The following day was the Sabbath, though it brought the Germans on the
Mohawk and on the creek no Sabbath rest; but only labor, fatigue,
alarm, distraction. From early morning it swarmed in all the
settlements as in a bee-hive. Wives prepared and packed. Holes were dug
in carefully selected and well-concealed places, in which such valuable
things as could not well be taken along were hidden. The men got their
arms in readiness, or brought the cattle from the pastures and from the
woods and shut them up in the yards so that they could at any moment
drive them to the fort, or to Herkimer's house, as orders had been
given yesterday afternoon. Boats went busily here and there. From time
to time a rider hastened to one of the rendezvous appointed for the
three flying corps. A feeling of security and pride took possession of
all when such a squadron, consisting of twenty-four well mounted and
armed young men, under the lead of Charles Herkimer, Richard's oldest
brother, trotted up the river toward Black River to reconnoiter. By
noon the two new ferries were also ready. All felt assured of the
usefulness of these arrangements, now that it had come to the point of
actual flight, though yesterday they had met with earnest opposition.
However, more than one could hardly believe in such a possibility, for
the sun in the blue sky shone down so golden, the birds sang so
blithely in the trees, and over the fields from the little church on
the hill came the clear sound of the small bell. But, indeed, on the
twelfth of November of the year before, the sun also rose clear, and
when it had gone down its last rays had fallen on the ruins of more
than one burned house, and more than one was lying in the fields who
would never again see it rise. The remembrance of that dreadful day was
yet too fresh to allow the thoughtless to shut out the seriousness of
the situation; and the bitter thought that they would have to answer
for leaving house and home unprotected from the ruthless enemy,
reminded them of Herkimer's words the day before, that everything,
except life itself, can again be arranged, and can be more or less
easily made to accommodate itself to the inevitable.
Also in the otherwise so quiet house on the creek there was to-day a
restless urgency. Jacob Ehrlich and Anthony Bierman had come from the
Mohawk, accoutered with their rifles and a large sack of ammunition,
which Herkimer had given them, and which the stout young men had
carried by turns the whole distance up the creek. Now the powder, to
which each added his own store, was equally divided, and the caliber of
the rifles was measured, whence it appeared that two different sizes of
bullets must be cast. With this Lambert intrusted Adam Bellinger,
after, under four eyes, not without a certain solemnity, he had said
that it was his earnest desire to stay and take part in every danger
with him and the rest. He knew about the French, but would rather hear
the whistling of their bullets and the Indian's war-whoop than the
laughter of the women at home should he now return without having
accomplished anything. Lambert pitied the poor fellow, and the more
since Catherine took kindly to her foolish admirer and laughed in a
friendly way at his peculiarities.
In the council of war held by the young men it was decided that they
must leave the door-yard, which for good reasons had been made to
extend a considerable distance from the house, as it was, and that
their defense must be confined to the house itself. The proposition of
Richard to conduct the water of the creek into the dry ditch which
encircled the foot of the hill outside of the stone inclosure was
discarded as evidently requiring too much time. Instead of this it was
decided to deepen the partly filled ditch as much as they could, and in
many places where the wall was broken down to repair and raise it and
entirely to block up the passage-way through it opposite the house-door
with stones and plank, and meanwhile use a bridge over the wall and
dug-way that could be easily removed. There was found little to do to
the house itself, though they looked carefully after the strong
shutters with which the port-holes of the ground-floor, like those of a
war-ship, could be closed from within, and so also at those covering
the round holes in the gallery, through which they could fire at an
enemy from above, should he be able to reach the house and come beneath
the gallery. In the roof were cut several trap-doors, so that here also
those approaching could be greeted with two very long-range rifles.
While the men were thus engaged, Catherine and Aunt Ursul, who had
again come early in the morning, did not remain unemployed. Fortunately
water did not first have to be brought. The spring carried into the
house by the intelligent and indescribable labor of Lambert's father,
furnished plentifully all that was needed. But for the moment the
supply of provisions seemed to be inadequate. During Lambert's absence
Conrad had lived from hand to mouth, according to his hunter's custom,
and Catherine had manifestly had no time to supply what was lacking. So
Adam had repeatedly to go empty to the Ditmar house, which happily was
not far, and come back loaded with loaves of bread, hams and other
good things--every time received with a loud hallo by his merry
companions--until Aunt Ursul declared that there was enough to last
eight days. For still better provision a couple of wethers of Lambert's
small flock were driven into the inclosure where also Hans was pastured
on the short grass, and often shook his thick head and looked at
Lambert with his intelligent eyes, as though he wished to know what the
unusual rush to-day might mean, and whether he must walk about saddled
all day. But it might be that at any moment a message had to be sent,
and Hans had to be ready.
