THE SETTLEMENT.
He who awaits the coming morning in a warm, soft bed, in a well-built
house, cares little whether it rains and storms without, or whether the
sun darts his first rays in a clear blue sky. Perhaps he wraps himself
only the more comfortably in his covering, and turns once more for a
short morning nap, when the rain beats cold and loud against the
window-panes, and the wind whistles madly in chimneys and key-holes,
shakes down the soot in the rocking fire-places, turns the rusty old
weathercocks, scraping and creaking, backwards and forwards, and howls
up and down the streets in wild unfettered play.
But, on the other hand, how anxiously does the invalid on his sick bed,
or the poor wanderer, who has had to pitch his roofless, unprotected
encampment under the trees of the forest, amidst storm and tempest, look
forward to the lingering, lingering dawn of morning! how many times does
he turn his eyes on near objects, and gaze searchingly round, to see if
he cannot discover a somewhat lighter reflection, a more distinct
perception of the surrounding place, which may announce the breaking
morning, and promise him at least light, with which he may hope for some
alleviation of his torment, or some amendment of his unbearable
position!
How ardently, how eagerly, was this morning longed for by the settlers,
who, scarcely conscious where they were, many of them just awakened from
a deep sleep, had been turned out, in storm, and rain, and pitchy
darkness, into the wild, rustling forest, with scarcely a roof for
shelter, and who could not even reconnoitre the place where they were,
which, but sparingly lighted by the embers on the hearth at first, was
now shrouded in impenetrable darkness.
Add to this, the consciousness of having a human corpse in the room, and
of the presence of the still, motionless figure of the young man, who,
so long as he sat by the bed-side of his wife, had betrayed no more sign
of life than did the dead body by whose side he watched, and whose hand
he probably was still, as before, holding in his own.
At last, at last, the first faint glimmer of dawn broke through the
cracks of the hut; the grey firmament, so far as the narrow clearing of
the wood allowed it to be seen, showed itself lighter and lighter, and
the wet foliage rustled and shook more loudly and violently to the
morning salute of passing gusts of wind.
Wild, strange, unearthly sounds were heard, at the same time, from
without, so that the women started with fright, and huddled closer
together, in order, united, to meet with more heart the terrors, which
appeared the more awful because they could neither assign to them form
or shape.
With the dawn, too, the mosquitoes became unbearable; they attacked in
swarms the unfortunate strangers, whose sweet blood appeared to be
particularly palatable to them,[9] and no handkerchief wrapped round, no
mantle, no veil, could any longer protect them from their innumerable
and painful stings; for they searched about, and did not rest, until,
somewhere or other on the body they found an unprotected spot, into
which they might bury their insatiable little trunks.
It now became lighter and lighter[10] in the little space, and every
moment they recognised more distinctly the details of their anything but
pleasant environs.
So this was a log-house! Wind and weather found free access on all
sides,[11] and even the roof, to which they could look up unimpeded by
any ceiling, allowed the rain, which beat down in wild, stormy streams,
to come through in large drops. As to household utensils, the dwelling
scarcely contained any; at least, none which they could distinguish in
the dawning light. The bed, covered with the white mosquito curtains,
and supporting the corpse, beside which the young woodsman still sat,
silent and motionless, and some rough seats, on which a portion of the
settlers had placed themselves, were the only furniture of the forest
home.
The settlers had, meanwhile, passed the long melancholy hours in very
various and strange groups and positions. It must doubtless have been
most difficult for the members of Hehrmann's family to bear their
hardships without a complaint, without a murmur; for, accustomed from
childhood to the pleasant conveniences of life, and hitherto withdrawn
from the discomforts to which others had been exposed during the whole
voyage, they had no idea, except from the first few nights in the
steerage, of such a situation or such sufferings. Quietly and
uncomplainingly the tender beings clung to the husband and the father,
who folded them in his arms, and tried to protect them with his cloak
from cold, and wet, and mosquitoes.
The rest of the Committee were equally ill lodged; but the men, by a
sort of instinct, had cowered down in the chimney-corner, packed as
close together as possible, in order to leave no more of their persons
exposed to the attacks of the little blood-thirsty enemies which in
myriads surrounded them than they were able to defend. The brewer, the
shoemaker, the tailor, and Schmidt, as well as a troop of Oldenburghers,
and several other groups, composed of Brunswickers and Alsatians, did
precisely the same, so that afterwards, when the unpleasant part of the
business was past and forgotten, and the settlers remembered the comic
side of that night only, Becher was wont to say that the whole company
was divided into so many heaps of rats.
Suddenly there was heard without, seemingly quite close to the house, a
strange, wild, unearthly noise, rather a howl than a cry--and it sounded
so plaintive and awful, like the cry for help of one that was perishing,
and then again like the mocking laugh of a maniac, that the trembling
girls pressed closer to their father, and many an otherwise brave man,
surprised and startled, looked up and listened, with loud beatings of
the heart, to the constantly wilder sounds.
"I say, brewer!" said the tailor, pushing him in the side, with all his
strength, "what's that?"
"D----n!" swore the latter, who had just dropped off into a doze, and
whom the ungentle application called back again to partial wakefulness
and suffering--for the two, at present, seemed inseparable--"leave me
alone; what should it be!--the watchman!--don't you hear his horn?"[12]
"A fine sort of watchman, that!" said Schmidt. "They don't want a
watchman for these two houses--the people in the streets here are quiet
enough o' nights, I'll be bound!"
"Don't speak so loud!" whispered the shoemaker; "yonder still sits the
American, beside his dead wife. Ugh! but 'tis awful to have a corpse in
the room!"
"Awful!--nonsense!" said the brewer, still half asleep--"not if she lies
still!"
"You be quiet, will you!" whispered, fearfully, the tailor; "if he over
there hears you, he might take it ill."
"How is he to understand German?" replied the other. "But whatever it
may be, it's howling on the other side of the house now. A bear, I dare
say!"
"Oh! don't go frightening a fellow so!" exclaimed the tailor, half
angry, half frightened. "It's bad enough as we are; it only wants that
to make it complete. Oh, geminy! these gnats!"
"There never were such gnats as these before," said Schmidt; "and I
think the whole kit must have come across to us."
"Oh, no! the Oldenburghers, over yonder, seem to have got a few, too,"
grinned the shoemaker, maliciously. "One of 'em keeps hitting himself
_such_ raps on the face--his nose will be black and blue to-morrow!"
