CLAIRVOYANCE.
While Geoffrey Viner was winning the love of Madeleine Labroquerie, and
escaping the snare which La Salle had contrived for his capture,
history was being made around the river and the heights. The priest's
daring venture into the forbidden country acted upon the tribes of the
Iroquois confederacy as a spark upon gunpowder; and when it became
known from one camp-fire to another that George Flower, and Richard,
son of Gitsa, had fallen upon Cayuga territory by the hand of a
Frenchman, the native stoicism was changed into madness and the signal
for a general uprising went throughout the land. It was the eve of
that great assault upon the French position which lives in oral
tradition among those degraded descendants of a once great people who
occupy the maritime provinces of to-day.
Previous to that struggle, one phase of which was shown through the
portent of the mirage to La Salle while he stood in the haunted grove,
many deeds occurred which the chronicler cannot afford to pass over.
The narrative must therefore be resumed upon the second morning
following the dispersion of the venturers, that morning which saw Mary
Iden set forth on her mission of vengeance, and Oskelano returning to
his fastness in the north to prepare his men for battle.
The sun had fought down the mists, and black craft of the fishermen
were already leaping along the river, when Van Vuren abandoned the
fortress and climbed the cliff, hoping, as every day he hoped, to find
some trace of his missing men. The night had been cold with north
wind, and the rock country, was still haunted with wet and flickering
shadows. One shadow, so dark and angular as to attract the Dutchman's
eyes, lurked under a crag, as a patch of sheltered ice might linger in
the midst of a land steaming with sunshine; but when Van Vuren
approached, this shadow moved and took upon itself a semblance of
humanity, and with the dispelling of the illusion the Dutchman beheld
the evil face of Gaudriole.
"Adversity finds hard resting-places, my captain," said the dwarf, as
he crawled forth. "Your rock makes a bed rougher than a paving-stone,
but methinks a safer. Here a rogue may snore in his sleep without
bringing the king's men upon him. I have a message for you, my
captain."
"Hast any tidings of my men?" asked the Dutchman eagerly.
The head of the dwarf was on a level with his elbow; his matted hair
was wet with mist. His habiliments, partly native, partly civilised,
surrounded his crooked body in a ragged suit of motley; and a long
knife was driven into his belt.
"He who answers must be paid," answered the hunchback, grinning.
"Perchance you have already been paid," said Van Vuren suspiciously.
"The honourable captain possesses the gift of Divination," sneered
Gaudriole. "See you how low yonder warship sits in the water?" he went
on, pointing down at the _St. Wenceslas_, which had lately arrived at
that coast. "Is it true, as I have heard the settlers say, that she is
loaded with gold from the shore of Labrador? 'Tis said that a man may
there see the precious metal shining at his feet, and has but to bend
to gather sufficient for a knight's ransom."
"I pray you give me the message, good dwarf," said Van Vuren
flatteringly.
"The cloak upon my captain's shoulders is of a truth a thing to be
desired," Gaudriole went on, fingering the rich stuff with his grimy
fingers. "Were it upon my back, 'twould handsomely conceal some very
clumsy work of nature. 'Tis the cloth that makes the courtier." He
burst into a raucous laugh, as he danced the cold out of his limbs.
"His Excellency the commandant shall loosen that insolent tongue,"
cried Van Vuren hotly.
Gaudriole snapped his fingers in the Dutchman's face as he retorted:
"This is not the old world, my brave captain, and there is no restraint
upon lying here. Gaudriole is now a citizen of the New World. The
Cardinal himself is but a shadow here. Even a mountebank of the gutter
may turn traitor in the wilderness. Gaudriole is a man this side o'
the sea. Were we in Paris I might bow to kiss your garments, and call
you Holiness an you desired it. Here the jester is as good as the
general. Hunt me into yonder forest at your sword-end, bold captain,
and bid me play the will o' the wisp. I should but disappear into a
thicket ahead, rise up at your back, and this knife and a moss-swamp
would settle all your business. Doff your hat to a fool, captain, and
give him pipe and tobacco."
Van Vuren clenched his teeth. He would then have given even his cloak
to effectually silence that biting tongue. But he was a stranger upon
French territory, and he knew that the slender tie of alliance would
not stand a strain. He prudently choked down his anger, and satisfied
the dwarf's more reasonable demand.
"Never was a better gift sent to man than this same tobacco," said
Gaudriole. "See you, captain, how excellent are its qualities. It
shall manage the warrior beyond the arts of woman. No man shall use
the good smoke in anger, because at the first taste peace settles upon
his body and his soul desires to be alone. But 'tis a dangerous drug
upon an empty stomach."
"The message," said Van Vuren impatiently.
"Yonder comes in a good burden of fish," resumed Gaudriole, gazing down
indifferently to indicate a boat grating across the shingle. "I know
the oaf, one Nichet, who at home had not the wit to make a living.
Here he becomes a man with a name. This land is Paradise for those not
wanted across sea. Nichet shall presently leave his boat, to find
himself a stone to anchor her, and then I shall pass that way and take
of his best fish for my breakfast. The knave profits by the fool's
work. Fare you well, brave captain."
"The message, villain," broke in Van Vuren.
"Ah! I grow forgetful. 'Tis said that the Abbe La Salle is to go from
here to the land which the Scotch discovered and the valiant French
took from them, to that country upon the gulf which we call Acadie. A
happy quittance, say I. The abbe is too perilously apt with his long
sword. Let them send the fat pig Laroche after him, and this fortress
shall grow more peaceful than the streets of Versailles. Let there be
trouble, you shall always find a fat priest at the root of it."
