OUT OF THE STORM
Early the next morning Old Mammy drew back the flap of the tent,
stepped outside, and waddled over to where she had prepared supper the
previous evening. She had always prided herself upon being the first
to rise, and she was determined that she would continue the custom here
in the wilderness.
The sun had just risen above the far off eastern horizon, and was
struggling to disentangle itself from the drifting tresses of fog
hanging in massy banks over the river. Slowly but surely it slipped
away from each misty, tremulous embrace, and then like a giant
refreshed by the encounter assumed the offensive. Before the mighty
champion's silent fiery darts the surging foggy battalions wavered,
loosened their hold on river and land, and broke in utter confusion.
Wildly they scattered and fled, but escape they could not, and ere long
not the slightest vestige remained of their once proud ranks.
Of all this Old Mammy saw nothing, as she was too busy digging among
the ashes of the fire-place for a few live coals. It was only Jean who
witnessed the magnificent sight. She had slipped out of the tent
shortly after her old servant, and had hurried down to the shore for
her morning wash. Here Mother Nature had provided her with basin and
mirror combined in the calm water at her feet. Straight and lithe she
stood, her dark, unbound hair flowing in ripples to her waist. Her
face, turned eastward, was aglow with health and animation, and her
eyes shone with the light of a joyous surprise.
"Isn't it wonderful!" she breathed. "I never saw anything like it.
Why, it's a real fairy-land."
She was startled by a cry from Mammy, and turning quickly around, she
saw the woman pointing excitedly to the big pine tree. The Colonel,
aroused from slumber, had leaped to his feet, and was staring straight
before him as Jean hurried up from the shore.
"What is the matter?" the girl asked.
"Look, look!" Mammy cried, pointing to the tree. "De debbil has been
here."
Jean's eyes were now resting upon the object of the woman's excitement,
and she, too, was filled with astonishment. She stared at the trout
and the arrow, and then looked wonderingly at her father.
"How do you suppose they got there, daddy?" she questioned.
"It was de debbil, I tell ye," Mammy insisted before the Colonel could
speak. "He's been in dis place, an' dat's his mark."
"He must be very friendly, then," the Colonel replied. "I don't mind
how often he comes if he leaves fish, and they are trout at that."
By this time the entire camp had been aroused, and men, women and
children were gathered near, gazing with wide-eyed astonishment upon
the big pine. There were numerous conjectures as to the meaning of the
arrow and the fish. Most, however, were of the opinion that it was the
work of Indians, and that no doubt they were lurking near. Fearful
glances were cast along the silent forest aisles, and vivid imagination
pictured dusky warriors ready to swoop down with terrible war-whoops.
But Old Mammy scoffed at this idea.
"It's de debbil, I tell ye, an' no Injun," she declared. "Dat's his
mark, an' he's plannin' some mischief. It's a warnin' to us all. We
nebber should hab come to sich a place as dis."
The Colonel listened with considerable amusement to what was being
said. At length, however, he stepped forward and laid his right hand
upon the fish. With a cry of fear Mammy sprang to his side.
"Doan touch 'em! Doan touch 'em!" she shrieked. "It ain't safe! It
ain't safe!"
"Why, Mammy, what do you mean?" the Colonel asked.
"Go 'way, go 'way," the excited woman pleaded. "Dey belong to de
debbil, an' he'll bewitch ye. Doan touch 'em."
"Look here, Mammy," and there was a note of sternness in the Colonel's
voice, "I want you to be quiet. I thought you had more sense. The
devil had nothing to do with this. It's the Lord's arrow, it seems to
me. He sent the ravens of old to feed his faithful servant in the
wilderness, so perhaps he has sent the Indians to do the same to us
now. Anyway, we are going to have a taste of fish for breakfast. It
would be a shame to throw away such excellent trout."
Jean had been a silent and interested spectator of all that had taken
place. Like her father she was somewhat amused at the various
expressions of fear. She was not afraid of the Indians, neither was
she superstitious enough to believe that the devil had anything to do
with the arrow and the fish. But when the Colonel spoke about the
"Lord's Arrow," she gave a sudden start, while the light of
understanding dawned in her eyes. The "King's Arrow" at once came into
her mind, and she thought of him who had come to her rescue at Portland
Point. Could it be possible that he had anything to do with it? she
asked herself. Was that arrow a token that he was near? And were the
fish a sign of his care? She glanced around as if expecting to see him
emerge from the forest to explain the whole matter. Her heart beat
fast, and the rich blood tingled to her cheeks. She withdrew a few
steps lest her confusion should be observed. The King's Arrow. The
King's Arrow. It kept surging through her mind. It could be no one
else, she reasoned. She longed to speak, to tell of the discovery she
had made. But how could she explain? Would she not betray her
feelings, and thus increase her embarrassment? Would it not be better
to remain silent than to lay bare to others the thoughts which were
agitating her heart and mind?
