ON THE ISLE AUX COUDRES
Now that the beacon was fairly alight my purpose was accomplished,
and I was free to return to the house; but the night was warm,
there was no sound save the lapping of the rising tide, or the
short quick puff of some slowly turning porpoise from out the
darkness beyond, and I stood there for what I suppose was a long
time, held by the spell of the perfect quiet. At length I roused
myself, and began to retrace my steps, but as I gained the line of
the pine wood I turned aside and stood a moment for a last look at
the friendly beacon flaring up into the darkness. The loud crackle
of the wood seemed like joyous cries of encouragement, and the
strong ruddy flame filled me with a fresh confidence. On the morrow,
if Gabriel should appear, I would announce our departure for Quebec,
and once there would place myself under the protection of M. de
Montcalm until...
"Oh, Heaven!" I almost screamed, for I heard footsteps hurriedly
approaching, and had only time to withdraw more completely into
the shadow of the trees when Luntook, the Indian, came running down
the path, and in an instant scattered the fire on all sides, hurling
the blazing brands over the cliff and covering up the embers until
not a spark remained.
When the fire was completely extinguished he looked about him
slowly, while I cowered there in mortal terror, believing he would
immediately search for and certainly discover me; but, to my
surprise, he walked silently past my shelter and kept his way along
the path.
I was simply paralysed with fear. I could not have screamed or made
a move had my life depended on it; the very presence of the man
struck terror to my soul, for he seemed the personification of all
the possibility of evil in his master. He it was, I well knew, who
would carry out any violence which might be determined against me,
and the fact of his remaining about the place when his master was
supposed to have left, filled me with alarm. I was persuaded I
was to be carried off, perhaps on the morrow, and the priest's
warning came back to me with renewed insistence.
My burden of fear so grew upon me that I dared not remain within
the shadow of the wood, for every sound in its depths shook me with
a new terror, and every moment I imagined I could feel the Indian
stealing nearer me in the darkness. I dared not look behind me, I
dared hardly move forward, but my dread of the wood was greater
than that of the open beach, and I somehow managed to clamber down
the cliff and took shelter behind a great bowlder, where I could
hear the soothing ripple of the water and feel the soft wind against
my face. It brought a sense of being removed from the land and men;
I was more alone, but I felt safer.
The chill of the night struck through me to the bone, and I was
burdened with its length; it seemed as if time were standing still.
But at last I was roused by the hoarse call of birds passing high
overhead, and saw the sky was paling in the east. Slowly, slowly
the gray dawn came, trees began to detach themselves and stand out
against the sky, rocks took a vague form against the sands, the
wicker lines of the fishery grew distinct in the receding waters,
while white wreaths of mist rose smoke-like from the Little River.
Slowly, slowly grew the glory in the east, and when at length the
first beams of the sun struck strong and clear across the bay,
making a shining pathway to my very feet, it seemed so actually a
Heaven-sent way of escape that, trembling in every limb, I rose
and staggered forward as if it were possible to tread it; and then,
recovering my distracted senses, I fell to crying like a child.
The tears brought relief, and I began to bestir myself, to move
about quickly, until I could feel my stiffened limbs again, and
recovered some sense of warmth. I did not dare to leave the open
security of the beach until the sun was higher, when I wandered
out to the extreme end of the sands, looking anxiously for some
answer to my signal from the Isle aux Coudres, but the opposite
shore, was hidden by a close bank of white cloud, broken only by
the rounded tops of the mountains above Les Eboulements. Presently
the cloud began to lift and scatter, and I could make out the island
lying low and dun against the higher main-land. But no answering
smoke broke the clear morning air; indeed, it seemed impossible
that my signal, which had not burned for an hour at most, could be
seen at such a distance. I turned away with an empty heart, when
I caught sight of a boat standing up close inshore, her sails filled
with the freshening morning breeze.
