CHAPTER XIV.

Night had long since drawn her circling mantle over the western

hemisphere; and deeper, far deeper than the gloom of that night was the

despair which filled every bosom of the devoted garrison, whose

fortunes it has fallen to our lot to record. A silence, profound as

that of death, pervaded the ramparts and exterior defences of the

fortress, interrupted only, at long intervals, by the customary "All's

well!" of the several sentinels; which, after the awful events of the

day, seemed to many who now heard it as if uttered in mockery of their

hopelessness of sorrow. The lights within the barracks of the men had

been long since extinguished; and, consigned to a mere repose of limb,

in which the eye and heart shared not, the inferior soldiery pressed

their rude couches with spirits worn out by a succession of painful

excitements, and frames debilitated, by much abstinence and watching.

It was an hour at which sleep was wont to afford them the blessing of a

temporary forgetfulness of endurances that weighed the more heavily as

they were believed to be endless and without fruit; but sleep had now

apparently been banished from all; for the low and confused murmur that

met the ear from the several block-houses was continuous and general,

betraying at times, and in a louder key, words that bore reference to

the tragic occurrences of the day.

The only lights visible in the fort proceeded from the guard-house and

a room adjoining that of the ill-fated Charles de Haldimar. Within the

latter were collected, with the exception of the governor, and grouped

around a bed on which lay one of their companions in a nearly expiring

state, the officers of the garrison, reduced nearly one third in number

since we first offered them to the notice of our readers. The dying man

was Sir Everard Valletort, who, supported by pillows, was concluding a

narrative that had chained the earnest attention of his auditory, even

amid the deep and heartfelt sympathy perceptible in each for the

forlorn and hopeless condition of the narrator. At the side of the

unhappy baronet, and enveloped in a dressing gown, as if recently out

of bed, sat, reclining in a rude elbow chair, one whose pallid

countenance denoted, that, although far less seriously injured, he,

too, had suffered severely:--it was Lieutenant Johnstone.

The narrative was at length closed; and the officer, exhausted by the

effort he had made in his anxiety to communicate every particular to

his attentive and surprised companions, had sunk back upon his pillow,

when, suddenly, the loud and unusual "Who comes there?" of the sentinel

stationed on the rampart above the gateway, arrested every ear. A

moment of pause succeeded, when again was heard the "Stand, friend!"

evidently given in reply to the familiar answer to the original

challenge. Then were audible rapid movements in the guard-house, as of

men aroused from temporary slumber, and hastening to the point whence

the voice proceeded.

Silently yet hurriedly the officers now quitted the bedside of the

dying man, leaving only the surgeon and the invalid Johnstone behind

them; and, flying to the rampart, stood in the next minute confounded

with the guard, who were already grouped round the challenging

sentinel, bending their gaze eagerly in the direction of the road.

"What now, man?--whom have you challenged?" asked Major Blackwater.

"It is I--De Haldimar," hoarsely exclaimed one of four dark figures

that, hitherto, unnoticed by the officers, stood immediately beyond the

ditch, with a burden deposited at their feet. "Quick, Blackwater, let

us in for God's sake! Each succeeding minute may bring a scouting party

on our track. Lower the drawbridge!"

"Impossible!" exclaimed the major: "after all that has passed, it is

more than my commission is worth to lower the bridge without

permission. Mr. Lawson, quick to the governor, and report that Captain

de Haldimar is here: with whom shall he say?" again addressing the

impatient and almost indignant officer.

"With Miss de Haldimar, Francois the Canadian, and one to whom we all

owe our lives," hurriedly returned the officer; "and you may add," he

continued gloomily, "the corpse of my sister. But while we stand in

parley here, we are lost: Lawson, fly to my father, and tell him we

wait for entrance."

With nearly the speed enjoined the adjutant departed. Scarcely a minute

elapsed when he again stood upon the rampart, and advancing closely to

the major, whispered a few words in his ear.

"Good God! can it be possible? When? How came this? but we will enquire

later. Open the gate; down with the bridge, Leslie," addressing the

officer of the guard.

The command was instantly obeyed. The officers flew to receive the

fugitives; and as the latter crossed the drawbridge, the light of a

lantern, that had been brought from the guard-room, flashed full upon

the harassed countenances of Captain and Miss de Haldimar, Francois the

Canadian, and the devoted Oucanasta.

Silent and melancholy was the greeting that took place between the

parties: the voice spoke not; the hand alone was eloquent; but it was

in the eloquence of sorrow only that it indulged. Pleasure, even in

this almost despaired of re-union, could not be expressed; and even the

eye shrank from mutual encounter, as if its very glance at such a

moment were sacrilege. Recalled to a sense of her situation by the

preparation of the men to raise the bridge, the Indian woman was the

first to break the silence.

"The Saganaw is safe within his fort, and the girl of the pale faces

will lay her head upon his bosom," she remarked solemnly. "Oucanasta

will go to her solitary wigwam among the red skins."

