DONALD SETS FORTH ON A PERILOUS MISSION
No rising sun ever witnessed a fairer scene than that presented by the
little wilderness settlement of Detroit on the sixth of May, 1763. All
nature was rejoicing in the advent of spring and donning its livery of
green. The broad river, flowing southward with a mighty volume of
water from four inland seas of which it formed the sole outlet, was
lined as far as the eye could reach with the white houses and fertile
fields of French farmers. From these, spirals of blue smoke curled
peacefully, and the voices of cattle answered each other in morning
greetings. A darker mass of buildings on the western bank denoted the
palisaded village in which dwelt the British garrison, their wives and
children, and some fifty fur traders, with their Canadian employees.
The houses within the palisades, about one hundred in number, were
mostly low, wooden structures, roofed with bark or thatch. The village
was square in form, and while one side opened on the river, the other
three were enclosed by wooden walls, twenty-five feet in height, with
log bastions at the corners, and a blockhouse over each of the three
gateways. Several pieces of light artillery were mounted on the
bastions, and anchored in the river lay the armed schooners _Beaver_
and _Gladwyn_. At some distance from the fort, both up and down the
river, rose the smoke of populous Indian villages, for all the natives
of that section were in from their winter hunting, and gathered at this
point for trade. Over the placid waters light canoes occasionally
darted from bank to bank. A boat brigade, bound for the far north, was
just starting from the fort, and the Canadian voyageurs, gay with
fringes, beads, and crimson sashes, caused the morning air to ring with
a tuneful chorus as boat after boat shot away and stemmed the current
with lusty oars.
Not far from the point of this noisy embarkation was another, though
much less ostentatious scene of departure and leave-taking. In the
stern of a birch canoe, paddle in hand and evidently impatient to be
off, sat one of Rogers' buckskin-clad rangers, who was about to revisit
his distant New Hampshire home, for the first time in three years.
Near by, on the strand, stood two men, both tall and possessed of a
military bearing. One, who wore the undress uniform of an officer, was
elderly and white-haired, while the other, slender, and clad much as
was the ranger in the canoe, was in the first flush of splendid young
manhood. As these two stood hand in hand, the younger said: "Can I not
persuade you, father, even at this last moment, to change your mind and
accompany us? Poor Edith will be so dreadfully disappointed."
"I fear she will, Donald," returned Major Hester, with a sad smile,
"but as this life is mainly composed of disappointments, the sooner she
learns to bear them with composure, the better. I had indeed looked
forward to taking this journey with you, to clasping my dear girl in my
arms once more, and ere the year was ended to rebuilding Tawtry House,
in which to establish her as mistress. With the war ended, I fondly
hoped that a certain degree of happiness were still possible to me, and
looked forward to securing it by some such means as I have just
outlined."
"And is it not, father?" broke in the youth, eagerly. "Surely you have
done far more than your duty here, and--"
"No man has done that, Donald, so long as there remains an unperformed
task for which he is fitted," interrupted Major Hester, gravely. "So
long as I believe a crisis in Indian affairs to be imminent, and that
by remaining here I may be able to avert it, at least until the
reinforcements which it is now yours to hasten can arrive, it is
clearly my duty to stay. So off with you, lad. Don't run any risks
that can just as well be avoided, and don't try to avoid any that, if
successfully taken, will serve to speed your errand. Farewell, my son.
May God bless you and keep you and bring your enterprise to a happy
termination."
After the canoe had departed, Major Hester ascended one of the water
bastions, where he watched it until it became a tiny speck, and finally
vanished behind the projecting land then known as Montreal point.
Donald Hester had striven so manfully with his studies that he was
finally graduated from King's College, well toward the head of his
class, during the previous summer. Thereupon he had been rewarded with
his heart's desire, an ensign's commission in the Royal Americans. To
the new and fascinating duties of his chosen profession he at once
devoted himself with such ardor as to draw favorable comment from his
superiors. After serving at several posts he had, to his great
delight, been transferred to Detroit, where the soldier father and
soldier son, each more than proud of the other, were joyfully reunited
after their years of separation. Here, too, he renewed his boyhood's
intimacy with forest life, and eagerly resumed his long-neglected
studies in wilderness lore, and woodcraft.
Although Donald was generally liked by his brother officers, he had no
taste for the dissipations with which they sought to relieve the
monotony of their lives. In place of these, he chose to take gun or
fishing-rod and go off on long excursions in his canoe. On one of
these occasions, when far down the river and in vigorous pursuit of a
wounded duck, he had the misfortune to break his only paddle short off.
In a moment he was helplessly drifting with the powerful current toward
the open waters of Lake Erie. In this dilemma, his only resource was
to paddle with his hands, and attempt by this tedious method to force
his craft to the nearest shore. While he was thus awkwardly engaged,
there came it ripple of laughter from close beside him, and he started
up just in time to gaze squarely into the laughing face of an Indian
girl, who instantly impressed him as the most graceful creature he had
ever seen. She occupied, with a girl companion, a beautifully painted
and ornamented canoe, which had slipped up to him with the lightness of
a thistle-down. As the young soldier caught sight of her she was in
the very act of tossing a paddle into his own helpless craft.
Then the strange canoe darted away like an arrow, while the only answer
to the young man's fervently expressed thanks was a merry peal of
laughter, coupled with an exclamation, of which he caught but the
single word "ah-mo." These were wafted back to him as the flying canoe
disappeared behind the point of a small island. With a desire to learn
something more of the bewitching forest maiden, who had come so
opportunely to his aid, Donald urged his own craft vigorously in that
direction, but when he rounded the point there was no trace to be seen
of those whom he sought.
So deep an impression had the olive-tinted face, the laughing eyes, and
the jetty tresses of the girl who tossed the paddle to him made upon
the young ensign, that they haunted both his sleeping and his wakeful
hours; but, plan as he might, he could not succeed in seeing her again,
nor did his cautiously worded inquiries serve to elicit the slightest
information concerning her.
Perhaps it was well for the efficiency of the service that about this
time Major Gladwyn selected Donald to be the bearer of certain
despatches to Sir William Johnson, concerning the reinforcements and
supplies that he expected to receive by the spring brigade of boats
from Niagara. Major Hester, who had intended to return East about this
time, suddenly decided to remain at Detroit a while longer. He
therefore intrusted a number of private despatches to the young
courier, both for Sir William and General Amherst. Besides its more
important despatches, Donald's canoe was freighted with a large packet
of letters from members of the garrison to distant friends and loved
ones. Thus it set forth on its long and perilous voyage followed by
fond hopes and best wishes from every member of the band of exiles left
behind.