THE CANOE ON THE RIVER
Two more weeks passed and de Peyster's conduct in regard to Henry was
regulated again by fits and starts. Sometimes he was allowed to walk in
the great court within the palisade. On the fourth night he heard the
signal cry once more from the Canadian woods. Now, as on the first
night, it was the voice of the owl, and he answered it from the window.
On the sixth day he was allowed to go outside, and, as before,
Holderness was his escort. He noticed at once an unusual bustle and all
the signs of extensive preparations. Many Indians of the various tribes
were passing, and from the large brick building, used as a storehouse of
arms and ammunition, they were receiving supplies. Despite their usual
reserve all of them showed expectancy and delight and Henry knew at once
that the great expedition under Timmendiquas, Caldwell and Girty was
about to depart. If he had not known, there was one at hand who took a
pleasure in enlightening him. Braxton Wyatt, in a royal uniform, stood
at his elbow and said:
"Sorry to bid you good-by, Henry, because the stay at Detroit has been
pleasant, but we go to-morrow, and I don't think much will be left of
Kentucky when we get through. Pity that you should have to spend the
time here while it is all going on. Timmendiquas himself leads us and
you know what a man he is."
Lieutenant Holderness, who was with Henry, eyed Wyatt with strong
disfavor.
"I do not think it fitting, Captain Wyatt, that you should speak in such
a manner to a prisoner," he said.
But Wyatt, at home in the woods and sure of his place, had all the
advantage. He rejoined insolently:
"You must realize, Lieutenant Holderness, that war in the American woods
is somewhat different from war in the open fields of Europe. Moreover,
as a lieutenant it is hardly your place to rebuke a captain."
Holderness flushed deeply and was about to speak, but Henry put his hand
on his arm.
"Don't pay any attention to him, Lieutenant," he said. "He's a sort of
mad dog, ready to bite anything that gets in his way. Come on, let's
take another look at the river."
Holderness hesitated a moment, and then went with Henry. Wyatt's face
was black with anger, but he did not dare to follow them and create a
scene. While they were in the court the tumult was increased by an
unexpected arrival at the western gate. Private Doran, unarmed, his
hands bound behind him, his eyes bandaged, but otherwise undamaged, had
suddenly appeared in the village, and was at once taken to the fort.
Now, surrounded by a curious crowd, he seemed to be dazed, and to be
frightened also. Henry saw at once that his fear was of his officers,
and that it had not been caused by any suffering in captivity. In truth,
Private Doran looked very well, having suffered no diminution of either
girth or ruddiness. His fears in regard to his officers were justified,
as he was taken at once before Colonel de Peyster, who examined him with
the greatest severity.
But Private Doran's apprehensions gave him ready and clear answers. He
had been taken, it was true, but it was by men of superhuman skill and
intelligence. Then, blindfolded and arms bound, he had been driven away
in the woods. How far he traveled he did not know, but when a camp was
made it was in a dense forest. Nor did he have any idea in what
direction it lay from Detroit. He was joined there by Private Myers who
had been abducted in the same way. Their four captors had told them that
they were held as hostages, and had many terrible threats, but they had
not really suffered anything. One man called Shif'less Sol by the others
had been menacing them with strange punishments of which they had never
heard before, but with the juice of some herb he cured Private Myers of
a bruise that he had received in the struggle when he was captured.
This examination was held in public in the court and Henry heard it all.
He smiled at the mention of Shif'less Sol, knowing his flow of language,
and his genuine aversion to all forms of cruelty. Finally, according to
the continuation of Doran's tale, they had decided that the hostages
were no longer necessary. Evidently they believed their friend had
suffered no ill treatment, or some important movement was pending.
Accordingly he was blindfolded, his arms bound, and he was led away in
the night by the two men called Long Jim and Silent Tom. They left him
toward morning, saying that the other captive would be delivered on the
day following. When curs began to snap at his ankles he knew that he was
near the village outside Detroit, and he shouted for help. The rest told
itself.
