which the Frenchman must have heard and wondered at, rang across the
water, for it summed up the feelings of every man aboard. Shortly after
this, the event which every one was expecting, from the captain down to
the youngest cabin boy, happened.
"They're preparing to lower away the boats, sir. They mean to cut us
out," came from the fore-top.
"Stand ready, my lads. Load every gun with grape-shot, lads, but don't
fire till I give the order."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
One, two, three boats had been lowered, and filled with armed men. Each
pulled ten oars, and there were at least thirty men in each boat, now
pulling towards the _Duncan_.
Guns were run out; matches lit; cutlasses and pikes kept handy; but for
the next half-hour a deep silence pervaded the ship's company. The men
spoke not, for every order had been given, except that one for which
they were all waiting; but the glow which was upon every cheek, and the
sparkle which was in every eye, showed the tense feeling which animated
the men. It was as though every man heard the words--
"In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength."
Jamie and Jack were both stationed at the same gun, one of the
twelve-pounders on the port-side, amidships. This was their first
action, and they had a strange feeling at this moment. It was not fear,
for who could fear with the eye of that brave commander upon them from
the quarter-deck. It was rather a feeling of mingled awe and suspense.
Oh, how slowly the moments crawled! Five--ten--twenty minutes passed.
They could now hear the swish of the enemy's oars as they fell in
measured strokes upon the water. Nearer and nearer they came. The
first boat was now scarcely a cable's length away, when--
"Fire!" came in a voice of thunder from the poop.
Every gun that had been brought to bear belched forth its contents of
flame and iron. The deadly missiles sped on their way, carrying death
and destruction.
As soon as the smoke had cleared away, the awful effect of this
concentrated fire could be seen. The first boat was literally blown to
pieces; nothing was left of it but broken fragments, and the sea seemed
full of struggling creatures, whose cries were pitiful. The second and
third boats, however, were untouched, and while one went to the
assistance of the first, the other dashed alongside, and with a wild cry
of vengeance, the men clambered up the side and attempted to board.
"Repel boarders! Give it 'em, lads!" cried the captain, and seizing
their pikes and cutlasses the men left the guns and attacked the enemy,
who came on cheering, led by their brave officers. The third boat had
stopped but to pick up a few stragglers, and then joined their comrades.
There were now sixty or seventy men attempting to board the merchantman,
but very few of them reached the deck, for the nets impeded their
progress, and the stalwart defenders hurled them back into the sea.
The carnage was frightful. No quarter was asked, and none was given.
The guns were silent now. It was hand-to-hand. Once the enemy
succeeded in cutting away the nets, and an intrepid officer, followed by
a few men, gained the deck, but in a trice Captain Forbes was amongst
them, hewing his way with his long cutlass. A dozen men sprang to his
assistance, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the intruders
were stretched dead or wounded upon the deck.
At another time the alarm was given that the Frenchmen had gained the
poop. Alas, it was only too true; some of them had clambered up and in
at the stern windows, and had thus gained the upper deck. There was not
a moment to spare, for already they were attempting to turn one of the
brass swivels on the poop upon the crew.
"Follow me, lads!" cried the captain, as he sprang aft and up the
companion ladder, and every man who could leave his post followed him,
including Jamie and his chum.
A dreadful hand-to-hand fight took place. The men fought like tigers.
Only two of the enemy escaped who had reached the poop, and these were
glad to leap into the sea, to escape those avenging English, who fought
like demons.
While this fierce scuffle was taking place, something happened that had
passed unnoticed until it was too late. The wind, which had dropped to
a dead calm, had sprung up and freshened rapidly from the nor'-east, and
the frigate, receiving the first benefit of the breeze, had crept in
nearer to the ship, and almost before Captain Forbes could get his
vessel under way, the enemy poured in his first broadside of thirteen
guns, with an awful, crashing effect. The ship staggered, and shook
from stem to stern at this fearful impact. Down came the foremast, and
went over the side, carrying with it a tangle of wreckage, torn sails
and rigging, giving the vessel a heavy list to starboard, and killing
several men on the spot. More than twenty men were killed or wounded
within a few minutes, for broadside now followed broadside.
"Cut away that rigging, lads!" cried the captain.
They were almost his last words. As he seized a hatchet and sprang
forward to cut away the wreckage, a cannon ball shattered his right arm,
and even as he fell, a musket ball pierced his breast, and he fell upon
the blood-stained deck. Jack rushed forward to support him, and tried
to staunch his wounds, but the captain shook his head and lapsed into
unconsciousness.
It was a most unequal fight, but the men still fought on stubbornly.
Half the guns were dismantled, and there were not enough unwounded men
to serve the rest, but every gun that could be manned was double-loaded
and fired with such precision, that great havoc was worked upon the
enemy's decks, which were much more crowded than those of the English
ship.
For another hour the unequal contest continued, and the French were
preparing to board again, when the _Duncan's_ main-top-mast went over
the side with a crash, bringing down with it the colours, which had till
now floated proudly over the wreckage of the merchantman.
This crash awoke the captain to consciousness for a moment, and he
noticed the colours, hanging over the side, as he half raised himself
and endeavoured to assume command.
"The colours! the colours!" he cried. "Take the ensign aloft, some one!"
Jamie, who was bending over him, heard and understood. He seized the
ensign, tattered and torn as it was, and tore it away. The next moment
he sprang into the mizzen shrouds, for that was the only mast remaining.
Amid a shower of bullets from the French sharpshooters, he reached the
crosstrees. As he reached the top-gallant yard a shaft of pain seemed
to grip his left shoulder; still, up he went, and in another moment he
had made fast the colours above the mizzen-royal yard.
A moment only he stayed there--to wave his hat in defiance at the enemy,
whose bullets still whistled around him. This daring act was not lost
upon a gallant foe. The French captain ordered his men to cease firing
at _ce brave fils_, and a cheer even broke from the cruiser's deck as he
began to descend.
It was with difficulty that he came down from that perilous post, for
his left arm was useless owing to the bullet wound in his shoulder, from
which the blood had been flowing freely. Everything about was now
becoming blurred and indistinct.
When at last he reached the deck the captain, supported by Jack and the
second mate, was breathing with great difficulty, but he beckoned Jamie
to him. Smiling faintly, and holding out his hand, which the lad
grasped, he was only able to whisper--
"Well done! We'll go down with colours flying!"
Then he raised his eyes, to look once more at that tattered ensign,
floating bravely at the mizzen, and even while he gazed at it, still
holding the lad's hand, his eyes became fixed in death, and that torn
flag was the last thing that he saw on this side.
Thus died a brave sailor, and an English gentleman, whose courage and
fidelity had perhaps passed unnoticed but for this brief record. And
they laid him gently against the foot of the broken main-mast.
"Why, what's the matter, Jamie? You're wounded, too!" exclaimed Jack,
one of the few still aboard who remained unwounded.
As Jamie looked at the dead captain the mists swam before his eyes, and
he reeled and fell beside his leader, his idol and example, who had died
at the post of duty for his ship, and the honour of his country.
"And how can man die better,
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his gods."
"Wake up, Jamie! Wake up! Oh, comrades, he's dying. Speak, Jamie!
Speak!" he cried in an agony of bitterness, quite heedless of the shots
that still flew around; but his comrade spoke not, for he had swooned
away from weakness and loss of blood.
In Jamie's ears the roar of battle now seemed afar off, like the murmur
of a distant stream. The smoke, the enemy and the battle faded from his
vision, for it seemed to him that he still sat in the old school-house
at Burnside, and Jack was beside him, while Dr. Birch, book in hand, was
speaking of the heroic deeds of ancient days--of Hector and Achilles, of
Diomed and Ajax, of AEneas and Ulysses.
