CHAPTER XXXV
Calm and bright, and beautiful, the Sabbath morning broke over thewoody world around Edith Prevost. Through the tall pine trees leftstanding within the earthworks the rosy light streamed sweetly; andthough no birds deserving the name of songsters inhabit the forests ofAmerica, yet many a sweet, short note saluted the rising day.
Edith, with her good negro woman lying near, had slept more soundlythan she had hoped for, but she was awake with the first ray, androusing her dark companion, she said: "We must not forget that this isSunday, Bab. Call in our good friend Woodchuck, and we will praybefore all the noise and bustle of the day begins. I am sure he willbe glad to do so."
"But you have no book, Missy," answered the woman.
"That matters not," said the beautiful girl. "I know almost all theprayers by heart, from reading them constantly."
Sister Bab opened the little hurdle door and looked round. She couldnot see the person she sought. Three sentinels were pacing to and froat different points; one man was rousing himself slowly from the sideof an extinguished fire; but all the rest within sight were fastasleep. It was useless for Sister Bab to ask the neighboring sentinelany questions, and she looked round in vain.
"He has most likely gone to sleep in one of the huts," said Edith,when the woman told her Woodchuck was not to be seen. "We will notwait for him;" and closing the door again, she knelt and prayed withthe poor negress by her side.
It was a great comfort to her, for her heart that day was sad, perhapsfrom the memory of many a Sabbath with those she loved, and thecontrast of those days with her situation at the time; perhaps fromthe uncertainty of her brother's fate; and doubtless, too, the thoughtthat every rising sun brought nearer the hour when a parent and alover were to be exposed to danger, perhaps to death, had its weight,likewise. But she was that day very sad, and prayer was a relief--ablessing.
Before she had concluded, a good deal of noise and turmoil was heardwithout; voices speaking sharply, calls such as Edith had not heardbefore, and in a moment after, the door of the hut opened--for it hadno latch--and Monsieur Le Comtois appeared, inquiring if she had seenanything of her English companion.
"No, indeed," replied Edith. "I sent my servant out to seek for himhalf an hour ago, but she could not find him, and I concluded he wasin one of the huts."
The Frenchman stamped his foot upon the ground, and, forgetting hisusual politeness, uttered some hasty and angry words, implying abelief that Edith knew very well where Woodchuck was, and had aidedhis escape. The beautiful girl drew herself up with an air of dignity,and replied: "You make me feel, sir, that I am a prisoner. But youmistake me greatly. I do not permit myself to speak falsely on anyoccasion. If he has escaped you--and I trust he has--I knew nothing ofit."
"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," replied the officer, "but this tome is a very serious matter. I may be subjected to the severestmilitary punishment for this unfortunate affair. It was of the utmostimportance that the existence of this post should be kept a secret.The utmost precautions have been taken to keep its existenceconcealed, even from the forces in Fort Carillon; and now this man isat large, to bear the intelligence to the enemy. This must excuse alittle heat. How he has escaped, it is impossible to divine, for Iordered him to be kept in sight by the sentinels continually, as wellas the Indians who came with you. He must be worse than an Indian, forthey are all safe and quiet enough, but he has disappeared, though thesentinel swears he passed him sleeping on the ground, under the greatpine tree, not an hour ago."
"Half an hour ago he certainly was gone," replied Edith, "for theservant went to look for him and could not find him."
"He may be still in the bushes," said the French officer. "I will sendout a party to search;" and he turned from the door of the hut.
Edith followed a step or two to see the result; but hardly hadMonsieur Le Comtois given his orders, in obedience to which about adozen men issued forth, some clambering over the breastworks, somerunning round by the flanks, when a French officer, brilliantlydressed, rode into the redoubt, followed by a mounted soldier, andEdith retired into the hut again.
Le Comtois saluted the newcomer reverently, and the other gave a hastyglance around, saying: "Get your men under arms as speedily aspossible. On the maintenance of this post and the two abattis dependsthe safety of the fortress. I trust, then, to the honor of Frenchgentlemen, and the faith of our Indian allies. Neither will tarnishthe glory of France or their own renown by yielding a foot of groundwhile they can maintain it."