She was aroused by her father bidding her to help prepare one of the
fish for breakfast, as Mammy would have nothing to do with it. She
obeyed with alacrity, pleased to have something to do. As she looked
upon the speckled beauty she thought how like an arrow it appeared; its
long, lithe body resembling the smooth shaft; the head and gills the
barbed point; and the spreading tail the feathered end. She wondered
if there was a meaning in all this, or was it merely her own foolish
imagination?
She thought much about this during the days that followed, although she
mentioned it to no one, not even to Old Mammy. For several nights a
number of the younger men had kept watch, with their special attention
directed to the big pine. This, however, soon proved very irksome, and
as nothing further happened, the watch was discontinued. The men
worked hard by day erecting their rude log cabins, so they could ill
afford to sit up all night. A feeling of security gradually pervaded
the camp, and all became cheerful and hopeful.
At a meeting held one night they decided upon the name "Loyal" for
their little community.
"I feel we could not choose a better one," the Colonel said. "Every
one here is an outcast for loyalty to the King, and when we get our
flag-staff erected, the Union Jack floating above the trees will be a
reminder to friend and foe alike of our unswerving devotion."
No one had interfered with the arrow embedded in the pine, and that
lordly tree had been left standing while most of its nearby companions
had fallen beneath the axe. Not a day passed that Jean did not glance
toward the arrow, and each time she thought of him who had become so
real to her. But for two weeks no further sign was vouchsafed, until
one morning as she came forth from her tent she saw a brace of fine
partridges hanging from the arrow. Once more excitement spread
throughout the camp, and again various conjectures were heard as to the
presence of the partridges. The birds were carefully examined, and
several small pieces of lead were found in their bodies. Jean showed
these to Mammy in her effort to convince the superstitious servant that
the devil had nothing to do with it.
"Why, these birds were shot, Mammy," she explained. "Some one with a
gun did it, and brought them to us."
"Ah, Missie Jean," and the old woman raised a warning finger, "de
debbil knows eberyt'ing. He kin use a gun when he wants to, an' he kin
make men do his nasty work. Didn't he put it into de heart of ol'
Judas Scariot to betray de good Lo'd? An' mark my word, dat's jes what
he's doin' now. He's up to some trick."
"But why would he be so friendly, Mammy? He's helping us instead of
trying to do us harm."
"Doan ye know yo' Bible, chile? Doesn't it say in de Good Book dat de
debbil comes to folks as an angel of light, an' makes 'em b'lieve dat
he's friendly an' good? No, ye kin nebber trust de debbil. He's got
somet'ing up his sleeve, an' doan yo' fo'git it."
Jean merely smiled at the woman's fears, knowing how useless it was to
reason any further. She was satisfied in her own mind where the birds
had come from, and the thought brought a thrill to her heart. This was
intensified several days later when two wild ducks were found one
morning suspended from the arrow.
"This is getting to be almost uncanny," the Colonel remarked as he
examined the birds. "Whoever is responsible for these presents is a
strange friend. I wish he would make himself known that we might thank
him."
Jean was of the same opinion, although she did not say so. She had
often wondered why Dane Norwood had remained hidden. That it was the
courier she had not the slightest doubt. But why did he not come by
day that she might see him?
Two weeks passed and nothing more happened. Most of the houses were
almost completed. The Colonel had his finished first, and it was a
proud day when he gave the order to move their few belongings from the
tent. This was soon done, and Jean and Mammy spent the whole of the
afternoon fitting up their new abode. The day was unusually hot, and
at times they were forced to seek shelter beneath the shade of some
friendly trees. Night brought but little respite, and even Old Mammy
complained of the heat.
"Dis is de first time I'se been wa'm since comin' to dis place," she
announced. "It reminds me of my ol' home in de Souf, it sa'tinly does."
At length a vivid flash of lightning streaked the air, followed
immediately by a roll of thunder off to the west.
"It's just what I've been expecting" the Colonel remarked, as he walked
over to the door and looked out. "Such heat as we've had to-day is
generally followed by a thunder storm. It is coming this way fast.
Listen to that."
The storm was rolling up rapidly over the hills, while the play of the
lightning was grand and terrible. And mingled with the roar of thunder
was the sound of the hurrying feet of the rain driven before the
onrushing wind. Suddenly a blinding flash illumined water and land,
followed instantly by a crash that shook the cabin. Old Mammy gave a
shriek of fear, and caught Jean in her arms.
"Oh, oh, oh!" she moaned. "Dis is turrible! We'll all be killed!
We'll all be killed!"