"I'm getting hungry," yawningly said the brewer, who now began to wake
up by degrees. "Is it raining still?"
"No; it has ceased raining," said the shoemaker; "but if the little town
here is no better paved than the landing-place, good luck to our shoes!
there will be work! Whoever has not got bull-hide straps to keep 'em on,
will lose them in the mud!"
"Town!" asked the brewer, who had been round the little clearing. "Town!
there's no town here, shoemaker--it must be higher up. I wish I could
get something to eat!--I'm very hungry, that's a fact!"
"The howling has taken away all my appetite," whimpered the tailor;
"blown it completely away, as it were. However, I shouldn't mind a cup
of coffee."
"I should like to know where we are to get coffee from here," said
Schmidt; "and if we had any, we couldn't drink it out of our hats; I see
no cups."
"Well, then, we could unpack some," said the tailor; "but hush! the man
there is moving," he continued, in a low whisper, as the woodsman,
rising from his seat, drew back the mosquito net, which had hitherto
covered the corpse of his wife.
On a poor-looking mattress, stuffed with moss, lay the body of the young
and beautiful American; a plain white calico dress covered her limbs,
and her long flowing chestnut hair clung around the pale sunken features
of her noble face. The eyes were closed, and on the lids there lay two
pieces of silver coin to keep them down. The right hand rested upon the
heart, the left lay beside her; she seemed to have fallen asleep gently,
and without pain; angelic peace was depicted on her pure and beautiful
features.
The young man gazed long and silently upon her, and he watched, as if in
a dream, scarcely conscious that he did so, the individual mosquitoes
which flew in through the now opened net, expecting a new meal. He
noticed how they alighted upon the dear face of his wife, as though they
expected to find blood in the dry veins of the corpse, until he himself
gazed upon the creatures with stifled breath. It came over him that his
Maria--his all in this world--could not be dead, and he expected to see
the little blood-suckers swell as they drew in her warm life-juices; but
scarcely had they bored their slight and pointed stings through the
skin, and appeared to have made the first attempt, before they quickly
and tremblingly, with evident signs of fear and alarm, endeavoured to
free their little trunks, flew quickly away, and in confused haste
sought in vain for the opening by which they had entered.
With a deep sigh the unhappy man let his arm fall, and turned silently
away; it was then that his eyes met those of Pastor Hehrmann, who had
risen in order to offer words of consolation and of courage to the
sufferer. As he was endeavouring to call to mind the little English
which he knew, and was making several pauses in speaking, from lack of
words to express himself; the other made a sign to him with his hand,
and said, in good and pure German, but with averted face--
"I am a German, Sir; I understand your language."
"A German! and alone in this neighbourhood?" asked Hehrmann, surprised;
"have you been long, then, in such melancholy circumstances?"
"You shall hear all that when I have buried my wife.--Will you help me?"
"Such is not only my wish, but my duty also," said the clergyman,
kindly. "But, my dear Sir," he continued, somewhat shyly and almost
timidly, "do you live really quite alone in this spot? and is this house
situate at the mouth of the Big Halchee?"
"Yes," said the woodman; "the nearest house is three miles below; just
such another as this, and only built for the same purpose, cordwood
chopping, for sale to the passing steamers."
"And there is no town hereabouts?"
"No," was the short, half-whispered answer.
"And further up the Big Halchee--are there no settlements there?"
The man no longer seemed to hear him; his eye again hung upon the pale
countenance of his wife, and he resumed his seat beside her, no longer
conscious of what was passing around him.
Pastor Hehrmann did not venture to disturb him again, and the men stared
inactively upon the silent suffering figure without knowing what to do,
afraid, on the one hand, of disturbing the mourning of the house,
anxious, on the other, not to lose time, so valuable to them, in order
to reach, at last, the spot which was to be their new home.
It was one of the women who first plucked up resolution,--the usually so
bashful and retiring Bertha. She advanced to the hearth, blew the almost
extinct embers into a livelier glow,[13] piled upon the flame such logs
of wood as she could find lying round the house, and fetched out some
pots and pans which appeared to have been neglected for many days, in
order, not only to get ready a wholesome warm meal for the settlers
themselves, but for the owner of the house, who, judging from his
appearance, had probably not taken any nourishment for several days
past.
An example only had been wanting, and greater activity now prevailed on
all hands. The women got to work, and some assisted Bertha, while others
carried wood and live embers over to the other house, to light a fire
there also, and to prepare breakfast simultaneously at both places, for
the by no means insignificant number of persons.
Herbold and Becher, who were appointed to the commissariat department,
meanwhile went down to the margin of the river, where their chests and
other stores, for the most part, were still standing, and gave out the
necessary provisions, whilst the elder Siebert, accompanied by his
brother and two of the Oldenburghers, looked about the homestead for
mattocks and spades, in order to dig a grave for the corpse, but nothing
of the kind could be found about the place, and they were compelled to
have recourse to their own tool-chest. But the mattocks were at the very
bottom of the chest, and had no handles. One of the Oldenburghers
fortunately recollected having seen two pickaxes inside the house, and
went back to fetch them, when the eye of the young widower fell upon
them, and he soon guessed for what purpose they were wanted.
He quickly arose, beckoned the people to follow him, and led them about
three hundred yards into the woods, where, in olden times, probably
even before the Indians, a simple mound of earth, about ten or twelve
feet in height, had been raised. There he begged them to begin their
work.
Among the settlers were three carpenters and several cabinet makers, and
they proceeded to work together, to construct a coffin, rough, it is
true, but still adequate to its purpose, using chiefly the planks of a
boat, which they found there ashore and burst. As they were well
provided with tools, in less than an hour the last and narrow house
stood ready for the reception of its tenant.
The young farmer, whose name, as they subsequently learnt, was Wolfgang,
now returned, and the women having prepared breakfast, the rain having
ceased, and a sandy place between the hut and the shore being dry, it
was spread out there upon chests, and ingeniously-contrived stands.
They had to press the mourner repeatedly before they could induce him to
eat a few morsels, and to drink a cup of warm coffee, although, during
three days past, no food had crossed his lips; he then went into the
house to the corpse of his wife, and wrapped it in the sheet whereon she
had been lying, and which was now to be her winding-sheet.
Our four-leaved clover had meanwhile taken little part in the burial
preparations, and, after their meal, were just about to stroll slowly
off to look a little at the neighbourhood. But their little excursion
was destined to be interrupted, for Mr. Becher, who appeared to adapt
himself most readily to circumstances, however new to him, and who
perceived that continued delay in this place would only tend to tire and
to dispirit the emigrants, called together all the able-bodied who had
hitherto been unemployed, to put together the two carts which they had
brought with them, and to load them with the things which were most
indispensable for the present.
