On that part of Lake Champlain, or Corlear, as it was called by the
Indians, where, quitting the narrow basin which it occupies, from its
southern extremity to some distance northward of Ticonderoga, it opens
out into a broader sheet of water, and sweeps round the small
peninsula of Crown Point, a large canoe was seen crossing to the
Canada side, with about sixteen or seventeen persons on board. There
was no attempt at concealment, no creeping along under the shelter of
the banks; but boldly and openly the Indians paddled on within range
of the guns of the French fort, and then directly across the bows of
two large, flat-bottomed boats, or _bateaux_, accompanied by several
light canoes, each containing six or seven men, which were going down
the lake in the direction of Ticonderoga.
From each of the larger boats, the flag of France was conspicuously
displayed; but, as the canoe above mentioned seemed bearing straight
for the shore fully in possession of France, its movements for a time
appeared to excite no attention. Neither the _bateaux_, nor the
canoes, altered their course, the men on board the former continuing a
shouted conversation in a mixed jargon, part French, part Indian, with
their dusky companions in the lesser craft, who kept as nearly
alongside as possible.
At length, however, it would seem some suspicion was excited. Perhaps
it might have been by the sight of two figures, male and female, in
the stern of the canoe, whose dress at once showed them to belong to
none of the Indian tribes, and was also somewhat different from that
of either the Canadian colonists, or the native French. The two
parties were now within less than a hundred yards of each other, and
it seemed doubtful whether the large canoes would clear the eastern
boat without trouble. But suddenly a voice was raised loudly in the
foremost _bateau_, and a question was put in French, as to whither the
others were bound, and who they were.
The Indians were silent, for they did not understand the words
addressed to them; but Woodchuck whispered to Edith, eagerly, "Answer,
answer! if you can speak their jargon. Better be in the hands of
French officers, than these incarnate devils."
Edith's eyes had been cast down, and were so full of bitter tears,
that she had seen nothing since they left the western shore. But now
she looked up, and, in an instant, her presence of mind returned. It
is true, she did not speak at once, for she feared her voice would not
reach the boat; but it was nearing the canoe fast; and, in a moment
after, the question was repeated in a more peremptory and distinct
tone.
"Tell them we are allies of the great French chief," said Apukwa, who
seemed to comprehend, in some degree, the meaning of the call; "say we
are going to join our Canada Father." And he glared at her, fiercely,
as he spoke.
"We are English," exclaimed Edith, exerting her utmost power of voice;
"we are English, and Iroquois, going I know not whither."
Instantly, at a signal from the _bateaux_, the light canoes dashed out
with extraordinary rapidity; and, before any effectual effort could be
made to escape, the larger canoe was surrounded, while the yells of
the Hurons announced that they recognized, at length, a band of
ancient enemies. With a fiend-like look at Edith, Apukwa drew his
tomahawk from his belt; but, the brother of the Snake spoke some words
to him in a low tone, the weapon was replaced, the men ceased to work
the paddles, and every face assumed the stillness of perfect
indifference.
The yells and whoops of the Hurons still continued, and their canoes
came rushing nearer, so that one danger seemed only to be escaped to
encounter a still greater. Their fierce faces, and dark, half-naked
forms, tattooed and painted, were seen all round, and the tomahawk and
the knife were brandished as if for immediate action. But one of the
larger boats bore right down amongst them, and soon grappled the canoe
in which Edith and her companion were. A handsomely-dressed
middle-aged man stood up in the stern as it came near, and, turning to
an Indian by his side, who seemed a chief, said to him in French--
"Keep your people quiet, Great Elk."
A few words were then spoken, or rather shouted, by the Indian to the
others in the canoes, in a language which Edith did not at all
understand, and in an instant every Huron sank down in silence, and
the light skiffs lay quietly upon the water, or only moved slightly
with the momentum they had already received from the paddles. Then,
raising his hat and plume with an air of much grace, the French
officer addressed Edith, saying--
"Will you have the goodness to explain to me, mademoiselle, who and
what you are, and how you came to be in the position in which I find
you? I am sorry to be obliged to detain a lady, but you have too many
men with you for me to suffer your canoe to pass."