Doran, after a severe rating, was sent about his business. Henry was
very thoughtful. Private Doran had not told of crossing any river and
hence the camp of his comrades must be on this side of the Detroit. But
all the signals had come from the far shore. Doubtless Shif'less Sol had
crossed over there to utter the cries and they must possess a boat, a
supposition that chimed in well with the warning to him to watch the
river. Reflection only deepened his conviction, and he resolved if
possible to avoid the anger of de Peyster, as to be shut up again might
ruin everything. He felt that the time to act, although he did not know
just how and where, was coming soon.
A strong watch was set about both fort and village in order to trap the
four the following night, when they came to deliver Private Myers. Both
Girty and Blackstaffe told Colonel de Peyster that the forest runners
would keep their promise, and the commander was exceedingly anxious to
take the impudent rovers who had annoyed him so much. Henry heard
something of it from Holderness and, for a moment, he felt apprehension,
but he recalled all the skill and craft of his comrades. They would
never walk into a trap.
The night turned quite dark with fleeting showers of rain. There was no
moon and the stars were hidden. But about two hours before daylight
there was a great outcry, and the sentinels, running to the spot, found
a white man blindfolded and hands bound, tied in a thicket of briers. It
was Private Myers, and his tale was practically the same as that of
Private Doran. He had been led in the night, he knew not whither. Then,
one of his captors, which one he could not say, as he was blindfolded,
gave him a little push and he neither saw nor heard them any more. He
had tried to come in the direction in which he thought Detroit lay, but
he had become tangled among the briers, and then he had shouted at the
top of his voice.
Colonel de Peyster was deeply disgusted. He addressed stern reproofs to
the wretched private, who was not to blame, and bade him join his
comrade in disgrace. The best Indian trackers were sent to seek the
trail of the forest runners, which they found and followed only to end
against the wide and deep river. The Indian trailers concurred in
Henry's belief that the four had secured a boat, and they felt that it
was useless to search on the other side.
Henry heard of it all very early, and that day during his hours of
liberty in the court he kept a close watch on the river, but nothing
occurred. Evidently the hour had not come for his friends to make
whatever attempt they had in mind. He was convinced of it when from the
palisade he saw that de Peyster had instituted a patrol on the river.
Several Indian canoes, containing warriors, were constantly moving up
and down. Henry's heart sank at the sight. He had felt sure all the time
that his line of escape lay that way. Meanwhile Timmendiquas, the
renegades and their powerful force were marching southward to destroy
what Bird had left. He was seized with a terrible impatience that became
a real torture. He learned that the patrol on the river had been
established as a guard against the dreaded George Rogers Clark, who had
made the threats against Detroit. Clark was so crafty that he might
circle above the town and come down by the river, but in a week or so
the alarm passed.
Henry spent the period of alarm in his prison, but when de Peyster's
fears relaxed he was allowed the liberty of the court again. Neither
Holderness nor Desmond was visible and he walked back and forth for a
long time. He had grown thinner during his imprisonment, and much of the
tan was gone from his face, but he did not feel any decrease of
strength. As he walked he tested his muscles, and rejoiced that they
were still flexible and powerful like woven wire. That morning he heard
the call of the wolf from the Canadian shore, but he did not dare reply.
A half hour later Colonel de Peyster himself accosted him.
"Well," said the commander in a tone of irony, "I see, young Mr. Ware,
that you have not yet escaped."
"Not yet," replied Henry, "but I shall certainly do so."
Colonel de Peyster laughed. He was in great good humor with himself. Why
should he not be? He had smoothed away the doubts of Timmendiquas and
now that formidable chieftain was gone with a great force against
Kentucky. The settlements would be destroyed, men, women and children,
and de Peyster would have the credit of it.
"You are surely a confident youth," he said. "This boast of yours was
made some time ago, and I do not see that you have made any progress.
I'm afraid that you're a great talker and a small performer."
Henry was stung by his words, but he did not show any chagrin.
"I'm going to escape," he said, "and it will not be long, now, until I
do so."
Colonel de Peyster laughed again and more loudly than before.
"Well, that's a proper spirit," he said, "and when you've gone you shall
tell your friends that on the whole I have not treated you badly."
"I make no complaint," said Henry.