He spoke aloud, so as to make his voice heard all over the enclosure;but then, bending down his head till it was close to Le Comtois' ear,he added, in a low tone, almost a whisper: "The English are withinsight. Their first boats are disembarking the troops. Monsieur deLevi, with our reinforcements, has not appeared. All depends uponmaintaining the outposts till he can come up. This, sir, I trust toyou with full confidence, as a brave man and an experienced soldier. Imust now visit the other posts. Farewell! Remember, the glory ofFrance is in your hands!"
Thus saying, he rode away, and the bustle of instant preparationspread through the little fort. The French soldiers were drawn upwithin the breastworks, and the stores and ammunition gatheredtogether near the center of the open space, so as to be readilyavailable whenever they were wanted. Two parties of Hurons were placedupon the flanks, so as to be ready to rush out with the tomahawk themoment opportunity offered. Next came the long lines of Frenchmuskets; and in the center of the longest face of the breastwork wereplaced Apukwa and his companions, with their rifles in their hands,and a small party of French soldiers forming a second line behindthem, thus insuring their faith, and rendering the fire from thecenter more fierce. Their presence, indeed, was needed at the moment,for the men who had been sent out in pursuit of Woodchuck had eithermistaken the order not to go far, or had lost their way, and they hadnot reappeared when the whole preparations were complete.
These had occupied some time, although Monsieur Le Comtois had shownall the activity and precision of a thorough soldier, giving hisorders rapidly, but coolly and clearly, and correcting every error assoon as made. The Indians, indeed, gave him the greatestembarrassment, for they were too eager for the fight, and--neversubjected to military discipline--were running hither and thither tothe points they thought most advantageous, without consideration ofthe general arrangements.
The Frenchman found time, however, for a few courteous words to Edith."I am greatly embarrassed, my dear young lady," he said, "by yourpresence here, as we expect to be attacked every instant. I wish toheaven Monsieur de Montcalm had taken you away with him; but in thehurry of the moment I did not think of it, and I have no means ofsending you away now; and besides, the risk to yourself would be stillgreater than staying here. I believe you are as safely posted in thishut as anywhere. It is near enough to the breastwork to be protectedfrom the fire of the enemy, but you may as well lie down upon thebearskin if you hear musketry."
"Could I not place myself actually under the breast-work?" askedEdith, remembering the instructions sent to her.
"Impossible!" replied the officer. "That space is all occupied by thesoldiers and Indians. You are better here. If we should be drivenback--which God forbid!--you will be safe, as you speak English, andcan say who you are: but remember, address yourself to an officer, forthe canaille get mad in time of battle; and on no account trust anIndian!"
"I speak the Iroquois tongue," answered Edith.
"My dear young lady, there is no trusting them," said the officer."Friends or enemies are the same to them when their blood's hot; allthey want is a scalp, and that they will have. It would be terrible tosee your beautiful tresses hanging at an Indian's belt."
As he spoke, one of the men who had been sent forth after Woodchuck,came running up, exclaiming: "They are coming, mon capitan! They arecoming!"
"Who?" demanded Le Comtois, briefly.
"The redcoats--the English!" said the man. "I saw their advance guardwith my own eyes. They are n
ot two hundred yards distant."
"Where are your companions?" asked Le Comtois. "We want every musket!"
"I don't know," answered the man. "They have lost their way, I fancy,as I did. I saw two amongst the bushes just in front, trying to getback."
"Sacre Di! They will discover us!" said the captain; and, runningforward, he jumped upon the parapet just behind one of the highestbushes, and looked over. The next instant he sprang down again, sayingin a low tone to the corporal near him: "Stand to your arms! Present!Pass the word along not to fire, whatever you see, till I give theorder!"
At the same moment he made a sign with his hand to the renegadeOneidas, but probably they did not see it, for their keen black eyeswere all eagerly bent forward, peeping through the bushes, which nowseemed agitated at some little distance. A moment after a stragglingshot or two was heard, and instantly the Honontkoh fired. The orderwas then given by Le Comtois, and the whole front poured forth avolley, which was returned by a number of irregular shots, blazing outof the bushes in front.
Then succeeded a silence of a few moments, and then a loud cheer, suchas none but Anglo-Saxon lungs have ever given.