The heart of Madeline de Haldimar was oppressed by the weight of many

griefs; yet she could not see the generous preserver of her life, and

the rescuer of the body of her ill-fated cousin, depart without

emotion. Drawing a ring, of some value and great beauty, from her

finger, which she had more than once observed the Indian to admire, she

placed it on her hand; and then, throwing herself on the bosom of the

faithful creature, embraced her with deep manifestations of affection,

but without uttering a word.

Oucanasta was sensibly gratified: she raised her large eyes to heaven

as if in thankfulness; and by the light of the lantern, which fell upon

her dark but expressive countenance, tears were to be seen starting

unbidden from their source.

Released from the embrace of her, whose life she had twice preserved at

imminent peril to her own, the Indian again prepared to depart; but

there was another, who, like Madeline, although stricken by many

sorrows, could not forego the testimony of his heart's gratitude.

Captain de Haldimar, who, during this short scene, had despatched a

messenger to his room for the purpose, now advanced to the poor girl,

bearing a short but elegantly mounted dagger, which he begged her to

deliver as a token of his friendship to the young chief her brother. He

then dropped on one knee at her feet, and raising her hand, pressed it

fervently against his heart; an action which, even to the untutored

mind of the Indian, bore evidence only of the feeling that prompted it,

A heavy sigh escaped her labouring chest; and as the officer now rose

and quitted her hand, she turned slowly and with dignity from him, and

crossing the drawbridge, was in a few minutes lost in the surrounding

gloom.

Our readers have, doubtless, anticipated the communication made to

Major Blackwater by the Adjutant Lawson. Bowed down to the dust by the

accomplishment of the curse of Ellen Halloway, the inflexibility of

Colonel de Haldimar's pride was not proof against the utter

annihilation wrought to his hopes as a father by the unrelenting hatred

of the enemy his early falsehood and treachery had raised up to him.

When the adjutant entered his apartment, the stony coldness of his

cheek attested he had been dead some hours.

We pass over the few days of bitter trial that succeeded to the

restoration of Captain de Haldimar and his bride to their friends;

days, during which were consigned to the same grave the bodies of the

governor, his lamented children, and the scarcely less regretted Sir

Everard Valletort. The funeral service was attempted by Captain

Blessington; but the strong affection of that excellent officer, for

three of the defunct parties at least, was not armed against the trial.

He had undertaken a task far beyond his strength; and scarcely had

commenced, ere he was compelled to relinquish the performance of the

ritual to the adjutant. A large grave had been dug close under the

rampart, and near the fatal flag-staff, to receive the bodies of their

deceased friends; and, as they were lowered successively into their

last earthly resting place, tears fell unrestrainedly over the bronzed

cheeks of the oldest soldiers, while many a female sob blended with and

gave touching solemnity to the scene.

On the morning of the third day from this quadruple interment, notice

was given by one of the sentinels that an Indian was approaching the

fort, making signs as if in demand for a parley. The officers, headed

by Major Blackwater, now become the commandant of the place,

immediately ascended the rampart, when the stranger was at once

recognised by Captain de Haldimar for the young Ottawa, the preserver

of his life, and the avenger of the deaths of those they mourned, in

whose girdle was thrust, in seeming pride, the richly mounted dagger

that officer had caused to be conveyed to him through his no less

generous sister. A long conference ensued, in the language of the

Ottawas, between the parties just named, the purport of which was of

high moment to the garrison, now nearly reduced to the last extremity.

The young chief had come to apprise them, that, won by the noble

conduct of the English, on a late occasion, when his warriors were

wholly in their power, Ponteac had expressed a generous determination

to conclude a peace with the garrison, and henceforth to consider them

as his friends. This he had publicly declared in a large council of the

chiefs, held the preceding night; and the motive of the Ottawa's coming

was, to assure the English, that, on this occasion, their great leader

was perfectly sincere in a resolution, at which he had the more readily

arrived, now that his terrible coadjutor and vindictive adviser was no

more. He prepared them for the coming of Ponteac and the principal

chiefs of the league to demand a council on the morrow; and, with this

final communication, again withdrew.

The Ottawa was right Within a week from that period the English were to

be seen once more issuing from their fort; and, although many months

elapsed before the wounds of their suffering hearts were healed, still

were they grateful to Providence for their final preservation from a

doom that had fallen, without exception, on every fortress on the line

of frontier in which they lay.

Time rolled on; and, in the course of years, Oucanasta might be seen

associating with and bearing curious presents, the fruits of Indian

ingenuity, to the daughters of De Haldimar, now become the colonel of

the ---- regiment; while her brother, the chief, instructed his sons in

the athletic and active exercises peculiar to his race. As for poor

Ellen Halloway, search had been made for her, but she never was heard

of afterwards.

THE END

Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy (Complete) · 第 14 / 14 章