Chapter XX
The Fellowship Dissolved
In Giraud's cabin during our absence things had gone tranquilly. Wefound Marc mending,--pale and weak indeed, but happy; Prudence nolonger pale, and with a content in her eyes which told us that her timehad not been all passed in grieving for our absence. Father Fafard wasin charge, of course; and of the Black Abbe there had been nothing seenor heard since our departure.
Nevertheless there was great news, and a word that deeply concerned me.De Ramezay had led his little army against Annapolis. Just ten daysbefore had he passed up the Valley; and for me he had left an urgentmessage, begging me to join him immediately on my return. This was ablack disappointment; for just now my soul desired nothing so much as afew days of quiet converse with Mizpah, and the chance to show her acourtesy something different from the rough comradeship of ourwilderness travels. But this was not to be. It was incumbent upon meto go in the morning.
That evening was a busy one; but I snatched leisure to sit by Marc'sbedside and give the dear lad a hasty outline of our adventure. Thetale called a flush to his face, and breathless exclamations fromPrudence; but Mizpah sat in silence, save for a faint protest once ortwice when I told of her heroism, and of her noble self-sacrifice onbehalf of the Indian lad. She was weighed down with a sadness whichshe could make no pretence to hide,--doubtless feeling the more littlePhilip's absence and loneliness as she contemplated Marc's joy on myreturn. My hands and lips ached with a longing to comfort her, but Ifirmly forbade myself to intrude upon her sorrow. By and by, when Ispoke of my positive determination to set out for Annapolis in theearly morning, both Marc and Prudence strove hard to dissuade me,crying out fervently against my going; but Mizpah said nothing morethan--
"Why not take _one day_, at least, to rest?"
And I was somewhat hurt at the quiet way she said it. Said I to myselfwithin, "She might spare me a little thought, now that she knows Philipis safe, and sure to be brought back to her."
In the morning I saw Big Etienne and Xavier set forth upon theirquest,--and Mizpah stood beside me to wish them a grateful "God-speed."Pale and sad as was the exquisite Madonna face, her lips weremarvellously red, and wore an unwonted tenderness. Her eyes evadedmine,--which hurt me sorely, but I was comforted a little by her wordas the canoe slipped silently away.
"I wish we were going with them," said she, in a wistful voice.
It was that "we" that stirred my heart.
"Would to God we were!" said I.
Half an hour later I hung over my dear lad's pallet, pressing hishands, and bidding him adieu, and kissing his gaunt cheeks. When atlast I turned away, dashing some unexpected drops from my eyes (for Ihad eagerly desired his comradeship in this venture, and had dreamed ofhim fighting at my side), I found that Prudence and the Cure had gonedown to the landing to see me off, and that Mizpah stood alone justoutside the door, looking pale and tired. I think I was aggrieved thatshe should not take the trouble to walk down as far as thelanding,--and this may have lent my voice a touch of reserve.
"Good-bye, Madame," said I, holding out my hand. "May God keep you!"
In truth it lay heavily upon my soul that she should not have onethought to spare from the child, for me. Yet I was not prepared forthe way she took my farewell.
"It was 'comrade' but yesterday," she murmured, flushing, andwithdrawing her hand ere I could give it an instant's pressure. Butgrowing straightway pale again, she added with the stateliness sonative to her:--
"Farewell, Monsieur. May God keep you also! My gratitude to the mostgallant of gentlemen, to the bravest and truest succourer of those inneed, I must ask you to believe in without words; for truly I have nowords to express it." And with that she turned away, leaving me mostsore at heart for something more than gratitude.
A few minutes later, when I had made my adieux to Father Fafard, andkissed Marc's lily maid, as was my right and duty, I had a surprisewhich sent me on my way something more happily. As our canoe (I hadGiraud with me now) slipped round a little bluff below the settlement,I caught the flutter of a gown among the trees; and the next instantMizpah appeared, waving her handkerchief. She had gone a goodhalf-mile to wave me a last God-speed.