The mere presence of a means of escape changed everything in a
moment. I was filled with a new courage, and climbing to the top
of the outermost bowlder, I drew the long white scarf from my neck
and waved it to and fro above my head. To my intense joy, I was
answered by the boat hauling round, and lowering and raising the
point of one of her sails--the same signal I had seen Gabriel make
to M. de Montcalm off Cap Tourmente. It was Gabriel himself! his
signal assured me of it; and at the sight the morning took on a
new glory, for the terror and bitterness of the night had passed
as I watched the boat as my deliverance hastening towards me.
As she came on, I made out Gabriel distinctly, and before long the
boat was lying motionless, Gabriel had his shallop over the side,
and a moment later was splashing through the shallow water, and
bowing as though he had parted from me only yesterday.
"'Bon chien chasse de race,' madame. I was cruising about, as I
always am, ready for the first ship which appears, when I saw the
light; and though it did not burn long enough for a signal, I
thought it well to look it up; and now, madame, I am at your orders,
as I promised. I was sure you would want me some day."
"Oh, Gabriel, I do want you! I never stood in greater need. Take
me on board, and I will tell you."
He showed no surprise at my demand, but merely repeating his
favourite proverb, "ce que femme vent, Dieu le veut," lifted me in
his arms like a child, and carried me through mud and water, and
set me in his shallop, when a few strokes brought as alongside the
boat, and I was in safety on her deck. Then the sails were once
more set, and we stood away from the shore and up the river.
[Illustration: "He carried me through mud and water, and set
me in his shallop."]
He did not question me, nor, indeed, would he allow me to speak,
until he had provided a hot drink of some sweetened spirit, which
brought back the glow to my blood, and then he set about preparing
breakfast, keeping up an incessant chatter the while, until he had
me laughing at his flow of talk.
"Aha! That is better!" he exclaimed, joyfully. "Now, madame, what
are your orders?"
"Can you take me to Quebec?"
"I can--but--" and his face lengthened.
"But what?"
"Well, madame, to be truthful, I am expecting the first ships every
day now; they are late as it is; and if I am off the ground, why,
then the bread must drop into some one else's basket! That is all."
"I can pay you well for what you may lose in this way."
"It is not only the money, madame, 'l'argent est rond et ca roule,'
but I have always brought up the first ship since I was twenty,
and that was not last Sunday, as one may guess. Yet, if madame says
so, I am at her orders."
"I do not know what to say, Gabriel. I will not return to Beaulieu,
and though I want to reach Quebec, I am unwilling you should miss
your ship; but I certainly cannot remain on board here while you
are with her."
"Bedame! I have a plan, if it will answer. We are at no distance
from the Island, my good wife is alone, as usual, and, if I do not
ask too much, could you not put up with her for a week or two at
most until I pick up my ship, and then the trick is done? Our house
is clean, my wife is the best of managers, and will do everything
to make you comfortable."
"That will answer admirably, Gabriel."
"Good! Madame, I can also return to Beaulieu and fetch your woman
and such things as you may desire."
For the first time I remembered Lucy, and was filled with remorse
at the thought of my desertion of her. What could I do? To send
word back to Beaulieu now would be to betray my retreat; and what
explanation could I offer to my kindly hosts?
Gabriel, with ready tact, saw my distress.
"Pardon, madame; I am not asking questions; I am not even thinking
them. You shall come and go as you like with me and mine, and no
one shall dare to do aught but obey you. If my plan does not suit,
say so freely, madame, and we will go on to Quebec without another
thought, and the King's ship must wait, or go on with such bungler
as she may find."
"No, no, Gabriel; I will not have it so. I can remain on the Island
for a week as well as not, and, in fact, will do nothing else. That
is settled. And, Gabriel, because you are a brave and loyal man I
shall trust you further--I do not wish any one to know where I am
while on the Island, unless I can get word to le pere Jean."
"Oh, as for that, you are going to meet him; for he is due on the
Island even now. He always comes about this time to see what is
left of us after the winter."
"Then I am quite satisfied. Now tell me, have you any news from
Louisbourg?"
"Nothing, madame; no ship has come up yet; but it will not be long
before we hear now."
"Then I shall expect to hear when you return for me."