"I am the daughter of an English gentleman," replied Edith. "I have
been attacked and captured, with the friend who was escorting me from
my father's house to that of Colonel Schneider; my two servants were
murdered--at least, one of them I am sure was. These Indians, who are
with me, are Iroquois, who are taking me forcibly across the lake
towards Canada, and I have little doubt that I shall be put to death
also, if you do not save me from their hands."
"This is a strange story, mademoiselle," returned the officer. "The
Iroquois and your countrymen are in alliance."
"I cannot account for it," answered Edith; "they are certainly
Iroquois, for they speak no other language, except a few words of
English. You must ask them what is the meaning of their conduct, if
you have any on board who can speak their tongue."
The officer turned once more to his Indian companion, and addressed
some words to him in French; but the chief shook his head, and then,
drawing his eyelids together, as if to see more distinctly, gazed into
the canoe, scanning the persons of the Indians closely.
"They are Iroquois," he said, at length, in broken French; "let us
scalp them."
This proposal, however, the officer did not think fit to comply with,
at least for the time; and he replied with a laugh,--
"Wait a little, my friend. The Great Elk shall have scalping enough
soon. We will take them ashore with us, at all events, and, perhaps,
may learn more. Then, if they are really enemies, you shall exercise
your skill upon them to your heart's content. The lady and her English
companion, however, I claim as my prisoners.--Permit me, mademoiselle,
to assist you into the boat. You will be safer here, and may trust to
the honour and courtesy of a French gentleman."
"I have no fears on that score, sir," answered Edith, rising; and,
with the aid of the officer and Woodchuck, she passed into the other
boat, which, flat-bottomed and heavily laden, was not much higher
above the water than the canoe. Woodchuck followed her closely, but
not without exciting the wrath of the Honontkoh. They had sat, ever
since the canoe had been grappled by the boat, with the utmost
tranquillity; not a limb, not a feature had moved; and to the eye of
an observer, ignorant of their habits, they would have seemed
perfectly indifferent to all that was taking place. In fact, one of
them appeared actually going to sleep; for the sun, which had now
broken out after the storm, shone full on his face, and his eyes were
closed, and his head bent. But the moment that Woodchuck put his foot
over the side of the _bateau_, a yell of disappointed rage burst from
every lip; and, unable to contain himself, Apukwa rose and poured
forth a few words of Huron, mixed with a good deal of Iroquois.
"Hold your tongues!" exclaimed the French officer, waving his hand
imperiously. "Tow them along behind us; and you, Great Elk, command
your people to keep close around them, and see that they do not cut
the rope, and slip away."
The orders were given as he directed, and the arrangements made; but
when all was completed, and the boat was once more moving along the
lake, the Indian by his side pulled the officer's sleeve, thus
interrupting a speech he had just begun with a gallant air to Edith,
and seemed to explain something to him in a low tone.
"Well, we shall soon find out," said the Frenchman, with a gay laugh.
"If they be Iroquois, who are about to become Hurons, and take service
under his Majesty, we will make them fight for us while we are going.
We shall not have too many hands to help us, Great Elk, and they'll
make a good reinforcement to your party. As for the lady and her
attendant, I will take care of them." Then turning to Edith, with a
courteous smile, he spread his _roquelaure_ in a more convenient part
of the boat, and assisted her to seat herself more comfortably,
saying--"Mademoiselle is a great deal too charming to travel any more
with such savages. But may I know the name of this gentleman? Can he
not speak French?"
"Not a word, I believe," replied Edith.
"That is singular!" exclaimed the Frenchman, giving expression to the
general feeling of his nation, who seem to believe that the French
language is one of those blessings of God which it is strange that he
should deny to any of his creatures. "What is his name?"
It instantly passed through the mind of Edith that, if she gave her
good companion the name of Captain Brooks, she would be certain to
cause his detention as a prisoner of war; and she therefore merely
replied--"He is called Woodchuck."
