A DAY OF SUSPENSE
While Mark stood on guard, able to see the entire broad expanse of
water, thanks to the light of the moon, he knew that so long as a
careful watch was kept the Abenakis could not leave the harbor
island secretly; but he also realized that if the clouds should
gather, or a fog settle down over the waters, then, of a verity,
would they be at the mercy of a foe from whom no mercy could be
expected.
The fact that they had been able to resist the first assault did not
give him encouragement for the future. The Indians had advanced
foolishly, understanding that the white people knew full well what
they were about, and after this first repulse it was reasonable to
suppose the murderous scoundrels would bring all their cunning into
play when the next attack was made.
There were six muskets in the stockade, and ammunition sufficient to
last during an ordinary siege, provided none was wasted, yet but
three persons--Susan, Luke, and himself--could be depended upon to
man the walls. The others would have served faithfully, of that
there was no question; but none of them were so expert with a musket
as to be counted on for any great execution.
Although the lad would not have admitted as much to either of his
companions, the fear in his heart that the enemy might succeed in
accomplishing his purpose was very great.
"We can count on it that at the next attack they will succeed in
getting inside the palisade," he said, unconsciously giving words to
his thoughts, and he started almost in alarm as a familiar voice
behind him asked, reproachfully:
"If you lose heart, how can the rest of us be expected to show
courage?"
"What are you doing out here, Sue?" he asked, in turn, not minded to
answer her question, if it could be avoided.
"I've come to take Luke's place. He is sleeping so soundly that it
is a pity to awaken him, and the pain in my arm keeps my eyes open
very wide."
"But I haven't been here two hours yet."
"Nearly half that time has passed since you came on duty, and there
is no reason why you should remain awake when it's impossible for me
to sleep. I can keep a sharp watch."
"So you can, Sue; but it is my place to take the biggest end, and I
don't fancy the idea of letting a woman do my work."
"If I could go to sleep it would be different; but since I can't, I
shall stay here, therefore you might as well take advantage of the
opportunity."
Mark made no move toward leaving the platform, from which he could
have a full view of the harbor, and, seeing that he was not disposed
to act upon her suggestion, Susan clambered up beside him.
"Now tell me what you meant by saying that the next time they come
the Indians will get inside the fence?"
"There's no sense in talking about that. I didn't count on speaking
aloud."
"You did, however, and now it will be treating me no more than
fairly if you tell me exactly what is in your mind."
Mark had no desire to discuss the situation just then, when it
looked very dark to him, and, in order to avoid answering the
question, he proposed to take advantage of Susan's proposition.
"Since you are determined to stay here, I may as well get what sleep
I can. Call Luke when you are tired," He said, and before she could
detain him he had slipped down from the improvised platform, walking
rapidly toward the dwelling.
The girl could do guard duty as well as either of her cousins, and
was eager to perform a full share of the labor devolving upon those
who were striving to hold the savages in check. Perhaps she
magnified the pain of her wound in order to be allowed to take
Mark's place, and, if such was the case, the defence would be in no
wise weakened through her.
Until the first faint light of a new day could be seen did Susan
Harding stand on the narrow platform, watching eagerly for any signs
of life from the harbor island, and unable to change her position,
save by taking two or three paces to the right or left. Even then
she would have remained on duty longer, but that Mark came hurriedly
out of the house crying, angrily:
"It was not fair for you to stay on watch all night, Sue! You the
same as promised to call Luke when you were tired."
"I didn't really agree, and I'm not tired yet. There's no need of
your coming up here, for now that it is daylight, Ellen can be
trusted to keep a lookout over the island."
"When she has eaten her breakfast I will let her take my place,"
Mark replied, as he literally forced the girl to descend, and a few
moments later all the occupants of the stockade were astir.
The cows were milked, but kept within the enclosure, the young boys
feeding and watering them. The hens were allowed to stray here or
there at will, and, save for the sentinels on the palisade, one
might have thought that the scene presented there represented
perfect peace and happiness.
When the morning meal had been prepared, Ellen Harding took Mark's
station on the stockade, being enjoined by him to keep her eyes
fixed constantly on the harbor island, without heeding what might be
happening around her, as the little company gathered in the
Pemberton house, where thanks were given for their preservation
during the night.
While breakfast was in progress no reference was made to the danger
which menaced; it seemed as if the women feared to alarm the younger
children, and the three to whom the defence of the island had been
committed were not desirous of starting a conversation which might
lead up to the possibilities of the future.
