CHAPTER I.

Produced by Gardner Buchanan with help from Charles Franks

and the distributed proofers. HTML version by Al Haines.

WACOUSTA;

or

THE PROPHECY.

Volume Three of Three

by

John Richardson

CHAPTER I.

The night passed away without further event on board the schooner, yet

in all the anxiety that might be supposed incident to men so perilously

situated. Habits of long-since acquired superstition, too powerful to

be easily shaken off, moreover contributed to the dejection of the

mariners, among whom there were not wanting those who believed the

silent steersman was in reality what their comrade had represented,--an

immaterial being, sent from the world of spirits to warn them of some

impending evil. What principally gave weight to this impression were

the repeated asseverations of Fuller, during the sleepless night passed

by all on deck, that what he had seen was no other, could be no other,

than a ghost! exhibiting in its hueless, fleshless cheek, the

well-known lineaments of one who was supposed to be no more: and, if

the story of their comrade had needed confirmation among men in whom

faith in, rather than love for, the marvellous was a constitutional

ingredient, the terrible effect that seemed to have been produced on

Captain de Haldimar by the same mysterious visitation would have been

more than conclusive. The very appearance of the night, too, favoured

the delusion. The heavens, comparatively clear at the moment when the

canoe approached the vessel, became suddenly enveloped in the deepest

gloom at its departure, as if to enshroud the course of those who,

having so mysteriously approached, had also so unaccountably

disappeared. Nor had this threatening state of the atmosphere the

counterbalancing advantage of storm and tempest to drive them onward

through the narrow waters of the Sinclair, and enable them, by

anticipating the pursuit of their enemies, to shun the Scylla and

Charybdis that awaited their more leisure advance. The wind increased

not; and the disappointed seamen remarked, with dismay, that their

craft scarcely made more progress than at the moment when she first

quitted her anchorage.

It was now near the first hours of day; and although, perhaps, none

slept, there were few who were not apparently at rest, and plunged in

the most painful reflections. Still occupying her humble couch, and

shielded from the night air merely by the cloak that covered her own

blood-stained garments, lay the unhappy Clara, her deep groans and

stifled sobs bursting occasionally from her pent-up heart, and falling

on the ears of the mariners like sounds of fearful import, produced by

the mysterious agency that already bore such undivided power over their

thoughts. On the bare deck, at her side, lay her brother, his face

turned upon the planks, as if to shut out all objects from eyes he had

not the power to close; and, with one arm supporting his heavy brow,

while the other, cast around the restless form of his beloved sister,

seemed to offer protection and to impart confidence, even while his

lips denied the accents of consolation. Seated on an empty hen-coop at

their head, was Sir Everard Valletort, his back reposing against the

bulwarks of the vessel, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes

bent mechanically on the man at the helm, who stood within a few paces

of him,--an attitude of absorption, which he, ever and anon, changed to

one of anxious and enquiring interest, whenever the agitation of Clara

was manifested in the manner already shown.

The main deck and forecastle of the vessel presented a similar picture

of mingled unquietness and repose. Many of the seamen might be seen

seated on the gun-carriages, with their cheeks pressing the rude metal

that served them for a pillow. Others lay along the decks, with their

heads resting on the elevated hatches; while not a few, squatted on

their haunches with their knees doubled up to their very chins,

supported in that position the aching head that rested between their

rough and horny palms. A first glance might have induced the belief

that all were buried in the most profound slumber; but the quick

jerking of a limb,--the fitful, sudden shifting of a position,--the

utter absence of that deep breathing which indicates the

unconsciousness of repose, and the occasional spirting of tobacco juice

upon the deck,--all these symptoms only required to be noticed, to

prove the living silence that reigned throughout was not born either of

apathy or sleep.

At the gangway at which the canoe had approached now stood the

individual already introduced to our readers as Jack Fuller. The same

superstitious terror that caused his flight had once more attracted him

to the spot where the subject of his alarm first appeared to him; and,

without seeming to reflect that the vessel, in her slow but certain

progress, had left all vestige of the mysterious visitant behind, he

continued gazing over the bulwarks on the dark waters, as if he

expected at each moment to find his sight stricken by the same

appalling vision. It was at the moment when he had worked up his

naturally dull imagination to its highest perception of the

supernatural, that he was joined by the rugged boatswain, who had

passed the greater part of the night in pacing up and down the decks,

watching the aspect of the heavens, and occasionally tauting a rope or

squaring a light yard, unassisted, as the fluttering of the canvass in

the wind rendered the alteration necessary.

