“Thus died she; never more on her
Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made
Through years or moons the inner weight to bear,
Which colder hearts endure till they are laid
By age in earth; her days and pleasure were
Brief but delightful--such as had not stayed
Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well
By the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell.”
Byron. Don Juan, IV, lxxi.
The young men who had been sent out to reconnoitre, on the sudden
appearance of Hetty, soon returned to report their want of success in
making any discovery. One of them had even been along the beach as
far as the spot opposite to the ark, but the darkness had completely
concealed that vessel from his notice. Others had examined in different
directions, and everywhere the stillness of night was added to the
silence and solitude of the woods.
It was consequently believed that the girl had come alone, as on her
former visit, and on some similar errand. The Iroquois were ignorant
that the ark had left the castle, and there were movements projected, if
not in the course of actual execution, by this time, which also greatly
added to the sense of security. A watch was set, therefore, and all but
the sentinels disposed themselves to sleep. Sufficient care was had
to the safe keeping of the captive, without inflicting on him any
unnecessary suffering; and, as for Hetty, she was permitted to find a
place among the Indian girls in the best manner she could. She did
not find the friendly offices of Hist, though her character not only
bestowed impunity from pain and captivity, but it procured for her a
consideration and an attention that placed her, on the score of comfort,
quite on a level with the wild but gentle beings around her. She was
supplied with a skin, and made her own bed on a pile of boughs a little
apart from the huts. Here she was soon in a profound sleep, like all
around her.
There were now thirteen men in the party, and three kept watch at a
time. One remained in shadow, not far from the fire, however. His duty
was to guard the captive, to take care that the fire neither blazed up
so as to illuminate the spot, nor yet became wholly extinguished, and to
keep an eye generally on the state of the camp. Another passed from one
beach to the other, crossing the base of the point, while the third kept
moving slowly around the strand on its outer extremity, to prevent a
repetition of the surprise that had already taken place that night. This
arrangement was far from being usual among savages, who ordinarily
rely more on the secrecy of their movements, than on vigilance of
this nature; but it had been called for by the peculiarity of the
circumstances in which the Hurons were now placed. Their position was
known to their foes, and it could not easily be changed at an hour which
demanded rest. Perhaps, too, they placed most of their confidence on the
knowledge of what they believed to be passing higher up the lake, and
which, it was thought, would fully occupy the whole of the pale-faces
who were at liberty, with their solitary Indian ally. It was also
probable Rivenoak was aware that, in holding his captive, he had in his
own hands the most dangerous of all his enemies.
The precision with which those accustomed to watchfulness, or lives
of disturbed rest, sleep, is not the least of the phenomena of our
mysterious being. The head is no sooner on the pillow than consciousness
is lost; and yet, at a necessary hour, the mind appears to arouse the
body, as promptly as if it had stood sentinel the while over it. There
can be no doubt that they who are thus roused awake by the influence
of thought over matter, though the mode in which this influence is
exercised must remain hidden from our curiosity until it shall be
explained, should that hour ever arrive, by the entire enlightenment of
the soul on the subject of all human mysteries. Thus it was with Hetty
Hutter. Feeble as the immaterial portion of her existence was thought
to be, it was sufficiently active to cause her to open her eyes at
midnight. At that hour she awoke, and leaving her bed of skin and boughs
she walked innocently and openly to the embers of the fire, stirring the
latter, as the coolness of the night and the woods, in connection with
an exceedingly unsophisticated bed, had a little chilled her. As the
flame shot up, it lighted the swarthy countenance of the Huron on watch,
whose dark eyes glistened under its light like the balls of the panther
that is pursued to his den with burning brands. But Hetty felt no fear,
and she approached the spot where the Indian stood. Her movements
were so natural, and so perfectly devoid of any of the stealthiness of
cunning or deception, that he imagined she had merely arisen on account
of the coolness of the night, a common occurrence in a bivouac, and the
one of all others, perhaps, the least likely to excite suspicion. Hetty
spoke to him, but he understood no English. She then gazed near a minute
at the sleeping captive, and moved slowly away in a sad and melancholy
manner. The girl took no pains to conceal her movements. Any ingenious
expedient of this nature quite likely exceeded her powers; still
her step was habitually light, and scarcely audible. As she took the
direction of the extremity of the point, or the place where she had
landed in the first adventure, and where Hist had embarked, the sentinel
saw her light form gradually disappear in the gloom without uneasiness
or changing his own position. He knew that others were on the look-out,
and he did not believe that one who had twice come into the camp
voluntarily, and had already left it openly, would take refuge in
flight. In short, the conduct of the girl excited no more attention
that that of any person of feeble intellect would excite in civilized
society, while her person met with more consideration and respect.