So they labored busily in the work of fortifying, and were toward noon
engaged in erecting the fire-signal, when a rider on a gray horse
became visible, as he was coming up the valley on a trot.
"Herkimer! Herkimer!" called out Fritz Volz, who first saw him.
"Yes, it is father," said Richard in confirmation.
A few minutes later the distinguished man stopped before the door, and
was respectfully greeted by Lambert and the other young men.
"I have no time to stop," said Herkimer, "and only wanted to see how
far you have got. Now this looks well. Could you fill the ditch with
water it would indeed be better; but this would be a long and wearisome
labor, and you will have to dispense with it. How are you off for
ammunition? Do you think you have enough, Lambert?"
Herkimer had now dismounted, and he asked Lambert and Aunt Ursul, who
had meanwhile come out of the house, to give him detailed account of
the condition of things, by means of which he knew how to bring it
about that they should get some distance from the others.
He then said, "I would like to speak to you alone. I feel sure of you,
and of Richard, but I am not so certain of the others, whom I do not
know so well. You will here, so far as one can now judge, have a
difficult position. I this morning received intelligence that the
French have at least three hundred men, and that besides this the
Onondagas and the Oneidas will join them. The bargain is indeed not yet
concluded, but will doubtless be made if our last means fail--I mean if
Conrad is not in a position to bring his old friends into a different
state of mind. I have from the governor the long-expected authority to
yield to them everything possible, and can intrust Conrad with it. He
or nobody is in a situation to turn away from us this great misfortune.
Where is he? I have not yet seen him."
"Hurry over there, Lambert. Those sparrow-heads will not finish without
you," said Aunt Ursul.
"The poor boy!" she proceeded, as Lambert went away with red cheeks and
a thankful look at Aunt Ursul, "the poor, dear boy! his heart is being
eaten out; and that so that now the whole world must become acquainted
with his brother's shame, which is really his own shame. Nay, you are
indeed not sponsor for the whole world, Herkimer, but in this case you
must be satisfied with me."
She then briefly told Herkimer all that it was necessary for him to
know.
The excellent man listened with an earnest, thoughtful mien, and there
lay a deep pain in the tone of his voice as now, shaking his gray head,
he said:
"So we Germans will not unitedly resist our natural enemy. That Conrad
should now fail us is a sad misfortune. His quarrel with Lambert at
this moment means, not one friend less, but several hundred enemies
more. Yes, why do I say hundred? The example of the Oneidas may
become the measure of all the nations along the lakes, and then our
well-being--our peace--is past for a long time, perhaps forever!"
Nicolas Herkimer sighed, and struck his forehead with his hand.
"Now," said he, "what one cannot hinder one must let happen, and, in
any case, poor Catherine cannot help it. Let us go in a few moments,
aunt, I would like to form the acquaintance of the maiden who so turns
the heads of our young men."
Catherine, who was busily engaged at the hearth in her preparations for
dinner, had paid no attention to what was going on outside. She had
just stepped to the door to look for Aunt Ursul, and suddenly saw a
strange and very stately man opposite to her, in whom she at once
recognized Nicolas Herkimer. A deep blush flew over her cheeks; then,
however, she approached without being confused, and put her hand in
Herkimer's offered right hand.
"Poor child!" said he, holding her thin fingers for a moment, "the life
that awaits you here is very rough. May the strength you need not be
wanting to you."
"Ah, what, sponsor," said Aunt Ursul; "do not make the maiden shy. You
think because she has hands like a princess--but it depends not on the
hands, but on the heart, sponsor--and that I assure you is in the right
place. So much I can tell you."
"Should you not say it, those eyes would do so," said Herkimer
smiling--"at least to me, who am old enough to look into them without
being punished for it. Now, my dear girl, you need not blush. You see
my hair is getting gray, so a joke may be allowed. Live happy, Aunt
Ursul. Live happy, kind maiden; and may heaven grant that we may
joyfully meet again."
He said the last words also to the young men, who had finished their
work and had come up. Then he pressed the hand of each one in turn,
holding that of his son Richard perhaps a moment longer, swung himself
on the gray, and rode off on a sharp trot without looking back.