"Well, Jack!" bluntly observed the latter in a gruff whisper that

resembled the suppressed growling of a mastiff, "what the hell are ye

thinking of now?--Not got over your flumbustification yet, that ye

stand here, looking as sanctified as an old parson!"

"I'll tell ye what it is, Mr. Mullins," returned the sailor, in the

same key; "you may make as much game on me as you like; but these here

strange sort of doings are somehow quizzical; and, though I fears

nothing in the shape of flesh and blood, still, when it comes to having

to do with those as is gone to Davy Jones's locker like, it gives a

fellow an all-overishness as isn't quite the thing. You understand me?"

"I'm damned if I do!" was the brief but energetic rejoinder.

"Well, then," continued Fuller, "if I must out with it, I must. I think

that 'ere Ingian must have been the devil, or how could he come so

sudden and unbeknownst upon me, with the head of a 'possum: and then,

agin, how could he get away from the craft without our seeing him? and

how came the ghost on board of the canoe?"

"Avast there, old fellow; you means not the head of a 'possum, but a

beaver: but that 'ere's all nat'r'l enough, and easily 'counted for;

but you hav'n't told us whose ghost it was, after all."

"No; the captain made such a spring to the gunwale, as frighted it all

out of my head: but come closer, Mr. Mullins, and I'll whisper it in

your ear.--Hark! what was that?"

"I hears nothing," said the boatswain, after a pause.

"It's very odd," continued Fuller; "but I thought as how I heard it

several times afore you came."

"There's something wrong, I take it, in your upper story, Jack Fuller,"

coolly observed his companion; "that 'ere ghost has quite capsized you."

"Hark, again!" repeated the sailor. "Didn't you hear it then? A sort of

a groan like."

"Where, in what part?" calmly demanded the boatswain, though in the

same suppressed tone in which the dialogue had been, carried on.

"Why, from the canoe that lies alongside there. I heard it several

times afore."

"Well, damn my eyes, if you a'rn't turned a real coward at last,"

politely remarked Mr. Mullins. "Can't the poor fat devil of a Canadian

snooze a bit in his hammock, without putting you so completely out of

your reckoning?"

"The Canadian--the Canadian!" hurriedly returned Fuller: "why, don't

you see him there, leaning with his back to the main-mast, and as fast

asleep as if the devil himself couldn't wake him?"

"Then it was the devil, you heard, if you like," quaintly retorted

Mullins: "but bear a hand, and tell us all about this here ghost."

"Hark, again! what was that?" once more enquired the excited sailor.

"Only a gust of wind passing through the dried boughs of the canoe,"

said the boatswain: "but since we can get nothing out of that crazed

noddle of yours, see if you can't do something with your hands. That

'ere canoe running alongside, takes half a knot off the ship's way.

Bear a hand then, and cast off the painter, and let her drop astarn,

that she may follow in our wake. Hilloa! what the hell's the matter

with the man now?"

And well might he ask. With his eyeballs staring, his teeth chattering,

his body half bent, and his arms thrown forward, yet pendent as if

suddenly arrested in that position while in the act of reaching the

rope, the terrified sailor stood gazing on the stern of the canoe; in

which, by the faint light of the dawning day, was to be seen an object

well calculated to fill the least superstitious heart with terror and

dismay. Through an opening in the foliage peered the pale and spectral

face of a human being, with its dull eyes bent fixedly and mechanically

upon the vessel. In the centre of the wan forehead was a dark

incrustation, as of blood covering the superficies of a newly closed

wound. The pallid mouth was partially unclosed, so as to display a row

of white and apparently lipless teeth; and the features were otherwise

set and drawn, as those of one who is no longer of earth. Around the

head was bound a covering so close, as to conceal every part save the

face; and once or twice a hand was slowly raised, and pressed upon the

blood spot that dimmed the passing fairness of the brow. Every other

portion of the form was invisible.

