Chapter XII.

"There need no ghost, my lord, come from the grave

To tell us this."

Hamlet

Although the minds of most, if not of all the inmates of the

Wish-Ton-Wish, had been so powerfully exercised that night with a belief

that the powers of the invisible world were about to be let loose upon

them, the danger had now presented itself in a shape too palpable to admit

of further doubt. The cry of 'the heathen' had been raised from every lip;

even the daughter and eleve of Ruth repeated it, as they fled wailing

through the buildings; and, for a moment, terror and surprise appeared to

involve the assailed in inextricable confusion. But the promptitude of the

young men in rushing to the rescue, with the steadiness of Content, soon

restored order. Even the females assumed at least the semblance of

composure, the family having been too long trained to meet the exigencies

of such an emergency, to be thrown entirely off its guard, for more than

the first and the most appalling moments of the alarm.

The effect of the sudden repulse was such as all experience had taught

the Colonists to expect, in their Indian warfare. The uproar of the onset

ceased as abruptly as it had commenced, and a calmness so tranquil, and a

stillness so profound, succeeded, that one who had for the first time

witnessed such a scene, might readily have fancied it the effects of some

wild and fearful illusion.

During these moments of general and deep silence, the two adventurers,

whose retreat had probably hastened the assault by offering the temptation

of an easy passage within the works, left the cover of the piles of wood,

and ascended the hill to the place where Dudley knew Content was to be

posted, in the event of a summons to the defences.

"Unless much inquiry hath deceived me in the nature of the heathen's

craftiness," said the stranger, "we shall have breathing-time ere the

onset be renewed. The experience of a soldier bids me say, that prudence

now urges us to look into the number and position of our foes, that we may

order our resistance with better understanding of their force."

"In what manner of way may this be done? Thou seest nought about us but

the quiet and the darkness of night. Speak of the number of our enemies we

cannot, and sally forth we may not, without certain destruction to all who

quit the palisadoes."

"Thou forgottest that we have a hostage in the boy; he may be turned to

some advantage, if our power over his person be used with discretion."

"I doubt that we deceive ourselves with a hope that is vain," returned

Content, leading the way as he spoke, however, towards the court which

communicated with the principal dwelling. "I have closely studied the eye

of that lad, since his unaccountable entrance within the works, and little

do I find there that should teach us to expect confidence. It will be

happy if some secret understanding with those without, has not aided him

in passing the palisadoes, and that he prove not a dangerous spy on our

force and movements."

"In regard to that he hath entered the dwelling without sound of conch or

aid of postern, be no disturbed," returned the stranger with composure.

"Were it fitting, this mystery might be of easy explanation; but it may

truly need all our sagacity to discover whether he hath connection with

our foes! The mind of a native does not give up its secrets like the

surface of a vanity-feeding mirror."

The stranger, spoke like a man who wrapped a portion of his thoughts in

reserve, and his companion listened as one who comprehended more than it

might be seemly or discreet to betray. With this secret and yet equivocal

understanding of each other's meaning, they entered the dwelling, and soon

found themselves in the presence of those they sought.

The constant danger of their situation had compelled the family to

bring themselves within the habits of a methodical and severely-regulated

order of defense. Duties were assigned, in the event of alarm, to the

feeblest bodies and the faintest hearts; and during the moments which

preceded the visit of her husband, Ruth had been endeavoring to commit

to her female subordinates the several necessary charges that usage, and

more particularly the emergency of the hour, appeared so imperiously to

require.

"Hasten, Charity, to the block," she said; "and look into the condition of

the buckets and the ladders, that should the heathen drive us to its

shelter, provision of water, and means of retreat, be not wanting in our

extremity; and hie thee, Faith, into the upper apartments, to see that no

lights may direct their murderous aim at any in the chambers. Thoughts

come tardily, when the arrow or the bullet hath already taken its flight!

And now, that the first assault is over, Mark, and we may hope to meet the

wiles of the enemy by some prudence of our own, thou mayst go forth to thy

father. It would have been tempting Providence too rashly, hadst thou

rushed, unbidden and uninformed, into the first hurry of the danger. Come

hither, child, and receive the blessing and prayers of thy mother: after

which thou shalt, with better trust in Providence, place thy young person

among the combatants, in the hope of victory. Remember that thou art now

of an age to do justice to thy name and origin, and yet art thou of years

too tender to be foremost in speech, and far less in action, on such a

night as this."

