CHAPTER VII.
THE FIGHT.
Although the majority of the thirty-six Dutchmen left aboard had beensecured below hatches, those on deck were sufficient to make the oddsheavy against the Englishmen. The unanticipated arrival of the lord ofthe isles and his son--who had been returning from their hunting groundhigher up the river, when their ears were startled through the morningmist by the sound of English voices--brought up the attacking strengthto the fortunate number of seven; but the new-comers were not evenobserved by the five adventurers during the excitement of the openingstage of that struggle in the fog.
That incautious cheer, which followed the noise of the gun, was defiantrather than triumphant. In spite of Penfold's careful aim the ball hadmerely crashed across deck and plunged through the cabin windows. Acouple of hurriedly aimed shots came back in angry reply, but onepassed high, the other low, resulting in a wrecked plank in the deckand the loss of a portion of rigging. The bark of seventeenth-centurycannon was far more formidable than its bite.
"Have at them, my lads. Drive them over the side," thundered Penfold;and he rushed forward to clear the deck at the head of his gallant few.
Before the conflicting parties could meet, three Dutchmen, deceived bythe tumultuous English cheer, had gone over the side to swim for shore.These men believed that at least a boatload of armed men had taken themby surprise, and they but obeyed the instinct which in certaintemperaments recommends prudence in the form of flight.
"We stand too close together," rang out Penfold's voice. "FriendWoodfield, I had your elbow twice into my side. Separate a little, butlet us keep in line."
"One rush forward--a strong rush to the cabins," shouted Hough. Thefive swords darted through the fog, and every point came back reddened.
Then they broke into a run, hoping thus to sweep the deck, but theirweakness had by this time become evident to the defenders, who in theirturn pressed forward, conquering by sheer weight of numbers. Each ofthe adventurers sought shelter for his back, a mast or bulwark, andeach was driven to fight independently. Three men rushed upon Penfoldand pressed him sore. The Englishman cut at the head of the foremost,but while his arm was uplifted the others took the advantage offeredand ran in under his guard. Penfold drew his dagger and beat at themwith his left hand. The second Dutchman scratched him deeply along theside. The third caught and held his left wrist, and shortened hisrapier to run the Englishman through the heart. Penfold saw deathbefore him, but only called grimly, "Fair play, ye dogs, fair play!"
The sword was dashed from his hand. He pressed back to avoid theplunge of the shortened blade, but the Hollanders had him at theirmercy. Penfold prepared to make a last effort to break aside, when thefoe who threatened him started rigid with a gasp of pain, and theleader of the adventurers saw the point of a sword dart fearfully fromthe Dutchman's chest. Then the man fell forward spitted from behind,and with him another of the soldiers, while the third of Penfold'sassailants splashed heavily into the St. Lawrence.
The man who had saved the leader's life went on his way fighting withmagnificent confidence in the strength of his right arm, and beside himwent the boy, fighting with all his father's fervour, his brown facepale with passion, his little brown hands already oozing blood, and hisshort sword from hilt to point all bloody too.
"Angels or devils," gasped Flower, who was bleeding heavily from awound in the thigh, "they fight upon our side."
"At them again," cried Woodfield. "After the brave stranger."
"He takes too much upon him. I am leader here," grumbled old Penfoldunthankfully.
The valour of the stranger turned the scale. None of the Dutch couldstand before that terrible blade. They gave way, were hunted back tothe cabins, and there brought to bay.
"Yield you, sirs!" called Penfold.
Seeing that they had done sufficient for honour, the men yielded, gaveup their weapons, and sought permission to finish their dressing.Before this request could be granted, a deep voice exclaimed:
"You grow careless, my masters. Know you not that a bird cannot flyunless she has wings to carry her?"
It was the stranger who issued this caution as he pointed with hissword over the stern.