Schmidt, as a farmer, and a wheelwright from Brunswick territory,
performed the most effective services at this task, and in a short time
the conveyances were ready for departure. One trifle, certainly, was
still wanting, namely, cattle to draw them, and it was not until all was
finished, and ready to move on, that the good folks thought of this
deficiency.
It is true that neither horses nor other cattle could be seen about the
place, but Mr. Becher did not doubt but that the farmer would find some;
for the wood, piled up in considerable quantities on the beach, proved
clearly enough that more than human strength had been required to get it
all to the margin of the stream. But for the moment there appeared no
prospect of being able to induce the man, who was engaged in paying the
last duties to his wife, to fetch horses or oxen, whichever he might
possess, and all further work had to be suspended until the conclusion
of that melancholy duty.
Becher himself therefore began to examine the soil and surface upon
which they now found themselves, more minutely, and the four allies,
with two Oldenburghers and the wheelwright, now wandered along the
margin of the Mississippi and looked at the surrounding landscape, as
well as at the farm which had received them on their entrance upon their
new mode of life with such melancholy and unpropitious omens.
The tailor went ahead upon the narrow footpath which led along the bank
of the Mississippi; Becher and Schmidt followed; then came the shoemaker
and the brewer, and the Oldenburghers brought up the rear. They had
scarcely marched 200 yards in this order before they came to the banks
of a muddy brook with a rather wide bed, but which now appeared nearly
dried up, and poured its muddy water in a narrow thread only into the
Mississippi. Near its mouth several immense cotton-wood and cypress
trees lay, wildly thrown together, forming a kind of natural bridge,
whilst some broken branches and stems stuck in the mud of the brook in
all directions, and appeared sufficient of themselves to prevent
navigation, even with a light boat.
Nearly all the stems which projected out of the turbid water were
closely covered with small soft-shelled mud-turtles, which, when they
perceived the approaching men on the bank above them, quickly flapped
head foremost into the water again.
"A beautiful neighbourhood," said the tailor, stopping at the extreme
verge of the bank, and pointing to the scene before them--"a very
beautiful neighbourhood; and for this we have travelled, Heaven knows
how many hundred miles, to take a summer lodging here! Well, I must say
Dr. Normann shows remarkable taste; I really admire it."
His companions, thus brought to a halt, also stared round them, though
in silence, and the wild and dreadful desolation and loneliness of the
scene probably excited no very pleasurable feelings in them, for,
avoiding each other's eyes, during several minutes they gazed upon the
wild boundless landscape of swamp and water. Becher, however, looked
shyly, sidelong, at the men who had accompanied him, and suddenly began
to whistle a waltz with all his might.
The tailor turned round, surprised, towards him, and said, "Yes, a nice
time for whistling!"
The wide expanse spread out before them was by no means calculated to
produce an agreeable impression on new comers, particularly upon such as
had not been accustomed to a flat country. On their left the muddy flood
of the mighty Mississippi rolled rapidly and maliciously by, whilst,
from the opposite side of the little brook, beside which they were
standing, a sand-bank stretched out in smooth, monotonous, evenness,
farther and farther still, into the stream, until, in the grey distance,
where the latter took a mighty sweep to the right, it seemed to connect
itself with the opposite shore, and to absorb the enormous mass of
waters. The other side of the Mississippi also presented to the view a
flat landscape of deep forest and swamp, uninterrupted by a single hill.
The vegetation was certainly grand, and these gigantic stems, which
rose, smooth and faultless, to a height which they had never before
contemplated, produced a strange, almost uneasy impression upon the
wanderers; then again the wild vines and creepers which wound themselves
from stem to stem, the wild and desert-looking fallen masses of wood,
often half rotten, the enormous withered trunks, which here and there,
as if stifled by the creeping plants, madly stretched their naked giant
arms towards heaven, as if supplicating help, gave the whole such a
gloomy, forbidding aspect, that the little tailor, after a minute's
pause of astonishment, drew a long breath, as though he would have
removed something from his heart; at last he turned round to his friends
and fellow-travellers behind him, and said--
"Well, I had imagined the thing quite different from this; for if----"
To the boundless astonishment of the rest, the tailor had all at once
disappeared; but before they had time to advance a step, they already
heard, down below, in slime and water, a crying and splashing, which
proceeded from their unfortunate comrade, who now, when at last he got
firm footing, cried out lustily for help; for he could not comprehend
where he was, how he had got there, and whether he had reached the end
of his career, or was destined to proceed further and further downwards.
"Hallo, below there!" cried Becher, who soon ascertained that the tailor
had received no injury, and that there was no further danger--"Hallo,
there! is it a good soil? to what depth is it arable?"
"Help! help!" cried the little one, who was in no humour for
joking--"Help! help! I am drowning! I can't swim! I must drown!"
Close to him, not three yards off, there was a young cypress tree which
had fallen into the brook, and Becher now called to him to reach one of
its branches until they could fetch a rope from the house and draw him
up.
Meier, however, seemed noways inclined to take a step towards his own
safety; fear had almost deprived him of his senses, and he continued to
cry, "Help! help! I'm drowning! I can't swim!"
The houses were not very distant, and several of the women, who had
heard the cries for help, hastened towards them, whilst the shoemaker
ran, as fast as his legs would carry him, back to the landing place, to
bring the necessary ropes from thence. But even then the most pressing
requests and explanations were required to make the little man
understand how he was to wind the rope round his body and fasten it; his
whole presence of mind had forsaken him, and he considered himself lost
beyond salvation.
At last he so far recovered his senses as to be able to tie a knot, and
by their united strength (for the mud in which he stuck was tough) he
was, after long pulling, and amidst the laughter of the women, brought
to light. No sooner, however, did he feel himself on terra-firma again,
than he doubled himself up, and swore hard and fast that a tremendous
great snake had bitten him in the foot, and that he should die a
lingering, miserable death.
They had a good deal of trouble to convince him of the contrary, but
ultimately he felt that he was safe and sound, and turned back with the
others to the laden carts, thenceforward, however, he could not be
prevailed upon to come within fifty yards of the steep banks of either
river or brook.