A momentary flush, that only served to render the succeeding paleness more

obvious, passed across the brow of the mother. She stooped, and imprinted

a kiss on the forehead of the impatient boy, who scarcely waited to

receive this act of tenderness, ere he hurried to place himself in the

ranks of her defenders.

"And now," said Ruth, slowly turning her eye from the door by which the

lad had disappeared, and speaking with a sort of unnatural composure, "and

now will we look to the safety of those who can be of but little service,

except as sentinels to sound the alarm. When thou art certain, Faith, that

no neglected light is in the rooms above, take the children to the secret

chamber; thence they may look upon the fields, without danger from any

chance direction of the savages' aim. Thou knowest, Faith, my frequent

teaching in this matter; let no sounds of alarm, nor frightful whoopings

of the people without, cause thee to quit the spot; since thou wilt there

be safer even than in the block, against which many missiles will

doubtless be driven on account of its seeming air of strength. Timely

notice shall be given of the change, should we seek its security. Thou

wilt descend, only, shouldst thou see enemies scaling the palisadoes on

the side which overhangs the stream; since there have we the fewest eyes

to watch their movements. Remember that on the side of the out-buildings

and of the fields, our force is chiefly posted; there can be less reason

therefore that thou shouldst expose thy lives by endeavoring to look, too

curiously, into that which passeth in the fields. Go, my children; and a

heavenly Providence prove thy guardian!"

Ruth stooped to kiss the cheek that her daughter offered to the salute.

The embrace was then given to the other child, who was in truth scarcely

less near her heart, being the orphan daughter of one who had been as a

sister in her affections. But, unlike the kiss she had impressed on the

forehead of Mark, the present embraces were hasty, and evidently awakened

less intense emotion. She had committed the boy to a known and positive

danger, but, under the semblance of some usefulness, she sent the others

to a place believed to be even less exposed, so long as the enemy could be

kept without the works, than the citadel itself. Still, a feeling of deep

and maternal tenderness came over her mind, as her daughter retired; and,

yielding to its sudden impulse, she recalled the girl to her side.

"Thou wilt repeat the prayer for especial protection against the dangers

of the wilderness," she solemnly continued. "In thy asking, fail not to

remember him to whom thou owest being, and who now exposeth life, that we

may be safe. Thou knowest the Christian's rock; place thy faith on its

foundation."

"And they who seek to kill us," demanded the well-instructed child; "are

they too of the number of those for whom he died?"

"It may not be doubted, though the manner of the dispensation be so

mysterious! Barbarians in their habits, and ruthless in their enmities,

they are creatures of our nature, and equally objects of his care."

Flaxen locks, that half-covered a forehead and face across which ran the

most delicate tracery of veins, added lustre to a skin as spotlessly fair

as if the warm breezes of that latitude had never fanned the countenance

of the girl. Through this maze of ringlets, the child turned her full,

clear, blue eyes, bending her looks, in wonder and in fear, on the dark

visage of the captive Indian youth, who at that moment was to her a

subject of secret horror. Unconscious of the interest he excited, the lad

stood calm, haughty, and seemingly unobservant, cautious to let no sign of

weakness or of concern escape him, in this scene of womanly emotion.

"Mother," whispered the still wondering child; "may we not let him go into

the forest? I do not love to--"

"This is no time for speech. Go to thy hiding-place, my child, and

remember both thy askings and the cautions I have named. Go, and heavenly

care protect thy innocent head!"

Ruth again stooped, and bowing her face until the features were lost in

the rich tresses of her daughter, a moment passed during which there was

an eloquent silence. When she arose, a tear glistened on the cheek of the

child. The latter had received the embrace more in apathy than in concern;

and now, when led towards the upper rooms, she moved from the presence of

her mother, it was with an eye that never bent its riveted gaze from the

features of the young Indian, until the intervening walls hid him entirely

from her sight.

"Thou hast been thoughtful and like thyself, my good Ruth," said Content,

who at that moment entered, and who rewarded the self-command of his wife

by a look of the kindest approbation. "The youths have not been more

prompt in meeting the foe at the stockades, than thy maidens in looking to

their less hardy duties. All is again quiet, without; and we come, now,

rather for consultation, than for any purposes of strife."

"Then must we summon our father from his post at the artillery, in

the block."

"It is not needful," interrupted the stranger. "Time presses, for this

calm may be too shortly succeeded by a tempest that all our power shall

not quell. Bring forth the captive."

Content signed to the boy to approach, and when he was in reach of his

hand, he placed him full before the stranger.

