrow creek,
and the passage would be rendered trebly perilous by the necessity
of vacating their canoes at several points and dragging them across
locality was, of course, well known to the Iroquois warriors, and little
doubt could be entertained that they would seek to avail themselves
of its advantages.
It had been a question with the fugitives, for a moment, whether
they should not avoid an instant's loss of time, and set out openly
for the foot of the lake, with a view of outstripping their pursuers,
and passing the dangerous strait before the latter could reach it; but
it was believed that the contemplated ruse would render the enemy
sufficiently uncertain of their route to compel a division of his forces,
and thus render a conflict, if it could not be avoided, less unequal.
The night, too, was deepening so rapidly that little delay could be
occasioned by the experiment, and the darkness promised to be such
as to be a serious impediment to the foe in their march through the
woods. Acting upon the plan which had been concerted, the travellers
proceeded southward about half an hour, at the end of which
time, the evening being sufficiently advanced to hide their movements,
they again changed their course, and rowed rapidly but
silently down the lake.
The boats kept near each other, and when they came opposite the
scene of their recent danger, the Lynx obtained permission to approach
towards the shore and make an effort to bring off the mysterious
hunter who had rendered them such signal service, and who, it
was thought, might have valuable intelligence to impart. Great
caution was necessary in this attempt, and the count indulged but
little hope of its success; not so, however, his oarsmen, who knew
more of Indian tactics.
“He'll find him, sir,—the Lynx will,” said Francis, who, in times
of unusual excitement, expressed an occasional opinion without reproof;
“he'll find him, sir, as if it were daylight; there's a sort of
free-masonry among them, sir, as I told you; by and by you'll hear
a whip-po-will, mayhap, or a tree-toad, or perhaps only a cricket's
chirp, and it will be answered on the shore,—and there he is, sir,—
now and then like a bull-frog, to show his course; ah, they're cute
fellows, these savages are, sir; there's a sort of free-masonry among
them, as I said, sir.”
Francis's predictions did not prove to be incorrect; whatever had
been the means resorted to by the Lynx to accomplish his purpose,
he rejoined the barge in a short time accompanied by the stranger,
who proved, he said, to be a Huron hunter, known as the Beaver,
and who brought the alarming intelligence that the whole band of
the Iroquois had set out for the outlet of the lake. The haste and
excitement which this information occasioned left little time for attention
to its bearer, who conversed only in an Indian dialect, and whom
the count did not, in consequence, personally question.
| CHAPTER XXII. The King of the Hurons | |