The sun was tolerably high in the heavens before the remainder of the
settlers returned from the burial of the young American woman; about the
same time the wood cart belonging to Wolfgang arrived, drawn by two
powerful oxen, beside which walked a negro boy about twelve years old,
with a very long whip, who drove forward the cattle, which were in a
wooden yoke, as well by blows as by words. He stared with surprise on
finding so numerous and unexpected a company assembled in so quiet a
spot as that generally was.
The burial of his wife appeared to have restored all his former energy
and power to the young German, and he was even ready to assist the
strangers with council and deed, when Pastor Hehrmann had hastily made
him acquainted with their immediate plan of settling not far from him,
as well as with their wish to reach their destination as soon as
possible. First of all he directed the negro boy to blow a horn,[14]
which was in the house, to call in the other labourer, who was still at
work in the woods, and then to put the oxen to the settlers' laden cart.
But here a new difficulty presented itself; this was the only yoke of
working oxen which the German possessed, and he informed them that their
road lay through a swamp, which would be so muddy and bad to get
through, after the recent rains, that but a very light load could be
taken.
"But would it not be possible to forward the cargo much more easily and
quickly to its destination by the Big Halchee?" said Pastor Hehrmann; "a
couple of stout rowers----"
"Would be easily able to execute the task," interrupted Wolfgang, "if
they had water enough for navigation; the Big Halchee is not navigable
at present."
"Is it far from here?" asked Becher.
"That gentleman can tell you the precise distance," said the farmer,
pointing to Meier, the story of whose misfortunes he had just heard; "he
was in it."
"What, is that the Big Halchee?" asked Becher and Siebert, startled.
"That is the Big Halchee," repeated the farmer, nodding; "but why do you
ask? had you imagined it more agreeable, or larger?"
"Certainly," said Herbold, dispirited; "we heard that it was navigable,
and that there was a small town at its mouth."
"According to American notions," replied the young farmer, a slight
smile passing over his pale features, "both assertions might be
maintained. It is navigable in spring, that is to say, down stream, for
you cannot make way against the current when the water is high."
"But the town," asked Pastor Hehrmann, in surprise--"you don't mean to
call your solitary house a town?"
"If you were to travel through the United States," said Wolfgang, "you
might meet with many not more considerable towns than this, and with
much more sounding names; but the place here is not called a town; it
was only proposed to build Halchee Town here, and some speculators
planned out the streets. You may still see the trees marked out in the
woods; the Mississippi rose suddenly just then, washed away the little
huts which they had erected here; one of the land-dealers was drowned,
too, I think, and the thing was dropped."
"But are you not afraid that such a flood may reach you some time or
other, and sweep you away with it?" asked Hehrmann, with signs of alarm.
"Certainly, that is by no means impossible; and next year is a leap
year,[15] too, when the Mississippi regularly overflows its banks,
sometimes more, sometimes less, and I was thinking of removing across to
Arkansas, or down to Mississippi; but now," he continued, in a low
voice, while two large bright tears came into his eyes,--"now I shall
remain here; if the flood should really rise--well--I have nothing more
to lose."
"But, tell me, my dear Mr. Wolfgang," Hehrmann asked in terror, "are all
the dwellings along the river exposed to these dreadful dangers?--When
that mighty stream once overflows its banks, such a mass of water must
be irresistible."
"Do you see these marks?" Wolfgang asked, pointing to some faint,
scarce distinguishable, light spots, which might be made out about eight
feet from the ground, upon the bark of the trees under which they stood.
"Do you see these marks? thus high the water rose last spring; my house,
it is true, lies higher than this, yet it came into our room, and it
carried off about thirty cords of wood with it."
"And you remained here?"
"What will not one do to earn money? The steamers use much wood, and pay
tolerably well; I wanted to lay by enough to buy a little farm by and by
in a wholesome district; now my wife is dead, and I----But let us start;
it is getting late."
"But you are not going to leave your house now to accompany us?" asked
Siebert, surprised; "suppose in the meanwhile----"
"My other negro will remain here," Wolfgang interrupted him. "Sam, the
old fellow whom you see coming yonder, is faithful and honest; I can
rely upon him; besides, you would hardly reach your destination without
a guide, so that there is no choice."
"Oh, we might follow the road, you know," said Becher.
"Yes, if there were a road thither," answered the farmer, "but to the
spot which you have described to me there leads no road, and if there
are really houses there, the place must be very much overgrown with
second-growth brush, otherwise I must have come upon them in some of my
hunting expeditions; perhaps it is the place which the hunters call the
dead clearing."
"Have you much game in this neighbourhood?" asked Von Schwanthal, who
appeared much interested in this subject.
"Pretty well," replied the farmer, "but it is difficult to get at; the
woods are too close, and the game itself is shy; it requires a practised
hunter to track and kill a deer."
"Do you happen to know a certain Dr. Normann?" Becher now suddenly
inquired, as if struck by a new idea.
"Normann?" said the farmer, trying to recollect, "Normann; no, the name
is strange to me--why?"
"It is the name of the man who sold us this piece of land," said Pastor
Hehrmann; "from all, however, that I have hitherto seen, I scarcely
think that he ever set foot here, and almost dread that Mr. Helldorf's
prophecies will be fulfilled."
"Helldorf?" asked Wolfgang, in his turn, surprised; "Helldorf--where did
you meet with him?"
"In New York," said Siebert; "do you know him?"
"_Do_ I know him!" replied Wolfgang; "I passed my happiest time here in
America, beside him in Arkansas, and had it not been for my mad
endeavour to earn a sum of money, I might have been still with my Maria
at the foot of the pleasant Magazine Hill. Oh! that I had never seen the
Mississippi again."
"Then you consider this climate very unhealthy?"
"Unhealthy!" said the German, in a low, hollow tone--"unhealthy!" he
repeated, even lower still. "In the first year, my wife's sister
died--that ought to have been a warning to me; in the same fall, my
child; to-day we have buried my wife; and next spring, it is to be
hoped, will find me by her side."
"Come with us to the hills, then, where a healthier air blows," said
Herbold; "you can get land from us, and----"
"To the hills?" asked the German, surprised; "how far up the Big Halchee
are you going, then?"
"Well, the land is said to be fifteen miles from the Mississippi," said
Becher; "that's a pretty good distance."
"Yes," replied Wolfgang, "but then, you are still fifteen miles from the
hills, and in no healthier district than this is; on the contrary, you
want the air from the river, which is often fresh; a number of small
lakes, too, cross the country in all directions, and evaporate, for the
most part, in summer, and fill the atmosphere during four months of the
year with their poisonous exhalations. Just now is the most unhealthy
time."