Hetty certainly had no very distinct notions of the localities, but she
found her way to the beach, which she reached on the same side of the
point as that on which the camp had been made. By following the margin
of the water, taking a northern direction, she soon encountered the
Indian who paced the strand as sentinel. This was a young warrior, and
when he heard her light tread coming along the gravel he approached
swiftly, though with anything but menace in his manner. The darkness was
so intense that it was not easy to discover forms within the shadows
of the woods at the distance of twenty feet, and quite impossible to
distinguish persons until near enough to touch them. The young Huron
manifested disappointment when he found whom he had met; for, truth to
say, he was expecting his favourite, who had promised to relieve the
ennui of a midnight watch with her presence. This man was also ignorant
of English, but he was at no loss to understand why the girl should be
up at that hour. Such things were usual in an Indian village and camp,
where sleep is as irregular as the meals. Then poor Hetty's known
imbecility, as in most things connected with the savages, stood her
friend on this occasion. Vexed at his disappointment, and impatient of
the presence of one he thought an intruder, the young warrior signed
for the girl to move forward, holding the direction of the beach. Hetty
complied; but as she walked away she spoke aloud in English in her usual
soft tones, which the stillness of the night made audible at some little
distance.
“If you took me for a Huron girl, warrior,” she said, “I don't wonder
you are so little pleased. I am Hetty Hutter, Thomas Hutter's daughter,
and have never met any man at night, for mother always said it was
wrong, and modest young women should never do it; modest young women of
the pale-faces, I mean; for customs are different in different parts
of the world, I know. No, no; I'm Hetty Hutter, and wouldn't meet even
Hurry Harry, though he should fall down on his knees and ask me! Mother
said it was wrong.”
By the time Hetty had said this, she reached the place where the canoes
had come ashore, and, owing to the curvature of the land and the bushes,
would have been completely hid from the sight of the sentinel, had it
been broad day. But another footstep had caught the lover's ear, and he
was already nearly beyond the sound of the girl's silvery voice. Still
Hetty, bent only on her own thoughts and purposes, continued to speak,
though the gentleness of her tones prevented the sounds from penetrating
far into the woods. On the water they were more widely diffused.
“Here I am, Judith,” she added, “and there is no one near me. The Huron
on watch has gone to meet his sweetheart, who is an Indian girl you
know, and never had a Christian mother to tell her how wrong it is to
meet a man at night.”
Hetty's voice was hushed by a “Hist!” that came from the water, and then
she caught a dim view of the canoe, which approached noiselessly, and
soon grated on the shingle with its bow. The moment the weight of Hetty
was felt in the light craft the canoe withdrew, stern foremost, as if
possessed of life and volition, until it was a hundred yards from the
shore. Then it turned and, making a wide sweep, as much to prolong the
passage as to get beyond the sound of voices, it held its way towards
the ark. For several minutes nothing was uttered; but, believing herself
to be in a favourable position to confer with her sister, Judith, who
alone sat in the stern, managing the canoe with a skill little short of
that of a man, began a discourse which she had been burning to commence
ever since they had quitted the point.
“Here we are safe, Hetty,” she said, “and may talk without the fear of
being overheard. You must speak low, however, for sounds are heard far
on the water in a still night. I was so close to the point some of the
time while you were on it, that I have heard the voices of the warriors,
and I heard your shoes on the gravel of the beach, even before you
spoke.”
“I don't believe, Judith, the Hurons know I have left them.”
“Quite likely they do not, for a lover makes a poor sentry, unless it be
to watch for his sweetheart! But tell me, Hetty, did you see and speak
with Deerslayer?”
