To Helen Captain Cummings was an enigma. She could not understand him,
and in search of a solution her mind persistently returned to the
interview in the woods, and the conversation that passed between them.
The more she thought of it, however, the more convinced did she become
that there was truth in the Captain's contention, and the question of
exhibiting equal cordiality in her relations with the officers of the
garrison presented itself to her mind in a new light. Possibly, she had
been less impartial than the conditions called for, and if so she was
willing to make amends.
Yet there was another side to the question: the other officers were
spontaneous and candid in their dealings with her, while obscurity and
indefiniteness always seemed to have been impelling forces with
Cummings. There was something in his actions and manners that she could
not comprehend. Still, the fault might be in herself. All men were not
open-minded; and with a desire to be just, she determined to conquer, if
she could, that peculiar nervous tension which his presence when alone
with her always produced.
There are things which every true woman fights out for herself. As a
complete entity, she does her own thinking, unguided and unaided,
revealing her inmost thoughts to none. Helen told Harold of the shot she
heard in the woods, and of Cummings' appearance immediately afterwards
in the berry patch beside her--even of his offer to carry her pail--and
then of his return to the woods to resume his shooting. But, paradoxical
as it may seem, she said nothing of the real nature of her difficulty
with Cummings. Of mental impressions received, she alone had the record.
Then why sow distrust between her husband and the Captain? No good could
possibly come of it. So unless matters became worse, she would refrain
from letting him, as she still refrained from showing him her diary.
In a few more days, amid general rejoicing, the stone Fort was ready for
occupation. Order out of chaos had come at last, and it presented a fine
appearance on that memorable first of October, when its wide door was
thrown open for the first time to admit its future occupants. Above the
roof the Union Jack unfurled before the breeze, while the bugle boy,
with shrill piping, summoned all--officers and men--to join in the
celebration.
Here and there around the building were little groups of soldiers, while
the Indians had gathered in front of the Fort to see how white men
conducted themselves on occasions like this.
Early in the day, the last of the goods from Helen's house and the
officers' quarters were carried in and arranged, for it had been decided
by the Colonel that she must be queen of the citadel from the first, so
when three o'clock arrived, and Sir George took his place on a little
stand in front of the Fort to address the people, everything was in
order, and loud and prolonged cheers greeted him.
"Officers and men of the 100th, French-Canadians and Indian brothers,"
he commenced. "We may all congratulate ourselves on the progress made
since we came to Penetang. You have done your best. You have worked with
a will, and we have every reason to be satisfied with what we have
accomplished. Right through the summer we have had comfortable quarters
to live and sleep in, and now through the management of Captain Payne,
after six months of working and waiting, we open our garrison--our
little stone castle--of which every one of us is proud. Here we have a
home for the officers of our troops, and the upper storey, when supplied
with arms and ammunition, will enable us to defend our harbor against
any foe who may dare to invade us. As you know, too, to strengthen our
position we have built a bridge across to the island. On that island
stands our newly erected magazine, armed with the cannon which we
dragged through the woods all the way from Halifax--and over that little
magazine floats our country's flag (loud cheers).
"Right in front of me, too, I am glad to see so many of the warriors of
the Ojibway tribe. To their brave chief Nenimkee we owe much. I would
have them remember that the white men never forget their red brothers,
and the Great Father across the sea thinks of them still. When word was
sent to him of the death of the brave Tecumseh, the Prince of the Six
Nations, while fighting the battles of the King, the command came back:
'Build me a ship at Penetang; make its masts strong; let its timbers be
of the best woods of the forest; let its braces be of the toughest iron;
let its cords be of the purest hemp, and its sails of the finest flax.
Then it shall be manned with the guns that I will send you, and it shall
be called by the name of the mightiest of all warriors, Tecumseh.'"
A wild yell filled the air, every Indian bounded off his feet, and for a
few moments the terrific war-whoop of the Ojibways deafened the ears of
the astonished listeners. The unexpected announcement was only
understood by the chief and a few of his men, but the effect upon them
was magical. They forgot their accustomed reserve, and in the excitement
of the moment showed their appreciation by a note, the most intense that
they could utter, and every other Indian took the utterance as the
command of his chief. Quiet, however, soon returned, and Sir George
concluded his speech.
"In the name of the Great Father," he continued, "I thank our red
brothers for their approval. A ship will be commenced very soon. Captain
Payne will build it, and next summer it will be launched."
"Of one other thing I would remind our officers and men. A sweet lady,
whom you have all learned to love, will be mistress of our castle, and I
know you will treat her with that courtesy and kindness which she so
richly deserves. She will adorn the office with grace and dignity, and
it will be our pleasure to make her life happy, and to show our
appreciation of her bravery in so willingly casting in her lot with her
husband and ourselves."
Again the applause was long and loud, and in this even the Indians
joined.
* * * * *
Night came. A score of candles lit up the white timbers of the entrance
chamber of the Fort. All the ladies within fifty miles of Penetang had
honored the Colonel's invitation by a kindly acceptance, but they
numbered only one.