"The devil it is!" said Von Schwanthal; "the worthy doctor never said a
word about that."
"If he was ever in the valley of the Mississippi, he certainly must have
known it," replied the farmer; "but now we'll be off; Scipio has been
cracking his whip for the last quarter of an hour."
The emigrants parted unwillingly from the bulk of their remaining
property, which at first they could scarcely resolve to leave by the
waterside, merely under the superintendence of a negro; but at last they
were convinced that a theft could hardly be committed here, for such a
hut was certainly not a spot in the neighbourhood at which such
valuables would be looked for. The chests and boxes, therefore, which
contained the most necessary articles for the moment, to commence life
in the midst of the woods, were placed on the carts, and even of these
another selection had to be made; then the party set itself in motion,
under the guidance of the farmer, who went first, and with an axe cut
down, where necessary, the underbrush and young trees which stood in
their way, or called into requisition the united strength of the men, to
drag aside obstructions in the shape of occasional mighty trunks of
fallen, rotten or half rotten trees, and thus made way for the wagon,
which fortunately was narrow across the wheels.
The Germans were not a little nor agreeably surprised, when they
discovered, after scarce an hour's progress, that the broad path which
they had hitherto followed, was a mere track for getting out wood, and
that now they had to shape their course straight through the woods--and
_such_ woods.
Fearful doubts now began to arise, even in the breast of Hehrmann, who
had hitherto considered Dr. Normann an honest man, and it was with some
anxiety that he looked forward to their entrance upon their new landed
property.
While walking beside Wolfgang, he entered into conversation with him,
and soon learnt the story of his simple, although active life.
Wolfgang hastily passed over a dark period in Arkansas, where a
stranger, who was a German too, had sown hatred and discord, and stained
their pleasant clearings with blood; and he related how, far away, up
the Ozark mountains, he had become acquainted with his wife; had fallen
in love with her, and whilst still a young girl married her; had founded
a home in the midst of the wild woods, and lived happily, until, driven
by the desire for ready money, which was not to be had at all there, he
had quitted the healthy hill air to come down into the poisonous swamps.
He concluded his story (which Mr. Hehrmann listened to with bowed head
and sorrowfully throbbing heart) by saying, "Mr. Hehrmann, you now, with
wife and child, come from a healthy, cool climate, in the middle of
summer, into the swampy atmosphere of this river, therefore _beware_. If
wife and children are dear to you, commence your American farmer's life
in some other district. You have yet the choice; this whole enormous
country is yet open to you; all the northern, healthy states, Missouri,
Iowa, Wisconsin, even the northern hilly part of Arkansas, if you are
desirous of choosing a milder climate; forsake these poison-impregnated
swamps, where a German, unless already acclimatized, cannot exist, or at
all events cannot remain in health; I speak from experience."
"Mr. Helldorf said so too," replied the preacher, thoughtfully.
"Mr. Helldorf knows the country," said Wolfgang, "he has wandered
through it many a long year, and whatever he may have told you is true,
you may rely upon it. As to your Dr. Normann, I certainly don't know the
good man, and will therefore say no ill of him, but here in America
there is such a host of land-speculators, particularly in the seaport
towns, that the emigrant cannot be too cautious; I am almost afraid
that you have fallen into the hands of such a one, and if so, why of
course you must try to make the best of a bad bargain."
"I say," remarked the shoemaker to the tailor, stumbling for the fourth
time over a projecting root, and this time really hurting himself, "if I
had any capital invested in this speculation, I should quietly begin to
tear my hair out by the roots, but as it is, I can look on, and I must
confess that I am curious to know how it will end."
"Well, look after your feet, at all events," said the other, as the
shoemaker tripped again. "You do nothing but stumble. No; shares are
beginning to fall, so far I am of your opinion; but what matters; _I_
shall eat my way through; I've no fear of that; and if M. Von Schwanthal
only shoots as much game as he has promised, and we get meat, and such
meat, too, three times a day, I don't mind about this little mud
excursion. Moreover, I've been on the look-out for some time past after
a deer; it's strange that, in such a forest as this, the game should not
be running about more plentifully. But, shoemaker, did you imagine the
river on which our town was to be built, like what it really is?"
"How? what is it really? it does not exist at all. Call _that_ a river!"
"Well, what I mean is, did you imagine it like what it is?"
"I don't exactly know," said the shoemaker, with a sly laugh at the
tailor, "I have not examined it so narrowly as you have, you know; you
have a _well-grounded_ acquaintance with it."
"A fine subject for joking, to be sure," said the little one,
indignantly; "suppose I had been drowned?"
"If we creep along in this style," said Schmidt, who now joined in the
conversation, "we shall certainly not come to our journey's end to-day;
we don't advance a hundred yards straight forward, before some tree or
other has to be cut down to make room for the wagon. Are there no
foresters[16] here, I wonder?"
"Yes, a nice place this for foresters," said the brewer; "foresters in
_this_ wood! But if we don't soon reach some place where one may get
something to drink, I shall get thirsty. What do you call all the towns,
then, that are said to be in this neighbourhood? Deuce take it; where
there are so many towns, there must surely be some village or other to
be met with."
The worthy brewer was not aware, that in the United States of North
America everything, even a group of two or three houses only, is called
a town. A grand name, some ancient Greek or Roman one if possible,
throws sand into the eyes of foreigners, and the land speculators in the
large towns often sell "lots," as they call them, to emigrants, who
expect to find a lively, animated place, and instead, have to be
thankful if they can meet with anybody at all there to supply them with
bread to begin with.
The women had meanwhile reconciled themselves to their wanderings as
well as they could, and only one of them, a young girl, who was sick,
and unable to walk, had been, on that account, placed upon the wagon,
where, upon some spread-out mattresses between the well-secured chests,
she had a sufficiently convenient, although not very quiet place, for
the wagon, owing to the rough uneven road, tumbled about dreadfully. The
Hehrmanns went foremost, and evidently struggled to let no melancholy
humour be seen, although the tough mud which they had to wade through,
and the innumerable stringy, and sometimes prickly, creeping plants,
which entangled their feet, while the thorns penetrated their stockings,
and tore their ancles and insteps till they bled, made walking as
troublesome and unpleasant as well could be.