"And now, to show my generous feeling toward you," continued de Peyster,
in whom the spirit of humor was growing, "you shall have luncheon with
me in honor of your coming escape."
"I'm willing," said Henry, adapting himself to his mood. A life such as
his and wonderful natural perception had endowed him with a sort of
sixth sense. He began to have a premonition that what de Peyster
intended as a joke would be the truth, and it made him all the more
willing to join in what the commander intended should be a mockery.
De Peyster led the way to the room in which the first banquet with the
Indian chiefs had been held, but now only Henry and he were present,
except a soldier who brought food from the kitchen and who waited upon
them.
"Sit down, Mr. Ware," said de Peyster with a flourish of both hand and
voice. Henry quietly took the seat indicated on the opposite side of the
table, and then the commander took his own also, while the attendant
brought the food and drink. Henry saw that de Peyster was in an uncommon
mood, and he resolved to humor it to the full.
"I regret more than ever that you're not one of us, my young friend,"
said the commander, surveying his prisoner's splendid proportions.
"Expert as you are in the woods, you could soon rise to high command."
"Having started in on one side," said Henry lightly, "I cannot change to
the other."
"Wyatt, who I understand was a youthful comrade of yours, has done it."
"Pray do not ask me to imitate any example furnished by Braxton Wyatt."
Colonel de Peyster laughed again.
"He is not an attractive youth, I confess," he said, "but you would
count for much more than Braxton Wyatt with us."
"I shall never count at all," replied Henry. "I am for my own people
always."
Colonel de Peyster, the Tory, flushed, but he continued:
"Think of the rewards under the King. This is a vast and fertile
continent, and those who hold it for him will surely receive vast
estates. Any one of us may be as great a feudal lord as Sir William
Johnson has been."
"If you triumph," said Henry, although he spoke purposely in a light
tone.
"There is no 'if'; we are bound to succeed, and now, sir, as we have
eaten we shall drink to your escape."
The attendant poured two glasses of wine and Colonel de Peyster raised
his, looking for a minute or two at the little bubbles as they broke.
"Here's to your escape," he said, casting an ironical glance over the
edge.
"Here's to my escape," said Henry, meeting his gaze firmly and
earnestly.
Then they drank.
"Upon my word, I believe that you mean what you say."
"Certainly."
De Peyster looked curiously at Henry.
"Come," he said, "we'll go outside. I think I'll keep my own eye on you
for a little while."
When they emerged from the house a long plaintive howl came from the
Canadian forest. A sort of shiver, as if he were looking into the
future, ran through Henry's veins. All his premonitions were coming
true.
"Did you hear that wolf?" asked de Peyster. "It is but a wilderness
after all, and this is merely a point in it like a lighthouse in the
sea. Come, we'll walk that way; it's about the only view we have."
Again that strange quiver ran through Henry's veins. Colonel de Peyster
himself was leading exactly where the captive wished to go.
"I have often noticed you walking on the palisade with Lieutenant
Holderness," said Colonel de Peyster; "now you can go there with me."
"I thank you for the invitation," said Henry, as the two climbed up one
of the little ladders and stood side by side on the palisade. "Does not
this view of the great river and the limitless forest beyond appeal to
you, Colonel?"
"At times," replied Colonel de Peyster in a somewhat discontented tone.
"It is the edge of a magnificent empire that we see before us, and I
like the active service that I have been able to do for the King, but
there are times when I wish that I could be back in New York, where I
was born, and which the royal troops occupy. It is a trim city, with
wealth and fashion, and one can enjoy life there. Now I wonder if that
is one of the Indians whom I have had on watch on the river."
A light canoe containing a single warrior put out from the farther
shore, where evidently it had been lying among the dense foliage on the
bank. No particular purpose seemed to animate the warrior who sat in it.
Both Colonel de Peyster and Henry could see that he was a powerful
fellow, evidently a Wyandot. With easy, apparently careless strokes of
the paddle, he brought his canoe in a diagonal course to a point near
the middle of the stream. Then he began to play with the canoe, sending
it hither and thither in long, gliding reaches, or bringing it up with a
sharp jerk that would have caused it to overturn in hands less skillful.
