We must go back, for a very short time, to the spot where Edith and
her Oneida captors set out upon what proved to them an unfortunate
voyage across Lake Champlain, and to the very moment after their canoe
had left the shore. The Long House of the Five Nations, as they were
pleased to call their territory, extended from the Great Lakes and a
point far west, to the banks of the Hudson, and Lakes Horicon and
Champlain; but, as is always the case in border countries, the
frontier was often crossed by wandering or predatory bands, and by
outlaws from the Hurons and other nations under the sway of France, or
from the Iroquois tribes attached to England. The peculiar habits and
laws of the Indian tribes rendered the incorporation of fugitives with
other nations a very easy matter, although the language of the Five
Nations would seem to be radically different from that of the tribes
originally inhabiting the seaboard of America. Thus, on the western
shore of Lake Champlain, not a few pure Hurons were to be found; and,
indeed, that tribe, during the successful campaigns of France against
England, with which what is called the French and Indian war
commenced, had somewhat encroached upon the Iroquois territory,
supported in their daring by the redoubted name of Montcalm.
With some of these, it would seem, Apukwa and his companions had
entered into a sort of tacit alliance; and towards their dwellings
they had directed their steps after their attack upon Edith and her
little escort, in the expectation of readily finding a canoe to waft
them over the lake. At first, they had been disappointed; for the
barques which had been there the day before were gone; and when they
did find the canoe in which they ultimately commenced their voyage,
the avaricious old man to whom it belonged would not let them use it
without a world of bargaining; and it cost them a considerable portion
of the little stock of ornaments and trinkets which they had found in
Edith's plundered baggage, before the Huron consented to lend that
which they did not dare to take by force.
Thus, more than an hour was passed after they reached the lake-shore
before they departed; and their taking their course so boldly across
the bows of the French boats was more a matter of necessity than
choice, although they little doubted a good reception from the
inveterate enemies of England. The moment, however, that the canoe had
shot out into the water, a tall, dark woman emerged from the bushes of
the low point under which the skiff had lain, and began wringing her
hands with every appearance of grief and anxiety.
"Oh, what will poor massa do?" she cried, in a piteous voice; "what
will poor massa do? Him son killed: him daughter stolen, and Chando
tomahawked. Ah, me! ah, me! what will we all do?"
Her imprudent burst of grief had nearly proved destructive to poor
Sister Bab. The old Huron had turned him quietly towards a small
birch-bark cabin in the forest hard by, and would never have remarked
the poor negress if she had confined the expression of her cares to
mere gesture; but her moans and exclamations caught the quick ear of
the savage, and he turned and saw her plainly gazing after the canoe.
With no other provocation than a taste for blood, he stole gently
through the trees with the soft, gliding, noiseless motion peculiar to
his race; and making a circuit so as to conceal his advance, came
behind the poor creature just as she beheld the canoe which bore away
her young mistress, stopped and surrounded by the little flotilla of
the French.
Another moment would have been fatal to her (for the Indian was within
three yards), when a large rattlesnake suddenly raised itself in his
path, and made him recoil a step. Whether it was the small, but
never-to-be-forgotten, sound of the reptile's warning, or some noise
made by the Huron in suddenly drawing back, the poor negress turned
her head, and saw her danger.
With a wild scream, she darted away towards the lake. The savage
sprang after with a yell; and, though old, he retained much of the
Indian lightness of foot. Onward towards the shore he drove her,
meditating each moment to throw his hatchet, if she turned to the
right or left.
But Sister Bab was possessed of qualities which would not have
disgraced any of his own tribe; and, even while running at her utmost
speed, she contrived continually to deprive him of his aim. Not a
tree, not a shrub, not a heap of stone, that did not afford her a
momentary shelter; and of every inequality of the ground she took
advantage. Now she whirled sharply round the little shoulder of the
hill; now, as the tomahawk was just balanced to be thrown with more
fatal certainty, she sprang down a bank which almost made the Indian
pause. Then she plunged head-foremost like a snake through the thick
brushwood, and again appeared in a different spot from that where he
had expected to see her.
Still, however, he was driving her towards the lake, at a spot where
the shores were open, and where he felt certain of overtaking her.
Nevertheless, on she went to the very verge of the lake, gazed to the
right and left, and, seeing, with apparent consternation, that the
banks rounded themselves on both sides, forming a little bay, near the
centre of which she stood, she paused for a single instant, as if in
despair. The Huron sprang after with a wild whoop, grasping the
tomahawk firmly to strike the fatal blow.
But Sister Bab was not yet in his power; and, with a bold leap, she
sprang from the ledge into the water. Her whole form instantly
disappeared; and, for at least a minute, her savage pursuer stood
gazing at the lake in surprise and disappointment, when, suddenly he
saw a black object appear at the distance of twenty or thirty yards,
and as suddenly sink again. A few moments after, it rose once more,
still further out; and then the brave woman was seen striking easily
away towards the south.