The ship had drifted some eighty yards from her moorings, her keelgrating more than once upon a drift of mud. She had remained close tothe bank, out of reach of the strong central current, and now layalmost motionless, because she had reached the slack water where theriver commenced its eastward bend. Behind her lay the fortress,already vested in the golden light of the morning. Between, where thewhite mist was stealing upward, came sailing a great hulk, and abovethe vapour could be seen the flag of France crushing its golden liliesagainst the topmast. At intervals came the indistinct murmur ofvoices, the flash of hurried sparks dropped upon touchwood, the rattleof cannon balls, the ramming home of charges down slim-waisted guns.
"Fool that I am!" exclaimed Penfold. "Fool and forgetful! Up therigging, my lads, and set the mainsail. What breeze there is blowsdown the river. Drive me yonder fellows up, George Flower. Do you seethat they set all sails, and if they be not ready to obey hurry themwith the sword point."
The sailors were driven into the rigging to plume their ship for thebenefit of a victorious enemy. The canvas flapped out, the ship veeredtowards midstream, and, instantly responding to wind and current,floated to the left of the island, with the Frenchman scarce a hundredyards from her stern.
A voice came rolling out of the mist, the voice of D'Archand. "Are youattacked by Indians?" he shouted. The master had undoubtedly made outthe Indian canoe floated beside the steps.
"Let any man answer at his peril," said Penfold, glaring round upon theunarmed Dutch.
"Do we fear the French?" demanded Viner hotly. "Here are five--nay,seven--good Englishmen, for surely our stout allies here have fought asonly English can----"
"There are a hundred men upon yonder ship," interrupted the leader,"men equipped with the newest weapons of Europe. It were madness todivulge our names and nation. Sir," he went on, turning to thestranger, "we are much indebted to you. Sir, you have fought like abrave man, and have helped us to overcome our enemies. What counsel doyou give?"
"Answer Roussilac that Indians have come aboard, but that the crew arecapable of defending themselves, if you will," the stranger replied."So may you avoid his fire. Or with your pleasure I will undertake toanswer the master myself, even as an Englishman should always answer aFrenchman."
"And how is that?" demanded Penfold.
The stranger indicated the brilliant flag, flapping in the sunshinelike a wounded bird trying to fly but falling back. "By defying him solong as that emblem flies," he said.
Between heavy lines of mist, waved like the bar nebuly upon the shieldof the woolcombers, the black stem and white deck of the enemy hadbecome partly visible. Heads of watchers were peering over her side,their bodies hidden, their faces barely above the fog line. Before thecabins in front of the poop a canopy fluttered; under it a table, andupon the table six great golden poppies lifted their heads, theirragged petals flickering under the breeze. The Englishmen saw the barehead and richly caparisoned shoulders of a tall priest, who swayedmonotonously from side to side, and muttered Latin in a deep voice.The table was an altar, the poppies were candles, and the priest was LaSalle reciting the inevitable morning Mass.
The better-built Dutch vessel, being easily capable of sailing a knotand a half to the Frenchman's one, drew away, her main and fore sheetsswelling till they were round as the belly of some comfortable merchantof Eastcheap who had profited by a successful venture upon the SpanishMain. Very soon the voice of the militant priest became like themurmur of an overhead insect.
"Now by my soul!" cried Hough, with a quivering of his slit nostrils."It were an everlasting disgrace to Christian men to stand thus idleand watch a priest of Baal offering sacrifice. Bid us run out theguns, captain, and drop a good Protestant cannon ball amid yondercatholic juggling. We have
fought for our country this day. Let usnow commit ourselves to the Lord's work, and snuff out yonder stinkingcandles, and end these popish blasphemies."
Penfold made no sign of hearing this appeal. He said merely, "Theycram on yet more sail. But they shall not come up to us unless we arebrought upon a bar, and even so they cannot pass us, because the waterbecomes narrow beyond. Where is friend Woodfield?"
"Guarding the prisoners at the door of the cabin and keeping an eyethat they do not arm themselves."
"Listen to the men below," said Flower. "Our caged birds become wearyof confinement, and beat their wings to escape."
Hough and the lord of the isles held their eyes upon the Frenchman, whowas now one hundred and fifty yards away, and almost clear of vapour.When they could see that the guns had been unshipped and were pointingover the bows, neither man was able altogether to suppress his feelings.