"Voodchick!" exclaimed the Frenchman; "_quel drôle de nom!_ Is
Monsieur Voodchick in the army?"
To the question thus put, Edith could fairly answer in the negative;
for Brooks, though he had seen no little fighting in his day, was
merely one of those amateur soldiers, then very common in the
provinces, who rarely missed an opportunity of joining some band of
volunteers in times of war with France, or fighting upon their own
hand, according to the Scotchman's expression, as one of the extensive
class called Stragglers. They generally bore away from the field,
especially if they distinguished themselves, some military title, such
as captain or major, without having commanded half-a-dozen men in
their lives.
After having asked his questions and settled his conduct, the French
officer's next business was, of course, _politesse_; and he would fain
have engaged his lovely companion in gay and lively conversation
during the rest of their little voyage; but Edith, though her mind was
greatly relieved to find herself freed from the power of the
Honontkoh, had many a subject of melancholy contemplation to occupy
her. The dark and dreary consideration of her brother's fate--the
uncertainty of what might befall her father and her lover--the
separation from all most dear to her--the doubt, even now, whether she
might not herself be detained a prisoner amongst strangers--all these
reflections tormented her beyond endurance. Moreover, the war in
America had hitherto been conducted by the French upon principles the
most barbarous, and the most opposed to the ordinary characteristics
of that nation. The scene which succeeded the capture of Fort
William-Henry was a black and damning spot, never to be obliterated
from the minds of men; and although it has been put forth by an
American author as the only stain upon the character of Montcalm, Mr.
Cooper must surely have forgotten the violated capitulation of Oswego,
the death of the gallant De la Court, and the scalping and massacre of
the sick in the hospital. All that we can trust is, that these
barbarities were only permitted, not encouraged. But how can we
account for or excuse--how can we even palliate--the voluntary
delivery of twenty of the garrison into the hands of the savages, to
be tortured to death under the very eyes of the French soldiery, in
direct violation of the articles of capitulation, as compensation for
the loss of twenty Indians? It is a fact which has never been denied,
or it would be too horrible for belief.
Edith replied briefly, therefore, to the compliments and pretty
speeches of her military companion; and in the meanwhile the boat
proceeded rapidly over the surface of the lake, passed Crown Point,
and entered the narrow portion of Champlain, which stretches from that
promontory towards the spot where the Sounding Waters, as the Indians
called the outlet of Lake George, flow into the greater lake near
Ticonderoga.
The French officer, somewhat baffled in his attempts to make her
speak, tried his fortune with Woodchuck, but with still less success;
for, to everything he said in French, he received what can hardly be
called an answer in English, and generally, it must be said, not a
very civil speech, as Brooks was filled with all the absurd prejudices
of his country, and never uttered the word "Frenchman," without
coupling it with the epithet "rascally."
The voyage was brought to a close before night fell, for the boat
stopped short by a mile or two of Ticonderoga, and somewhat further to
the north of the spot where the ferry now exists. The scene would have
appeared beautiful had Edith's mind been free to enjoy it; for in
front were seen the tops of the several bold eminences round the
French fort. On the one side were those rich lands, varied at that
time with scattered masses of forest, though now highly cultivated,
known as the New Hampshire grants; and, to the westward, a varied
country, rising gradually to the foot of the Mohigan mountains.
The spot chosen for the landing was a secluded cove in the woods,
where the shelving rocks broke through the soil, and dipped gradually
into the water. Boats and canoes were all speedily hauled up, and the
commander of the party, with delicate attention, handed Edith out, and
then gave orders to his men to follow him, which was effected with
rapidity and precision. The savages, under the orders of their chief,
took care of the Iroquois prisoners, and apparently, by no slight act
of forbearance, resisted the great temptation to possess themselves of
their scalps.
When all had disembarked, the canoes were drawn safely up under
concealment of the bushes on either side, and the voyageurs pushed
off, and took their way up the lake again.