Rendered only more eager by the chase, and more fierce by
disappointment, the Huron ran swiftly along the shore, thinking that
he could easily tire her out or cut her off; but, in sunny waters, in
far distant lands, she had sported with the waves, in infancy; and,
taking the chord of the bow where he was compelled to take the arc,
she gained from distance what she lost in speed. So calm was she, so
cool, that, turning her eyes from her pursuer, she gazed over the
water in the direction where she had seen her beloved young mistress
carried, and had the satisfaction of beholding the canoe in which she
was towed along by one of the French boats. Why she rejoiced, she
hardly knew, for her notions on such matters were not very definite;
but anything seemed better than to remain in the hands of the
murderers of poor Chando.
Her thoughts were still of Edith; and she asked herself,--
"Where are they taking her to, I wonder? Perhaps I may come up with
them, if that red-skin would but leave off running along by the shore,
and let me land, and cross the narrow point. He may run, the
devil-foot! He can't catch Bab. I'll dive again. He think her
drowned."
Her resolution was instantly executed; and--whether it was that her
stratagem was successful, or that the Huron had less than Indian
perseverance, and gave up the chase--when she rose again, she saw him
turning towards the woods, as if about to go back to his lodge. But
Bab had learned caution, and she pursued her way towards the small
peninsula where stood the French fort of Crown Point, which, at the
period I speak of, had been nearly stripped of its garrison to
reinforce Ticonderoga.
She chose her spot, however, with great care; for, though in her
wanderings she had made herself well acquainted with the country, she
was, of course, ignorant of the late movements of the troops, and
fancied that the French posts extended as far beyond the walls of the
fortress as they had formerly done. A little woody island, hardly
separated from the main land, covered her approach; and the moment her
feet touched the shore, she darted away into the forest, and took the
trail which led nearly due south. The neck of the point was soon
passed; and once more she caught sight of the French boats still
towing the canoe on which her thoughts so pertinaciously rested.
The short detention of the French party, and the advantage she gained
by her direct course across the point, had put her a little in
advance; and she ran rapidly on till she reached the mouth of the
small river, now called Putnam's Creek, which, being flooded by the
torrents of rain which had fallen in the earlier part of the day, made
her pause for a moment, gazing at the rushing and eddying waters
coming down, and doubting whether she had strength left to swim across
it.
The boats, by this time, were somewhat in advance; and, when she gazed
after them, she naturally came to the conclusion that they were bound
for what she called, after the Indian fashion, Cheeconderoga.
Suddenly, however, as she watched, she saw their course altered; and
it soon became evident that they intended to land considerably north
of the fort. Running up the creek, then, till she found a place where
she could pass, she followed an Indian trail through the woods lying a
little to the west of the present line of road, and at length reached
an eminence nearly opposite to Shoreham--a spur of Mount Hope, in
fact, where she once more saw the lake just in time to catch a view of
the disembarkation of the French troops and the Indians.
Notwithstanding her great strength, the poor negress was, by this
time, exceedingly tired; still, that persevering love which is one of
the brightest traits of her unfortunate race, carried her on.
"If I can but catch sight of them again," she thought, "before night I
can carry old massa tidings of where she be."
Encouraged by this idea, she pushed on without pause. But night
overtook her before she had seen any more of the party; and poor Bab's
spirit began to fail. More slowly she went, somewhat doubtful of her
way; and, in the solitude, the darkness, and the intricacy of the
woods, fears began to creep over her which were not familiar to her
bosom.
At length, however, she thought she heard voices at a distance; and, a
minute or two after, found herself on the banks of a small brook. She
paused and listened; the voices were now distinct; and, without
hesitation, she crossed, and crept cautiously along in the direction
from which the sounds came. A moment or two after, the flickering of a
fire through the trees attracted her attention; and more and more
carefully she stole on upon her hands and knees through the low brush,
still seeing the blaze of the firelight when she raised her eyes, but
unable to perceive the spot whence it proceeded. A small pine cut down
then met her hand as she crept along, and then a number of loose
branches tossed together. And now sister Bab began to get an inkling
of the truth.
"It must be what dey call an ambush," she thought; and, raising
herself gently, she found that she was close to a bank of earth, over
which the firelight was streaming. The sounds of voices were now
distinctly heard; but she could not understand a syllable, for it
seemed to her that they were speaking in two different languages, if
not more, and each of them was strange to her. At one time, she
fancied she heard Edith's voice; still, the language spoken was a
strange one; and, although the bank of earth was not more than
shoulder-high, she did not venture at first to rise to her whole
stature in order to look over.