"That is an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile," said Aunt
Ursul. "And now, children, let us go to the table. I have an appetite
like a wild wolf."
Notwithstanding this information, at the dinner to which they now sat
down Aunt Ursul ate almost nothing, and also, contrary to her custom,
was very still. Toward the last she took no part whatever in the
conversation, and first woke from her absent-mindedness when Anthony
Bierman, who had the watch, announced the minister.
"Who?" called Aunt Ursul, as she quickly rose from her chair; "the
minister? He comes at the right time for me. God has sent him. Keep
your seats; do you hear?"
Aunt Ursul hastily left the house and went to meet the minister, who,
with rapid strides, was approaching, having his hat, wig and snuff-box
in one hand, and in the other a colored pocket handkerchief with which
he was wiping his bald head.
"I know it already," he called out, as soon as he caught sight of Aunt
Ursul. "Herkimer, who met me between your house and Volz', has told me
everything."
"So much the better," replied Aunt Ursul, "and now, dominie, don't talk
as loud as if you were standing in the pulpit. The young folks are
within, and must not hear what we are doing here. Come close."
She led the minister away from the house to the wall of the door-yard,
where nobody could hear except Hans, who now raised his thick head and
with a bit of grass in his mouth observantly looked at the two with his
black eyes from under his bushy foretop.
"What business have you to listen? Go your way," said Aunt Ursul to the
horse.
"But, Aunt Ursul, what in all the world is it all about?" asked the
minister.
"You shall soon hear," replied Aunt Ursul, whose glances wandered from
the edge of the woods to the sky, and from there again toward the
woods, and at last, with a peculiar expression of face, rested on the
minister.
"You are not married, dominie, and for what you do, or leave undone,
you are accountable to nobody."
"What do you mean by that?" asked the minister.
"My old man is seventy-one, and I do not believe that he will last much
longer," remarked Ursul thoughtfully.
The minister held the pinch of snuff, that he had meant to apply to his
nose, between his fingers, and looked attentively at Aunt Ursul.
"Should he live longer, he has had me thirty years; and sometime
everything must come to an end; so we are very properly called and
chosen thereto."
The minister dropped the pinch of snuff. "For God's sake, Aunt Ursul,
what are you driving at?"
"I took you to be more courageous," said Aunt Ursul.
"And I you to be more rational," said the minister.
"About such things one must ask his own heart," said Aunt Ursul.
"And the heart is a timorous, perverse thing," replied the minister.
"Yes, very timid," said Aunt Ursul, scornfully.
"Yes; truly perverse," said the minister guardedly.
"Now, without further parley, will you be my man, or not?" said Aunt
Ursul who had lost patience.
"God forbid!" said the minister, who could no longer control his
repugnance.
"Indeed, you look like a man," said Aunt Ursul contemptuously, turning
on her heel.
"Are you then entirely God-forsaken, unhappy woman?" said the minister,
laying his fleshy hand on Aunt Ursul's shoulder.
"Not I, but you, hare-hearted man," said Aunt Ursul, shaking off his
hand and turning vigorously away. "You who always preach about
sacrifice and love, and have neither the one nor the other; and shear
the cuckoo for the lost lamb, if you can only sit quietly by your
flesh-pots. Now then stay, in the devil's name--God forgive me the
sin--I shall be able alone to find the road to my poor, misguided boy,
and God will give me the right words to touch his heart."
Again Aunt Ursul turned away. The minister slapped his forehead, and
with a few rapid steps overtook her as she was hastening from him.
"Aunt Ursul!"
"What do you want?"
"Naturally I will go with you."
"For once."
"For once and every time. By the thousand, woman! why did you not tell
me at once that it was something about Conrad?"
"About whom else should it be?"
"About many things. Forget what I have said. I give you my word as a
man and as a servant of God that it was a misunderstanding--of which I
am ashamed--and for which I ask your pardon. When shall we start?"
Aunt Ursul shook her head. She could not conceive what her old friend
had before thought, but she felt that he was now fully resolved, and
minutes were precious.
"At once naturally," she replied to his last question.
"I am ready."
"So! Come in and say a friendly word to the girl, and let nothing be
noticed. Lambert must not know what we have in hand. Nobody must know.
If we succeed in bringing him back it is well; if not, let his shame be
buried with us. In either case they must not feel concerned about us.
It is possible, dominie, that we shall never return. You comprehend
that clearly?"
"God's will be done," said the minister.