Painted wooden chairs, imported by Indian trail from Little York, stood
around the walls of the room, and the oaken table, hewn out of wood from
the forest, and covered with damask from England, had been lifted to
another room to clear the floor for the opening quadrille.
The bugle boy, who had played his violin for years in the old land
across the sea, had brought it with him, and with his old boots
polished and buttons shining, stood ready to play again; while officers
in full regimentals were chatting over the event, awaiting the entrance
of the lady who was to adorn their citadel.
But Harold and Helen, in their own little room, were slow in coming. The
former had finished his toilet and was affectionately fastening a
necklet of pearls around his wife's neck.
"I am sorry you are so nervous, dear," he said, noticing that her hand
trembled.
"How can I help it, Harold?" she asked. "It is no light ordeal to be the
only lady, and Sir George tells me he wants to open the Fort in the old
English fashion with a quadrille."
"If you cannot bear it, darling, I will ask him to omit the dance."
"Oh, no, not for the world! I will be all right after we start. How do I
look?"
"Just as you are--the dearest and sweetest woman that ever lived," was
his answer, as he pressed upon her lips a passionate kiss.
Helen threw her arms around his neck, and something like a sob broke the
stillness, but it was only for a moment.
"I am better now," she said, looking up with a smile. A couple of
glittering tears were hanging between her lashes, but he kissed them
away.
As Helen and Harold entered the large room, all the gentlemen arose. But
there were only seven in the whole company--the two lieutenants, the
two captains, the doctor, the chaplain and the commander of all.
Sir George was attired with rigid punctiliousness, as though attending a
ball at St. James. A massive gold chain, which he rarely wore, encircled
his shoulders above his epaulets, while medals presented by his
Sovereign, for services in eastern wars, adorned his breast. With the
gallantry of an old courtier he bowed to Helen and offered his arm.
"Permit me to have the honor," he said, and accepting his escort,
together they walked around the room.
"Our pictures have not yet arrived," he continued gaily. "You know our
London artists are slow coaches, and I will have to prod them to their
duty when I get over there."
"That will be very kind," said Helen, with glistening eyes. "But just
now we are very glad to get the white walls without the pictures."
"Very true," was his comment. "Even glorious old Rome was not built in a
day; but I will not forget. Gentlemen," he continued, with a bright
smile around the room, "choose your partners for the opening quadrille
of Penetang."
Immediately the officers took their places. It had been prearranged.
Captain Cummings and the Chaplain were their vis-a-vis; the Doctor and
Harold to their right; Captain Payne and Lieutenant Smith to their
left.
The twang of the violin was the signal for the first step, and with
their hands on their hearts the gentlemen bowed to their ladies fair.
Soon a ripple of laughter went around the room, and Helen was herself
again.
Since meeting Captain Cummings in the berry patch she had been careful
to be cordial with him, and this evening was particularly gracious. As
his vis-a-vis, she smiled up in his face as he took her hand, and did
her best to meet his piercing look of admiration without shrinking.
Perhaps it was in recognition that he pressed hers, retaining it for a
moment. Then, with stately dignity, following the example of Sir George,
they stepped through the figures of the dance.
But it was soon over and, leading Helen to the best seat in the room,
Sir George exclaimed:
"Now I declare the Fort duly opened for the honor and defence of our
King and country."
"And let all the people say 'Amen'!" cried the Chaplain.
And a chorus of "Amens" echoed through the room.
A couple of games of whist followed, and songs were sung by Helen and
Dr. Beaumont. Then they had coffee and cake, and a glass or two of old
Madeira. But by midnight the revelries were over, and the opening of the
Fort which for so many years overlooked the bay of Penetang, was
successfully concluded.
After all was over, some of the men went out for a smoke before turning
in for the night, while Helen and Harold retired to their own room, but
Lieutenant Smith, the accurate shot, the daring soldier, the interested
observer, wandered away by himself. Since Helen's care for him when
wounded in the beginning of the long march, he had cherished an almost
filial affection for her, and the events of the past months had not been
unnoticed by him.
Moodily, he wandered down to the water's edge and away along the shore.
"She's an angel on earth," he muttered to himself, "and he's a miserable
hound. I wonder her husband don't see it. By my faith, I'll not forget
her goodness to me, and rather than see her wronged, I'll call him out
whatever comes of it."
The young man stopped speaking, but went thundering along the shore, as
if to stifle the anger he could with difficulty repress. By-and-bye he
quieted down and turned to walk home again, but the muttering came back
and was bound to have its say.
"The devil of it is," he soliloquized, "Cummings is to be the captain of
the Fort, of higher rank than Manning, while both are to live under the
one roof; but never mind, Tom Smith, keep your eyes open, and remember
that truth and right are high as heaven." Then, whistling softly to
himself, he went in to pass his first night with the rest of the
officers in the new Fort.