“Oh, yes--there he was seated near the fire, with his legs tied, though
they left his arms free, to move them as he pleased.”
“Well, what did he tell you, child? Speak quick; I am dying to know what
message he sent me.”
“What did he tell me? why, what do you think, Judith; he told me that he
couldn't read! Only think of that! a white man, and not know how to read
his Bible even! He never could have had a mother, sister!”
“Never mind that, Hetty. All men can't read; though mother knew so much
and taught us so much, father knows very little about books, and he can
barely read the Bible you know.”
“Oh! I never thought fathers could read much, but mothers ought all
to read, else how can they teach their children? Depend on it, Judith,
Deerslayer could never have had a mother, else he would know how to
read.”
“Did you tell him I sent you ashore, Hetty, and how much concern I feel
for his misfortune?” asked the other, impatiently.
“I believe I did, Judith; but you know I am feeble-minded, and I may
have forgotten. I did tell him you brought me ashore. And he told me a
great deal that I was to say to you, which I remember well, for it made
my blood run cold to hear him. He told me to say that his friends--I
suppose you are one of them, sister?”
“How can you torment me thus, Hetty! Certainly, I am one of the truest
friends he has on earth.”
“Torment you! yes, now I remember all about it. I am glad you used that
word, Judith, for it brings it all back to my mind. Well, he said
he might be tormented by the savages, but he would try to bear it as
becomes a Christian white man, and that no one need be afeard--why does
Deerslayer call it afeard, when mother always taught us to say afraid?”
“Never mind, dear Hetty, never mind that, now,” cried the other, almost
gasping for breath. “Did Deerslayer really tell you that he thought the
savages would put him to the torture? Recollect now, well, Hetty, for
this is a most awful and serious thing.”
“Yes he did; and I remember it by your speaking about my tormenting you.
Oh! I felt very sorry for him, and Deerslayer took all so quietly and
without noise! Deerslayer is not as handsome as Hurry Harry, Judith, but
he is more quiet.”
“He's worth a million Hurrys! yes, he's worth all the young men who
ever came upon the lake put together,” said Judith, with an energy and
positiveness that caused her sister to wonder. “He is true. There is no
lie about Deerslayer. You, Hetty, may not know what a merit it is in a
man to have truth, but when you get--no--I hope you will never know
it. Why should one like you be ever made to learn the hard lesson to
distrust and hate!”
Judith bowed her face, dark as it was, and unseen as she must have been
by any eye but that of Omniscience, between her hands, and groaned. This
sudden paroxysm of feeling, however, lasted but for a moment, and she
continued more calmly, still speaking frankly to her sister, whose
intelligence, and whose discretion in any thing that related to herself,
she did not in the least distrust. Her voice, however, was low and
husky, instead of having its former clearness and animation.
“It is a hard thing to fear truth, Hetty,” she said, “and yet do I more
dread Deerslayer's truth, than any enemy! One cannot tamper with such
truth--so much honesty--such obstinate uprightness! But we are not
altogether unequal, sister--Deerslayer and I? He is not altogether my
superior?”
It was not usual for Judith so far to demean herself as to appeal to
Hetty's judgment. Nor did she often address her by the title of sister,
a distinction that is commonly given by the junior to the senior, even
where there is perfect equality in all other respects. As trifling
departures from habitual deportment oftener strike the imagination than
more important changes, Hetty perceived the circumstances, and wondered
at them in her own simple way. Her ambition was a little quickened,
and the answer was as much out of the usual course of things as the
question; the poor girl attempting to refine beyond her strength.
“Superior, Judith!” she repeated with pride. “In what can Deerslayer
be your superior? Are you not mother's child--and does he know how to
read--and wasn't mother before any woman in all this part of the world?
I should think, so far from supposing himself your superior, he would
hardly believe himself mine. You are handsome, and he is ugly--”
“No, not ugly, Hetty,” interrupted Judith. “Only plain. But his honest
face has a look in it that is far better than beauty. In my eyes,
Deerslayer is handsomer than Hurry Harry.”
“Judith Hutter! you frighten me. Hurry is the handsomest mortal in the
world--even handsomer than you are yourself; because a man's good looks,
you know, are always better than a woman's good looks.”