"Lord have mercy upon us!" exclaimed the boatswain, in a voice that,

now elevated to more than its natural tone, sounded startlingly on the

stillness of the scene; "sure enough it is, indeed, a ghost!"

"Ha! do you believe me now?" returned Fuller, gaining confidence from

the admission of his companion, and in the same elevated key. "It is,

as I hope to be saved, the ghost I see'd afore."

The commotion on deck was now every where universal. The sailors

started to their feet, and, with horror and alarm visibly imprinted on

their countenances, rushed tumultuously towards the dreaded gangway.

"Make way--room, fellows!" exclaimed a hurried voice; and presently

Captain de Haldimar, who had bounded like lightning from the deck,

appeared with eager eye and excited cheek among them. To leap into the

bows of the canoe, and disappear under the foliage, was the work of a

single instant. All listened breathlessly for the slightest sound; and

then every heart throbbed with the most undefinable emotions, as his

lips were heard giving utterance to the deep emotion of his own

spirit,--

"Madeline, oh, my own lost Madeline!" he exclaimed with almost frantic

energy of passion: "do I then press you once more in madness to my

doting heart? Speak, speak to me--for God's sake speak, or I shall go

mad! Air, air,--she wants air only--she cannot be dead."

These last words were succeeded by the furious rending asunder of the

fastenings that secured the boughs, and presently the whole went

overboard, leaving revealed the tall and picturesque figure of the

officer; whose left arm encircled while it supported the reclining and

powerless form of one who well resembled, indeed, the spectre for which

she had been mistaken, while his right hand was busied in detaching the

string that secured a portion of the covering round her throat. At

length it fell from her shoulders; and the well known form of Madeline

de Haldimar, clad even in the vestments in which they had been wont to

see her, met the astonished gaze of the excited seamen. Still there

were some who doubted it was the corporeal woman whom they beheld; and

several of the crew who were catholics even made the sign of the cross

as the supposed spirit was now borne up the gangway in the arms of the

pained yet gratified De Haldimar: nor was it until her feet were seen

finally resting on the deck, that Jack Fuller could persuade himself it

was indeed Miss de Haldimar, and not her ghost, that lay clasped to the

heart of the officer.

With the keen rush of the morning air upon her brow returned the

suspended consciousness of the bewildered Madeline. The blood came

slowly and imperceptibly to her cheek; and her eyes, hitherto glazed,

fixed, and inexpressive, looked enquiringly, yet with stupid

wonderment, around. She started from the embrace of her lover, gazed

alternately at his disguise, at himself, and at Clara; and then passing

her hand several times rapidly across her brow, uttered an hysteric

scream, and threw herself impetuously forward on the bosom of the

sobbing girl; who, with extended arms, parted lips, and heaving bosom,

sat breathlessly awaiting the first dawn of the returning reason of her

more than sister.

We should vainly attempt to paint all the heart-rending misery of the

scene exhibited in the gradual restoration of Miss de Haldimar to her

senses. From a state of torpor, produced by the freezing of every

faculty into almost idiocy, she was suddenly awakened to all the

terrors of the past and the deep intonations of her rich voice were

heard only in expressions of agony, that entered into the most

iron-hearted of the assembled seamen; while they drew from the bosom of

her gentle and sympathising cousin fresh bursts of desolating grief.