*CHAPTER VI*
*PRISONERS OF WAR*
"You've fought like Britons, lads! You've done all that brave men could
do! It remains for us but to die like heroes," cried Mr. Rogers, the
first mate, who, though seriously wounded himself, had led the fight
since the captain fell.
The remnant of the crew cheered these words of the mate, who was already
leaning on a dismantled gun for support.
And what a remnant it was! Out of a crew of fifty, only nineteen men
remained alive, and most of these were wounded. The condition of the
ship, which had sustained this unequal contest, was pitiable in the
extreme. Both the fore-mast and the main-topmast were over the side,
giving the _Duncan_ a heavy list to starboard. In several places her
hull was almost rent asunder, while her decks forward were partly awash.
Each instant she threatened to founder.
The merchantman had fought for three hours with one of the best French
frigates afloat, and several times she had repelled boarders. The
enemy's broadsides had ripped open some of her seams, and there were
already eight feet of water in the hold. The last gun was put out of
action, owing to the angle of the decks.
"There's one more shot in the locker, lads, and by Davy Jones, if the
Frenchmen attempt to board us again I'll send them aloft!" exclaimed Mr.
Rogers, half raising himself from the gun to look at the frigate, whose
fire had now considerably slackened.
Suddenly the "Cease fire!" was sounded aboard the French ship, and Jack,
leaving Jamie to the care of a seaman for a moment, clambered up the
steep deck to see what had happened.
"They're sending a boat, Mr. Rogers!" he cried. "She'll be alongside in
a minute, sir. Shall I hail them?"
"Tell them that if they set a foot aboard my ship I'll fire the
powder-magazine and blow the vessel up," cried the first officer
fiercely.
The boat came quickly alongside, and an officer hailed them. "Do you
strike, messieurs? Do you strike?" he called, in a queer accent, half
French, half English. "If so, haul down that ensign, messieurs, if you
pleeze!"
Jack leapt into the mizzen shrouds. "Stand off, messieurs!" he shouted.
"Come aboard at your peril, and we will blow up the ship!" At these
words a panic seized the boarders. Those who were climbing up the side
hastily dropped back again into the boat, which quickly pulled off, lest
the terrible threat should be carried out.
Then Captain Alexandre, seeing that nothing was to be gained, and that
the _Duncan_ was on the point of foundering, sent his chief officer with
a second boat offering the highest honours of war. His respect for a
gallant enemy was such that he did not even ask them to lower that
tattered ensign, which still floated proudly at the mizzen-top, where
Jamie had made it fast. The carnage had already been dreadful, and he
knew that unless he offered honourable terms, men like these would
infinitely prefer to go down with a sinking ship than lower their
colours.
The terms offered to the Englishmen were as follows: They were to remain
prisoners of war aboard the frigate until she reached Quebec, when the
captain would mention their honourable and brave conduct to the
Governor, and if he were willing, they should then receive their
liberty.
"And what is the alternative?" asked Mr. Rogers.
"The alternative," replied the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders and
looking uneasily around the horizon, as though he half expected to see
an English cruiser appear in the distance, "is, that you may take your
luck aboard this derelict. But come, gentlemen, make up your minds
quickly. The _Sapphire_ must sail within half-an-hour."
The mate cast his eyes around and saw but a helpless wreck, with piles
of dead and wounded upon her decks. At that instant the vessel gave a
sudden lurch as though preparing to descend into the gulfs, and some one
cried--
"Look out! She's going, lads!"
"M'sieur, for the sake of these brave men, who have wives and children,
I accept your generous conditions, but, for myself, I will stay with the
captain." And at these words a deathly pallor spread over the mate's
face. He lifted his hands to his eyes, as though to shut out the sight
of the dead. Then he reeled and fell. They picked him up, but he was
dead. So they laid him beside his captain and carried the wounded
aboard the frigate. Jamie and three others were still unconscious when
they reached the frigate's deck. The rest stood by to see the last of
their old ship. It was a sight never to be forgotten. They could
distinctly see the body of Captain Forbes propped against the stump of
the mast, with more than half of his crew lying dead beside him, as the
derelict went down.
"Hist! She's going!" came a hollow cry, which was half a sob, as they
clustered around the bulwarks of the foreigner.
"Stand by to fire a salute!" cried Captain Alexandre, who was a
chivalrous Frenchman.
And as the _Duncan_ took her final plunge, and the tattered ensign went
under, the _Sapphire_ paid her last tribute of respect to a valiant foe
by a salute of seventeen guns.
Scarcely had the smoke rolled away and the last reverberation ceased,
when the frigate turned her head towards the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and
left that lonely, watery grave behind.
Jamie's wound was not very severe, although at times it was exceedingly
painful, and after the ball had been extracted from his shoulder, he
soon recovered much of his usual health.
Jack was his constant attendant. Day and night he scarcely left him,
but nursed him most assiduously with all the solicitude of a mother; and
no wonder, for Jamie was a hero now, and with all the ship's company
too. His bravery in carrying the colours aloft on a sinking ship, with
the bullets flying all around him, and his body a mark for all the
enemy's sharpshooters, his persistence in completing the task, after a
bullet had shattered his shoulder--this had made him a conspicuous hero,
not only amongst his comrades, but also amongst the officers and crew of
the _Sapphire_.
Jamie, however, like all true heroes, bore his triumphs modestly and his
wound patiently, though, to tell the truth, he was just a little proud
of the latter, and especially was he proud of Captain Forbes' words to
him when he regained the deck--
"Well done!" He would never forget those words, spoken as the captain
breathed his last.
Jack, however, was just a little envious of Jamie's first wound, for,
strange to say, although Jack had been in the thick of the fight, and
the men had fallen around him in heaps, yet he had not received a
scratch during the whole engagement.
What exciting adventures had already fallen to the lot of these two lads
since they left the old school and village so precipitately! Yet even
these adventures were but a foretaste, compared with those that yet
awaited them out there, in the west.
Every day Jamie grew stronger, and as he and Jack paced the deck they
talked of all these strange events which had happened to them since they
left Burnside. What was the old Squire thinking of now, when his last
and youngest son had left him to fight for the Empire? What did Old
Click and Mr. Beagle say when they found the village lock-up empty and
the birds flown? And old Dr. Birch, what did he think of the truants?
And they laughed over it all, with all the sang-froid and carelessness
of youth, and yet they grieved when they remembered their friend,
Captain Forbes, in his ocean grave. They could ill-spare him, yet the
memory of him would always be with them, to spur them on to brave and
manly deeds, for he had died like an English gentleman, and a brave son
of Empire, fighting to the last for the flag that he loved, as many a
man still would do, before that great land out there, beyond the ship's
bow--the Canadas--would pass from the hands of the French, to become, as
the ages unfolded, the greatest jewel in the British Crown.
But what did the future contain for them? They often asked each other
this question, as at evening they watched that great ball of fire
descend into the azure main. And when they had watched that shaft of
crimson fade into a duller glow, they retired to the cabin that had been
allotted to them, and pledged each other that, come good or ill, they
would be friends and comrades--to the Gates. And if God willed it--for
at this time they were specially drawn to think of His mercies and His
watchfulness over them--they would yield their lives a willing
sacrifice, like Captain Forbes, at the shrine of duty. For while their
country needed men to fight her battles, whether by land or sea, even at
the farthest bounds of Empire they would faithfully serve and as
willingly die.
That pledge was never forgotten, and through all the dangers and
misadventures that befell them, amid the virgin, trackless forests and
the rivers and great lakes of North America, it was never broken.