Thus they wandered and wandered on, until the sun went down below the
tree tops, for fortunately he had driven away the clouds of rain, and
the heaven extended its blue tent, brightly and clearly, over the
travellers; but the close oppressive heat, on the other hand, operated
yet more unfavourably upon them, because no good water was to be had,
wherewith to quench their burning thirst. The wished-for fresher evening
air at last cooled their heated faces, although the mosquitoes, which
had lain concealed during the glowing heat, now re-appeared with fresh
vigour. Yet they cared less for these than for the burning rays of the
sun, and wandered forward with quickened and more elastic tread. But ere
long, their silent leader intimated to them that they must bivouack
where they were, for that he could not trust himself to keep a straight
course after dark, and besides that, to proceed further at night was not
only extremely wearisome, but even dangerous.
This was bearable enough in the mild summer air, and all of the party
were easily and readily reconciled to it; the coverings which they had
brought with them were therefore stretched out to keep the dew from the
women, and soft beds of leaves were collected to make the first night in
the woods as pleasant as possible; and the men also laid themselves down
beside the fires which Wolfgang had lighted, whilst the provisions which
they had taken with them stewed and roasted at the crackling flames.
And now again, fortunately, at a great distance, at first, the awful
sounds were heard which had filled the settlers with such terror on the
previous evening, and they were not a little astonished to learn that
those dreadful notes proceeded from owls--and very insignificant little
owls, too. Von Schwanthal, somewhat later, tried to shoot one; but
although several of them, attracted by the fire, approached them, and
gave out their monotonous horrid song in the tree tops close above them,
yet the foliage was too close to permit the eye of the marksman to
perceive them in the darkness, and he discharged both barrels in the
direction in which he guessed the noisy nocturnal bird to be--to the
great terror of the female portion of the society, the tailor
included--without, however, even interrupting the bird, much less
driving it away.
Fortunately, the night remained dry, although the sky became overcast
again, otherwise the situation of the poor Germans, unaccustomed to such
privations, would have been a melancholy one. As it was, sleep visited
the closed eyelids of the wearied at intervals only, for the strange
noises which surrounded them on all sides, the dreary rustling of the
gigantic trees, and even occasionally the stealthy, cautious footstep of
some deer or wolf, that slunk round the bivouack, and only scented its
enemies when it got to the leeward side, and then fled in hasty
bounds--these kept them in continual excitement.
At last, morning came. The oxen, which had remained yoked during the
night, were put-to once more; the quickly-prepared breakfast was
despatched, and the caravan moved on again, sometimes painfully, through
little muddy brooks and standing pools; sometimes going round a wild and
dreary looking lake, without defined banks; sometimes forcing their way
through reed-brakes, sometimes through closely-tangled creepers, until
at last Hehrmann, who, according to his calculation, had traversed a
distance of twenty-five, instead of fifteen miles, addressed the guide,
and inquired whether he did not think that he might have lost his way,
for that it was impossible they could be far from the designated spot,
if they had really constantly kept the true course.
"Oh, we have followed that," replied Wolfgang; "moreover, the frequent
turning aside to avoid wet and impenetrable places has much prolonged
our journey; but if my senses do not deceive me, we are now at the very
place."
"On the right road, you mean," said Siebert, senior, who had likewise
approached them, and now looked about him, right and left, apparently
in search of some outlet by which they might avoid a thick copse,
closely overgrown with young timber, which lay right before them, and
which, on account of the many creeping plants and underbrush, was
impenetrable.
"No; at the very spot itself!" said Wolfgang, observing the place
attentively. "Do you see yonder tree, which has been felled in by-gone
times?" he continued, addressing the men, who pressed round him. "The
lower part is wanting--it has been used for rails; and yonder--yes, it's
a fact, I am not mistaken!--yonder stood the fence. Look you, here are
some single, half-rotten portions of it."
"But the field!" said Becher, alarmed.
"Was this thicket," replied the German, "now, it is true, a chaos of
woods and underbrush. The land, for that matter, seems very good!"
"But we were to find land fit for the plough!" exclaimed Herbold,
advancing, in real alarm. "You don't mean to tell us that this
wilderness is the fifteen-acre field!"
"I have never been here before," replied Wolfgang, quietly, "and must
therefore examine the place first. But if your land has not been
cultivated for fifteen years, you may rely, in case this really should
not be it, that it will hardly look better than that which lies before
you! But we will hope for the best! Look you, a road has once led
through here, this tree has formerly been blazed, although the bark has
almost grown together again. It will be best to leave the wagon with the
women behind us, and go round this wilderness, first of all; if we can't
find the houses, we may come upon the section line--for according to
your deed the land has really been surveyed--then we shall know directly
where we are and what we are about."
"I doubt that!" said the shoemaker, to Schmidt. "One tree looks to me
just like another, here; and if I were called upon, at this moment, to
say from which direction we came here, I should have to guess!"
"Well, I must admit, too," said Schmidt, "that so long as the roads
here are in no better condition, so long I shall not wander far from the
rest--for whoever loses himself is done for!"
"Come along!" said the tailor; "there's a house to be searched for!"
"Where is the house, then?" asked the shoemaker, quickly.
"Well, that's just what they're searching for!" grinned the tailor.
"Stupid as you are, you must know that!"
"Hark ye," said the shoemaker, savagely, "drop your larks--none of us
are in the humour to listen to your nonsense just now! But let us go
along, too; I should like to know whether our guide has found the right
way!"
Scipio had now to halt with his team; and, in fact, he would not have
been able, without the help of the axe, to advance any further; for
every road and outlet was wildly overgrown, and scarcely passable on
foot, much less with a four-wheeled wagon. Following, therefore, the
course of a small brook which ran in a north-easterly direction towards
the Big Halchee, after a short march, keeping to the margin of the
thicket, and, as Wolfgang now positively asserted, former field, they
reached the Big Halchee, and also, close to its soft, friable banks, a
little log hut. However, Wolfgang warned them from entering it; for the
earth round about, as he observed to the by-standers, was cracked, and
the little house was every hour exposed to be precipitated into the
muddy bed of the stream, as, apparently, had happened to the former
appendant and now vanished buildings, of which Pastor Hehrmann was then
thinking.
"But is it not possible," said Becher, despondingly, "that we may be at
the wrong place? You might, perhaps----"
"Yonder tree is the north-east corner of the section," replied Wolfgang,
pointing to an oak standing at no great distance, the greater part of
the rind on one side of which was peeled off, and on which some
roughly-carved numbers and marks were still discernible.
"Then the dwelling-house has fallen down at some earlier time?" said
Siebert, junior.