"The curse of God shall surely fall upon us," cried the Puritanfuriously. "When summoned to work in His vineyard we turn a deaf earto the call. Did evil come to me when I dragged with mine own handsfrom the reformed communion table of our parish church at Dorchester aJesuit in disguise, and flung the dog into our little river Thame thereto repent him of his former and latter sins?"
"Peace, friend," said old Penfold. "Here is not England, nor stand weon English territory. Let yonder papists worship their saints andidols to their own decay. We are but few in number, though valiant inspirit, and with every man a wound to show. Remember also that thisship is not yet our prize."
"Croaker," muttered Hough disdainfully.
"Say rather a man to whom age has brought sound judgment," returnedPenfold, unmoved.
"It is my turn," said the deep voice of the unknown. "Sir Captain, Ihave a favour to beg. There is a gun yonder on which I have set myeye, a brass gun of some twenty pounds weight, loaded with ball. If itdisplease you not, I will discharge that gun from the aftmost deck insuch a manner that it shall harm no man. Sir Captain, I have somesmall experience in aiming the gun."
Penfold set his rugged face towards his questioner.
"Good sir," he said, "you are English among Englishmen. We are plaincountrymen of the royal county of Berks, village yeomen of smalldegree, who have beaten our plowshares into swords; but you, I maybelieve, judging from your speech, are somewhat higher. Tell us, ifyou will, your name."
"My name is my own, my sword the king's, my life belongs to mycountry," said the stranger. "Enough to know that I am a man of Kent.If now I have answered you, sir, I beg of you to answer me."
"We should but reveal ourselves."
"Every minute widens yon strip of water between ourselves and thepursuer. She is sailing her fastest, and each minute sends us more ofthe wind which she has been taking from us. This breeze may endure foranother hour, by which time we shall have reached the chasm which iscalled Tadousac. Sixteen years have I dwelt upon this river, goodmaster, both in winter and summer, and no servant of King Louis, norIndian of the forest, knows its waters better than I."
Penfold turned to the two associates supporting him. "What answershall I give?" he asked.
"Consent," said fanatic and youth together; and Penfold gave consentagainst his better judgment.
Unaided, the stranger carried the short gun up the steps, rested it inposition upon its crutch on the sloping deck, and arranged the priming,while the stern boy at his bidding produced knife and flint. The menbelow awaited results with a certain curiosity, looking for little morethan an explosion of powder, and the hurling of a defiant missileharmlessly into space.
It might have been the excellence of the aim, it might have been theworking of Providence, more probably it was sheer commonplace Englishluck; but, when the quaint little weapon had howled, kicked viciously,and rolled over, there came the dull crash of lead with wood, a showerof tough splinters, and--most glorious sight for the adventurers'eyes--the top of the French mainmast, carrying the great white and goldflag, which had been blessed by a bishop upon the high altar of NotreDame in Paris, sprang into the air like a pennoned lance, described ahalf circle, and plunged to deck, piercing the canopy as though it hadbeen paper, missing the ministrant by inches only, scattering thecandlesticks and breaking the candles before the eyes of thescandalised soldiers, who were concluding their devotions to the "_Itemissa est_" of the priest.
A great cheer ascended from the Dutch ship, making the cold, pine-cladhills echo and ring. Hough forgot his sternness, and laughed aloud ashe clasped the gunner's hand. Old Penfold smiled grimly, with moreinward jubilation than he cared to show.
"Now plume her, lads, and let us fly," he shouted. "Steer her aroundyonder bend in safety, and we may laugh at her cannon."
"The prisoners, captain! We cannot both fight the ship and hold guardover them."
"To the river with them," said Hough. "Let them swim ashore."
"There may be some who cannot swim."
"What better chance shall they have of learning? My father cast meinto the Thames when I was but a whipster, and said, 'Sink or swim, mylad.' And I thought it well to swim."
Protesting, struggling, swearing in an unknown tongue, the prisonerswere brought forth from the cabins and hurried over the side, thelaggards helped by a cuff or kick at starting. The turgid riversplashed with Dutchmen, like a school of porpoises, making with whatspeed they could--for the water was exceedingly cold--towards therock-bound shore.