Thus the voyage continued, with calm seas and fair winds, for more than
a week, but the journey to the Gulf was not destined to be entirely
without excitement, for one afternoon, when the wind had freshened a bit
from the south-east, they were all startled by a sudden cry from the
watch aloft of--
"Sail ho!"
"Where away?" called the officer of the watch.
"To the south-west, low down, sir!"
After a careful examination the sail was made out to be nothing less
than an English cruiser, on the watch-out for the enemy's ships, and
Captain Alexandre, feeling that after his recent fight he was in no fit
condition to meet such a foe, crowded on all sail and stood away N.N.W.
with the cruiser in full chase.
All the afternoon the chase continued, and the cruiser was slowly but
surely gaining, and had it not been that towards evening the frigate ran
into a fog off the Banks of Newfoundland, there is little doubt but that
she would soon have been overhauled and compelled to fight, and would in
all probability have been captured.
All night the Frenchman kept on, changing his course several times to
dodge his pursuer, and next morning, although the fog had lifted, the
English cruiser was nowhere to be seen.
Two days afterwards they entered the Gulf; leaving Louisburg and the Ile
Royale on their left they stretched across that vast inland sea, and in
another four days entered the St. Lawrence River.
The lads were charmed by the wonderful scenery which bordered the river.
The bold cliffs and headlands, and the forest-lined banks, the same
which Jacques Cartier and his brave little band of voyagers beheld for
the first time in 1535, when through every inlet in this great continent
they sought a way to the spicy groves of the East Indies, and the
far-famed and wondrous, but distant, Cathay, which they fondly imagined
lay beyond this new continent, as in truth it really did.
While the frigate was working her way up the St. Lawrence, an incident
occurred that was destined to have important consequences on the
after-life of our two heroes.
When the ship was anchored for the night off one of the small French
settlements below Quebec, a fierce Iroquois chief was brought aboard as
a prisoner. A great price had been set upon his scalp by the French
Governor, for he was the greatest chief in all the "Five Nations," and
his people had been the bitterest enemies of the Canadas, since the days
of Champlain.
"What a fine warrior he is!" said Jack. "What a pity he is to be put to
death when he reaches Quebec!"
"Fine, indeed!" said one of the soldiers who had brought him aboard.
"He has taken more paleface scalps than any man of his race!"
He was a man of powerful stature, with a defiant look, and an eye as
proud and piercing as that of the eagle had once been, whose long white
feathers now adorned his hair. Erect and brave, with a sullen ferocity
of demeanour, he looked scornfully upon his captors, whose petty
tyrannies and insults could not drag from him an exclamation of anger or
pain, for he seemed possessed of all the stoicism for which his race was
famous.
The fierce and implacable Iroquois, who formed that wonderful
confederation called the Five Nations, consisting of the Mohawks,
Senecas, Onondagas, Oneidas, and the Cayugas, and later the Tuscaroras,
were the most powerful of all the Indian tribes. They were the deadly
enemies of the Canadas, and during the whole period of the French wars
were the irreconcilable foes of the latter, and more or less the
faithful allies of the English, though their paleface friends did not
always show them that consideration which was their due.
They jealously guarded the passes and rapids that lay between Quebec and
Mont Royale (Montreal) and right away to the "Thousand Islands" and the
lakes, they took every occasion to harass the French, who had come to
steal their lands, to rob them of their hunting-grounds, and drive them
towards the setting sun.
They scalped all the outlying bands of soldiers who had the misfortune
to fall into their hands; they waylaid the fur-traders and the
_voyageurs_, destroyed the harvests and burned the villages of the
settlers beyond the forts.
So tiresome did they become that at length a price was paid for every
Iroquois scalp that was brought into Quebec. It was, therefore,
considered a matter of no small importance when the renowned "White
Eagle," the most powerful chief of the Iroquois, had been captured.
Parties of soldiers from the various forts had been repeatedly
dispatched to trap him and to bring him in dead or alive, but this wily
foe, retreating before his enemies, generally drew them into the forest
and harassed them in the rear and the van, then cut off their supplies,
and scalped the stragglers, eluding their vigilance at every turn.
This desperate chief was now chained to one of the guns on board the
_Sapphire_, and for two days he was the object of cruelty and
ill-treatment, chiefly from those who had brought him aboard. He was
kept without food or water. He was taunted with the fact that a heavy
price was set upon his head, and that he would soon be tortured or
roasted alive.
Though hungry and parched with thirst, he was too proud to ask his
captors for a drink of water. He remained sullen and obdurate, and
refused to speak. Once a tormentor offered him a pannikin of salt water
to drink, and then, because he refused it, threw it over him. But he
remained as immovable as a statue. Once a marlin-spike was hurled at
him. A white man would have dodged to avoid such an unwelcome missile,
but this mighty chief was too proud. He never winced or moved a muscle,
though the spike went perilously near his face.
Jack and Jamie both remonstrated, but were told to mind their own
business, and as the Iroquois had been allied with the English, and
spoke a smattering of their tongue, they were forbidden to converse with
or even to approach him. To speak to him was what they both very much
longed to do, for he was the first real Indian they had seen, and very
different from the wretched specimens who hung about the settlements of
the white men. They admired the haughty pride and fearlessness of this
child of the forest.
"He must be parched with thirst," said Jamie, on the afternoon of the
second day. "I will give him a drink of water, whatever the Frenchies
say."
And he immediately took a pannikin of fresh water and held it to the
chief's mouth, for his hands were bound. Before the water could touch
his lips the pannikin was dashed to the ground, and the boys were
ordered away, but the look of gratitude that came into the chief's eyes
showed that he had understood that a kindness was intended.
Soon after this the chief was removed to a cabin for greater security,
but next morning, when the officer in charge of him unlocked the door,
the prisoner was gone and there was no trace of him. He had in some
mysterious way slipped his bonds during the night, dropped through the
open porthole into the river, and made his way to the shore without
being observed.
Great was the consternation on board when it was found that White Eagle,
the terror of the settlements, had escaped, but though a search was made
for him in every part of the ship, it was only too evident that he had
obtained his freedom, and was at liberty to harass his enemies once
more.
They had now reached the Ile d'Orleans, a huge island that lay in
mid-stream, just below the great Falls of the Montmorency. Now piles of
lofty cliffs fringed the northern bank of the river, rising sheer out of
the water at high tide. Then they reached the mouth of the St. Charles
River, while before them, crowning a lofty summit, with its churches and
houses, ramparts and bastions, stood the city of Quebec.
The _Sapphire_ fired a salute, which was replied to by one of the forts,
and the next moment she anchored beneath the frowning guns of the
citadel--the Gibraltar of North America.
*CHAPTER VII*
*OLD QUEBEC*
The old town of Quebec in 1757 was a picturesque and romantic spot.
Clusters of pretty white Canadian cottages, many of them surrounded by
gardens and orchards, filled with apples, pears and vines, transplanted
from Old France, lined the margins of the St. Charles River, and even
the lower town, about the banks of the St. Lawrence. Half-a-hundred
churches and convents already raised their spires heavenward. The upper
town contained the governor's house, and many palatial edifices of
timber and stone, while high over all, the frowning citadel crowned the
lofty eminence, looking down upon town and river.
For over two hundred years the children of the French king had dwelt
here, and no white men had as yet seriously disputed their possession of
this mighty fortress, which was the key to half a continent; but the
sands were running low. In her late wars with the sea-dogs of Britain,
France had lost the command of the seas; her navies, her maritime
commerce had been well-nigh destroyed, and the sea-girt island, where
dwelt the sons of the Saxon and the Viking, had become the "Mistress of
the Seas."