"I fear, mademoiselle," said the captain of the Frenchmen, who might
have amounted in number to sixty or seventy, "I must trouble you to
take a somewhat fatiguing promenade of four or five miles--at least, I
am told that such is the distance, for I have never been here myself,
and do not know the way."
"Then are we not going to Fort Ticonderoga?" asked Edith.
"Not so," replied the officer; "we are going a little beyond, and I
shall have no opportunity of detaching any party whom I could trust to
send you into the fort to-night. The Indians, indeed, could be
spared--at least, a sufficient number to escort you--but I should
really be apprehensive, from what I know of their habits, that you
might not be quite so safe in their charge as under the protection of
my musketeers, with your devoted servant at their head. We will
endeavour to make you as comfortable as we can for the night; and I
doubt not that, early to-morrow, I shall be visited by some superior
officer, who will have the honour of conveying you to the fort."
"Then am I to consider myself as a prisoner?" asked Edith, in a cold
tone. "I did not know that it was the habit of French officers to make
women captives."
"So," replied the Frenchman, with a graceful bow; "we ourselves are
much more frequently _their_ captives; but, my dear lady, within the
limits of this garrison I myself have no command--am merely acting
under orders, and feel myself imperatively bound to send you and your
companion, Monsieur Voodchick, to the commandant of the fortress, who
will act, I am sure, as he finds befitting. I only regret that I
cannot do so at once; but my orders are strict, my route marked out,
and I am told to hasten across this small peninsula as fast as
possible without approaching the fortress. It is certainly a rather
long walk; but, if you feel fatigued, I can easily make my men
construct a little litter and carry you. We shall find some
preparations made for us where we are going, though I am afraid not
very suitable for your use."
Edith evidently saw that remonstrance was in vain; and, saying that
she should prefer to walk, she took the arm of Woodchuck, and
explained to him, as they went, all that had passed between her and
the Frenchman.
"I guess he is going to form an ambuscade," said Woodchuck. "If so,
Miss Prevost, our army must be near, and we shan't be long in their
hands. I wish to Heaven I could get away from them, and had but a
horse to carry me," he added, thoughtfully, and with a sigh. "But it's
no use wishing. God knows his own ways best! Them Hurons look very
much like as if they would eat the Oneidas before they've done. Pray
God they mayn't take such a fancy to us too!"
Thus saying, he took the place which was assigned to him and Edith in
the march. A number of Indians preceded, several little parties moved
upon the flanks, and the small body of French infantry marched on, two
abreast, for the trail was barely wide enough for that number.
Woodchuck and Edith followed them, and the French officer, with the
Indian whom he called the Great Elk, walked next, succeeded by the
Iroquois prisoners, a large quantity of baggage borne on men's
shoulders, and the remainder of the Huron auxiliaries.
It was now twilight in the forest; and, for more than an hour after
darkness had fallen upon the earth, the weary and rather perilous
march was continued. Once, a small stream was crossed, Woodchuck
taking up his fair companion in his sturdy arms, and bearing her over
like an infant. Nothing of any note occurred, except a slow and
low-toned conversation in the rear, which led Edith to believe that
the Iroquois, her late captors, had found some of the other band of
natives with whom they could converse; but she could not distinguish
anything that was said.
Weary and exhausted, the sight of a fire at length glimmering through
the trees, was exceedingly pleasant to her eyes; and, a minute or two
after, a scene presented itself which might have looked dreary and
comfortless enough under other circumstances, but which had a cheerful
and comfortable aspect, after that long and gloomy march.
The trail which they had followed terminated in a small open space,
flanked on three sides by low earthworks of no very regular
construction, but evidently designed by an experienced military hand.
The outer surface of these works was partially concealed by a thicket;
and great care had been taken not only to preserve the brambles and
the large-leaved raspberry, but to fill every gap in this shrubby
screen with branches of pine, and hemlock, and maple. Within these
embankments the ground had, to a certain extent, been cleared, though
two or three of the larger trees had been left standing, to prevent a
vacancy being apparent without. About the middle of the open space, a
number of rude huts had been erected of small felled trees and
branches; and before one, somewhat larger than the rest, a sentinel
was seen planted, who, at the moment Edith came in sight, stood
motionless, presenting arms as his comrades filed into the little
quadrangle. Behind the soldier, and between him and the hut, was a
large, blazing fire, which threw out his dark figure sharply outlined
upon the flame.