Great was the confusion upon the Frenchman when she became so notablydisgraced, but presently D'Archand restored a semblance of order, andthe men trailed off to their duties, probably not a little afraid atdiscovering that the ever-dreaded English, whose appearance north offar-distant Plymouth had become a familiar nightmare, were aboard theirsupposed Dutch ally. La Salle, who had immediately rushed into hiscabin and there divested himself of his ecclesiastical finery, speedilyreappeared in secular costume with his redoubtable sword naked in hishand. The abbe could swear as heartily as any soldier when put to it,which fact he proved beyond lawyers' arguments then and there.
"Body of St. Denis!" he cried. "See to your priming, knaves. Ah,hurry, young imp of the pit," kicking a scrambling powder-boy as heshouted. "By St. Louis, our Lady, and the Cardinal! This is a Dutchword, a Dutch troth, a Dutch alliance. We shall harry the traitors whohave leagued themselves with our enemies, unless their master, Satan,lends them wings to carry them to the uttermost parts of the earth. Weshall hang them speedily to the rigging, if the saints be favourable.Fire, rogues! See you not that she is slipping away from us? Ah, fora sand bank, or sunken rock, to catch her as she runs! Mark you now,when I throw a curse over them, how they shall be brought down in theirpride."
Despite the malediction of Holy Church, the trim Dutchman swept onnearly a quarter of a mile ahead. Sailors manned the rigging, andcrammed on as much additional sail as the masts would bear; thedishonoured flag was replaced; Roussilac paced the main deck, pale withrage, his fingers clasping and unclasping his sword-hilt. D'Archandhurried to and fro, issuing orders with typical French rapidity.
A jet of smoke broke over her bows, and a ball threw up a spout ofwater in the wake of the fleeing vessel.
"A most courteous and inoffensive messenger," quoth Flower, bowing tothe enemy. "Captain, shall we not make a suitable reply?"
"I fear me powder and ball are out of reach," said the captain. "Thenoisy hornets below guard the magazine. Would that we had a flag tohoist over us, though it were nothing more comprehensible to our foesthan the five heads of county Berks."
Another gun exploded, and after it another, and so they continuedringing their wild music, the balls falling astern for the most part,though more than one whizzed through the rigging, yet without doingmore damage than cutting a rope.
"Take her wide round yonder point, master helmsman," cried thestranger. "There lies a mud-bank stretching under the water well-nighto mid-stream. Mark you the place where it ceases by the ripple acrossthe river? Steer your passage to the left of that ri
pple, and allshall go well."
"Methinks the wind blows more keenly," said Woodfield.
"There is coming upon us that wind which the Indians call the life ofthe day, a breath of storm from the west which endures but a fewmoments, blowing away the vapours of early morn and the last clouds ofnight," said the man of Kent. "We may be sure of that wind at thisseason of the year. After it follows calm, and the sun grows hot.Haul down the lower main-sail, Sir Leader. The heavy mist upon yonderhills tells us that the wind shall blow full strength this morning."
Even as he spoke a ball from the enemy's bows roared overhead, andsnatched away a portion of the sail he indicated. The loose canvasbegan already to flap and the flying ropes to whistle in the wind.
"Let it remain so," said the Kentishman. "We have no need to take inour sail since they have saved us the work. Didst see how shestaggered then? She shall never carry all that weight of canvasthrough the life of the day, and the wind bears more heavily on herthan upon us. Ah, she gains!"
It was as he had said. The unwieldy vessel fell into the breath of thewind, and, righting herself after a sudden lurch, settled down into thewater, ploughing a deep white furrow, every mast bending and every ropestraining, every inch of canvas bellying mightily.
The Dutchman came out to avoid the mud flat. She began to make thebend, and her helmsman already saw the wide reach of river beyond, whena terrible shout ascended from the men who were caged between decks.At the same moment a pungent odour tainted the free air, and a thinblue vapour began to leak from the cracks and joinings of the planks.