Susan was forced to submit to a second treatment of her wound, as
soon as the meal had had come to an end, and Mistress Harding
peremptorily insisted on her going to bed, since she had not closed
her eyes in slumber during the night just passed.
Mistress Pemberton set about melting lead for bullets, the store of
missiles being smaller than that of powder, and Mark and Luke went
out to make a more thorough examination of the palisade.
"It isn't very likely that the Abenakis will make any move during
this day," the elder lad said, "and while Ellen is standing watch it
would be wicked to lose any chance of making our position yet more
secure."
Luke was ready to act upon his brother's suggestion, but appeared to
have no desire for conversation, and Mark did not urge him to talk,
for the same reason that had caused him to hold his peace during the
breakfast hour.
There was much that had been overlooked during the hurry and
excitement of the previous day, which could be done to strengthen
the palisade, as, for example, driving stakes at the foot of such
posts as were not standing firmly, and securing the tops of others
with braces on the inside.
In order to do a portion of this work, it was necessary the lads
should go into the thicket for material; but while Ellen remained on
watch to give the alarm, in case she saw any signs of life on the
harbor island, they did not hesitate to leave the stockade.
It was while they were chopping down small trees in the rear of the
dwellings, that the flock of fourteen sheep came in sight, and these
Mark decided to drive into the enclosure.
It would be a serious blow to the settlers if these wool-growers
should be killed by the enemy, for it might be a difficult task to
replace them, and without the fleeces each summer the children would
be destitute of materials for clothing.
By catching the leader of the flock, and dragging him along by the
horns, the lads had little trouble in getting the animals within the
stockade, and Mark announced his success by saying, in a tone of
mild triumph:
"The family is all behind one fence now, and unless the Abenakis get
inside, they can't do us a great deal of harm."
"But the sheep will pull heavily on our store of hay," Luke
suggested, and his brother replied, cheerily:
"They can pick up a good bit around the place, and it won't do any
very great harm to let them go hungry now and then. It's better than
taking good chances of losing the whole drove."
There was no further discussion as to the advisability of bringing
the sheep into the stockade, for at that moment a cry from Ellen
caused both the boys to run, with all speed, to her side.
"Look! Look! A vessel! It must be that fishermen are coming here,
and now the Indians will be driven away!"
[Illustration: "Look! Look! A vessel!"]
To their great surprise and delight, the boys saw a small schooner,
coming as if from the mainland on the northward, heading directly
for the harbor island.
"We're saved, God be thanked!" Mark cried, in a tone so loud as to
be heard by the inmates of the house, all of whom came swiftly
toward him to learn the cause of the fervent exclamation.
"What is it, my son?" Mistress Pemberton asked, sharply, and Luke
shouted, as he pointed seaward:
"A fishing-vessel, mother, and those on board must soon know that
the Indians are besieging us!"
"But she appears to be going directly to the harbor island! The crew
should be warned, lest the Abenakis make an attack upon them!"
This possibility had not entered Mark's mind; but while his mother
was yet speaking he darted out of the stockade, running with all
speed to the shore, waving his arms and shouting, to attract the
attention of the newcomers.
He was followed by the two families, including Susan, who had been
awakened by the joyful cries, and the little party ran swiftly along
the beach until they were come to the nearest point of the island,
which was the small bluff, or incline, on the westernmost end.
Here it was possible to have in view the schooner's deck, and that
their signals had been seen seemed positive, although no attention
was taken of them.
"Had you not better pull out in the small boat?" Mistress Pemberton
asked of Mark, when the strangers failed to pay any heed to the
gestures of warning. "It would be dreadful if the men went on shore
and were murdered!"
There seemed to be no reason why the lads should not visit the
vessel, and, in fact, such an idea had entered Mark's mind before
his mother spoke, but yet he hesitated to act upon her suggestion,
although it would have been impossible for him to explain why he
remained idle.
"The schooner carries a big crew for a fisherman," Susan said,
thoughtfully. "There must be as many as twenty-five or thirty on her
deck."
"She's no fisherman!" Mark cried, becoming perplexed as he observed
the truth of what Susan had said. "So many people never could work
on a craft of that size."
"But what else can she be?" Luke asked, curiously, "I don't know as
it makes much difference to us, though, so long as she carries a
crew of white people. Why don't we pull out to her, Mark? Look,
she's coming to anchor, and if her crew lands without knowing of the
Abenakis, they will all be killed!"
"There are the Indians!" Susan cried, as three canoes, filled with
savages, were seen putting out from the shore.