"I know not thy name, nor yet even that of thy people," commenced the

latter, after a long pause in which he seemed to study deeply the

countenance of the lad; "but certain am I, though a more wicked spirit may

still be struggling for the mastery in thy wild mind, that nobleness of

feeling is no stranger to thy bosom. Speak; hast thou aught to impart

concerning the danger that besets this family? I have learned much this

night from thy manner, but to be clearly understood, it is now time that

thou shouldst speak in words."

The youth kept his eye fastened on that of the speaker, until the other

had ended, and then he bent it slowly, but with searching observation, on

the anxious countenance of Ruth. It seemed as if he balanced between his

pride and his sympathies. The latter prevailed; for, conquering the deep

reluctance of an Indian, he spoke openly, and for the first time, since

his captivity, in the language of the hated race.

"I hear the whoops of warriors," was his calm answer. "Have the ears of

the pale men been shut?"

"Thou hast spoken with the young men of thy tribe in the forest, and thou

hadst knowledge of this onset?"

The youth made no reply, though the keen look of his interrogator was met

steadily, and without fear. Perceiving that he had demanded more than

would be answered, the stranger changed his mode of investigation, masking

his inquiries with a little more of artifice.

"It may not be that a great tribe is on the bloody path!" he said;

"warriors would have walked over the timbers of the palisadoes, like

bending reeds! 'Tis a Pequot who hath broken faith with a Christian, and

who is now abroad, prowling as a wolf in the night."

A sudden and wild expression gleamed over the swarthy features of the

boy. His lips moved, and the words that issued from between them were

uttered in the tones of biting scorn. Still he rather muttered than

pronounced aloud--

"The Pequot is a dog!"

"It is as I had thought; the knaves are out of their villages, that the

Yengeese may feed their squaws. But a Narragansett, or a Wampanoag, is a

man; he scorns to lurk in the darkness. When he comes, the sun will light

his path. The Pequot steals in silence, for he fears that the warriors

will hear his tread."

It was not easy to detect any evidence that the captive listened, either

to the commendation or the censure, with answering sympathy; for marble is

not colder that were the muscles of his unmoved countenance.

The stranger studied the expression of his features in vain, and drawing

so near as to lay his hand on the naked shoulder of the lad, he

added--"Boy, thou hast heard much moving matter concerning the nature of

our Christian faith, and thou hast been the subject of many a fervent

asking; it may not be that so much good seed hath been altogether

scattered by the way-side! Speak; may I again trust thee?"

"Let my father look on the snow. The print of the moccasin goes and

comes."

"It is true. Thus far hast thou proved honest; but when the war-whoop

shall be thrilling through thy young blood, the temptation to join the

warriors may be too strong. Hast any gage, any pledge, in which we may

find warranty for letting thee depart?"

The boy regarded his interrogator with a look that plainly denoted

ignorance of his meaning.

"I would know what thou canst leave with me, to show that our eyes shall

again look upon thy face, when we have opened the gate for thy passage

into the fields."

Still the gaze of the other was wondering and confused.

"When the white man goes upon the war-path and would put trust in his foe,

he takes surety for his faith, by holding the life of one dear as a

warranty of its truth. What canst offer, that I may know thou wilt return

from the errand on which I would fain send thee?"

"The path is open."

"Open, but not certain to be used. Fear may cause thee to forget the way

it leads."

The captive now understood the meaning of the other's doubts, but, as

if disdaining to reply, he bent his eyes aside, and stood in one of

those immovable attitudes which so often gave him the air of a piece of

dark statuary.

Content and his wife had listened to this short dialogue, in a manner to

prove that they possessed some secret knowledge, which lessened the wonder

they might otherwise have felt, at witnessing so obvious proofs of a

secret acquaintance between the speakers. Both however manifested

unequivocal signs of astonishment, when they first heard English sounds

issuing from the lips of the boy. There was, at least, the semblance of

hope in the mediation of one who had received, and who had appeared to

acknowledge, so much kindness from herself; and Ruth clung to the cheering

expectation with the quickness of maternal care.

"Let the boy depart," she said. "I will be his hostage; and should he

prove false, there can be less to fear in his absence than in his

presence."

The obvious truth of the latter assertion probably weighed more with the

stranger than the unmeaning pledge of the woman.

"There is reason in this," he resumed. "Go, then, into the fields, and say

to thy people that they have mistaken the path; that, they are on, hath

led them to the dwelling of a friend--Here are no Pequots, nor any of the

men of the Manhattoes; but Christian Yengeese, who have long dealt with

the Indian as one just man dealeth with another. Go, and when thy signal

shall be heard at the gate, it shall be open to thee, for readmission."