Edith sat, deathly pale and trembling, in the hut; but it is not toomuch to say that but a small portion of her terror was for herself.The battle had begun--the battle in which father and lover were torisk life, in which, amidst all the human beings destined to bleed anddie that day, her love singled out two, while her fancy painted themas the aim of every shot. It was of them she thought, much more thanof herself.
The door of the hut was turned, as I have shown, toward the inside ofthe square; and Captain Le Comtois had left it open behind him. Thus,as Edith sat a little toward one side of the entrance, she had a viewof one side of the redoubt, along which were posted a few Frenchsoldiers and a considerable body of Hurons. The firing was soonresumed, but in a somewhat different manner from before. There were nolonger any volleys, but frequent, repeated, almost incessant shots,sometimes two or three together, making almost one sound. Thrice shesaw a French soldier carried across the open space and laid down atthe foot of a tree. One remained quite still where he had beenplaced; one raised himself for a moment upon his arm, and then sankdown again; and Edith understood the signs full well. Clouds ofbluish-white smoke then began to roll over the redoubt and curl alongas the very gentle wind carried it toward the broad trail by which shehad been brought thither. The figures of the Indians becameindistinct, and looked like beings seen in a dream. But still thefiring continued, drawing, apparently, more toward the western side;still the rattle of the musketry was mingled with loud cheers fromwithout. But suddenly those sounds were crossed, as it were, by a wildyell such as Edith had only heard once in her life before, but whichnow seemed to issue from a thousand throats instead of a few. It camefrom the northwest, right in the direction of the broad trail. TheFrench soldiers and the Hurons who had been kneeling to fire over thebreastwork, sprang upon their feet, looked round, and from that side,too, burst forth at once the war-whoop.
"Oh, Missy! Missy! Let us run!" cried Sister Bab, catching Edith'swrist.
"Hush! hush! Be quiet!" said the young lady. "These may be friendscoming!"
As she spoke, pouring on like a dark torrent, was seen a crowd ofdusky forms rushing along the trail, emerging from amongst the trees,spreading rapidly over the ground, and amidst them all a tall youth,equipped like an Indian, and mounted on a gray horse, which Edithrecognized as her own. The sight confused and dazzled her. Feathers,and plumes, and war paints, rifles, and tomahawks, and knives, grimcountenances and brandished arms, swam before her, like the thingsthat fancy sees for a moment in a cloud, while still the awfulwar-whoop rang horribly around, drowning even the rattle of themusketry, and seeming to rend the ear. Two figures only were distinct;the youth upon the horse, and the towering figure of Black Eaglehimself, close to the lad's side.
Attacked in flank, and front, and rear, the French and Hurons werebroken in a moment, driven from the breastworks, beaten back into thecenter of the square, and separated into detached bodies. But stillthey fought with desperation; still the rifles and the muskets pealed;still the cheer, and the shout, and the war-whoop resounded on theair. A large party of the French soldiery were cast between the hutsand the Oneidas, and the young man on the horse strove in vain,tomahawk in hand, to force his way through.
But there are episodes in all combats, and even a pause took placewhen the gigantic Huron chief rushed furiously against the BlackEagle. It may be that they were ancient enemies, but, at all events,each seemed animated with the fury of a fiend. Each cast away hisrifle, and betook himself to the peculiar weapons of his race--theknife and the tomahawk; but it is impossible to describe, it wasalmost impossible to see the two combatants, such was their marvelousrapidity. Now here, now there, they turned, the blows seeming to falllike hail, the limbs writhing and twisting, the weapons whirling andflashing round. Each was the giant of his tribe, each its mostrenowned warrior, and each fought for more than life, the closing actof a great renown. But the sinewy frame of the Black Eagle seemed toprevail over the more bulky strength of his opponent; the Huron lostground, he was driven back to the great pine tree near the center ofthe square; he was forced round and round it; the knife of the BlackEagle drank his blood, but missed his heart, and only wounded him inthe shoulder.