"There it stands!" replied the farmer. "A better dwelling than that was,
in former times, you seldom meet with in this wild neighbourhood. How
many buildings are specified, then?"
"A dwelling-house, with chimney--a smoking-house--a kitchen--a
stable--and a maize-crib," read Siebert, senior, from his pocket-book,
which he had got out.
"Do you not see that I was right?" said Wolfgang. "Here you have proofs
of my assertion: these are the remains of the former chimney, which now
certainly totters over the precipice, and may crumble and fall next
night. The smoking-house must have gone before, at some earlier time;
and the kitchen too, for I see nothing of them. But the stable is
probably yonder heap of fallen logs; at least, there is no trace of any
chimney there, and the distance of a stable from the house is also about
the right one."
"And the maize-crib?" asked Pastor Hehrmann.
"Probably stood in the field," said Wolfgang. "Doubtless the remains
might be found in yonder thicket; but it would hardly be worth while to
seek for them, for such maize-cribs are easily raised, with split logs,
mostly of ordinary fence-rails, and they generally rot in six or seven
years."
"But, in the name of goodness, what are we to do with the women? Here we
have brought the unfortunate creatures into the midst of the forest,
without a roof or shelter; they cannot bear it."
"Oh yes, though," replied Wolfgang, with a gentle nod of the head, "they
can bear much, very much, and a few nights in the open air is not the
worst that could happen to them. It is fortunate, however, that I came
with you myself," he continued, in a livelier strain; "you might have
fared ill by yourselves, unaccustomed to the country and the climate."
"How far are we from the nearest town?" asked Siebert, senior; "it
would, perhaps, be best, after all, to take them there until we have
erected habitations."
"No," said Wolfgang, decidedly, "that is impossible; first, the place is
more than thirty miles off; then, as I have heard from hunters, there
are several lakes between this and it, before one gets to the hills, and
besides, I don't know the exact direction. But, even if we could reach
the town on a smooth, even road, I would not advise you to leave the
women over there by themselves, for such little towns are for the most
part inhabited by a rough, vicious people, the scum of the backwoods,
and everything is so frightfully dear, that the money which is here so
hardly earned is squandered on the people there. No, we will soon knock
up a few sheds, which will at least keep off wind and rain for awhile;
when that is done, I shall return to my own house, and send the old
negro to you with a portion of your remaining things; he may stay here a
couple of weeks, and put what you require into something like a regular
train."
"But, my dear Mr. Wolfgang, how shall we ever be able to repay your
kindness?"
"Make yourself easy on that score, you have done more for me; I shall
never forget how kindly you buried my poor wife for me. Besides, this is
no more than a neighbour's office; for you will learn, by and by, how
far neighbourhood extends in the woods. However, strictly examined, I am
rather selfish than otherwise; for I must have an occupation to amuse
me, and after all that has occurred, of which you have only witnessed
the tragical end, I should go mad, did I now remain alone and inactive
upon my farm. Therefore, Courage! things will go better. If you were not
here, this would be one of the last places which I should have
recommended to you; but as it is, you are here, and all further delay
and complaint are now useless."
"But to think that we can't even use one of the houses to shelter the
women!" exclaimed Herbold, stamping angrily with his foot. "Plague upon
the stealthy rascal who has deceived and betrayed us under a friendly
face; if I could only catch him."
"Either he has deceived you," said Wolfgang, "or has been himself
deceived; still, you yourselves are chiefly to blame for your
misfortune--to give it its true name. You should not have bought
directly, but should have first seen your bargain. Even in Germany you
would not have purchased an estate without seeing it."
"But, then, the low price!" pleaded Becher.
"You have an answer to that here," replied Wolfgang, "if the land had
been presented to you, it would still have been bought too dearly if it
did not please you, and you had to undertake a long journey to it with
wife and child, with bag and baggage. But it will be a warning to all of
you for the future. Moreover, I recommend you to remain here no longer
than is necessary to get over the first alarm, and to enable you to look
round either in the neighbourhood, or the adjoining states, for a
healthier district; to travel about at random with so many people wont
do at all. You must first find something that will suit you. Until then,
this place is good enough, and when that is done, we will migrate
together, for I, too, must first get my stock of cordwood to the river
side, and there sell it."
"But the houses," repeated Herbold.
"I should not have advised you to have entered them even had they been
standing; snakes and all kinds of vermin take up their abode in such
ruinous old wooden buildings. But to work! I will now give you some
practical lessons in house raising."
"Are you a carpenter?" asked the shoemaker.
"Not exactly, but everything else that is wanted, or rather, that
necessity teaches us, in the woods. But of that hereafter: you will
learn all that yourselves--one single year in America, in the bush,
often does wonders."
"But we must make arrangements for the night," said Pastor Hehrmann; "we
must not allow the women to be exposed to any accidental storm that may
arise--the sky, too, is cloudy."
"Do not fear, my good sir," said Wolfgang; "do you see the roof of
yonder house? Although the planks[17] upon it are for the most part
rotten, yet we shall probably find among them enough to erect a
temporary roof for to-day and to-morrow. We shall get along by-and-by;
first of all we must find the place where you think of erecting your
future abode; when that is done, we will take the luggage there, unpack
the wagon, bring it here, and fetch away all the boards that we can
find, which are good for anything. Luckily, I have brought tools for
splitting such slabs as we may want, for I guessed that the place would
look pretty much as it does--and as----"
"Mr. Wolfgang, you have become our guardian angel," said Pastor
Hehrmann, gratefully grasping his hand. "What should we have done if we
had arrived in this desert without you? the very idea is shocking; for,
unfortunately, even as it is, with you, it is bad enough. But you are
right; further reflections are unavailing here, and we must now prove
that we not only wish to become American farmers, but that we have the
strength and perseverance to carry out our resolution."
Wolfgang, quite aroused from his sorrow by the need in which he saw so
many of his fellow countrymen plunged, by the appeal made to his whole
activity and knowledge of life in the woods, and who hoped to find
alleviation, or at least temporary forgetfulness of his grief in
distraction, undertook the cause of the new settlers with cheerful
zeal; he soon chose a somewhat elevated spot, not far from running
water, and near enough, also, to the place where the people would have
to clear their first field; then worked and toiled as though he were
about to found a home for himself, and to clear and till his own land.
They quickly removed thither the things which they had brought with
them, and pacified the women as well as they could, concerning their
disappointed expectations; for to conceal the facts from them for that
day would have availed nothing but to have made them anxious all night,
and to have still, of necessity, learnt them on the following morning.