Imagination itself would find difficulty in supplying the harrowing

effect upon all, when, with upraised hands, and on her bended knees,

her large eyes turned wildly up to heaven, she invoked in deep and

startling accents the terrible retribution of a just God on the inhuman

murderers of her father, with whose life-blood her garments were

profusely saturated; and then, with hysteric laughter, demanded why she

alone had been singled out to survive the bloody tragedy. Love and

affection, hitherto the first principles of her existence, then found

no entrance into her mind. Stricken, broken-hearted, stultified to all

feeling save that of her immediate wretchedness, she thought only of

the horrible scenes through which she had passed; and even he, whom at

another moment she could have clasped in an agony of fond tenderness to

her beating bosom,--he to whom she had pledged her virgin faith, and

was bound by the dearest of human ties,--he whom she had so often

longed to behold once more, and had thought of, the preceding day, with

all the tenderness of her impassioned and devoted soul,--even he did

not, in the first hours of her terrible consciousness, so much as

command a single passing regard. All the affections were for a period

blighted in her bosom. She seemed as one devoted, without the power of

resistance, to a grief which calcined and preyed upon all other

feelings of the mind. One stunning and annihilating reflection seemed

to engross every principle of her being; nor was it for hours after she

had been restored to life and recollection that a deluge of burning

tears, giving relief to her heart and a new direction to her feelings,

enabled her at length to separate the past from, and in some degree

devote herself to, the present. Then, indeed, for the first time did

she perceive and take pleasure in the presence of her lover; and

clasping her beloved and weeping Clara to her heart, thank her God, in

all the fervour of true piety, that she at least had been spared to

shed a ray of comfort on her distracted spirit. But we will not pain

the reader by dwelling on a scene that drew tears even from the rugged

and flint-nerved boatswain himself; for, although we should linger on

it with minute anatomical detail, no powers of language we possess

could convey the transcript as it should be. Pass we on, therefore, to

the more immediate incidents of our narrative.

The day now rapidly developing, full opportunity was afforded the

mariners to survey the strict nature of their position. To all

appearance they were yet in the middle of the lake, for around them lay

the belting sweep of forest that bounded the perspective of the

equidistant circle, of which their bark was the focus or immediate

centre. The wind was dying gradually away, and when at length the sun

rose, in all his splendour, there was scarce air enough in the heavens

to keep the sails from flapping against the masts, or to enable the

vessel to obey her helm. In vain was the low and peculiar whistle of

the seamen heard, ever and anon, in invocation of the departing breeze.

Another day, calm and breathless as the preceding, had been chartered

from the world of light; and their hearts failed them, as they foresaw

the difficulty of their position, and the almost certainty of their

retreat being cut off. It was while labouring under the disheartening

consciousness of danger, peculiar to all, that the anxious boatswain

summoned Captain de Haldimar and Sir Everard Valletort, by a

significant beck of the finger, to the side of the deck opposite to

that on which still lay the suffering and nearly broken-hearted girls.

"Well, Mullins, what now?" enquired the former, as he narrowly scanned

the expression of the old man's features: "that clouded brow of yours,

I fear me, bodes no agreeable information."

"Why, your honour, I scarcely knows what to say about it; but seeing as

I'm the only officer in the ship, now our poor captain is killed, God

bless him! I thought I might take the liberty to consult with your

honours as to the best way of getting out of the jaws of them sharks of

Ingians; and two heads, as the saying is, is always better than one."

"And now you have the advantage of three," observed the officer, with a

sickly smile; "but I fear, Mullins, that if your own be not sufficient

for the purpose, ours will be of little service. You must take counsel

from your own experience and knowledge of nautical matters."

"Why, to be sure, your honour," and the sailor rolled his quid from one

cheek to the other, "I think I may say as how I'll venture to steer the

craft with any man on the Canada lakes, and bring her safe into port

too; but seeing as how I'm only a petty officer, and not yet

recommended by his worship the governor for the full command, I thought

it but right to consult with my superiors, not as to the management of

the craft, but the best as is to be done. What does your honour think

of making for the high land over the larboard bow yonder, and waiting

for the chance of the night-breeze to take us through the Sinclair?"

"Do whatever you think best," returned the officer. "For my part, I

scarcely can give an opinion. Yet how are we to get there? There does

not appear to be a breath of wind."

"Oh, that's easily managed; we have only to brail and furl up a little,

to hide our cloth from the Ingians, and then send the boats a-head to

tow the craft, while some of us lend a hand at her own sweeps. We shall

get close under the lee of the land afore night, and then we must pull

up agin along shore, until we get within a mile or so of the head of

the river."

"But shall we not be seen by our enemies?" asked Sir Everard; "and will

they not be on the watch for our movements, and intercept our retreat?"

"Now that's just the thing, your honour, as they're not likely to do,

if so be as we bears away for yon headlands. I knows every nook and

sounding round the lake; and odd enough if I didn't, seeing as how the

craft circumnavigated it, at least, a dozen times since we have been

cooped up here. Poor Captain Danvers! (may the devil damn his

murderers, I say, though it does make a commander of me for once;) he

used always to make for that 'ere point, whenever he wished to lie

quiet; for never once did we see so much as a single Ingian on the

headland. No, your honour, they keeps all at t'other side of the lake,

seeing as how that is the main road from Mackina' to Detroit."