The penalty to be paid by France for this was shortly to be the cession
of all her North American colonies to the victors, for she that had
failed to command the narrow seas at home, could not hope to retain her
Empire abroad. Thus has it ever been with the citadel of Mansoul; the
heart of the Empire. Make these impregnable, and all is well. Weaken
these, through slothfulness, carelessness or ease, and the borders of
the Empire, like dead branches, are soon lopped away.
As our heroes were compelled to remain in Quebec for some nine months or
more before they had an opportunity to leave, they did not grumble, but
made the most of their time. For the first three months they were more
or less the guests of Captain Alexandre, but after the _Sapphire_ put to
sea again with a convoy, they entered the service of a Major Ridout, a
retired army officer, who had become a fur-trader, which at that time
was a very lucrative business, and entailed an adventurous career.
Major Ridout saw that they were two likely youths, who would be of great
service, out in the wilds, collecting furs from the Indians. These
distant tribes dwelt hundreds of leagues in the forests, far away on the
shores of the great lakes, which at this time were practically unknown,
save by a few bold and reckless adventurers, who frequently paid dearly
for their temerity.
He promised them that when the spring unlocked the rivers and lakes,
they should accompany him on his travels into the unknown forests and
wilds of the interior, and as this was the only method that had as yet
offered them a chance of earning a living or making a fortune, they
gladly accepted it. They were also anxious to leave Quebec, as measures
were already being concerted to prepare for a siege; for ugly rumours
had come to hand that Admiral Boscawen in command of a British squadron
had annihilated a French fleet, and captured a convoy destined for
Quebec.
Every preparation, therefore, was made by General Montcalm and his
assistants, lest they should be besieged by _ces Anglais perfides_. The
lads were, therefore, doubly anxious to leave the city, lest they should
be treated as prisoners of war, for refusing to take up arms against
their countrymen.
During their stay here they had much leisure, and made many excursions
about Quebec. Sometimes they paddled down stream in one of the major's
canoes and visited the Ile of Orleans, or the Falls of Montmorency, or
up the rapid stream of the River Charles, to visit some of the friendly
Indians. One day they were returning down-stream from a visit to Cape
Rouge, some leagues above the city, on the St. Lawrence, where they had
been camping some three days, fishing for salmon and hunting the red
deer, when suddenly, and without the slightest warning, a fearful yell
burst from a point of the southern bank, scarce a hundred yards away.
"Indians!" exclaimed Jack, striking his paddle into the water with all
his might.
"Iroquois!" said Jamie coolly.
A shower of bullets and a flight of arrows flicked up the water about
the canoe.
"Pull for your life, Jamie! They've been lying in wait for us. Lucky
we didn't land there as we had intended."
"Lucky indeed! They would have had our scalps by now, and they may have
them yet. Look there! One, two, three canoes! coming as fast as they
can. It's all over unless we can beat them."
They were in a tight corner. They had been warned that the Iroquois
were watching the river above Quebec, but they had never dreamt that
they were so near.
The Indians were gaining upon them, although they were flying rapidly
downstream. They had ceased to yell now, for the city was only two
leagues away, and they were straining every nerve to overtake the lads
before they could reach safety. An occasional bullet struck the canoe,
but they did not look around, for they could hear the splash of the
Iroquois' paddles, and the sound seemed to come nearer and nearer.
"I can do no more, Jack! My arm's still painful from the wound," and
Jamie drew in his paddle.
"Hold on, Jamie! Don't give in. In another five minutes we shall be
out of danger. There's the little cove where we've landed many a time,
just there on the northern bank. If we can only reach that spot, we can
quickly climb up to the heights, and the Indians will not dare to follow
us there. Hold on for another few minutes!"
This was the only chance that offered an escape from the foe, and Jamie,
despite his wound, which at times of great exertion still pained him,
put in his paddle again. They were running rapidly down under the
precipitous northern bank now, and with a skilful twist of his paddle
Jack sent the nose of the canoe quickly ashore, right up on the narrow
strand, in the cove, at the foot of the cliffs.
The Indians had perceived their intentions, and with a loud yell had
changed their course to prevent them and cut them off. The first canoe
was not a dozen yards away, and in another three seconds would have been
beached alongside theirs, when Jack seized his rifle and, without taking
any precise arm, fired point-blank into the canoe. It was loaded with
heavy buck-shot, and the Iroquois at the steering paddle received half
the contents of it.
Nothing could have been better done had the aim been more skilfully
taken. The paddle dropped helplessly from his hand, and the rapid
current carried the canoe past the landing-point. A savage yell burst
from every Indian within sight. The lads responded with a shout of
defiance, and then, abandoning canoe, outfit, rifles and everything they
possessed, they leapt from the boat and swiftly climbed the steep and
narrow ascent, pulling themselves up by the roots and branches of trees
that grew on this precipitous bank.
This clever and successful shot had gained them but a few seconds of
time, but they reached the summit unharmed, and after a brief pursuit,
the Indians, who were getting too near the settlements, retired and gave
up the fruitless chase, and from the Heights of Abraham, as they looked
down upon the river, they had the satisfaction of seeing their late
enemies pursued in turn by a party of Algonquins, the active allies of
the French.
Spring came at last, unlocking the rivers and the lakes, and the
half-wild fur-traders, with their Indian guides, were already preparing
to ascend the St. Lawrence, up past Mont Royale, and the Thousand
Islands, across the great inland sea called Ontario, to the rude fort of
Niagara.
Even here the fatiguing journey would not end, for after a brief
respite, they must shoulder their packages, and carry their long
birch-bark canoes over the rough portage that led past the mighty,
thundering cataract of Niagara, near by the hunting-grounds of the
fierce and warlike Senecas. Then they must place their canoes again on
the upper reaches of the swift Niagara River, and from thence enter Lake
Erie, pass the outposts of Presqu' Isle, Miami and Fort Detroit, to the
rivers, the lakes and the forts beyond, where in the surrounding forests
the red man in all his primeval simplicity hunted, fished, lived and
died. Even to the far-off lands of the Kickapoos, the Ojibways and the
Winnebagos these brave fur-traders often ventured, drawn partly by a
desire for gain, and partly, no doubt, by the added spice of danger and
adventure.
Such, then, was the adventure to which our heroes were committed, as
soon as the rivers were clear of the dangerous ice-floes, and the
Algonquin chief Wabeno arrived with a dozen of his braves to accompany
them as guides and scouts. Here was a prospect of adventure which
thrilled the lads, and they anxiously awaited the arrival of the chief,
which was to be on the first day of the new moon. They were to have a
share in the enterprise, as a reward of their services.
"Wake up, Jack! Here comes the chief, in all his warpaint, with
moccasins and deer-skin hunting-shirt, and with a girdle of scalps
hanging from his belt," cried Jamie one morning, rushing into the
apartment that served them both for sleeping purposes.
"Hurrah!" cried his friend. "I'm coming. Are the canoes ready?"
"Yes, they're all loaded up and waiting in the river, by the lower
town."
"Glad we're leaving Quebec at last, aren't you? By all the preparations
that the Governor's pushing forward, there's going to be a dreadful
fight here some day, and the side that wins will have Canada for a
prize."
"So you want to be out of the fighting, do you, old boy? That isn't a
bit like you."
"Ah, don't misunderstand me, old fellow. I mean that I don't want to be
cooped up in here when the fighting takes place, because our fellows
will be outside. I wouldn't mind a hand in the storming, fighting under
the British flag, for although the French have been pretty good to
us--at least, some of them--they didn't treat the rest of the _Duncan's_
crew too well, when they shipped them all back to England in that leaky
old tub."