Those nearest the scene had actually paused for a moment in thecontest, to witness the fierce single combat going on; but in otherparts of the square the bloody fight was still continued. For aninstant the French party in the front of the huts, by desperateefforts, seemed likely to overpower the Oneidas before them. A tallFrench grenadier bayoneted the Night Hawk before Edith's eyes, andthen, seeing the great Huron chief staggering under the blows of hisenemy, he dashed forward, and, not daring in the rapid whirls of thetwo combatants, to use his bayonet there, he struck the Black Eagle onthe head with the butt of his musket. The blow fell with tremendousforce, and drove the old chief to his knee, with one hand upon theground. His career seemed over, his fate finished. The Huron raisedhis tomahawk high to strike, the Frenchman shortened his musket to pinthe Black Eagle to the earth. But at that moment a broad, powerfulfigure dropped down at once from the branches of the pine tree above,between the Oneida and the grenadier--bent slightly with his fall, buteven in rising, lifted a rifle to his shoulder, and sent the ball intothe Frenchman's heart. With a yell of triumph, Black Eagle sprang upfrom the ground, and in an instant his tomahawk was buried in theundefended head of his adversary.
Edith beheld not the close of the combat, for in the swaying to andfro of the fierce struggle the French soldiery had by this time beendriven past the huts, and the eye of one who loved her was upon her.
"Edith! Edith!" cried the voice of Walter Prevost, forcing the horseforward through the struggling groups, amid shots, and shouts, andfalling blows. She saw him, she recognized him, she stretched forthher arms toward him; and, dashing between the two parties, Walterforced the horse up to the door of the hut and caught her hand.
"Spring up! Spring up!" he cried, bending down, and casting his armaround her. "This is not half over. I must carry you away!"
Partly lifted, partly leaping from the ground, Edith sprang up beforehim; and, holding her tightly to his heart, Walter turned the rein anddashed away, through friends and enemies, trampling, unconscious ofwhat he did, alike on the dead and the dying. The western side of thesquare was crowded with combatants, and he directed his horse's headtoward the east, reached the angle, and turned sharp round to get inthe rear of the English column, which was seen forcing its way onwardto support the advance party of Major Putnam. He thought only of hissister, and, pressing her closer to his heart, he said: "We are safe,Edith! We are safe!"
Alas! he spoke too soon. There had been one group in the square thatstood almost aloof from the combat. Gathered together in thesoutheastern angle, Apukwa and his companions seemed watching anopportunity for flight. But their fierce eyes had seen Walter, andtwice had a rifle been d
ischarged at him from that spot, but withouteffect. They saw him snatch his sister from the hut, place her on thehorse, and gallop round. Apukwa, the brother of the Snake, and twoothers, jumped upon the parapet, and scarcely had he uttered thewords, "We are safe!" when the fire blazed at once from the muzzles oftheir rifles. One ball whistled by his ear, and another passed throughhis hair. But clasping Edith somewhat closer, he galloped on, and intwo minutes after came to a spot where three or four men werestanding, and one kneeling, with his hand under the head of a Britishofficer, who had fallen. Walter reined up the horse sharply, for hewas almost over them before he saw them; but the sight of the featuresof the dead man drew from his lips the sudden exclamation of "GoodGod!" They were those of Lord H----.
Edith's face, as Walter held her, had been turned toward him, and hefancied that she rested her forehead on his bosom to shut out theterrible sights around. Her forehead was resting there still, but overthe arm that held her so closely to his heart Walter saw welling adark red stream of blood. He trembled like a leaf. "Edith!" he said,"Edith!" There was no answer. He pushed the bright brown curls backfrom her forehead, and as he did so the head fell back, showing theface as pale as marble. She had died without a cry, without a sound.
Walter bent his head, and kissed her cheek, and wept.
"What is the matter, sir?" said the surgeon, rising from beside thebody of Lord H----. "Did you know my lord?"
"Look here!" said Walter.
It was all he said, but in an instant they gathered round him, andlifted Edith from the horse. The surgeon put his hand upon the wrist,then shook his head sadly; and they laid her gently by the side ofLord H----; they knew not with how much propriety--but thus she wouldhave loved to rest.
He trembled like a leaf. "Edith!" he said, "Edith!"There was no answer, She had died without a cry. Page 374.--_Ticonderoga_.]
Thus they met, and thus they parted; thus they loved, and thus theydied. But in one thing they were happy--that neither, at their lasthour, knew the other's peril or the other's fate.