This little innocent touch of natural taste did not please the elder
sister at the moment, and she did not scruple to betray it. “Hetty, you
now speak foolishly, and had better say no more on this subject,” she
answered. “Hurry is not the handsomest mortal in the world, by many;
and there are officers in the garrisons--” Judith stammered at the
words--“there are officers in the garrisons, near us, far comelier than
he. But why do you think me the equal of Deerslayer--speak of that, for
I do not like to hear you show so much admiration of a man like Hurry
Harry, who has neither feelings, manners, nor conscience. You are too
good for him, and he ought to be told it, at once.”
“I! Judith, how you forget! Why I am not beautiful, and am
feeble-minded.”
“You are good, Hetty, and that is more than can be said of Harry March.
He may have a face, and a body, but he has no heart. But enough of this,
for the present. Tell me what raises me to an equality with Deerslayer.”
“To think of you asking me this, Judith! He can't read, and you can. He
don't know how to talk, but speaks worse than Hurry even;--for, sister,
Harry doesn't always pronounce his words right! Did you ever notice
that?”
“Certainly, he is as coarse in speech as in everything else. But I fear
you flatter me, Hetty, when you think I can be justly called the equal
of a man like Deerslayer. It is true, I have been better taught; in
one sense am more comely; and perhaps might look higher; but then his
truth--his truth--makes a fearful difference between us! Well, I will
talk no more of this; and we will bethink us of the means of getting
him out of the hands of the Hurons. We have father's chest in the ark,
Hetty, and might try the temptation of more elephants; though I fear
such baubles will not buy the liberty of a man like Deerslayer. I am
afraid father and Hurry will not be as willing to ransom Deerslayer, as
Deerslayer was to ransom them!”
“Why not, Judith? Hurry and Deerslayer are friends, and friends should
always help one another.”
“Alas! poor Hetty, you little know mankind! Seeming friends are often
more to be dreaded than open enemies; particularly by females. But
you'll have to land in the morning, and try again what can be done for
Deerslayer. Tortured he shall not be, while Judith Hutter lives, and can
find means to prevent it.”
The conversation now grew desultory, and was drawn out, until the
elder sister had extracted from the younger every fact that the feeble
faculties of the latter permitted her to retain, and to communicate.
When Judith was satisfied--though she could never be said to be
satisfied, whose feelings seemed to be so interwoven with all that
related to the subject, as to have excited a nearly inappeasable
curiosity--but, when Judith could think of no more questions to ask,
without resorting to repetition, the canoe was paddled towards the scow.
The intense darkness of the night, and the deep shadows which the
hills and forest cast upon the water, rendered it difficult to find the
vessel, anchored, as it had been, as close to the shore as a regard to
safety rendered prudent. Judith was expert in the management of a bark
canoe, the lightness of which demanded skill rather than strength; and
she forced her own little vessel swiftly over the water, the moment she
had ended her conference with Hetty, and had come to the determination
to return. Still no ark was seen. Several times the sisters fancied they
saw it, looming up in the obscurity, like a low black rock; but on each
occasion it was found to be either an optical illusion, or some swell of
the foliage on the shore. After a search that lasted half an hour, the
girls were forced to the unwelcome conviction that the ark had departed.
Most young women would have felt the awkwardness of their situation,
in a physical sense, under the circumstances in which the sisters were
left, more than any apprehensions of a different nature. Not so with
Judith, however; and even Hetty felt more concern about the motives that
might have influenced her father and Hurry, than any fears for her own
safety.
“It cannot be, Hetty,” said Judith, when a thorough search had satisfied
them both that no ark was to be found; “it cannot be that the Indians
have rafted, or swum off and surprised our friends as they slept?”
“I don't believe that Hist and Chingachgook would sleep until they had
told each other all they had to say after so long a separation--do you,
sister?”
“Perhaps not, child. There was much to keep them awake, but one Indian
may have been surprised even when not asleep, especially as his thoughts
may have been on other things. Still we should have heard a noise; for
in a night like this, an oath of Hurry Harry's would have echoed in the
eastern hills like a clap of thunder.”
“Hurry is sinful and thoughtless about his words, Judith,” Hetty meekly
and sorrowfully answered.