They had now reached the lower part of the town, and were approaching
the river by one of the narrow steep streets of which Quebec has so
many, when Jamie, casting up a look at the frowning, embattled citadel,
said--
"That place will want some storming! A handful of brave men, well
supplied with ammunition and provisions, might sit tight up there for
years, and defy the armies of the world."
"You're right, Jamie, and yet, I confess, I'd like to see another flag
up there, wouldn't you?"
Turning to his companion, Jamie looked him full in the face, and
replied--
"I would, Jack! And who knows? We may help to plant it there, some
day. And, then, what would they think of us in Burnside?"
"Ah, they'd forget that they once put us in the lock-up for taking a few
trout, and they'd all turn out to welcome us home; or if we died they'd
put a tablet to our memory in the old church. Ha! ha!" laughed Jack.
At this point their conversation, which had been partly serious and
partly jocular, was interrupted by a sound somewhat unusual at this
early hour, for it was only about five o'clock in the morning, and the
sun had not long been risen. Sounds of laughter and much shouting
greeted them, and the next moment they turned a corner and came upon the
_voyageurs_, as these rough, half-wild fur-traders are called. A dozen
or so of rough but sturdy Canadians were bidding good-bye to their wives
and sweethearts, though there seemed to be more excitement and laughter
than tears and sadness of farewell. These men, hard as nails, used to
the terrors of the wilderness, and the hardships of the forests, were
dressed nearly like their Indian allies, who stood by--Wabeno and his
braves.
They wore fur caps, deer-skin hunting-shirts, moccasins and leggings,
worked by the Indian squaws. They were all armed with rifles and long
hunting-knives, and one or two of them, who were probably half-castes,
carried tomahawks as well. Moored to the bank close beside them were
three very long canoes, loaded with all the requirements for a six
months' trading outfit, and ready to start.
"_Ah, mes camarades! Voici ils vient_," cried Major Ridout, the leader
of the expedition, and then in loud, ringing tones, he shouted, "_Aux
bateaux!_"--"To the boats!"
In a moment the canoes were filled, Wabeno and three of his men entering
the first, and the others distributing themselves as arranged. There
were twenty-three all told, and the youths along with the leader, who
was a genial man, of great experience, born of a Canadian father and a
Scotch mother, entered the last boat, which was rather larger than the
other two, and had several buffalo robes spread in the stern sheets.
The last good-bye was said, and to the stirring notes of a Canadian boat
song, the rowers paddled away, and soon left their friends and their
homes behind. Alas! how few of them were ever to see those homes or
those friends again.
They were a merry party at present, however, and the Indians took turns
with the hardy _voyageurs_, as they paddled quickly against the rapid
stream. The canoes were very light, being made of birch bark, for they
had to be carried over rough and sometimes long portages. Yet they were
very strong and roomy, and at present were loaded so deeply that the
water was only a few inches below the gunwales.
After two hours' hard work, pulling against the stream, the leader gave
a quick, sharp command--
"_A terre! A terre!_"
This order to land for breakfast was obeyed with alacrity. Camp-fires
were lit. The "billies" were soon boiling, and a hearty meal of
pemmican and bread was washed down with a drink of water from the river.
After an hour's rest, they continued their journey.
That night they camped on the northern bank, in a little clearing of the
forest, about thirty miles above Quebec. They had hardly yet approached
the danger zone, though small parties of the Iroquois did sometimes
penetrate thus far. A watch was set, however, and campfires were
permitted, and after supper the men chatted and laughed and smoked.
Then a song was called for--a song with a chorus. And while the flames
from the burning logs lit up the surrounding pines, one after another
trolled forth a song, and the _voyageurs_ took up the chorus, till the
woods resounded with their voices, and the creatures of the forest must
have wondered what strange beings these were that disturbed their
haunts.
The Indians looked on at all this merriment with stoic countenances, as
though they disapproved of such light-heartedness, but at last one of
the men cried out--
"Wabeno! Give us a war-dance!"
Instantly the expression of every Indian changed. Wabeno readily
acceded to the request. A post was driven into the ground, and a circle
formed around it. A few minutes sufficed to arrange their fluttering
feathers and scalp-locks, and to paint their faces with red ochre and
white lead. Then, suddenly, Wabeno, their chief, with a loud,
blood-curdling yell, leapt into the circle, brandishing his tomahawk,
and began reciting, in a fierce tone, all the deeds of prowess
accomplished by himself and his ancestors.
A second warrior imitated his example, and then another, until at length
the war-dance began in real earnest, and the whole pack of Indians were
yelling and whooping, like so many demoniacs, hacking and tearing at the
wooden post as though they were scalping an enemy. When they had thus
worked themselves up into a frenzy, a final whoop from the chief ended
the wild frolic, and instantly every warrior assumed a mask of boredom
and indifference. A few minutes more, and all except the watch were
fast asleep, wrapped in blankets or buffalo robes.
Thus passed the days and nights, until after they had passed the small
fort of Mont Royale. Then the merriment ceased, for they were in an
enemy's country. The watch was doubled every evening, and fires were
left unlit, or extinguished as soon as possible. Once or twice,
suspecting the near presence of an enemy, they slept in the canoes.
When they had passed the rapids of La Chine and Long Sault, several
Indian scouts were thrown out in advance, along either bank, in order to
prevent a sudden attack from an ambushed foe. All went well for some
days, although the subdued manner of the _voyageurs_, and the keen
alertness of the redskins, created an uneasy feeling in the minds of the
youths. Towards sunset one afternoon Jack, who had been examining the
river bank some distance ahead of the first canoe, suddenly exclaimed--
"Look! Wabeno is signalling! What has he seen?"
*CHAPTER VIII*
*THE NIGHT-WATCH*
Quickly the canoes were drawn to the bank and hidden amongst the
overhanging bushes. A moment later a rustling was heard amongst the
branches, and Wabeno stood before them.
"What has my red brother seen?" asked the major.
"Wabeno has seen the trail of a serpent!" replied the chief.
"Had the serpent moccasins?"
"Yes! The moccasins of the Iroquois."
"Humph! How many?"
The Algonquin held up seven fingers, to indicate how many footprints he
had seen.
"'Tis only a small scalping party, then, which has passed this way.
We'd better camp here for the night."
Wabeno insisted, however, that there was probably a larger party of
Iroquois in the neighbourhood, and was for resting only until sunset,
and then travelling rapidly through the night in order to reach the
lakes as soon as possible. He seemed to think, also, that for several
days past they had been watched by the scouts of the enemy.
As the chief spoke he looked keenly at the forest on the other side of
the stream, as though he would like to read some fatal secret which that
dense, virgin growth held inviolate; then, without further words, he
turned and disappeared into the forest, as though to join his scouts.
"His words seem rather ominous, Jamie," said Jack, when he had gone, and
they were busying themselves making fast the canoes and unloading a few
things.
"Yes, I'm sorry that the major paid so little attention to his words.
He seems to think that they are only a small band of marauding Indians
who have recently crossed the river, and that if they do attack us we
shall be more than a match for them. Well, let's hope he's right."
"There's something wrong, and I like not the redskin's uneasiness, old
fellow. He scents danger, though he won't press his opinions upon the
leader. He believes it's more than a scalping party, but he evidently
thinks he's a match for Iroquois cunning."
"Did you notice the way he looked across the river? I wonder if that's
the quarter he suspects? But come, we must lend the men a hand, for
'twill be dark in a few minutes," said Jamie.
Major Ridout took every precaution, however, against a surprise attack.