"Let La Salle descend into the bottomless pit," cried the Dutchman
violently. "And Heaven be praised if he drags you down with him.
Deliver me the message, hunchback."
"Now Nichet moves away to search for a fitting stone," went on
Gaudriole. "Had I a message for you, captain? Let me consider. My
memory is weak of a morning." He struck out his long arm suddenly.
"Dost see that man signalling from yonder shore?"
Van Vuren turned quickly. "Where?" he exclaimed.
"This is the message," shouted Gaudriole, and as he spoke he rushed
under the Dutchman's arm, and shambled swiftly down the road. "To the
man who has to live upon his wits the Dutchman is a gift from Heaven
itself. Remember, my captain! The tobacco leaf is a brave cure for
ill humour."
Van Vuren hurled a curse after him, and turned to ascend. From the
summit of the heights he scanned the prospect, and quickly learnt what
Gaudriole might have told him had he exercised greater forbearance.
The expedition had at last returned. Almost as soon as Van Vuren
looked out he heard a welcome cry, and presently perceived a figure,
clad in the distinctive dress of Holland, crossing the valley at a
rapid walk. With an exclamation of relief the captain hastened down,
and met Dutoit, his lieutenant and the leader of the exploration party,
upon the plain.
Hurriedly the survivors collated their gloomy experiences.
"Twenty-eight left of our seventy-five," muttered Van Vuren, when he
had heard Dutoit's report of two men lost and one dead of fever, "our
supplies and ammunition gone, our ship destroyed. We have nothing now
to hope for, except a safe passage home. Hast seen any Englishmen?"
"Yesterday we sighted a spy making south, and him we pursued until he
escaped us in the bush," answered Dutoit.
"These men never recognise defeat," went on Van Vuren. "They shall
spread upward from the south, flow into this land, and push the French
back from fort to fort. They have a wondrous knack of gratifying the
savages. Know you if any new expedition has come over?"
"We came upon a man mortally sick, who babbled as he died about a ship
supplied by the wool-staplers, which started from Bristol some nine
months ago and was lost upon the reefs. This fellow had his face set
due north, and believed that he was travelling towards Boston----"
"Who comes here?" cried Van Vuren, breaking in upon the other's story
with a note of fear.
They saw the tall, stern figure of Mary Iden descending towards them,
armed as for the chase. She crossed the ridge and halted when she
sighted the men. Her face was ghastly, and her eyes roved wildly over
the prospect. Presently she put out her hand, and the Dutchmen waited
when they saw her sign.
"Soldiers," cried a wild English voice, "have you seen the French
priest known as La Salle pass into the fortress?"
Van Vuren, who had touched at most of the New World colonies in his
time, knew the Anglo-Saxon well enough to answer; but he started, and
said bitterly to his subordinate:
"The very savages speak English. Where is the Indian who has a
knowledge of French in all this country, which the French rule? Did
not I say to you that it is as impossible to keep the men of King
Charles out of this land as it is to dam the ocean behind a bank of
sand?"
He turned to the Englishman's wife, and demanded further knowledge.
The woman struggled to return the answer which policy advised, but
passion overmastered her. Her eyes flashed wildly as she answered:
"Your race has ever been friendly with mine. 'Tis true you are foes of
the English, but all nations hate England, even as the birds of the
forest hate the eagle because of the strength of his flight. Soldiers,
show me where I may find this priest. I have walked through the night
seeking him. But a few hours ago I was a mother. To-day my son gives
no answer to my voice. He was a great hunter was my son, though but a
boy, and he feared no man. This day we bury him where the waters
shout. He was good to look upon, he was strong like the young bear.
He had brave eyes. Soldiers, it is the priest who has slain my son."
The anguished woman had spoken thus aloud as she walked through the
cathedral-like aisles of the forest, addressing the columnar pines, the
fretted arch of foliage, the dim bush shrines; so she had called as her
heart bled to the climbing tits, the ghostly moths, and the long grey
wolf as he slunk away.
"Who is the father of your son?" pressed the Dutchman.
Awaking to the consciousness that the question was not wholly dictated
by sympathy, Mary Iden drew herself erect, and, pointing over the heads
of the men, indicated the impregnable heights whereon waved the flag
azure a fleur-de-lys or, that emblem which dominated the land from the
islands in the gulf to the country where the foot of white men had
never trod.
"I have learnt the story of the wanderings of the children of England,"
she said in a strained prophetic voice. "Of the journey of the man
Cabot, who passed into the places of wind, into the great sea of ice,
and reached the land where the Indians dare not walk. Of the seaman
Frobisher, who touched the iron coast and lived. These men passed out
like spirits into the unknown, and came back with their great story as
men restored from the dead. As the crow follows the eagle, to take of
that which the strong bird leaves, so Frenchmen followed the great
adventurers of England. And now I see the French driven from their
fortress, from Tadousac and St. Croix. Those who dwell in Acadie shall
be driven out, and go as exiles into a strange country. I see soldiers
sweeping the great cliffs, freeing the valleys and plains. I see the
French settled upon their farms, and their flag no longer shines in the
sun, and the people bend themselves to the rule of an English Queen,
whose name is Victory and whose reign is peace. Many moons shall come
and go, many suns shall heat the Father of Waters before these things
shall be, and I shall not live to see that day." She pressed her hands
to her aching eyes, and shivered as she swayed, and once more cried:
"Soldiers, have you seen the priest who has slain my son?"
"A witch!" exclaimed Van Vuren hoarsely. "Let us escape before she
overlooks us."
The superstitious Dutchmen hurried out to rejoin their men, who were
camping in the forest; while Mary Iden made her way across the plain,
and so into the great red eye of the sun.