Thus saying, the stranger motioned to the boy to follow, taking care, as

they left the room together, to instruct him in all such minor matters as

might assist in effecting the pacific object of the mission on which he

was employed.

A few minutes of doubt and of fearful suspense succeeded this experiment.

The stranger, after seeing that egress was permitted to his messenger, had

returned to the dwelling, and rejoined his companions. He passed the

moments in pacing the apartment, with the strides of one in whom powerful

concern was strongly at work. At times, the sound of his heavy footstep

ceased, and then all listened intently, in order to catch any sound that

might instruct them in the nature of the scene that was passing without.

In the midst of one of these pauses, a yell like that of savage delight

arose in the fields. It was succeeded by the death-like and portentous

calm, which had rendered the time since the momentary attack even more

alarming than when the danger had a positive and known character. But all

the attention the most intense anxiety could now lend, furnished no

additional clue to the movement of their foes. For many minutes, the quiet

of midnight reigned both within and without the defences. In the midst of

this suspense, the latch of the door was lifted, and their messenger

appeared with that noiseless tread and collected mien which distinguish

the people of his race.

"Thou hast met the warriors of thy tribe?" hastily demanded the stranger.

"The noise did not cheat the Yengeese. It was not a girl, laughing in

the woods."

"And thou hast said to thy people, 'we are friends'?"

"The words of my father were spoken."

"And heard--Were they loud enough to enter the ears of the young men?"

The boy was silent.

"Speak," continued the stranger, elevating his form, proudly, like one

ready to breast a more severe shock. "Thou hast men for thy listeners. Is

the pipe of the savage filled? Will he smoke in peace, or holdeth he the

tomahawk in a clenched hand?"

The countenance the boy worked with a feeling that it was not usual for an

Indian to betray. He bent his look, with concern, on the mild eyes of the

anxious Ruth; then drawing a hand slowly from beneath the light robe that

partly covered his body, he cast at the feet of the stranger a bundle of

arrows, wrapped in the glossy and striped skin of the rattlesnake.

"This is warning we may not misconceive!" said Content, raising the

well-known emblem of ruthless hostility to the light, and exhibiting it

before the eyes of his less-instructed companion. "Boy, what have the

people of my race done, that thy warriors should seek their blood, to this

extremity?"

When the boy had discharged his duty, he moved aside, and appeared

unwilling to observe the effect which his message might produce on his

companions. But thus questioned, all gentle feelings were near being

forgotten, in the sudden force of passion. A hasty glance at Ruth quelled

the emotion, and he continued calm as ever, and silent.

"Boy," repeated Content, "I ask thee why thy people seek our blood?"

The passage of the electric spark is not more subtle, nor is it

scarcely more brilliant, than was the gleam that shot into the dark eye

of the Indian. The organ seemed to emit rays coruscant as the glance of

the serpent. His form appeared to swell with the inward strivings of

the spirit, and for a moment there was every appearance of a fierce and

uncontrollable burst of ferocious passion. The conquest of feeling was,

however, but momentary. He regained his self-command by a surprising

effort of the will, and advancing so near to him who had asked this

bold question, as to lay a finger on his breast, the young savage

haughtily said--

"See! this world is very wide. There is room on it for the panther and the

deer. Why have the Yengeese and the red-men met?"

"We waste the precious moments in probing the stern nature of a heathen,"

said the stranger. "The object of his people is certain, and, with the aid

of the Christian's staff, will we beat back their power. Prudence

requireth at our hands, that the lad be secured; after which, will we

repair to the stockades and prove ourselves men."

Against this proposal no reasonable objection could be raised. Content

was about to secure the person of his captive in a cellar, when a

suggestion of his wife caused him to change his purpose. Notwithstanding

the sudden and fierce mien of the youth, there had been such an

intelligence created between them by looks of kindness and interest, that

the mother was reluctant to abandon all hope of his aid.

"Miantonimoh!" she said, "though others distrust thy purpose, I will

have confidence. Come, then, with me; and while I give thee promise of

safety in thine own person, I ask at thy hands the office of a protector

for my babes."

The boy made no reply; but as he passively followed his conductress to the

chambers, Ruth fancied she read assurance of his faith, in the expression

of his eloquent eye. At the same moment, her husband and Submission left

the house, to take their stations at the palisadoes.

The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish · 第 12 / 32 章