All the Indians except two were sent into the forest to keep a strict
watch. A few trees were felled and a rude abattis constructed, which
instilled a certain amount of security into each mind.
Then darkness fell, and one by one the men stretched themselves on the
ground and slept, with their rifles beside them. The two comrades,
however, still talked in whispers as they lay rolled in their blankets.
"Just look at the men, Jack! How quiet they all are to-night? No
noise, no singing or dancing this time. 'Tis my belief that we're in a
tight corner, and if the Iroquois manage to get in past the scouts,
there won't be a scalp left on any of us at daybreak."
"Never mind, we can only die once. The scouts are sure to give us
warning, and then we'll sell our lives dearly. We've been in many a
scrape before, old fellow, and we've always pulled through. There seems
to be a Providence over us."
"Why, yes, it seems so. Do you remember the fight with the French
cruiser?"
"Shall I ever forget it? I thought every moment would be my last when
the broadsides opened upon us."
"Hush! What was that?"
The hoot of an owl was distinctly heard twice, and a moment afterwards
it was answered by the call of the night-raven. The first call seemed
to come from the depth of the forest on the other side of the river.
Scarcely had the last sound died away when the two Indians who remained
in the camp, though apparently fast asleep, sprang to their feet, seized
their rifles and disappeared into the thicket. Several of the men half
raised themselves, looked around, and then lay down once more.
For a moment the boys listened in silence, their faces turned first to
the deep gloom of the forest shades, half expecting to hear from thence
the deadly whoop of the fierce Iroquois, and to see the rush of savage
warriors upon the sleeping camp, then they looked suspiciously across
the stream that flowed at their feet.
Overhead the stars shone brightly, and the placid stream reflected their
fiery points on its broad bosom. Now and again its mirrored surface was
broken by the splash of the salmon and the large river-trout.
"'Twas only a bird after all, Jack. Let us go to sleep. See, the men
are sleeping peacefully."
"If 'twas only a bird, then why did the Indians leave to join the
scouts?"
"I can't say. Perhaps 'twas only a private call for extra scouts. You
know the call to arms is the howl of the coyote, repeated twice.
Besides, 'tisn't likely that the enemy will get through the scouts
without being seen. An Indian is all eyes, even in the dark."
The boys laid down again, but though Jamie was soon asleep Jack remained
awake, gazing up at those bright twinkling points, and listening acutely
for any sound that might come. Once or twice he raised himself and
looked around.
A ripple in mid-stream caught his attention. While in the starlight he
gazed upon it, it seemed to come nearer. Then another ripple, and
another, that spread themselves out wider and wider, and in the middle
of the disturbed area there appeared a tiny speck, as though a swimmer
were breasting the stream. But even as he watched it, it disappeared
and was lost in the darkness.
Five minutes--ten minutes passed, but the speck, whatever it was, did
not reappear. What could it be? It would be foolish to alarm the camp
prematurely, so he would just creep down to the water's edge and make
sure. He threw off his blanket and crawled along through the reeds and
willows. He had nearly reached the water when a rustling amongst the
reeds caused his heart to cease beating for an instant. What could it
be?
Two glaring eyeballs, that glowed like fire, were fixed upon his, not
six feet away. Jack instinctively felt for his pistol, when, horror of
horrors, he had left it beside the embers of the fire. He drew his
hunting-knife from its sheath, keeping his eyes fixed the while upon
those glaring eye-balls; when the wild creature, evidently a wolf,
attracted to the river by thirst, suddenly uttered a snarl, turned tail
and made off.
"Thank God!" he gasped. "Better a wolf than an Indian." For though
naturally a brave lad this sudden apparition had given him a shock that
made the perspiration stand out like beads on his forehead, but he
quickly recovered himself and crept down to the edge of the stream.
He could just make out the dark, indistinct outline of the forest on the
opposite bank, but no ripples or dark objects were visible. Then he
looked down-stream, but nothing could he see.
"I must have been deceived. What a good thing I didn't alarm the camp!
How they would have laughed at me," he muttered.
Just then, however, he cast his eyes upstream. As he did so, he started
again. A long, dark shadow, like a log or a canoe, half-way across,
seemed to be drifting towards the northern shore on which they were
camped. It was not more than two hundred yards away. It seemed to crawl
along, then close behind it he saw a similar object, and still another.
What were the scouts doing? Had they been betrayed? What could they
be, but canoes--Indians? Then the enemy must be crossing over, and he
raised his voice for one mighty shout of--
"Iroquois."
But even as he uttered that startling cry the fierce howl of the coyote,
repeated twice, the signal to alarm the camp, came from the woods, and
the crack of a rifle awoke a hundred echoes and roused the men to a
sense of their danger.
Even as for an instant he lingered beside the river-bank a
blood-curdling yell, the war-whoop of the Iroquois, rang across the
stream and echoed and re-echoed through the forest. A dozen rifles
spattered out their leaden hail, for the conflict had begun at last.
Jack rushed back into the camp and found Major Ridout and the men
already in position behind the logs, prepared to receive the enemy as
soon as they should burst through that thin line of Algonquin scouts.
"Hullo, Jack!" cried Jamie. "Where have you been? I feared that you
were a prisoner. Have you been scouting too?"
"Why, yes! That is, I couldn't sleep, and I thought I saw a curious
object in mid-stream and went down to see what it was."
"And what did you find?"
"Well, I could no longer see it when I got there, but just as I was
coming away I happened to look up-stream, and I saw three canoes
crossing over from the southern bank.
"I wonder why the chief did not discover them before. He seems to have
been watching the forest instead of the river! Hullo! What's this?"
The sounds of a desperate struggle, a hand-to-hand fight in the bushes a
few yards away, attracted their attention. It was too dark, however, to
see anything as yet, although the dawn would be upon them shortly.
"Stand ready, lads!" cried their leader, and every man levelled his
rifle in the direction whence the sounds came.
The next moment a wounded Algonquin rushed into the camp, leaping over
the abattis, and then rolled over on the ground dead. He was fearfully
gashed, and it was evident that an attempt had even been made to scalp
him. How he had escaped was a marvel. The yells and war-whoops had
ceased now, and for a brief space even the rifles had ceased to speak,
and there was a dead silence. The men waited impatiently behind that
rude barricade, reserving their fire.
Suddenly a sharp, short, piercing scream, broken short, fell upon their
ears, as though a mortal wound had been given and received.
"Ah, Wabeno! That is the end of Wabeno!" exclaimed one of the men.
It was indeed Wabeno who uttered that scream, and it was both his
war-cry and his death-cry, for at that instant he had met in single
combat the Iroquois chief, and the tomahawk of the greatest warrior
within a hundred leagues of the lakes, had sunk into his brain and
stretched him lifeless.
"Now the Algonquins will scatter like the leaves of the forest, and we
must fight it out alone, lads. Oh! that the dawn would come!" exclaimed
the major, casting a brief look towards the east.
Even as he spoke the first flush of the sunrise was lighting up the edge
of the forest and the river, but the dawn only revealed to them the
utter hopelessness of their position. The enemy were in great numbers,
and had almost completely surrounded them, for though the river was at
their rear it was being eagerly watched from the opposite bank.
Still, for some reason, the enemy did not attempt to rush the camp as
yet.
"I wonder why they're hanging back, Jamie," said his comrade, who lay
behind the same log with his rifle at the "ready."
"Perhaps they've had enough scalps already, and are thinking of going
back to their wigwams."
"Ah," replied one of the _voyageurs_, who was a regular frontiersman,
"that might be true of any other tribe but the Iroquois; they'll not be
satisfied until their girdles are full of reeking scalps. We must teach
them a lesson they'll not forget. Here goes," and raising his rifle as
he spoke he fired quickly at a dark figure that was approaching the
camp, leaping quickly from tree to tree.