"They are going to make an attack on the vessel, and we can do
nothing to help the poor people!" Mistress Pemberton cried, in an
agony of grief, while an expression of terror overspread Mark's face
as he began to have an inkling of the true situation.
"Can't you boys do something to aid the men?" Mistress Harding
asked, and Mark replied:
"It isn't likely they're needing any help. Those on the vessel
outnumber the Abenakis three to one, and I'm afraid they won't have
any trouble in taking care of themselves."
No one save Susan gave any particular heed to Mark's words, but
watched with feverish interest as the canoes approached the vessel,
and then, when the Indians clambered aboard without any attempt
being made to prevent them, the expression of the face of the
spectators changed from that of sympathy to perplexity.
"The Abenakis seem to know the fishermen," Mistress Pemberton said
to herself, and Mark replied, bitterly:
"Ay, mother, that they do, and now, instead of being called upon to
defend ourselves against Indians only, we shall have that crowd of
Frenchmen against us!"
"God forbid that white people could attack women and children!"
Mistress Harding cried fervently, and Mark added:
"He hasn't forbidden it so far, aunt. Don't you remember what father
and uncle heard from those aboard of the last vessel they spoke
with? They were told that when Master Peabody and his wife were
murdered, there were ten French soldiers with the Indians."
"Can it be that they have come to aid the savages against us?" and
Mistress Harding's face grew pale.
"Ay, that is the way the French king fights us in this country, and
if we are murdered it will be because his agents have decided upon
it in revenge for that which was done here so many years ago to the
missionaries!"
And now while the little party of besieged stands on the shore
facing this new and unexpected peril, suppose we set down that
which Mr. Williamson wrote in his "History of Maine."
"A communication was received at Boston in August, 1758, from
Brigadier-General Monkton, stationed in Nova Scotia, which stated
that a body of Frenchmen, in conjunction with the Indians of the
rivers St. John, Penobscot, and probably Passamaquoddy, were
meditating an attempt upon the fort at St. Georges, and the
destruction of all the settlements on the coast."
"Immediately Governor Pownal collected such a military force as was
at command, and embarked with them on board the King George, and the
sloop Massachusetts. Arriving, he threw these auxiliaries with some
warlike stores into the fort at a most fortunate juncture; for
within thirty-six hours after the departure the fort was actually
assailed by a body of four hundred French and Indians."
"But so well prepared was the garrison to receive them, that they
were unable to make the least impression. Nor did any
representations of their numbers, nor any threats, communicated to
the fort by a captive woman, whom they purposely permitted to escape
hither, occasion the least alarm. Hence, the besiegers gave vent to
their resentiments and rage by killing the neighboring cattle, about
sixty of which they shot or butchered."
It was well for the little families who were so sorely beset that
they remained in ignorance of what the French assisted by the
Indians of several tribes, were trying to do, otherwise their
despair would have been even greater than it was as they watched
the reception of the Abenakis by those on board the schooner.
It will never be known whether this attack on Mount Desert was made
in revenge for what had been done by Argall to the French
missionaries; but certain it was that all the settlements on the
coast, large or small, had been marked for destruction under the
guise of legitimate warfare.
During five minutes or more, while the besieged watched the
movements on the deck of the schooner until there was no longer any
question but that the number of their enemies had been largely
increased, not a word was spoken, and then Mistress Harding broke
the painful stillness by exclaiming:
"There is nothing left us to do but submit! With French soldiers at
hand, it is not probable the savages will be allowed to murder their
prisoners, and to surrender the island is better than being killed!"
"The French have never done anything toward preventing the Indians
from working their will on the helpless captives. Do you remember
the story father tells of Falmouth, when these same Frenchmen
pledged their words of honor that no blood should be spilled, and
yet many of those who surrendered were murdered in cold blood?"
"But what other can we do save give ourselves up?" Mistress Harding
cried, helplessly, and Susan stepped proudly by the side of Mark, as
he replied, stoutly:
"We can fight to the last, and die with muskets in our hands,
instead of going willingly to meet the scalping-knife or the
tomahawk. It may be that those on the mainland will learn what is
being done here, and come to our relief."
"Do not put faith in such a possibility, my son. It is better to
face the worst than build on hopes which must be dashed," and
Mistress Pemberton laid her hand on Mark's shoulder as if in pride
because of the courage he displayed. "We will do battle against
these people, white and red, and when our best has been done, the
end will be no worse than if we submitted tamely."
"That's the way to put it!" Mark cried, kissing his mother's hand.
"We had planned to defend ourselves against the savages, and now let
us see what shall be done since they have had such a large
reinforcement. Certain it is that we must not stand here, for they
may have muskets aboard the schooner which will carry a ball farther
than ours."