"Ah, this will do," said the French captain, in a tone of relief. "The
commandant has been careful of us. Mademoiselle, I welcome you to my
redoubt, and will do the best to make the evening pass pleasantly to
you. Now bring in the baggage, tell the cook to get supper ready, and
you, Pierrot, see that hut properly arranged for this young lady's
accommodation. I calculated on sleeping upon a very comfortable
bear-skin to-night; but I will most willingly resign it to you,
mademoiselle, in the hope of your passing a good night's rest."
Edith would fain have declined accepting a sacrifice so enhanced; but
the captain insisted, and his servant, whom he called Pierrot, at once
set about the preparations for her comfort with a degree of skill and
dexterity truly French. In the meantime, while Edith, sitting on the
trunk of a fallen tree, waited till all was ready, and while a group
of stragglers unpacked the baggage which had just been deposited from
the sturdy shoulders of the bearers, the French officer called his
friend the Huron chief to council; and Apukwa and the other Oneidas
were brought before him, accompanied by two young Hurons, who
undertook to act as interpreters. Many were the questions asked; and
what between the captains' ignorance of Indian manners and the
interpreter's ignorance both of French and Iroquois, the worthy
officer seemed completely puzzled.
At length, however, after consulting the Great Elk in a low voice, he
exclaimed,--
"Tell them that, if their tale be really true--though I've got my
doubts, for I never heard of Freemasons amongst Indians before, and
that must be what you mean by Honontkoh--but, if their tale be really
true, they can stay here with us, and prove their devotion to the
service of his Majesty Louis XV., king of France, by fighting the
English at our side. They shall be sharply watched, however," he
added, in a low voice, as if speaking to himself.
Apukwa heard his words translated; and then, saying something in
reply, pointed to Edith and her English companion, with a look of two
much meaning to be misunderstood.
"Nothing of the kind," answered the French officer, without waiting
for the words which seemed about to follow. "Tell him there's but one
choice: either to prove their story and their loyalty by fighting on
our side, or to pass under the fire of these gentlemen." And he laid
his hand upon a pile of muskets which stood close beside him.
This intimation was quite sufficient. The Honontkoh agreed to stay and
fight, without any further conditions; and the Frenchman then gave
strict directions, both to his own soldiers and to the Hurons, by whom
they were much more likely to be efficiently obeyed, that their very
doubtful allies should be kept continually in sight. He then seemed to
cast all thought of the affair behind him, and turned towards Edith,
who was already in the hut, saying,--
"I hope, mademoiselle, Pierrot has taken good care of you."
"With all the skill and courtesy of a Frenchman, monsieur," she
answered, really pleased with the attention and almost fatherly
kindness of the old soldier who had been arranging the hut.
"Then, now that you have the means of rest, it only remains to provide
you with meat and drink," said the officer. "I see they have spread my
table-cloth on the grass there. Will you and your friend come and
partake of my fare? Pray make my words understood to him."
Woodchuck readily agreed to accept the Frenchman's hospitality; but
Edith declined taking more than a little bread and some wine, alleging
that she needed rest more than anything else. The French officer,
however, would not be content with this, but with his own hands
brought her some savory mess, which would not have disgraced a
Parisian dinner-table, some choice wine, and, what was still more
valuable to her, a small lamp. He then closed the hurdle-door of the
hut upon her, and returned to his meal with Woodchuck, keeping up with
him for half an hour a silent conversation by nods and signs, one half
of which was probably unintelligible to both. The Frenchman then took
possession of another hut, and invited Woodchuck to share it with him
for the night.
But the stout woodsman declined any other covering than the sky; and
stretching himself across Edith's door, was soon in profound slumber.