CHAPTER VIII.
COUCHICING.
A month went after the failure of the Dutch venture, and the sachems ofthe Iroquois still awaited the signal of the raft of fire. Van Vurenhad entered the fortress that morning which witnessed the loss of hisship, and there remained at the mercy of the French, spending his daysin making friendly overtures to the commandant, avoiding La Salle--whostill refused to believe that it was not Van Vuren who had been hiscowardly attacker that distant night at the street corner inAvignon--and anxiously inquiring for news concerning the expeditionwhich he had sent out to the west. The Dutchman was being punished forhis treachery by the knowledge that a sword was suspended by anexceedingly frail thread above his head, for he strongly suspected thatthe dwarf Gaudriole was cognisant of his visits to the council fire.He was therefore afraid to approach the Indians again; but his mind wasyet occupied with its former plot of seizing the fortress with theiraid.
During that month Roussilac had not been idle. With half his men hehad harried the country to east and west, that he might find and hangthe Englishmen who had dared to occupy his territory and disgrace hisflag. He did not venture into the forests of the north, because theIroquois were masters there. Once the adventurers came very near tobeing taken, but bravery and English luck opened a way for theirescape. They were, however, compelled to abandon their cave among thecliffs, and flee for refuge into the district inhabited by the friendlyCayugas; and there, a few paces from the brink of Couchicing, the Lakeof Many Winds, they built them a hiding-place surrounded by a palisade,which they ambitiously named New Windsor. To the north they wereprotected by the face of the water, to the south by the primaevalforest; on the west the Cayugas held the land, on the east the Oneidas,both tribes well disposed towards the English and bitterly hostile tothe French.
Finding himself again defeated, Roussilac cast about in his mind for asounder policy, and finally resolved to adopt Samuel de Champlain'scunning and stir up the Algonquins anew to attack their hereditaryfoes. Accordingly he despatched Gaudriole with a couple of soldiers tothe north, with a present of guns and ammunition and a message to thechief Oskelano, praying him to descend straightway to the river, andview for himself the majesty and power of the representatives of theKing of France. Oskelano, a treacherous and heartless rogue, snatchedat the gifts, asked greedily for more, and consented to return with thedwarf to the fortress.
This move on the part of the commandant escaped the knowledge of themen who were busy in their way spinning the web of England's empire,fighting for their own existence and for supremacy at one and the sametime. At their councils figured the lord of the isles--whosewell-hidden shelter in the heart of the region of the lost waters hadnever been suspected by the searching party--and his stern young son.Since that unlooked-for meeting on the deck of the Dutch vessel theKentishman had come into frequent contact with the men of Berks, andtheir common nationality, cause, and necessities had quickly forged astubborn tie between them. But the geniality of the yeomen neversucceeded in breaking down the reserve of their mysterious colleague.When asked to recount some portion of his past history he would butanswer brusquely, and when they demanded to know his name he merelyreturned his former answer, "I am a man of Kent."
During that month another provision ship, the _St. Wenceslas_ ofMarseilles, had sailed up the St. Lawrence, and so soon as she had madefast and told the news of the world D'Archand lifted anchor and headedfor home, carrying Roussilac's despatches, and those soldiers andsettlers who, by reason of wounds or sickness, had become unfitted tofulfil their military obligations. The French Government had takenadvantage of the dissensions which were rending England apart to sendby the _St. Wenceslas_ more emigrants into the new world--all pickedmen, destined by the Government to be established, willing orunwilling, regardless of soil or natural advantages, upon suchdistricts as might be considered to need strengthening, there tosurvive or to become extinct. It would be their duty to form, not asettlement capable of extension, but a military post; and they would besustained by supplies brought over from France by warships. It was aweak policy, bound by the test of time to fail. The English motto wassettlement and a friendly attitude towards the natives; that of hergreat colonial rival, aggrandisement and the destruction of theaborigines.
These facts were remembered by the venturers, when they beheld thecoming of the one ship and the departure of the other, and, egotiststhough they were, the truth that they could not possibly form asettlement unaided became at last too obvious to be ignored. Afterrepeated deliberations they decided upon a course which was indeed theonly one open to them. The advice, that one of the party shouldattempt to reach the king's loyal town of Boston by overland journeyand there beg for help, proceeded in the first instance from the man ofKent. He explained that the province of Massachusetts was welloccupied by Englishmen of every grade--soldiers of fortune as well asartisans, farmers, and titled scions of great houses; and, he added,there were ships of war in Boston and Plymouth harbours. This advicefound favour in the eyes of the others, and they proceeded to draw lotsto decide which one should make the hazard. The lot fell upon GeoffreyViner, the youngest of the party. His seniors at once held forthobjections, grounded upon his youth and inexperience; but the boy asstoutly held out for his privilege, until the dissentients gave way.
At noon upon the day which had been selected for the young man'sdeparture, the lord of the isles appeared at New Windsor to bid themessenger farewell. Geoffrey went out with him, and they stood alonein the shade of a hemlock, facing the lake and a white cascade whichstreamed like a bridal veil over the face of the rocks. After theKentishman had imparted what little knowledge he had of the country tothe south, he went on to fix deeply into the mind of his listener theimportance of seeing Lord Baltimore, the Governor of New England,personally, and of impressing the papist peer strongly with the vitalnecessity of sending immediate succour to the north.