For an instant, as I bared my head, I had a vision of her hair all downabout her, a glory that I can never think of without a trembling in mythroat. I saw a speaking tenderness in her Madonna face,--and I seemedto hear in my heart a call which assuredly her lips did not utter; thenmy eyes blurred, so hard was it to keep from turning back. I leaned myhead forward for a moment on my arms, as if I had been a soft boy, butfeeling the canoe swerve instantly from its course, I rose at once andresumed my paddling.
Nevertheless I turned my head ever and anon toward the shore behind,till I could catch no more the flutter of her gown among the trees.
I have wondered many times since, how Mizpah's hair chanced then to bedown about her in that fashion. Did some wanton branch undo it as shecame hastily through the trees? Or did her own long fingers loosen itfor me?
Of de Ramezay's vain march against Annapolis I need not speak with anyfulness here. The September weather was propitious, wherefore theexpedition was an agreeable jaunt for the troops. But my good friendthe Commander found the fort too strong and too well garrisoned for theforce he had brought against it; and the great fleet from France whichwas to have supported him came never to drop anchor in the basin ofsecure Port Royal. It is an ill tale for French ears to hear, forFrench lips to relate, that which tells of the thronged and mightyships which sailed from France so proudly to restore the Flag of theLilies to her ancient strongholds. Oh, my Country, what hadst thoudone, that the stars in their courses should fight against thee? For,indeed, the hand of fate upon the ships was heavy from the first.Great gales scattered them. By twos and threes they met the Englishfoe, and were destroyed; or disease broke out amongst their crews, tillthey were forced to flee back into port with their dying; or theystruggled on through infinite toil and pain, to be hurled to wreck onour iron capes of Acadie. The few that came in safety fled back againwhen they knew the fate of their fellows. And our grim-visagedadversaries of New England, rejoicing in their great deliverance, setthemselves to singing psalms of praise with great lustihood throughtheir noses.
And for my own part, when I reached de Ramezay's camp, the enterprisewas already as good as abandoned. For a week longer, less to annoy theenemy, than to spy out the land and commune with the inhabitants, welay before Annapolis. Then de Ramezay struck camp, and bade hisgrumbling companions march back to Chignecto.
But of me he asked a service. And, though I had hoped to go at once toCanard, I could not, in honour, deny him. I saw him and his littlearmy marching back whither my heart was fain to drag me also; but myface was set seaward, whither I had no desire to go.
For the matter was, that de Ramezay had affairs with the Abenaquichiefs of the Penobscot, which affairs he was now unable to tend inperson, and which he durst hardly entrust to a subordinate, or to oneunused to dealing with our savage allies. He knew my credit among thePenobscot tribes,--and indeed, he would have been sorely put to it, hadI denied him in the matter. The affair carried me from the Penobscotcountry on to the St. Lawrence, and then to Montreal. The story of itis not pertinent to this narrative, and moreover, which is more to thepurpose, the affair was no less private in its nature than public inits import. Suffice to say of it, therefore, that with my utmostdespatch it engaged me up to the closing of the year. It was not tillJanuary was well advanced that I found myself again in de Ramezay'scamp at Chignecto, and looked out across the snow-glittering marshes tothe dear hills of Acadie.
I found that during my absence things had happened. The Englishgovernor at Annapolis, conceiving that the Acadians were restless tothrow off the English yoke, had called upon New England forreinforcements. In answer, Boston had sent five hundred of her gauntand silent soldiery, bitter fighters, drinkers of strong rum, quaintlysanctimonious in their cups. Their leader w
as one Colonel Noble, a manof excellent courage, but small discretion, and with a foolish contemptfor his enemies. These men, as de Ramezay told me, were now quarteredin Grand Pre village, and lying carelessly. It was his purpose toattack them at once. But being himself weak from a recent sickness, hewas obliged to place the conduct of the enterprise in the hands of hissecond in command. This, as I rejoiced to learn, was a very capableand experienced officer, Monsieur de Villiers,--the same who, someyears later, was to capture the young Virginian captain, Mr.Washington, at Fort Necessity. Though our force was less than that ofthe New Englanders, de Ramezay and de Villiers both trusted to theadvantages of a surprise and a night attack.