"Hush, hush, Mammy," Jean ordered. "Don't get so excited. This storm
will soon be over, will it not, daddy?"
"Most likely," the Colonel replied. "But come here, dear, I want you
to see this wonderful electric display upon the water."
Freeing herself from the colored woman's embrace, the girl rose,
crossed the room, and stood by her father's side. As she turned her
eyes upon the river, she gave a gasp of astonishment. Between the
shore and the Isle of Vines the lightning was holding high carnival.
For an instant there was intense darkness, followed by a succession of
brilliant, flickering illuminations, bewildering to the senses.
Several times she was forced to turn away her head, but only for a
second, as she was compelled by some strange fascination to look upon
the wonderful spectacle. Flash upon flash, racing gleam upon gleam,
Stygian darkness and crashing thunder intermingled in an appalling
confusion. Jean felt that she could endure the sight no longer. Her
body trembled, and her eyes ached. She was about to go back to Mammy,
when her father laid his hand upon her shoulder.
"What is that out there?" he asked. "Ah, it's gone now. It seemed to
me like a boat. There it is again."
Jean looked and for a few seconds was enabled to catch a glimpse of a
craft of some kind coming to them straight from the island.
"It is a canoe, daddy, and I can see some one paddling. Who can it be
on the river in such a storm as this?"
And just then the rain swept down, forcing them to retreat a few steps
within the cabin. But still they peered forth, and with fast-beating
hearts watched the approaching voyager. Whenever a glimmering flash
revealed the canoe, it resembled a mystic bark riding through the
storm, encircled with a living fire. So weird and mysterious did it
seem that Jean caught her father impulsively by the arm, while a slight
cry of awe escaped her lips.
"It isn't natural, daddy," she whispered. "It's uncanny. Do you
suppose it's a spirit?"
"No, no, dear. It's an Indian, no doubt. Look, he has stopped
paddling now, and is about to land."
Darkness again intervened, and the next flash revealed a tall form
stepping upon the shore as blackness once more enshrouded him. The
next glimpse showed him coming toward the cabin, carrying a bundle in
his arms. In another minute he was at the door, an Indian of
magnificent physique, clad in buckskins, with a squirrel-skin cap upon
his head. He smiled as he looked upon the astonished ones before him.
Then he held out the bundle toward the girl.
"White woman tak' babby, eh?" he asked,
But Jean hesitated, and drew back a little. This seemed to surprise
the Indian.
"Babby no hurt white woman," he explained. "Babby velly leetle. Babby
no home, no mamma."
No longer could Jean resist such an appeal, so stepping forward, she
took the bundle in her arms. Awkwardly she held it, uncertain what to
do. Then Old Mammy came to her aid, and relieved her of her burden.
"Why, chile, yo' doan know how to hol' a baby," she reproached. "Yo'
hol' it upside-down. Yo' nebber had 'sperience wif babies. Dis o'
woman'll show yo' how."
Seating herself upon a bench, she removed the blanket with which the
child was enwrapped. Jean dropped upon her knees by her side, and when
a little dusky face was exposed to view, she gave a cry of delight.
"Isn't it pretty!" she exclaimed. "And it's asleep, too."
The Indian's eyes shone with pleasure as he watched the girl's interest
in the little child.
"White woman tak' care babby, eh?"
"You want us to keep it?" Jean asked.
"Ah-ha-ha. Wan moon, two moon, mebbe. Injun come bimeby."
Jean turned to her father, who had been standing silently near the door.
"May we keep it, daddy?"
"Ask Mammy," the Colonel replied. "If she is willing, I have no
objections. She is the only one in this house who knows how to look
after a baby."
"I'se willin', Cun'l," the old woman agreed. "It makes me t'ink of de
lil'l chile I los' long time ago in ol' Connec. Yes, I'se willin'."
The Indian understood, and smiled. He turned to go, but paused and
looked at Jean.
"White woman keep canoe, eh?" he queried.
"Oh, may I?" the girl eagerly asked. She had often longed for a canoe
to paddle along the shore and explore the various creeks.
"Ah-ha-ha. White woman paddle all sam' Injun bimeby. Me go now."
The Colonel pressed the Indian to stay until the storm was over, but
the native shook his head, and with another glance at the sleeping
child, he passed out into the night.
For about an hour the storm continued to rage. But the gleaming
lightning and the crashing thunder worried Old Mammy no longer. She
was completely engrossed in the little charge which had been so
unexpectedly committed to her care.
"I mus' take special care ob dis chile," she' said. "Mebbe it's one of
de Lo'd's angels, fo' wif Him it doan make no diff'rance what is de
colah of de skin. Dey's all His chillun, an' He lubs dem all alike.
Doan yo' nebber fo'git dat, Missie Jean. Dis may be one of de Lo'd's
angels undewares."