But so keen was the judgment and so delicate the touch of the warrior
that it never once shipped water.
"Wonderful fellows, those Indians," said Colonel de Peyster. "How they
do handle a canoe! It is almost like magic! I verily believe the fellow
is showing off for our benefit."
"Maybe," said Henry.
"And it is a good show, too. Ah, I thought he would go that time; but
look how quickly and delicately he righted himself. Such skill is truly
marvelous!"
"It is," said Henry, who was watching the canoe and its occupant with an
interest even greater than that of de Peyster. Up at the far corner of
the palisade a sentinel was walking back and forth, his rifle on his
shoulder, and at the other end another was doing likewise. Three or four
officers off duty had also mounted the palisade and were watching the
Indian's exhibition of skill.
Suddenly the warrior turned the canoe in toward the palisade at the
point where the unfinished pier ran out toward the river. Raising
himself on the canoe he uttered the long weird cry of the wolf, the same
that had come more than once from the depths of the Canadian woods.
Then an extraordinary thing occurred. De Peyster was standing on the
platform nearest the unfinished pier. Henry suddenly seized him by the
shoulders, thrust him down as if he were shot, ran along the platform
and down the unfinished pier at his utmost speed. De Peyster was on his
feet in an instant, and both sentinels on the alert, raised their rifles
to take aim.
Henry did not check his speed for a second. A marvelous power, born of
great strength and a great spirit, infused his whole frame. He rushed to
the end of the pier, and concentrating his whole strength in one mighty
effort, he leaped.
Never before had Detroit seen such a leap. The long body shot outward,
the arms thrown parallel with the head, pointing toward the water. It
was many feet from the head of the unfinished pier to the river, a leap
that seemed superhuman, but Henry had the advantage of the run down the
incline and the bracing of every nerve for the supreme effort. After he
sprang, and for the few brief moments that he was cutting the air, he
was scarcely conscious of what was passing, but he heard the crack of a
rifle, and a bullet whizzing by him zip-zipped upon the surface of the
water. One of the sentinels, exceeding alert, had fired instantly, but
the other, finger on trigger, waited. Colonel de Peyster also drew a
pistol and waited. Low cries, half of admiration, came from most of
those on the battlements. The warrior in the canoe shot his little craft
nearer in shore and then dropped gently over the far side. The canoe
moved slowly down stream but its recent occupant was invisible.
Henry, flying like an arrow taking its downward slope, fell into the
deep water. The tremendous leap was accomplished. He was dazed for a few
moments and he was conscious of nothing except that his body was cutting
through the current of the river. Then strength and memory came back,
and he knew that the marksmen were watching. Turning slightly on his
side he swam down stream but bearing toward the farther shore as fast as
he could. The crack of that rifle shot, by some sort of mental
reproduction roared in his ears, and the waters sang there also, but he
was swimming for his life, and he still swam, while head and chest
seemed ready to burst. Suddenly he saw a dark shape above him and at
first he thought it was some huge fish. Then he saw that it was the body
of a man hanging from another dark shape that seemed to rest upon the
surface of the river.
Light came to him in an instant. It was the warrior in the canoe who had
given him the signal. It could be none other than the incomparable
Shif'less Sol. He shot upward, panting for air, and rose directly by the
man and the canoe.
"Keep your head low, Henry," exclaimed the undoubted voice of the
shiftless one. "So long as they can't see us behind the canoe they can't
take certain aim, and we've more than a chance."
Henry held lightly to the side of the canoe and panted.
"That wuz shorely a mighty jump o' yourn," continued Shif'less Sol. "I
don't think anybody else could hev done it, an' you come true ez a
bullet when I give the signal. We've won, Henry! We've won ag'in' all
the odds. Look out! Duck! that second fellow's goin' to shoot!"
The second sentinel had fired with good aim, so far as the canoe was
concerned, as his bullet went through the upper part of it, but he could
catch only glimpses of the figures behind it, and they were untouched.
