University of Virginia Library

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 encumbered
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 its 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 a habitation. These at length presented
themselves. A wild heath, whistled over by October blasts,
meagerly 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 drowsy 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 a haystack 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 pails 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 bedchamber. 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 meeting 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 of 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
the entreaties of a nurse or a mother to be quiet. These
entreaties 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 a 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 rumor 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 occurred 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 phrenzy 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 neighboring 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 footway 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 a human body.
It was the corse of a girl, mangled by a hatchet. Her head
gory and deprived of its locks, 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 imagined, stretched close to the fence, on the ground, and
filling up the pathway. 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 track 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 musket, 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 inured me to
spectacles of horror. I was grown callous and immoveable.
I staid not to ponder on the scene, but snatching the musket,
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 led into it, and might therefore be attempted without
danger.