"And what if my Lord Baltimore will not hear me, or hearing will notbelieve?" asked Geoffrey anxiously.
"Give to him this ring," replied the other, drawing reluctantly fromhis left hand a gold circlet set with a stone bearing a coat-of-arms."Bid him remember the promise made to this ring's owner one summernight in a Kentish orchard. Bid him also recall the words of KingHenry the Sixth upon Southwark Bridge, hard by Saint Mary Overies, tohis ancestor the keeper of the privy seal, and to mine the sheriff ofKent."
"Think you that our plans shall prosper?" the young man asked.
"Have no doubt. Believe that already we have succeeded. Persuadeyourself that the French are driven out of their fastnesses, and theland from Acadia to Hochelaga gives allegiance to King Charles. As aman wills so shall it be. And yet be cautious."
"Should I not bid them attack Acadia first? It is but a small colony,and open to the water they say."
"Nay," said the other. "Let us fight with our faces to the sea. Howshall it profit us to drive our enemy inland and disperse them as aswarm of flies which rises and settles in another spot? We must drivethem eastward to the sea, where they shall either conquer or die. Ipray you guard that ring."
As they moved away from the hemlock's shade a canoe swept over the lakeand touched the sand, and two stern-faced Cayugas lifted their paddles,shaking the water from the blades. These brought a brace ofland-locked salmon to the beach. A young woman followed, and after heran old man, his thick hair adorned with a bunch of feathers. Thesewere Shuswap and Onawa, his youngest daughter.
The lord of the isles went forward, and met his native relatives uponthe beach.
"Gitsa," cried the old man. "We greet you, Gitsa."
"Is it well, Shuswap?"
"It is the time of the wind of life, the good time," the old mananswered. "The waters are free, and the animals breed in the forest.Where are the white men of the smooth tongue, Gitsa? Where are the menwho came to us at the council fire and said to us, 'Your enemy is ourenemy. Aid us now when we rise up against them'? Shall they returnwith the wind
of life?"
"The north wind came upon them and swept them away," his son-in-lawreplied, employing the sachem's figurative speech. "You have somethingto tell me, Shuswap?"
"There is a strange ship come to the high cliffs, a great ship from theland of the accursed people," said the old man. "What is this that youhave told us, Gitsa? Said you not that the King of England shall sendmany ships and men when the ice has gone, to drive out the men ofFrance and restore their own to the tribes of the Iroquois? What isthis that we see? The priest of France sends more ships, and more menwho shall kill the beasts of the forest and the fish of the waters, anddrive us back with their fire-tubes into the forests of the north wherethe enemies of our race, the Algonquins, lie ever in wait. Is there aking in England, Gitsa? Has he ships to send out? Has he men to putinto them? Have you lied to the sachems of the Iroquois?"
"Be not afraid, Shuswap," said the white man. "You shall learn whetherthere be a king of England or no. But he has many enemies in thefar-away world, and these he must conquer first. Even now we aresending a messenger to the king's country, and he shall return withships and men, and the French shall flee before them."
The man of Kent spoke with a heavy heart. He dared not confess what hebelieved to be the truth--namely, that England was already embroiled incivil war.
"A tribe divided against itself shall be annihilated," said the sachemsharply, with the clairvoyant power of the primitive man. "Theremaining tribes stand by until it is exhausted, and then fall uponthat tribe, and it is known no more. Is it so with the English, Gitsa?"
"It is not so," replied the Englishman, a flush upon his tannedfeatures. "England stands above other nations of the world, even asthe sun is greater than all lights. She shines over the earth in herstrength. Were there no England the world would fall into decay, thecreatures who supply us with meat and fur would die, the fish wouldfail in the waters, the forests would wither, there would be no rainand no light by night or by day. The sun would turn black, the moonwould fall into the sea, the very gods would die if England were nomore. She shall take possession of this land in her own time, andFrenchmen shall have no place in it except as subjects of our king."
The old sachem lifted his cunning eyes and said: "It is well, Gitsa.But if it be so, why does not your king lift his hand and drive awayhis enemies, or blow with his breath and destroy their ships? Surelythat would be a small thing to a king who governs the world."
"It would be a small thing in truth," replied the Englishman, smilingin spite of his sorrow. "But the ways of the king are not our ways.He allows his enemies to go upon their course, until a day comes whenhe shall say, 'You have gone too far.' It is thus that he shows hispower."
"It is so," said the sachem gravely. "We cannot read the mind of himwho rules. One year there are many animals in the forest, and we livein plenty. The next we starve. A small tribe overthrows a great one.A great tribe becomes too prosperous and is plagued with pestilence.The young men are smitten. The old live on. The wind destroys theforest, the river breaks its own banks. The lightning strikes down thetotem-pole which we have raised for his pleasure. It is so. There isa mystery in life. The gods destroy their own handiwork. They removethe strong, and let the weak survive."