Colonel de Peyster also fired his pistol, but the bullet fell short. Two
or three others on the battlements had rifles and they also took shots,
without avail. The canoe was going very fast now, and always it bore
steadily toward the further shore.
Henry felt the great tension relax. Glancing over the canoe he saw
figures running up and down the palisade, but he knew that they were out
of range. Blessed freedom! Once more before him lay the wilderness that
he loved, and in which he was free to roam as he pleased. He had told
de Peyster that he would escape and he had kept his word. He looked now
at Shif'less Sol, his faithful comrade, and, despite himself, he
laughed. The water had washed most of the paint off the face of the
shiftless one, leaving only stripes and bars.
"Sol," he said, "you're the best and smartest friend a man ever had, but
just now you don't look like either an Indian or a white man."
"O' course not," replied Shif'less Sol readily, "an' fur the minute I
ain't either. I'm a water dog, trampin' 'roun' in the Detroit River, an'
enjoyin' myself. Ain't you happy, too, Henry?"
"I was never more so in my life," replied Henry emphatically, "and I can
say, too, that this is about the finest swim I ever took. Are the others
all right, Sol?"
"They shorely are. They're settin' over thar in the bushes waitin' for
our boy Henry, who hez been out late, to come back home. I reckon, too,
that they've seen everything that hez happened, includin' that
everlastin' mighty big jump o' yourn."
"When a fellow jumps for his life he is apt to jump well," said Henry.
"I know I would," said Shif'less Sol. "Look, Henry, we're goin' to be
pursued."
Henry glanced back toward the palisade, and saw troops and Indians at
the water's edge, jumping into two boats. The Indians were especially
quick, and, in a few moments, a boat under the influence of many
paddles, shot far out into the stream. The Detroit is a wide river, and
Henry glanced anxiously at the farther shore. Shif'less Sol noticed the
look and he said:
"Tom an' Jim an' Paul haven't forgot how to shoot. Besides, my rifle is
lyin' in the canoe, an' ez them fellers are comin' within range I think
I'll give 'em a hint."
Henry held the boat steady with one hand and maintained their diagonal
course toward the farther shore. Sol lifted his rifle from the canoe,
and holding it across the gunwale with a single arm took aim and fired.
One of the paddlers in the pursuing boat sprang up convulsively, then
fell over the side and disappeared. But the boat came steadily on, the
paddlers probably knowing that it would be a matter of great difficulty
for the marksman to reload while in the water. The second boat
containing the soldiers was also now coming fast.
But the shiftless one made no attempt to reload. He took another look at
the Canadian shore and said to Henry:
"Both o' them boats will soon be in the range o' three fellers who are
settin' on somethin' that don't move, an' who won't miss when they
shoot."
He put his unloaded rifle back in the canoe, and the two, still keeping
the little boat between them and their pursuers, swam with all their
might. But the big boats filled with rowers or paddlers were gaining
fast, when a crack came from the Canadian shore, and a warrior fell in
the boat. A second shot wounded another in the shoulder. The boat
hesitated, and when a third bullet found a mark, it stopped. The second
boat stopped also. Henry and Sol made another great spurt, and in ten
seconds their feet touched the earth.
"Quick, in here among the bushes!" cried the voice of Tom Ross.
Shif'less Sol, first taking his rifle from it, gave the canoe a push
that sent it floating with the current, then he and Henry ran through
the shallow water and up among the bushes and trees, just as bullets
fired from both boats fell in the water behind them. Strong hands
grasped Henry's and again the same strong hands pounded him on the back.
Paul, Long Jim and Silent Tom welcomed him jubilantly.
"We thought it a risky scheme, but it's gone through," said Paul.
"So it has," said Shif'less Sol, "an' now we won't waste any time
waitin' here for Injuns, Tories an' British to come an' take us."
He led the way into the deep forest, which closed completely about them
after the first three or four steps, and Henry followed. Little streams
of water ran from them as if they were young water gods, but Henry
thought only of that most precious of all gifts, his recovered freedom,
and, drawing deep breaths of delight, ran at Shif'less Sol's heels. Paul
was just behind him, Long Jim followed Paul, and Tom Ross covered the
rear.