A yell of pain escaped the Indian as he rolled over in an agony, and
paid with his life for his temerity. A wild cry of vengeance came from
the dark aisles of the forest, and a dozen Iroquois leapt forward to
snatch away the dead body, lest it should fall into the hands of the
palefaces.
This was the opportunity that had long been waited for, and the order
came sharp and short--
"Fire!"
A dozen flashes of fire burst forth from behind the barricade, and a
hail of bullets was poured out upon the Indians, and a confused heap of
dead and wounded lay beside their fallen comrade, but ere the smoke had
cleared away the piercing scream of an eagle rent the air. It was the
signal for a general attack given by the Iroquois chief, and before the
palefaces had time to reload their pieces, a hundred braves leapt from
the cover of the trees, where they had been hidden on three sides of the
camp.
The forest rang with their wild whoops, as, brandishing their hatchets
and tomahawks, they leapt over the tree trunks and fell upon the
_voyageurs_. A desperate hand-to-hand fight ensued. Frightful blows
were given and received. Paleface and redskin fought like demons. Some
of the former, seeing the hopelessness of prolonging the fight against
such numbers of their fierce and crafty foe, rushed to the river bank,
and launching one of the canoes pushed off and threw themselves in,
followed by a storm of bullets and arrows.
From that moment the fight was lost, and even those who thus deserted
their comrades gained nothing but dishonour and death, for they were
quickly overtaken, and killed and scalped.
The rest of the small band still fought on bravely against desperate
odds, for they were outnumbered by more than ten to one. Major Ridout
seemed to have the strength of ten, for single-handed he encountered
four Indians at once, and had stretched two of them on the ground, and
wounded a third, when a fierce painted warrior, with a plume of eagle's
feathers upon his head, uttered a wild cry and buried his knife in the
brave man's heart.
Where were the lads all this time? As soon as the general attack was
made, they placed their backs against a pine-tree that stood nearly in
the middle of the clearing, and defended themselves against all-comers.
They were the last survivors of that little band, and they still fought
desperately with their clubbed muskets, which they wielded with a vigour
and frenzy that had already sent half-a-dozen Iroquois to the ground.
The end was not far off, however. They had both received several nasty
wounds, and Jack was both stunned and bleeding.
"Good-bye, Jamie!" he said, as he sank to the ground.
Jamie felt that he, too, must soon follow him, but when Jack fell he
stepped across his body and swung his clubbed musket about so fiercely
that the enemy fell back for a minute. An Indian hurled a hatchet, which
just missed his head and buried its keen, trembling blade in the tree
behind him.
He looked down at Jack's pale, death-like face. He called him by name,
but no answer came, and he feared that his comrade was dead. The blood
was flowing freely from his own wounds, and he felt himself getting
weaker and weaker.
He was reeling now from sheer weakness and loss of blood. He could
hardly hold his musket. This, then, was to be the end of it all.
Deserted by the French _voyageurs_, to be killed and scalped by the
cruel Iroquois.
"Never mind! We will die together," he mumbled to himself, "fighting to
the last."
The Indians were returning now from the capture of the canoe. He could
see a dozen or more gesticulating forms, dancing in frenzy before him.
He could do no more. He was falling--falling--such a long way it seemed
to the ground. Then he felt the sharp steel of an Indian knife cutting
into his flesh, as it was hurled at him from a distance.
He felt some one clutch his scalp-lock, but he was unable to resist. He
had become unconscious and oblivious of all these things. He seemed to
be in another land where, instead of the dark forest with its
interminable tangle and endless dangers, he roamed with Jamie beside a
broken stream, where the red-spotted trout leapt in a sunlit burn, the
music of whose waters charmed and soothed his tired and weary spirit.
"Stay! He is the paleface brother of the White Eagle," said a voice
that broke his sub-conscious reverie; and at these words Jack opened his
eyes for an instant and looked into the face of a mighty warrior whose
plumed eagle crest and haughty features seemed strangely familiar.
*CHAPTER IX*
*THE WHITE EAGLE OF THE IROQUOIS*
The Indian who had raised his scalping-knife drew back, and a plumed and
painted chieftain stepped forward. It was none other than the renowned
"White Eagle"--the greatest chief amongst the Six Nations. The same
daring and unconquered spirit who had made his escape from the frigate,
as she lay anchored in the river below Quebec.
"Stay! Let me see the young palefaces, who do not run like the hares,"
he commanded.
As he bent over the prostrate youths, he was unable to restrain a
slight, involuntary start. A sudden gleam of remembrance flashed across
his countenance, and chased away for an instant the ferocity of the
savage. He recognised in them the young prisoners who, aboard the
_Sapphire_, had dared to offer him a drink of water at the risk of
losing their own promised liberty.
Then, in a loud voice which all could hear, he uttered those words,
which caused Jack to open his eyes for an instant--
"Stay! He is the paleface brother of the White Eagle."
The braves quickly gathered around him, for they were all astounded at
these words; but he continued--
"These are not the children of the Canadas. They are the friends of the
red man, and the children of the Yengeese. They come from the land of
the sun-rising. They were prisoners with White Eagle, in the big canoe
with wings, in the river of Canada, and when the children of the French
king treated the Eagle as the squaw of a Delaware, and even offered him
the bitter salt water to drink, the hearts of these children of Miquon
burned with pity for the red chief, and they offered him sweet water to
quench his thirst, but even that was not permitted by these dogs of
Canada."
"Ugh! The children of the French Father are snakes and cowards. They
are singing-birds which speak a lie," cried one of the warriors.
"The Algonquins are crows, who fly to their rookeries when they hear the
scream of the eagle," cried another.
"Listen!" continued the chief. "The French are women, like the
Delawares, and should wear petticoats. They offered gold and fire-water
for the scalp of an Iroquois chief, but the caged eagle despised their
threats, and while his captors slept, his proud spirit burst the bars,
and his strong wings bore him aloft, back to the hunting-grounds of his
fathers."
Exclamations of pride and assent greeted these words, for the prowess
and courage of their leader were recognised by all of them.
"When the White Eagle of his tribe gained his freedom once more, his
heart went back to the Yengeese prisoners who had dared to show him a
kindness, and he longed to see their faces again, for an Iroquois never
forgets a kindness, though he quickly repays an insult, and now the
Manitou has sent hither my paleface friends. They are brave, for they
do not run even from my warriors. The white blood shall be washed from
their veins, and when their wounds are healed they shall be adopted into
my tribe, for the Great Spirit has said, that between the children of
Miquon and the red man there shall be peace, and the hatchet shall be
buried so deeply that none shall ever find it again."
These remarkable words, uttered by the red chief, contained both wisdom
and prophecy, though expressed in that flowery and boastful language
which has always been a peculiarity of the North American savage.
Quickly, then, medicinal herbs were brought from far and near to heal
the boys' wounds, and all the knowledge and skill of the tribe were used
to restore them to life and health. Fortunately their wounds were not
serious, and soon they were able to sit up and to walk, and then they
learnt how fortunate they had been. They thanked God in that moment for
all His preserving care, and especially that they were led to do that
simple act of kindness to the great chief aboard the frigate.
In accordance with a peculiar Indian custom, water was then brought from
the river, and the usual rites of adoption were performed. When the
white blood had been washed away from their veins, the chief declared
them to be his brothers and members of his tribe.
They were provided with deer-skin shirts and leggings, embroidered with
quills and fine bead work. Indian moccasins were placed upon their
feet, and belts of wampum around their waists, while the feathers of a
newly-killed hawk served as crests or head-gear. Except that their
faces were a little paler than those of their companions, they might
easily have been taken for young Indian braves, just entering upon their
first war-path.