At length, however, came some words of English; and the voice which
she judged to be Edith's was plainly heard, saying,--
"This gentleman is asking you, my good friend, if you will not go and
take some supper with him where the people have spread a cloth
yonder."
Bab could resist no more, but raised herself sufficiently to bring her
eyes above the top of the breastwork, and gazed over into the little
rude redoubt. On the right, and at the further part of the enclosure,
were a number of Indians, seated on the ground; and, besides the fire
already burning, several others were being piled up amidst the various
groups of natives. Somewhat on the left, and stretching well nigh
across the western side of the open space, were the French soldiers,
in groups of five or six, with their arms piled near them. Other
straggling parties were scattered over the ground; and two sentinels,
each with musket on shoulder, appeared on the other side of the
redoubt.
But the group which attracted the poor woman's chief attention was one
on the left, near a spot where some small huts had been erected. It
consisted of three persons--a gaily-dressed French officer, a man in
the garb of a soldier, but with his weapons cast aside, and, lastly, a
powerful man in a yellowish-brown hunting-shirt, whom sister Bab
instantly recognized as her old acquaintance, the Woodchuck. That
sight was quite enough; and, sinking again amongst the bushes, she
crept slowly away to a little distance, and there lay down to meditate
as to what was next to be done.
At one time she was tempted to enter the French redoubt, and remain
with her young mistress. Several considerations seemed in favour of
this course; and let it be no imputation upon poor Bab, that hunger,
and the savoury odours which came wafted over the earthwork, were not
without their influence. But then she thought,--"If I do, how will old
massa ever know where missy is?"
And this remembrance enabled her to resist the strong temptation.
"I will stay here and rest till de moon get up," thought the poor
woman. "I know dey must be coming up de lake by dis time, and I can
catch dem before to-morrow."
To prevent herself from sleeping too long, if slumber should overtake
her, she crept further out of the thick wood, and seated herself in a
more open spot, with her clasped hands over her knees, but with
nothing else to support her. Various sorts of fears suggested
themselves to her mind, as she thus sat; but oppressive weariness was
more powerful than thought, and in a few moments her head was nodding.
Often she woke up at first; but then she slept more profoundly,
bending forward till her forehead actually rested on her knees. It is
probable, too, that she dreamed, for, in the course of the next two
hours, several broken sentences issued from her lips in a low murmur.
At length, however, she woke with a start, and found the moon
silvering the whole sky to the eastward, though some bold heights,
towering up, still obscured the face of the orb of night.
Bab sat and gazed, somewhat bewildered, and hardly knowing where she
was. But the musical voice of the falling waters, which has gained for
the outlet of Lake Horicon an ever-enduring name, and the grand
outline of Mount Defiance seen through the trees, soon showed her that
she was on that narrow point of land lying between Trout Brook and the
Falls. She waited till the moon had fully risen, and then stole
quietly away again, keeping a south-western course nearly up the
current of the brook, and for three hours she pursued her way with a
rapid and untiring foot. She had no idea of the time, and wondered if
the day would never break; but the moonlight was beautifully clear,
and the calm beams, as if they had some affinity with the woodland
solitude, seemed to penetrate through the branches and green leaves,
even more easily than was usual with the sunshine.
Bab's fears had now nearly passed away; for she knew that she must be
far beyond the French and Huron posts, and could only expect to meet
either with the scouts and outposts of the English army, or with
parties of Indians, and she consequently went on without care or
precaution. Suddenly she found herself emerging from the wood into one
of those low open savannahs, of which I have already spoken, close to
the spot where the embers of a fire were still glowing. The grass was
soft, and her tread was light, but the sleep of the Indian is lighter
still; and, in an instant, three or four warriors started up around
her.
"I am a friend, I am a friend!" cried the negress, in the Iroquois
tongue. "Who are you? Mohawks?"
"Children of the Stone," replied the man nearest to her, gazing at her
earnestly by the moonlight. "I have seen the Black Cloud before. Does
she not dwell in the house of our brother Prevost?"
"Yes, yes!" cried Sister Bab, eagerly. "I'm his slave girl, Bab, who
came to the Oneida Castle with my own missy. But now she is the
prisoner of bad men; and I have escaped, tired and hungry, and am
nearly dead."
"Come with me," said the Indian; "I will take thee where thou shalt
have rest to comfort thee, and meat to support thee, till the Black
Eagle comes. He will not be long, for he will keep the war-path night
and day till he is here; and his wings are swift."
The poor woman shuddered at the name, of the terrible chief, for it
was closely connected in her mind with the circumstances of her young
master's fate; but, wearied and exhausted, the prospect of food and
repose was a blessing, and she followed him in silence to the other
side of the savannah.