Thus they continued for a long time. They had little fear of pursuit by
the soldiers, but they knew the Indians might pick up the trail and
follow. Yet it would be a hard thing to do, as Shif'less Sol led across
brooks and through thickets and deep wood. He did not stop for a full
hour, when they all sat down on fallen logs, and drew deep breaths.
Henry did not notice until then that Long Jim carried an extra rifle.
Shif'less Sol observed Henry's glance and he laughed with quiet
satisfaction.
"It's fur you, Henry," he said. "We took it from one o' them soldiers we
captured. He had no business with a good Kentucky rifle, which must hev
been took from some o' our own people, an' so we saved it fur you. Paul
has a double-barreled pistol fur you which we got from a Frenchman, Tom
has an extra hatchet an' knife, an' among us we hev plenty o' ammunition
fur both rifle an' pistol."
They passed over the complete equipment and again Henry rejoiced. He had
not only escaped, but once more he was fully armed, ready to dare
anything, and able to do anything.
"What a good lot of fellows you are!" he said to his comrades.
"But we couldn't hev done anything ef you hadn't been such a terrible
long jumper," said Shif'less Sol with a grin.
"Do you hear any sounds of pursuit?" asked Paul.
None could detect anything, and Tom went back a little space on their
trail, returning in a few minutes with the news that there were no
indications of a hostile presence. Hence they rested a while longer and
the clothing of Henry and Shif'less Sol dried in the sunshine. When they
renewed their flight they proceeded at ease, all the while through a
densely wooded country, and Paul gave Henry a brief account of the
doings of the four.
"We could tell by the signs just how you were captured," he said, "and
we followed close. We came to the very walls of Detroit and we secretly
made friends with some of the French in the town."
"There was one Pierre Louis Lajeunais, was there not?"
"Yes, and he was the most valuable. We took the two sentinels, because
we did not know what de Peyster would do with you, and, as we wrote, we
wanted hostages against ill-treatment. When we found at last that you
were to be held only as a prisoner we sent them back, and, for the rest,
we trusted to luck, skill and the chance that you might see the warrior
in the canoe on the river and understand."
"Fortune seemed to favor us through everything," said Henry, "and now I
suppose we had better keep on until we are absolutely sure the Indians
will not pick up our trail and give us a fight. As you boys probably
know, we have no time to waste."
"We know," said Paul. "Kentucky is calling to us and we are going there
as fast as we can."
The night found them far from Detroit. When the twilight turned into the
night they were in woods so dense that it seemed as if man had never
been there before. There was no turf under the close, spreading
branches, but the ground was densely covered with the fallen leaves of
last year. Everywhere they lay, a soft, dry carpet, and the five sank
down upon them luxuriously.
"Here we rest," said Paul.
"Yes, here we rest, all except one who will watch," said Shif'less Sol,
who for the present was in command. "Now we'll eat a little, an' then I
think sleep will be the most welcome thing in the world to us."
Nobody said no, and the dried venison was brought from their packs. They
also gave further proofs of their foresight for Henry by producing a
pair of fine blankets from Tom's roll.
"It was Lajeunais who got those for us," said Tom. "That wuz shorely a
fine Frenchman. I hope that some day I'll go huntin' an' trappin' with
him."
It was arranged that Tom should keep the first watch and Jim the second,
and the others disposed themselves in silence between their blankets. It
was summer now, but the nights were cool and they were very snug within
the blankets.
Henry, as he relaxed mentally and physically, felt a deep sense of
gratitude. It seemed to him in this life of his in the wilderness,
engaged in a cause surrounded by dangers, that a protecting hand was
constantly stretched out in his behalf. He saw through a narrow opening
in the leaves the blue sky and the great stars sailing high. The intense
feeling, half religious and half poetic, that often swayed woodsmen,
both red and white, stirred him now. Surely there was a divinity in the
skies, the God of the white man, the Aieroski of the Mohawk, the Manitou
of the Wyandot, one and the same! Never would he despair when that
mighty hand could stretch itself forth from the infinite and save him.
Thinking thus, he fell asleep and slept peacefully all through the
night.