He passed on, an erect figure, in spite of his age, and treading firmly.
Onawa, a silent listener to their talk, stepped out. She was good tolook upon, with her wealth of black hair, her large eyes, her roundedface, the cheeks and lips lightly touched with paint, her slim muscularfigure. She could run against any man, and aim an arrow with thesureness of any forester of Nottingham. But she was headstrong, aschangeable as water, and the Englishman did not trust her.
"Where have you been, Onawa?" he said.
"I have come from the camp with my father," she replied. "Where haveyou left your son? They say, among the tribes, that he grows into agreat warrior. They say also that he carries wood and draws water andcuts up the deer which he has killed. Our young men despise a woman'swork."
"I have taught him the duty of helping his mother," came the reply."In my country a man lives for his mother or his wife, and her goodfavour is his glory."
The girl hesitated, a frown crossing her forehead. "Why are the Frenchso beautiful, so bold-looking?" she asked suddenly.
"That they may captivate the minds and eyes of women who are weak."
"They are better to look at than Englishmen. They do not wear oldgarments marked with dirt. They do not let the hair upon their facesgrow down their bodies. They do not talk deep in their throats. Theyare not serious. I love to hear them talk, to see them move. Theywalk like men who own the world."
"I have warned you against them," he said earnestly. "They are thenatural enemies of your people. Consider! What Frenchman has evermarried into your tribe and settled down among you?"
The girl laughed scornfully, and turned to go, grasping her long hairin her hand.
"You hide from them because you know that they are better men thanyou," she taunted. "It was a Frenchman who first came Jo our countryfrom the other world. Perhaps there was no England in those days. Thesun loves to shine upon Frenchmen. The English live in the mists. Youhave taken my sister for wife, but I--I, Onawa, daughter of Shuswap,would marry a Frenchman."
"Never shall I wish you a harder fate," retorted the calm man; andhaving thus spoken he turned aside towards the tiny English settlementto greet his friends and join again his son.
It was the first hour of night when Viner started upon his greatjourney. The forest was white with a moon, and sparks of phosphorusdarted across the falls. When the wooden bars were drawn out of theirsockets and the five men emerged from the palisade, the monotonouschirping of frogs ceased abruptly, and a great calm ensued.
In single file they passed along the dark trail, the wet bush sweepingtheir legs, the branches locked overhead. They rounded the red fireswhich marked the camping-ground of the Oneidas; they smelt the acridsmoke, and dimly sighted many a brown lean-to; the dogs jumped outbarking. They passed, the lights disappeared, the silence closed down.Presently the trail divided; the branch to the left leading to theriver, that to the right bearing inland to the lakes, rivers, andhunting-grounds known only to the Indians.
"Get you back now," said Viner, halting at the parting of the ways."We are already in the country of the enemy. Bid me here God-speed."
There they clasped hands, and in the act of farewell Flower slippedinto Viner's hand a little black stone marked with a vein of chalk."Keep it, lad," he muttered. "One spring when I was near drowning inthe Thames by being held in the weeds I caught this stone from theriver-bed. Methinks it has protected me from ill. May that samefortune be on you, and more added to it, in the work which lies beforeyou."
A ray of moonlight fell through an opening in the trees, and whitenedthe five keen faces.
"Superstition made never a soldier of any man," muttered the sternvoice of the Puritan. "Fling that idolatry to the bush, Geoffrey, andgo your way, trusting rather in the Lord with a psalm upon your lips."
"It is but a reminder of home for the lad," protested Flower gently."We have each other. But in the solitudes what shall he have?"
"'Tis but a stone from our river, friend Hough," said Geoffrey timidly."I thank you, neighbour," he added.
"Fare you well," said old Penfold sadly. "We shall lack you sore."
They turned away, and instantly became lost from the man who was goingsouth, because the trail bent sharply. The little band of adventurers,now reduced to four, walked slowly and sorrowfully towards New Windsor,until they came out upon the lake, and heard the beavers gnawing therushes, and the wind splashing the fresh water up the beach.
"What has come to our nightingales?" said Penfold suddenly. "I likenot this silence."
The frogs about the palisade were songless, and the sign was ominous.At their leader's hasty remark the others came to a stand, and scannedthe prospect keenly, until silently and abruptl
y the ghost-like shapeof a woman rose between them and the moon.
"'Tis but the girl Onawa, daughter of Shuswap," muttered Woodfieldreassuringly; but there was a suspicion in his mind which prompted himto add, "What does she here?"
Even while he put the question Hough cried out, and pointed with a wildgesture, feeling that same moment for his sword. Gazing in thedirection which he indicated with a quivering hand, his brethren sawbefore them the palisade, but not as they had left it. The wooden barshad been set back into their sockets, as though to forebode theoccupation of their enclosure by an enemy.
"Stay!" called Onawa haughtily, when the men approached her at a run."Your tepee has passed from you into the power of the king."
"There is only one king," cried old Penfold. Then he shouted at her,for all the land to hear, "What king?"
"King Louis," said the girl defiantly.