"You will, madame; depend upon it, I will bring you news. And now,
if I may offer a counsel, which I am sure is wise, I would say,
madame, that you should lie down and try to sleep."
The advice was as welcome as it was wise, and it was not long ere
I carried it out.
When I awoke, it was well on in the afternoon, and we were close
inshore.
"Yes, madame, it is the Island. There is my house--the one with
the flag-staff. See, my good woman has the signal flying for me.
I can never come within reach without her scenting me out."
There was a fine pride in his words, and his house was worthy of
it. A clean, honest, white face it presented, framed in young
hop-vines carefully trained up the low curving roof, and set in a
garden which already gave promise of much bloom. His wife, a plump,
comely woman, waited for us at the landing-place.
"Ma bonne amie!" said Gabriel, embracing her. "Madame de St. Just
has crossed with me from Beaulieu to await le pere Jean here, and
will stay with you until he comes."
"Your servant, madame," she answered, with a neat courtesy. "If my
good man had let me know you were coming, I would have been better
prepared."
"'Qui n'a, ne peut,' ma bonne femme. You will do your best, and
madame will not ask for more. Had she known of her coming herself,
she would have travelled with her servant, as she is used; but she
comes alone, because she has great need, and I assured her you
would be proud to do all you can for her sake."
"So I will, madame; do not let my husband make you believe I am
not more than pleased to have you in my poor house. You do us too
much honour in asking it. Come, madame, let me shew you the way."
The house lost nothing of its charm on a nearer approach, and its
interior spake volumes for its keeper's cleanliness--not a common
quality in the country, as I discovered later. The furniture was
of the simplest description, but the well-scrubbed floor was covered
with bright-coloured strips of home-made carpeting--"les catalogues,"
as she called it--and in one corner stood the pride of the family,
the great bed--a huge construction, covered with a marvellous quilt
of patchwork, and hung with spotless valance and curtains.
Gabriel was to set off by the next tide, and left only after charging
his Amelia with numberless instructions as to my care and comfort.
"Oh, these men!" laughed the good-natured woman. "They think the
world can't turn round without their advice!"
I was too tired and too safe not to sleep well, and when the smiling
face of Madame Dufour appeared at my bedside in the morning, it
was to inform me that le pere Jean's canoe was already in sight,
and he would be at the Island in less than an hour.
Eager as I was to see him, I could not but dread the meeting and
what he might say of my desertion, though I begged my hostess to
meet him and tell him I was awaiting his leisure.
"Oh, mon pere, I did not know what to do!" I cried, when we were
alone.
"Thank God you are safe and in good hands," he returned, warmly.
"How was it you came to take this step?"
Thereupon I told him of my attempt to signal for Gabriel, of the
appearance of Luntook, of my terror, and of my sudden resolve on
the pilot's appearance. "It was only when I felt myself safe, mon
pere, that I remembered what my action might mean to others; and
now I am miserable at the thought of the anxiety I have caused.
What can be done?"
"I cannot blame you, my daughter; you have been brought face to
face with dangers you know nothing of, in surroundings which are
strange to you; it is well for your own sake you should be removed
from the constant dread of their recurrence. I guessed at your
destination, for on landing the same morning you left, Andre and
I saw the beacon had been lighted, and a very little looking about
convinced us of what had happened, for we not only found your scarf,
but Gabriel's marks in the sand were plain directions."
"But, mon pere, what of them at the house?"
"It is a time of war, my daughter," he returned, smiling. "More
than one person is moving about the country in a mysterious way;
much greater freedom is allowed; and when I explained to Mme. de
Sarennes that you were in my care, and it was necessary you should
be absent for a time, she was satisfied with my word, and bade your
woman make up a packet of necessaries for you, which Andre will
bring presently. You cannot do better than remain where you are
until I can arrange for your woman to meet you and go on to Quebec
together. I soon shall know what opportunity offers for a passage
to France, which will be somewhat uncertain now, as the English
who wintered at Halifax are at sea again; but there is time enough
to decide; the whole summer is before us."