Mistress Pemberton led the way back to the stockade, and there, in
the open air near the gateway where a close watch might be kept over
both the island and the vessel, she commended the little party to
the care of Him who watches over even the sparrow's fall.
It was to the distressed company as if the entire situation had been
suddenly changed; as if their means of defence were totally
inadequate, leaving them to the mercy of the French and Indians, who
were making the attack simply because the King of England and the
King of France had sundry differences of opinion, which might be
settled by spilling the blood of innocent people.
Susan, who had been the most courageous, seemed to have grown
timorous when she asked, while she and Mark were where the words
could not be overheard:
"What shall we do? Is there any hope we can hold back such a force
as is being arrayed against us?"
"It doesn't seem possible, Sue, and yet we must fight to the last,
rather than give over our mothers and you girls to what we know will
follow if we show the white feather."
"I am not afraid of your ever doing anything of that kind, Mark,"
and the girl laid her hand on his shoulder with a loving gesture.
"You will always be brave and true; but what I am asking is whether
we may do anything which, as yet, has not been tried."
"I exhausted all my ideas in arranging for a defence against the
Abenakis, and now we must stand up like images, fighting until we
are destroyed. Anything is better than tame surrender, when we know
by the terrible experiences of others what will follow."
"In that I am of your mind, Mark, dear; but I am asking if there
isn't something else, which, as yet, we have neglected, that can be
done. Our mothers depend on you, as do I, which is only natural,
since you are the eldest, and should of right take your father's
place."
"It is just that, Sue dear, which causes me to be afraid of my own
ideas. If I make a mistake, it may be fatal to you all, for you will
follow my advice."
"That is true, Mark, and yet you should not be timid because of it,
for you are best fitted to act the part of leader, and we know full
well you will only do that which seems safest."
"Are you agreed that we cannot surrender?" and Mark asked the
question in an angry tone, as if expecting she would refuse to view
the situation in the same light he did.
"Of course I am. Could I say otherwise after all the stories we have
heard from the mainland?"
"Then we must fight?"
"Of course, and to the last. I would rather see mother and the
children killed by musket-balls, than to have them fall unharmed
into the hands of those who await us there," and she motioned toward
the harbor island. "How long can we hold the stockade against such a
force?"
"Four and twenty hours, it may be, and a much shorter time if you,
or Luke, or I should be killed early in the fight."
"And we will hope that our fathers do not come back until all is
over."
"Ay, Sue dear, that is what we must hope, unless we would have them
come in time to meet their death. Two more men on the stockade would
not greatly prolong the struggle, and I fail to see how they,
without other aid, could help us very much."
"If it should be, Mark dear, that I am wounded again, will you see
to it that the Indians do not take me prisoner?"
"Ay, Sue, though the moment will be a terrible one when I turn my
musket against you; but it shall be done."
"And if you are left until the last you will see that the children
are not taken alive?"
"If I am left, Sue dear, it shall be as the last of our families on
the island, for I believe death is more pleasant than can be life in
the hands of such as those who are counting soon to hold us in their
power."
Then the two children kissed each other as if in a last farewell,
and Mark, trying to assume a careless air, said, with a feeble
attempt at a smile:
"Since you were the last to awaken, it is no more than fair you
should be among the first on duty. You, Luke, and I will stand guard
alone until the attack is made, as we can count it will be this
night, and then our mothers must charge the muskets. Remember, Sue
dear, that I haven't yet despaired of holding the whole wicked crew
in check. It doesn't seem possible that God would withhold His hand
while we are being beaten."
"And yet it has been that many people in this country, whose cause
was as just as ours, have been overcome by the same merciless foe
who await us."
"Ay, Sue, and since we can only take what comes as stoutly as decent
English people should, we'll seem to be brave, however timorous our
hearts may become when the last moment is at hand."
Then these two children, striving to fill the places of their
parents, began that vigil which both believed would be ended with
their death.
Mark made the announcement to his mother and aunt, after the gate
had been shut and closely barred, that they and the children should
remain in the dwelling until the moment came when they could be of
assistance in loading the weapons, and in the meanwhile the task of
guarding the stockade would devolve upon his brother, cousin, and
himself.
"We are not so much worse off than before, except that many more
will come against us," he said, as the women and children went
toward the Pemberton house. "We shall fight until the last, and, if
God is kind, it may be we can hold the villains in check four and
twenty hours, if no more. Get what rest you can, and remember that
tears are of no avail when bullets are needed."