THE INTRODUCTION TO A FIGHT.
Upon the fore-deck of the Dutch ship two sailors were chatting idly
beside a lantern's shaded light. They had tramped up and down,
performing their duty in a listless fashion, until the general silence
had convinced them that the officer in charge was asleep below. The
determination to take their ease, which they thereupon arrived at,
became strengthened by their belief that the vessel could not have been
safer had she been at anchor-hold in the Zuyder Zee.
"Yon French ship has no sentries, I warrant," said Jan Hoevenden, the
younger of the two. "What use, when a man may hardly see his hand when
'tis held in front of him? Your Indian does not attack by water, as
Roussilac well knows. Neither shall he attack in such a darkness,
unless hard put to it."
"'Tis a scheme of the master to deprive us of our hard-earned sleep,"
grumbled James Oog. "Come, comrade, let us rest here and smoke. Here
is a parcel of tobacco which I dried yesterday in the sun."
The two sailors filled their pipes, lighted the tobacco at the poop
lantern, and settled themselves aft speedily to forget their
responsibilities. There was not a sound, except the hum of flies and
the swirl of the river. There was nothing to be seen, beyond the
gloomy masts and spectral rigging. The atmosphere remained still and
close.
"This is but a poor country, Jan," observed the older man, after a few
contented puffs at his huge pipe. "There be no treasure of gold or
silver buried here."
"Nought but forest and rock, with a biting wind o' nights," replied
Hoevenden. "'Tis a cold climate. The Indians say this river is thick
with ice for a full half of the year."
"I wish for none of that. Give me the south. Hast ever been in
Florida?"
"Nay. Is that land as fruitful as men say?"
"It knows no winter, and even in the midst of the year the heat is
never so great that a man may not endure to work. The soil is so rich
that grain dropped upon the ground shall spring into harvest in a
month. Sugar and fruit grow there, and much timber for building.
There is also game for the pot, and furs for a man's back."
"There are pestilent beasts, they tell me," Hoevenden grumbled.
"Well, man, there was never a paradise without serpents. True there
are mighty reptiles, twenty feet in length, within the rivers, and
monstrous scorpions upon land. But what of it? There are perils upon
every shore. A man may sit out at night under a big moon, beside trees
covered with white or pink blooms, every bloom as great as his head and
smelling like wine, and he may listen to the Tritons singing as they
splash through the sea, and watch the mermaidens--passing fair they say
who have seen them--lying upon the rocks, wringing salt water from
their hair. 'Tis a wondrous shore. I would rather own an acre of it
than be master of all this country of cold forest where there is
neither fruit nor flower."
"The fog arises yonder," said Hoevenden, pointing down the river.
The grey mass which he indicated ascended rapidly and drenched the deck
with dew. There was as yet no light, but a heavy shadow had taken the
place of the intense blackness, and the river was visible as it carried
its current to the gulf. The two men rose suddenly, and hid their
pipes when they heard the rattle of oars and splash of water.
"Shall be found at our duty," said Oog, with a husky laugh, and his
fellow-seaman chuckled with him.
A boat was making rapid progress against the stream, Penfold, with an
eye upon the fog and his right hand on the tiller, encouraging the
rowers. The muscles sprang out from their arms, the sweat flowed from
their faces, despite the rawness of the air. Hough's mutilated
countenance throbbed terribly beneath his efforts. The ship started
suddenly out of the mist, and Penfold called softly, "Easy, lads.
Spare yourselves now, for we have soon to fight." But immediately the
men stopped rowing, the current dragged the boat down.
"The use of the sword will be as child's play after pulling against
this stream," gasped Hough.
Again the men bent their backs, and the boat sullenly made way. Behind
them the morning was breaking rapidly, the fog gathered in whiter
folds, and some flickering bars of grey light crossed the track of the
river.
"They must not see our faces nor hear us speak," Penfold muttered.
Then he whispered sharply, "Heaven be thanked! A ladder hangs at her
stern."
He drew the borrowed plume over his eyes, and lowered his head because
he was facing the ship. His comrades gave way, driving the heavy boat
upward with great strokes of the clumsy oars, until Penfold muttered
softly, "Easy now."
The two sentries were looking down from above; but they perceived
nothing of a suspicious nature, chiefly because they had no cause to
fear the coming of the enemy.
Young Viner was the first to leave the boat, but Penfold was hard after
him. They scrambled up the ladder, while the others secured the boat
to the steps.
"Five men!" exclaimed Hoevenden, peering through the perplexing light.
"Where is the sixth? Masters, where is the commander?"
"Here!" muttered an English voice, and the sentry fell forward with
Penfold's sword through him. Oog opened his mouth to cry "Treachery!"
but all the sound that issued therefrom was a death gasp, as Viner
finished his career with a pretty stroke which effectually deprived the
Dutchman of his hoped-for heritage in the south.
"A fair beginning," said Penfold, peering forward at the big cabins
which gave the ship a curiously humped shape. "Now to smoke out the
hornets. If we are mastered by numbers, we may yet save ourselves by
swimming to the shore. All silent yet. But see--a gun!"
He rammed his sword up the muzzle-breach. "'Tis loaded. Fetch me
yonder lantern."
Hough brought the lantern from the poop; but hardly had he done so when
a head came out from one of the cabin windows, and a pair of frightened
eyes swept their faces. In a moment, as it seemed, the ship was in an
uproar.
"Now may God deafen the Frenchmen," prayed Penfold, as he swung the
brass gun round and pointed its muzzle at the cabin door.
Viner and Woodfield were fastening down the hatches, while Hough ran
forward, taking his life in his hands, and severed the cable. The ship
quivered, shook herself like a dog aroused from sleep, and very slowly
answered the downward pull of the stream.
But before the Puritan could return the cabin door burst open and the
enemy swarmed forth. Hough dropped the first in his shirt, parried a
blow from the second, turned and ran back, while old Penfold opened the
lantern and brought the flame down to the portfire.
There was light now over the St. Lawrence under masses of wet cloud.
An Indian canoe was flying over the water like a bird, urged by two
pair of arms paddling furiously. She caught the floating ship, and as
she made fast to the side of the steps the gun roared overhead, and
after it an English cheer shook the mist.
"Keep to my side," said the man in the canoe. "Forget not that pass
under the hilt I taught you."
Having thus spoken he bounded up the ladder.