“No--no; 'tis impossible the ark could be taken and I not hear the
noise. It is not an hour since I left it, and the whole time I have been
attentive to the smallest sound. And yet, it is not easy to believe a
father would willingly abandon his children!”
“Perhaps father has thought us in our cabin asleep, Judith, and has
moved away to go home. You know we often move the ark in the night.”
“This is true, Hetty, and it must be as you suppose. There is a little
more southern air than there was, and they have gone up the lake--”
Judith stopped, for, as the last word was on her tongue, the scene was
suddenly lighted, though only for a single instant, by a flash. The
crack of a rifle succeeded, and then followed the roll of the echo along
the eastern mountains. Almost at the same moment a piercing female
cry rose in the air in a prolonged shriek. The awful stillness that
succeeded was, if possible, more appalling than the fierce and sudden
interruption of the deep silence of midnight. Resolute as she was both
by nature and habit, Judith scarce breathed, while poor Hetty hid her
face and trembled.
“That was a woman's cry, Hetty,” said the former solemnly, “and it was
a cry of anguish! If the ark has moved from this spot it can only have
gone north with this air, and the gun and shriek came from the point.
Can any thing have befallen Hist?”
“Let us go and see, Judith; she may want our assistance--for, besides
herself, there are none but men in the ark.”
It was not a moment for hesitation, and ere Judith had ceased speaking
her paddle was in the water. The distance to the point, in a direct
line, was not great, and the impulses under which the girls worked were
too exciting to allow them to waste the precious moments in useless
precautions. They paddled incautiously for them, but the same excitement
kept others from noting their movements. Presently a glare of light
caught the eye of Judith through an opening in the bushes, and steering
by it, she so directed the canoe as to keep it visible, while she got as
near the land as was either prudent or necessary.
The scene that was now presented to the observation of the girls was
within the woods, on the side of the declivity so often mentioned, and
in plain view from the boat. Here all in the camp were collected, some
six or eight carrying torches of fat-pine, which cast a strong but
funereal light on all beneath the arches of the forest. With her
back supported against a tree, and sustained on one side by the young
sentinel whose remissness had suffered Hetty to escape, sat the female
whose expected visit had produced his delinquency. By the glare of the
torch that was held near her face, it was evident that she was in the
agonies of death, while the blood that trickled from her bared bosom
betrayed the nature of the injury she had received. The pungent,
peculiar smell of gunpowder, too, was still quite perceptible in the
heavy, damp night air. There could be no question that she had been
shot. Judith understood it all at a glance. The streak of light had
appeared on the water a short distance from the point, and either the
rifle had been discharged from a canoe hovering near the land, or it had
been fired from the ark in passing. An incautious exclamation, or laugh,
may have produced the assault, for it was barely possible that the aim
had been assisted by any other agent than sound. As to the effect, that
was soon still more apparent, the head of the victim dropping, and the
body sinking in death. Then all the torches but one were extinguished--a
measure of prudence; and the melancholy train that bore the body to the
camp was just to be distinguished by the glimmering light that remained.
Judith sighed heavily and shuddered, as her paddle again dipped, and
the canoe moved cautiously around the point. A sight had afflicted her
senses, and now haunted her imagination, that was still harder to be
borne, than even the untimely fate and passing agony of the deceased
girl.
She had seen, under the strong glare of all the torches, the erect form
of Deerslayer, standing with commiseration, and as she thought, with
shame depicted on his countenance, near the dying female. He betrayed
neither fear nor backwardness himself; but it was apparent by the
glances cast at him by the warriors, that fierce passions were
struggling in their bosoms. All this seemed to be unheeded by the
captive, but it remained impressed on the memory of Judith throughout
the night. No canoe was met hovering near the point. A stillness and
darkness, as complete as if the silence of the forest had never been
disturbed, or the sun had never shone on that retired region, now
reigned on the point, and on the gloomy water, the slumbering woods,
and even the murky sky. No more could be done, therefore, than to seek
a place of safety; and this was only to be found in the centre of the
lake. Paddling in silence to that spot, the canoe was suffered to drift
northerly, while the girls sought such repose as their situation and
feelings would permit.