"Then, by all means, do so," eagerly returned Captain de Haldimar. "Oh,

Mullins! take us but safely through, and if the interest of my father

can procure you a king's commission, you shall not want it, believe me."

"And if half my fortune can give additional stimulus to exertion, it

shall be shared, with pleasure, between yourself and crew," observed

Sir Everard.

"Thank your honours,--thank your honours," said the boatswain, somewhat

electrified by these brilliant offers. "The lads may take the money, if

they like; all I cares about is the king's commission. Give me but a

swab on my shoulder, and the money will come fast enough of itself.

But, still, shiver my topsails, if I wants any bribery to make me do my

duty; besides, if 'twas only for them poor girls alone, I would go

through fire and water to sarve them. I'm not very chicken-hearted in

my old age, your honours, but I don't recollect the time when I

blubbered so much as I did when Miss Madeline come aboard. But I can't

bear to think of it; and now let us see and get all ready for towing."

Every thing now became bustle and activity on board the schooner. The

matches, no longer required for the moment, were extinguished, and the

heavy cutlasses and pistols unbuckled from the loins of the men, and

deposited near their respective guns. Light forms flew aloft, and,

standing out upon the yards, loosely furled the sails that had

previously been hauled and clewed up; but, as this was an operation

requiring little time in so small a vessel, those who were engaged in

it speedily glided to the deck again, ready for a more arduous service.

The boats had, meanwhile, been got forward, and into these the sailors

sprang, with an alacrity that could scarcely have been expected from

men who had passed not only the preceding night, but many before it, in

utter sleeplessness and despair. But the imminence of the danger, and

the evident necessity existing for exertion, aroused them to new

energy; and the hitherto motionless vessel was now made to obey the

impulse given by the tow ropes of the boats, in a manner that proved

their crews to have entered on their toil with the determination of

men, resolved to devote themselves in earnest to their task. Nor was

the spirit of action confined to these. The long sweeps of the schooner

had been shipped, and such of the crew as remained on board laboured

effectually at them,--a service, in which they were essentially aided,

not only by mine host of the Fleur de lis, but by the young officers

themselves.

At mid-day the headlands were seen looming largely in the distance,

while the immediate shores of the ill-fated fortress were momentarily,

and in the same proportion, disappearing under the dim line of horizon

in the rear. More than half their course, from the spot whence they

commenced towing, had been completed, when the harassed men were made

to quit their oars, in order to partake of the scanty fare of the

vessel, consisting chiefly of dried bear's meat and venison. Spirit of

any description they had none; but, unlike their brethren of the

Atlantic, when driven to extremities in food, they knew not what it was

to poison the nutritious properties of the latter by sipping the putrid

dregs of the water-cask, in quantities scarce sufficient to quench the

fire of their parched palates. Unslaked thirst was a misery unknown to

the mariners of these lakes: it was but to cast their buckets deep into

the tempting element, and water, pure, sweet, and grateful as any that

ever bubbled from the moss-clad fountain of sylvan deity, came cool and

refreshing to their lips, neutralising, in a measure, the crudities of

the coarsest food. It was to this inestimable advantage the crew of the

schooner had been principally indebted for their health, during the

long series of privation, as far as related to fresh provisions and

rest, to which they had been subjected. All appeared as vigorous in

frame, and robust in health, as at the moment when they had last

quitted the waters of the Detroit; and but for the inward sinking of

the spirit, reflected in many a bronzed and furrowed brow, there was

little to show they had been exposed to any very extraordinary trials.

Their meal having been hastily dispatched, and sweetened by a draught

from the depths of the Huron, the seamen once more sprang into their

boats, and devoted themselves, heart and soul, to the completion of

their task, pulling with a vigour that operated on each and all with a

tendency to encouragement and hope. At length the vessel, still

impelled by her own sweeps, gradually approached the land; and at

rather more than an hour before sunset was so near that the moment was

deemed arrived when, without danger of being perceived, she might be

run up along the shore to the point alluded to by the boatswain. Little

more than another hour was occupied in bringing her to her station; and

the red tints of departing day were still visible in the direction of

the ill-fated fortress of Michilimackinac, when the sullen rumbling of

the cable, following the heavy splash of the anchor, announced the

place of momentary concealment had been gained.