CHAPTER XXXVI
From the bloody field of Ticonderoga Abercrombie retreated, as is wellknown, after having in vain attempted to take the inner abattiswithout cannon, and sacrificed the lives of many hundred gallant mento his own want of self-reliance. I need dwell no more upon thepainful subject, but it was a sad day for the whole army, a sad dayfor the whole province, and a sadder day still for one small domesticcircle, when the bodies of the gallant Lord H---- and his beautifulpromised bride were brought to rest for a night at the house of Mr.Prevost before they were moved down to Albany. A body of the youngnobleman's own regiment carried the coffins by turns; another partyfollowed with arms reversed; but between the biers and the escortwalked four men, with hearts as sad as any upon earth. It may seemstrange, but none of the four shed a tear. The tall Indian warrior,though he grieved as much as if he had lost a child, had no tears forany earthly sorrow. The fountain in the heart of Mr. Prevost had beendried up by the fiery intensity of his grief. Walter had wept long andsecretly, and the pride of manhood would not let him stain his cheeksin the presence of soldiers. Woodchuck's eyes were dry, too, forduring six long months he had disciplined his heart to look upon thethings of the earth so lightly, that although he grieved for Edith'sfate, it was with the sort of sorrow he might have felt to see abeautiful flower trampled down by a rough foot: and there was brighthope, too, mingled with the shadow of his woe, for he said to himselffrequently: "They have but parted for to-day to meet in a happierplace to-morrow."
As the procession approached the house the servants came forth to meetit, with a young and beautiful girl at their head, clad in the Indiangarb. She bore two little wreaths in her hand, one woven of brightspring flowers, the other of dark evergreens; and when the soldiershalted for a moment with their burden, she laid the flowers upon thecoffin of Edith, the evergreen upon the soldier's bier. Then turning,with the tears dropping from her eyes, but with no clamorous grief,she walked before them back into the house.
Some four years after, a less painful scene might be beheld at thehouse of Mr. Prevost. He himself sat in a great chair under theveranda, with his hair become as white as snow, and his head a gooddeal bowed. Seated on the ground near him was a tall Indian chief,very little changed in appearance, grave, calm, and still as ever. Onthe step of the veranda sat two young people, a tall, handsome,powerful man, of about one and twenty, and a beautiful girl, whosebrown cheek betrayed some mixture of the Indian blood. On the greengrass before them, with a black nurse sitting by, was as lovely achild of about two years of age as ever the sun shone upon. They hadgathered a number of beautiful flowers, and she was sporting with themwith the grace and with the happiness that only children can displayor know. The eyes of all were fixed upon her, and they called herEdith.
There was one wanting to that party out of those who had assembled atthe door four years before. Woodchuck was no longer there. He had gonewhere he longed to be. When he felt sickness coming upon him, some twoyears after the death of Lord H----, he had left the house of Mr.Prevost, which he had lately made his home, and gone, as he said, towander in the mountains. There he became worse. An Indian runner camedown to tell his friends that he was dying; and when Mr. Prevost wentup to see him, he found him in a Seneca lodge, with but a few hours oflife before him.
Woodchuck was very glad to see the friendly face near him, and as hisvisitor bent over him, he said: "I am very much obliged to you forcoming, Prevost, for I want to ask you one thing, and that is, to haveme buried in the churchyard at Albany, just beside your dear girl. Iknow it's all nonsense, and that the flesh sees corruption; but stillI've a fancy that I shall rest quieter there than anywhere else. Ifever there was an angel she was one, and I think her dust mustsanctify the ground."
It was his only request, and it was not forgotten.
FOOTNOTES.
[Footnote 1: This English officer, whom the author, through the story,thinly disguises under the title "Lord H----," will be readilyrecognized by the reader as that Lord Howe who met his death atTiconderoga.]
[Footnote 2: This very curious fact is avouched upon authority beyondquestion. The order was called that of the Honontkoh, and wasgenerally regarded with great doubt and suspicion by the Iroquois.]
[Footnote 3: All the principal incidents in the above remarkable scenewere related to me by Judge Spencer as having occurred within his ownpersonal knowledge.]
[Footnote 4: I am told that the Fort referred to did not receive thename of Crown Point till after its capture by the English; but I findit so called by contemporary English writers.]
THE END
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