Then it only remained to find Indian names for them, so they called
Jamie "Red Feather," for when they found him his head and face were
covered with blood, as he lay upon the ground, and so they dyed the
hawk-feathers that served as his crest a deep crimson. And Jack they
called the "Black Hawk," for they said, though his face was pale, his
spirit was as fierce, and his eyes as keen, as the bird of prey whose
plumes he bore. So they left his feathers black.
"So now we're both Iroquois braves, Black Hawk!" said Jamie, as soon as
they were left together.
"Yes, and the brothers of White Eagle, too!" laughed his companion.
"Well, I suppose it's a great honour they've conferred upon us, so we
must not grumble."
"The greatest honour that an Indian can confer. And for a time I
shouldn't mind it, at any rate, until we can make our escape to the
settlements of Pennsylvania or Virginia, if it were not for those
horrible, reeking trophies that our comrades carry at their girdles."
"Ah! the scalps, you mean----"
"Yes. Do you know that I've counted no less than fifteen fresh scalps
amongst them, every one of which was this morning rooted where God had
placed it."
"Horrible! What can we do?"
"Nothing!"
"Are we the only survivors?"
"Some of the Algonquins escaped, I think, and a few of the Frenchmen,
who made for the forest, but none of those who entered the canoe, for
there she is. She was captured and brought back again."
"And Major Ridout?" asked Jamie. "What has become of him? Is he dead,
too?"
"I fear so, but all the bodies have been dragged into the forest and
hidden. I suppose the chief did that to save us a little pain, for he
probably knows that we are unaccustomed to such a sight."
"I'm glad to hear that, for it shows that he possesses a sense of
decency and good feeling, although he's such a mighty redskin chief."
"And 'tis certain that he remembers a kindness, too, however small,"
said Jack. "And it's my opinion that he's not at all a bad fellow, but
as generous as he is brave. He remembered us at once, and we owe him our
lives, and I intend to thank him when I get the chance."
"We owe our lives also to the fact that we stood our ground, when the
others ran away, for if we had taken either to the canoes or the forest
the chief would probably not have come our way, and we should have been
scalped by his braves."
"So once more the path of duty has been the path of safety, as old Dr.
Birch was so fond of saying."
"The only pleasant feature, apart from our marvellous escape, that I can
see, is that the Iroquois as a part of the Six Nations are allied with
the English against the French in this war, and they speak of the
English king as their Great Father across the water."
During this time the Indians, who had not followed the fugitives into
the forest, had been overhauling the three big canoes which belonged to
the fur-traders, and examining their contents.
They had made a great capture, for the canoes were deeply laden with
provisions, arms, ammunition and trading goods. The first thing that
White Eagle did was to pour out all the fire-water into the river, lest
his men should drink it, for he knew what dire consequences would ensue
to the whole band if that "devil in solution" were only permitted to
pass their lips.
That night they camped on the same clearing where the battle had been
fought, but next morning at sunrise they took the captured canoes along
with their own, and paddled rapidly up-stream towards Lake Ontario. The
youths were both invited into the chief's canoe, and as their wounds
were still painful, they took no part in the paddling, but remained
sitting in the bottom of the canoe, or lying upon the skins which had
belonged to Major Ridout.
The chief and several of his men spoke a little broken English, and one
spoke the Canadian patois, for he had been a prisoner amongst the
Algonquin tribes for some time, so that they were able to converse a
little during the day.
Towards evening they reached the "Thousand Islands," where the St.
Lawrence broadens out into a lake studded with a multitude of islets,
just before it leaves Lake Ontario. Here the hand of the great
Landscape Painter seems to have made the "beauty spot" of the world, and
our heroes were charmed and even roused to a pitch of enthusiasm, as
they passed one green, verdant, or pine-wooded island after another,
while the setting sun, flinging its last ruddy beams upon the trees and
the water, completed the enchanting picture.
"'Tis well to be a red man when the Great Manitou gives His children
such hunting and fishing grounds as these," said Jamie to the chief, for
he had been deeply stirred by the beauty that surrounded him.
"The Great Spirit loves His red children," said the chief solemnly. "He
made for them the fish in the stream, and the deer in the forest; but He
has forgotten them for a while, for they have displeased Him, and the
children of the sun-rising have chased them from their hunting-grounds."
Jamie made no reply, for he saw that the chief's heart was not a little
sad, for they were approaching Fort Frontenac at the entrance of the
lake, where the presence of the French behind their wooden palisades was
a constant reminder to the Indians that even the graves and the
hunting-grounds of their fathers were defiled by the presence of the
paleface children of the Canadas.
That night they camped on one of the islands, but long before daybreak
they departed and stole swiftly but silently past the fort, and entered
the broad waters of Lake Ontario. There was just a chance that some of
the survivors had reached the fort and alarmed the soldiers, but all was
quiet as they paddled quickly by. Count Frontenac, who established the
fort, was a clever soldier, but even to this day his name is remembered
with hatred by the Iroquois for his severity and cruelty.
And now they were entering their own country, for the Iroquois claimed
as their homeland all that great tract of country that lies south of
Lake Ontario, from the Hudson River and Lake Champlain on the east, away
to the ridges of the Blue Mountains behind Virginia and westward some
little way beyond the Falls of Niagara, and the eastern shores of Lake
Erie; but by right of conquest they claimed much more, for they had
conquered all the surrounding tribes, from the river of Canada on the
east, to the southern shores of Lake Michigan on the west, far away
southwards to the Ohio Valley.
At the present time, however, the wigwams and lodges of the White Eagle
were pitched on the banks of a small stream that flowed through the
forest to the south of the Great Falls.
Though they still thought much of their late comrades, the youths had
now become more cheerful, and their wounds had nearly healed, thanks to
the kind attention of the Indians. They had even begun to admire these
fierce Iroquois who had adopted them. They were not nearly so bad as
they were described by the French. They were lords of nature, these
children of the forest, and had desired nothing more than to be left
alone in their happy hunting-grounds. It was the paleface who had been
the intruder and the plunderer. At first the red men had welcomed the
palefaces, and received them as brothers, but the baser types of the
settlers, the outcasts and pariahs of the settlements, and especially
the hated "Rum-carriers," had taken advantage of, and had traded upon,
the childishness, the ignorance and the simplicity of the Indians, with
the result that outrage, vengeance and border wars had been the result.
The insults of Champlain were never forgotten by the Iroquois. On the
other hand the compact made between Miquon (William Penn) and the
Indians was never broken by the Delawares, till the white men broke it
themselves.
Several times during their progress along the shores of the lake smoke
had been perceived, rising above the tree-tops in the forest. The keen
eyes of the chief, who was in the first canoe, never relaxed their
vigilance for a moment, for though they were almost in their own
country, yet at any hour they might be set upon by a marauding band of
French Indians, who were out for scalps.
Each evening they would draw in to the bank, set a watch, by posting
scouts some little way into the forest, then, lighting a fire, they
would cook their evening meal. Oftentimes this would consist of a fine
buck that had been killed during the day, as they coasted along by the
edge of the forest-lined bank, or sometimes of the sturgeon and salmon
taken from the lake.
The lads noticed that several times, when smoke had been observed, that
the chief ordered the boats to make a wide detour, as though to avoid a
possible enemy. At other times the boats would pass close in as though
there were no danger. Jamie was determined to find out the reason of
this, so the next time that he saw a faint column of blue smoke he
remarked to the chief--
"Look, White Eagle! There's more smoke ahead!"