The anchorage lay between two projecting headlands; to the outermost

extremities of which were to be seen, overhanging the lake, the stately

birch and pine, connected at their base by an impenetrable brushwood,

extending to the very shore, and affording the amplest concealment,

except from the lake side and the banks under which the schooner was

moored. From the first quarter, however, little danger was incurred, as

any canoes the savages might send in discovery of their course, must

unavoidably be seen the moment they appeared over the line of the

horizon, while, on the contrary, their own vessel, although much

larger, resting on and identified with the land, must be invisible,

except on a very near approach. In the opposite direction they were

equally safe; for, as Mullins had truly remarked, none, save a few

wandering hunters, whom chance occasionally led to the spot, were to be

met with in a part of the country that lay so completely out of the

track of communication between the fortresses. It was, however, but to

double the second headland in their front, and they came within view of

the Sinclair, the head of which was situated little more than a league

beyond the spot where they now lay. Thus secure for the present, and

waiting only for the rising of the breeze, of which the setting sun had

given promise, the sailors once more snatched their hasty refreshment,

while two of their number were sent aloft to keep a vigilant look-out

along the circuit embraced by the enshrouding headlands.

During the whole of the day the cousins had continued on deck clasped

in each other's arms, and shedding tears of bitterness, and heaving the

most heart-rending sobs at intervals, yet but rarely conversing. The

feelings of both were too much oppressed to admit of the utterance of

their grief. The vampire of despair had banqueted on their hearts.

Their vitality had been sucked, as it were, by its cold and bloodless

lips; and little more than the withered rind, that had contained the

seeds of so many affections, had been left. Often had Sir Everard and

De Haldimar paused momentarily from the labour of their oars, to cast

an eye of anxious solicitude on the scarcely conscious girls, wishing,

rather than expecting, to find the violence of their desolation abated,

and that, in the full expansion of unreserved communication, they were

relieving their sick hearts from the terrible and crushing weight of

woe that bore them down. Captain de Haldimar had even once or twice

essayed to introduce the subject himself, in the hope that some fresh

paroxysm, following their disclosures, would remove the horrible

stupefaction of their senses; but the wild look and excited manner of

Madeline, whenever he touched on the chord of her affliction, had as

often caused him to desist.

Towards the evening, however, her natural strength of character came in

aid of his quiescent efforts to soothe her; and she appeared not only

more composed, but more sensible of the impression produced by

surrounding objects. As the last rays of the sun were tinging the

horizon, she drew up her form in a sitting position against the

bulwarks, and, raising her clasped hands to heaven, while her eyes were

bent long and fixedly on the distant west, appeared for some minutes

wholly lost in that attitude of absorption. Then she closed her eyes;

and through the swollen lids came coursing, one by one, over her

quivering cheek, large tears, that seemed to scald a furrow where they

passed. After this she became more calm--her respiration more free; and

she even consented to taste the humble meal which the young man now

offered for the third time. Neither Clara nor herself had eaten food

since the preceding morning; and the weakness of their frames

contributed not a little to the increasing despondency of their

spirits; but, notwithstanding several attempts previously made, they

had rejected what was offered them, with insurmountable loathing. When

they had now swallowed a few morsels of the sliced venison ham,

prepared with all the delicacy the nearly exhausted resources of the

vessel could supply, accompanied by a small portion of the cornbread of

the Canadian, Captain de Haldimar prevailed on them to swallow a few

drops of the spirit that still remained in the canteen given them by

Erskine on their departure from Detroit. The genial liquid sent a

kindling glow to their chilled hearts, and for a moment deadened the

pungency of their anguish; and then it was that Miss de Haldimar

entered briefly on the horrors she had witnessed, while Clara, with her

arm encircling her waist, fixed her dim and swollen eyes, from which a

tear ever and anon rolled heavily to her lap, on those of her beloved

cousin.