And all this without a word, without a look of reproach; how my
heart went out to him for his forbearance!
At length I asked the question which was always with me: "Mon pere,
is there any news?"
"From Louisbourg? Nothing that is hopeful. A more formidable fleet
than ever before has left England; we cannot expect any succour
from France; and Louisbourg is probably invested by this time, if
the enemy have made good their landing. Before another month the
matter will be pushed to an issue, and it will be against us, unless
the place can be relieved."
Where the expected relief was to come from I did not dare to ask,
as I could not doubt but that M. de Sarennes was an important factor
in the plan.
Le pere Jean had manifold duties to perform during his short stay;
impatient couples were married, children were baptised, and many
an anxious heart relieved of the burthen which it had borne alone
through the long imprisonment of the winter. He did not suffer me
to remain idle either, for he gathered the children about him, and
showed me how to instruct them in the elements of our faith.
"Here is your work," he said, smiling. "You have your education
and sympathy on the one hand, and on the other are these little
black and brown heads--Bergerons, Tremblays, Gauthiers, and so
on--to be filled with some measure of the grace which God intended
for each of them. It will be a comfort to me to think of them in
your hands while I am sent on my Master's business, often into
paths not of my own choosing. Do not on any account be tempted to
leave here until I come or send for you. Even if M. de Sarennes
should appear, be under no apprehension, for all you need do is to
tell Mme. Dufour, and it will be a delight to her to balk his
plans, as there is no love lost between these Islanders and the
people of the main-land."
"I will do my best, mon pere. When may I look for your return?"
"I cannot tell, perhaps in a month or so; but do not let that
disturb you; for, even if I am prevented, I will surely send you
word what to do. Seek your quiet in your daily task, and your
comfort in prayer."
So he took his way, leaving me in such content as was possible.
Had I dared I would have questioned him about the letter, but I
could not bring myself to acknowledge this humiliation, even to
him. I felt it so keenly, that I no longer wondered my tormentor
had felt himself free to make any proposal, when it was but to one
whom he believed to be the discarded wife of another, and I found
a new misery in vain imaginings of what had been written to call
forth so heartless a reply. I would comfort myself at one moment
by thinking it was not intended for me, only to be met by the
alternative of Hugh being married to another. Turn which way I
might, I could frame no explanation which brought any comfort. If
the letter were for me, then had no man ever betrayed love more
cruelly; if for another, then I had thrown away my life.
My work with the children was the greatest boon which could have
been granted me; it kept me sane and healthy, and my heart went
out to the little ignorant souls so full of life and affection. It
was no task; it was a welcome labour of love; and the children saw
and felt it as such; on their side, their little feet were never
too weary nor their little hands too tired to respond to any service
I might ask of them.
But despite their love and the unfailing kindness of Mme. Dufour,
it was impossible to escape from my pain. My daily refuge was the
altar of the little church, where night and morn, often in company
of some other lonely woman anxious for the safety of son or husband
far at sea, I laid bare my soul in an agony of supplication for
the safety of the one dear to me above all others; and I found
support, too, in the thought of the devoted priest pursuing his
lonely way, consecrating his life and effort for others, most of
whom made no return, for they knew not the greatness of his sacrifice.
The rumours that reached us during the next two months brought no
assuagement to our fears, and when le pere Jean came, towards the
middle of August, men, women, and children gathered on the beach
to welcome him. His white, worn face and wearied bearing told his
message before he spake a word, and my heart failed me at the sight.
With his unfailing consideration, he turned to me the moment he
saw my distress. "Le Chevalier de Maxwell is safe; he escaped the
night the capitulation was signed," he whispered, and then turned
with his news towards the anxious people.
Like one afar off I heard him tell of the long siege, of the
hardships endured, the courage displayed, the surrender of the
ruined fortress, and the removal of the garrison to the ships of
war; but in the selfishness of love my heart was too full of
gratitude to have understanding for aught else.
When the story was ended, and the eager questioners answered, he
turned to me again, and, inviting me to follow, we took our way
towards the church.