The Dutchman was burning internally. Soon her deck smoked like a dustyroad under wind, and the shouts of the prisoners became terrible toendure. The adventurers smelt the choking fumes, saw the curlingvapours, and their faces grew pale with the knowledge that they had toface a more dangerous foe than the French, knowing well that any momenta spark or a flame might touch the magazine.
"Unfortunates!" groaned Penfold. "I had hoped to win this ship, andwith her sail to Virginia, there to gather a crew of mine own people,and return hither to harry the French."
"To the boats," cried Flower. "Better be sunk by a cannon ball thanperish like rats in a corn-stack."
The wind rushed down from the westward rocks with a shout. It smotethe waters of the St. Lawrence, beating them into waves. It penetratedthe womb of the Dutch vessel, and fanned the smouldering fire intolife. It plucked at the cordage, fought with the sails, and bent themasts until they cracked again. It came in a haze through which thesun glowed faintly, and behind over the unseen heights the sky clearedand burst into blue patches, because the passing of the life of the daywas as sudden as its birth.
Down went the mizzenmast of the Frenchman with its crowning weight ofcanvas, carrying away the spanker, the shrouds, davits, and quarterboat; and her sky-sails, which a moment before had raked the breeze soproudly, spread disabled in the river. She dragged on with herwreckage, while men with axes swarmed into the poop to cut away thedead weight of wood and saturated canvas. The mainmast curved like abow from the main shrouds to the truck, but remained fast until thehaze broke, and the sky became a field azure, from which the sun shoneout in his might.
Flames were now pouring from the doomed ship, and the poop was a massof fire. The Englishmen ran for the boats, into which they flung everyarticle upon which they could lay their hands: swords and guns, axes,clothing, provisions, bedding, and even spare sails and ropes.Everything would serve some useful purpose in their life upon theshore. The lord of the isles alone took nothing. He entered his canoewith the boy, and before the adventurers quitted the doomed ship theyhad reached the shore and entered the cover of the trees, the mancarrying the light canoe beneath his arm.
"Release the prisoners," cried Flower, as he cast his last burden intothe boat.
"Not so," replied the vindictive Hough. "Let them perish like the menof Amalek before Israel."
"Nay, we are no cold-blooded murderers," protested Woodfield."Unfasten the hatches, and let them save themselves."
"Have they not been delivered into our hands that we may destroy them?"said Hough.
"Now you would undo the good work, and raise up again a host to be ourdestruction in the time to come."
"Let us not argue, lest we be destroyed," said young Viner. "What saysour captain?"
But old Penfold was lying back in the boat, fainting with exhaustionand loss of blood, and when Woodfield appealed to him he only murmuredthe death sentence of the Dutchmen, "Let Jeremiah Hough command."
"Cast off," said the Puritan. "Let the enemies of our country perish.The Lord do so to me and more also if I spare any of the accursed racewho have sworn to sweep England from the seas."
So the boat pushed off, and came after hard rowing to the shore, besidethe mouth of the little river which enters the main stream midwaybetween Cap Tourmente and the cleft of the Saguenay. Up this river themen pulled to find a place for encampment, until the sweet-smellingpine forest closed behind and hid them from their enemies, whose flagthey had flouted and beaten that day. While they worked their wayinland a mighty explosion shook the atmosphere, the cones rained fromthe overhanging trees, the rock land thrilled, the face of the watershivered, and the birds flew away with screams.
"I fear me," said Hough, as he ceased his nasal droning of a psalm, "Ifear me that the popish dogs have been given time to rescue theHollanders."
True it was that the French had been allowed both time and opportunityfor setting at liberty the wretches in the burning ship, but neitherRoussilac nor any of his captains dared to lead the venture, knowingthat any moment might witness the destruction of the ship. The mastertook in his sails, cast anchor, and waited for the end.
Thus the undertaking of Holland failed, as her treachery deserved. Itwas her one attempt at wresting the fortress from the Cardinal's grip.And from that day to this no man-of-war from the Netherlands has eversailed up the gulf of the St. Lawrence.