For my own part I liked little this plan of a night attack; for I lovea fair defiance and an open field, and all my years of bush fightinghave not taught me another sentiment. But I was well inclined towardany action that would take me speedily to Canard. Moreover, I knewthat de Ramezay's plan was justified by the smallness of the forcewhich he could place at de Villiers' command. I had further a shrewdsuspicion that there were enough of the villagers on the English sideto keep the New Englanders fairly warned of our movements. In this, asI learned afterwards, I suspected rightly, but the blindover-confidence of Colonel Noble made the warning of no effect. Thepreparations for our march went on briskly, and with an eagerexcitement. The bay being now impassable by reason of the driftingice, the journey was to be made on snow-shoes, by the long, circuitousland route, through Beaubassin, Cobequid, Piziquid, and so to theGaspereau mouth. Every one was in high spirits with the prospect ofaction after a long and inglorious delay. But for me the days passedleadenly. I was consumed with impatience, and anxiety, and passionatedesire for a face that was never an hour absent from my thoughts. Myfirst act on arriving at Chignecto had been to ask for Tamin, trustingthat he might have tidings from Canard. But de Ramezay told me that hehad sent the shrewd fisherman-soldier to Grand Pre for information.
In a fever I awaited his return.
At last, but three days before the time set for our departure, hearrived. From him I learned that Marc was so far recovered as to walkabroad for a short airing whenever the weather was fine. He, as wellas the ladies, was lying very close in Giraud's cottage, and theirpresence was not known to the New Englanders at Grand Pre, at whichinformation I was highly gratified.
"And are the ladies in good health?" I asked.
"The little Miss looks rugged, and her eyes are like stars," saidTamin; "but Madame-- Ah, she is pale, and her eyes are heavy."Tamin's own eyes almost hid themselves in a network of little wrinklesas he spoke, scrutinizing my face. "She weeps for the child. She saidperhaps _you_, Monsieur, would find him in your travels, and bring himback to her!"
My heart sank at the word. I could not go to Canard,--I could not faceMizpah again, till I could go to her with Philip in my arms. I hadhoped that he was restored to her ere this. What had happened? HadBig Etienne deceived me? And Xavier, too? I could not think it. Yetwhat else could I think?
"Ah, my friend," said I, with bitterness, "she will be grievouslydisappointed in me. She will say I promise much, and perform little.And alas, it seems even so. I have not seen or heard of the child.But has Big Etienne come back? _Surely_ he has not come back withoutthe child?"
Tamin, it was plain, had heard the whole story from Marc, for he askedno questions, and showed no surprise.
"No," said he, "they're both away, Big Etienne and Xavier, gone nighonto four months. Some says to Gaspe; some says to Saguenay. Whoknows? They're Injuns!" And Tamin shrugged his shoulders, while hishonest little eyes grew beady with distrust.
But I no more distrusted, and my heart lightened mightily. They hadbeen checked, baffled perhaps, for weeks; but I felt that they werefaithful and would succeed. I resolved that the moment this enterpriseof de Villiers' was accomplished I would go to help them. But I hadyet more questions for Tamin.
"And the Black Abbe?" I asked. "Where is he?"
"At Baie Verte, minding his store, or at Cobequid with his red lambs,"replied Tamin, puckering his wide mouth drolly. "He is little atChignecto since he met you there, Monsieur. And he has not been seenat Canard since Giraud's cabin grew so hospitable. But Grul is much inthe neighbourhood. I think the Black Abbe fears him."
Remembering the awful scene on the cliffs of the des Saumons, I feltthat Tamin's surmise was fairly founded; and I blessed the strangebeing who thus kept watch over those whom I loved. But I said nothingto Tamin of what was in my mind, thinking it became me to keep Grul'scounsel.