"You are anxious to hear more," he said, gently. "Let me tell you
all I know. M. de Maxwell left the town only after the capitulation
was reluctantly agreed to by M. de Drucour, who, with all his
officers, had protested against it, and would willingly have held
out even beyond hope. He ran the gantlet of the batteries the whole
length of the harbour in safety; he was at Miramichi only two days
before I arrived there, and took command of some Canadians in charge
of a number of English prisoners to lead them to Quebec. So you
may comfort yourself with the thought of his safety, and that your
prayers have been answered."
"What will happen now, mon pere?"
"That is impossible to say; except that the English will certainly
push every advantage they have gained, and, unless substantial help
comes from without, the outlook is desperate."
"Did no help come to Louisbourg, mon pere?"
"None," he answered; and the one word sank into my heart like a
knell. He parted from me at the church door, and I wandered down
to the beach alone.
The loss of Louisbourg, as even I could see, might mean the loss
of Canada, and, in the priest's eyes at least, its loss was due
not so much to the weakness of the garrison as to the failure of
the relief, and this relief could have come only by the man who
had withstood his commands, holding out a shameful condition as
the price of his obedience. Whether le pere Jean was right or wrong
I could not judge, but I surely knew he could but lay the source
of this dishonour to the wilful act of the woman he had rescued
and befriended in her hour of need.
The news of the gallant defence of Carillon went far to offset the
disaster of Louisbourg, but not to allay our anxiety, and September
was a trying month for us all; but Gabriel visited us twice, and
was unshaken in his confidence.
"Time enough to cry out when we are beaten, madame. We have held
them back at Carillon, and will do so again, if need be; they have
been beaten in the Upper Country before this, and they will be
clever indeed if they can come up the river."
"They did so once before, Gabriel."
"'Une fois n'est pas coutume,' madame; pilots cannot be picked up
like pease."
I expected word from le pere Jean every day, and awaited it with
conflicting feelings. I was most anxious to know the truth about
Hugh, and yet to meet him was past my desire, if he were really
married. Should that prove the case, then I would use my utmost
effort to return to France without his knowing I had ever been in
the country. Should he discover it, then I must bear the humiliation
as best I might; but I could not bring myself to go away, and
perhaps wreck my future as well as his, through a misunderstanding.
I felt I had gone too far, had suffered too much, to throw it all
away when the truth was within my reach.
In the beginning of October Gabriel came with the expected letter
from le pere Jean. Mme. de Sarennes and Angelique had gone on to
Quebec to spend the winter there, and I was expected to join them
whenever it might be convenient. I took affectionate farewells of
my good friend, Mme. Dufour, and the infant population of the
parish, and set forth with Gabriel. We made a grand run of it, and
were in full view of the town before the sun had quite set. I had
seen no place, except perhaps Edinburgh, with which I could compare
it, and Quebec gained in the comparison. Gabriel saw my admiration,
and was delighted.
"Look at it well, madame; it is the gate of the finest country le
bon Dieu ever created, and we hold the key! No man need have a
faint heart when he can look on Quebec. See the little fort there
on the top of the Cape! It was made to signal a King's ships only.
See the Chateau where it stands! It looks like the Governor himself.
See the steeples of the Cathedral, of the Jesuits, of the Recollets!
See the convents and the hospitals! It is like the Holy City of
God! And then talk, if one can, of it falling into the hands of
'les goddams' and 'les Bostonnais.' Bah! It is impossible! If not,
what is the use of going to church on Sunday?"
Truly he had every excuse for his pride; and when I looked on the
majestic river, barred by the mighty cliff with its glittering
crown of roofs and spires overlooking the beautiful sweep of the
St. Charles, I felt that his outburst was more of a declaration
than a boast.
I disembarked with a light heart, and, guided by Gabriel, climbed
the steep ascent to the Haute Ville, at the head of which stood
the Sarennes house, there to receive a welcome from Mme. de Sarennes
and Angelique, for which none but a daughter and a sister might
look.