The plan with the old planks turned out well; the greater part of them
were still serviceable, only the getting them down was attended with
some danger. But the tailor, on the one side, and Scipio, on the other,
performed essential services on the occasion, and the former boasted not
a little of the dangers to which he had been exposed, when, two nights
later, the ruinous hut, with the whole piece of ground on which it
stood, really followed the kitchen and the smoke house.
The precaution for the encampment proved to have been necessary, for
towards morning there fell a tolerably smart shower of rain, from which
all the settlers were protected, and next day they proceeded with fresh
energy to the erection of the shanties in which they intended to pass
the winter.
But now it appeared how much they all had to learn, for no one knew how
to handle the axe, and in splitting the four feet long slabs, they were
all, even the carpenters themselves, very awkward. Wolfgang did not
allow any trouble to put him out, but worked from morning until late,
and on the evening of the second day he had the satisfaction of seeing
that all had a roof to their heads, and that the company was at least
sheltered from storm and rain.
The articles left behind, on the banks of the Mississippi, now began to
be much wanted, and their friendly helper determined to return with his
negro, and to send up the other black to the raising of the houses and
chimneys.[18] He promised to relieve him again himself, for it would
still be too quiet and lonely for him on his desolate hearth; received a
few commissions to buy provisions for them of the steamers which might
land there, and, after bidding a hearty farewell to all his
newly-acquired, and worthily deserved friends, left the "dead clearing,"
as the place had really been called, on account of its desolation, by
the hunters who made excursions thereabouts.
The entire colony now consisted of fifty-three persons, children
included; of mechanics, there were, three carpenters, two
cabinet-makers; a blacksmith, a locksmith, the tailor, shoemaker, and
brewer, a tanner, and a glazier's apprentice. The latter, a young lad,
had only come out to New York with them in search of his father, but had
ascertained from an acquaintance, whom he accidentally met there, that
his parent had died, and had been buried about three weeks before.
The poor boy, who was scarce fourteen years old, had now no other
resource but to join the society, which kindly received him; there was
very little stirring in his own way of business, it is true, at present;
for glazing windows, there were wanting not only sashes for the panes,
but houses for the sashes; but he soon found out that the axe played a
prominent part in the woods, and determined to devote all his skill to
that.
Wolfgang perceived, even during the first few days, with what zeal the
boy worked, when he could get hold of the American axe for a few
minutes; for those which they had brought with them from Germany were
not of much use, except as wedges, and when he returned to the
Mississippi, he left it with the boy, in order that he might exercise
himself in its use.
Charles, as he was universally called by the passengers of the Hoffnung,
did not require to be told this twice; from morning until evening, he
stood in the woods, and hacked, and chopped, and thought himself richly
rewarded, when he could hear the mighty stems fall with a loud
crash.[19]
The shoemaker, the tailor, and the brewer, did not participate in this
passion in the least. Working in the open air was altogether
disagreeable to them; to stand in the sun all day, and "hack about at
that hard wood," as the tailor expressed himself, did not agree at all
with their constitutions. But, as even the committee-men worked hard,
and as Pastor Hehrmann, in particular, from early till late, was the
first at work and the last to quit it, they were ashamed to lag behind,
so did their best. Meier always doubled himself up like a clasp-knife,
when he got under the shed of an evening, and during all the first week
was too fatigued to eat a morsel. The shoemaker intimated, on his part,
that were he in Germany, he should join the society for prevention of
cruelty to animals.
One only of the male portion of the colony had not yet done a stroke of
work, either with the axe or otherwise; this was Von Schwanthal; for
provisions were wanting, or, at least, want before long could be
foreseen, and the hunter shouldered his double-barrel, and stalked into
the woods.
Now there was nothing unusual in this; on the contrary, it was a matter
of course; every company that bivouacks in the woods--be they raftsmen,
on the banks or neighbourhood of a stream, or settlers, or even trappers
of beavers and otters,--have their hunters, often five or six men, who
hunt in the vicinity of the camp, and regularly bring in their booty.
The colony stood much in need of such a hunter, or rather, of several
such, but Von Schwanthal was not the man for it; for hardly had he
ventured a hundred paces into the thicket--scarcely did he find himself
surrounded on all sides by heaven-aspiring trees and wild bush, before
he listened attentively for the sound of the axes, as it reverberated
towards him, so that he might not possibly miss the direction; and he
would not have been induced to leave the neighbourhood of the people for
all the game in the world. That he could not get a shot in this way may
be imagined, and he came back regularly every evening, weary and hungry,
in order to victual himself again for the following morning, to beat
about the semicircle, with which he now began to be tolerably
acquainted, once more, and afterwards to abuse the neighbourhood in
which fortune had cast them, for want of game.
The old negro arrived about this time, with the second load, several
more axes, a barrel of flour, a barrel of beans, and a barrel of salt
pork; he brought also a fowling-piece, one of the long Yankee rifles,
with him.
Von Schwanthal viewed this new shooting apparatus with a very
incredulous smile, for the rough stock, carved out of very common wood,
the old, rusty barrel itself, which certainly could not boast of a
promising appearance, the large knife with a brown wooden handle, the
old leather bag, with a couple of flints, two bullets, a screw-driver,
and a mould; these, taken altogether, looked anything but sportsmanlike,
and contrasted very unfavourably with the excellent apparatus of the
German sportsman.
But when the latter got up, on the ensuing morning, he heard a shot at
no great distance from him, and looked about everywhere for Sam; but Sam
had started before daybreak, and shortly returned, panting under the
weight of a splendid young deer, which he carried upon his shoulders.
This disgrace had to be wiped off. Von Schwanthal never could look any
one in the face again, if that fellow scarcely got his rubbishing old
gun out, before he returned laden with spoil, while _he_ had been on the
look-out during four entire days, and had not brought home so much as a
claw. The time for exertion had arrived; the zealous hunter hardly gave
himself time to swallow his breakfast, and hurried off as fast as his
feet would carry him, right into the trackless thicket. But when arrived
there, his sporting ardour cooled down considerably, for he reflected
upon the hopeless condition of a person who should lose his way in those
swamps; but his feeling of honour got the better of this thought; his
entire reputation as a sportsman was at stake; he _must_ kill something
or other. He was well enough aware, though, that so close to the camp,
where the game could hear the strokes of the axe, and the rasping of the
saw, as well, if not better than he could himself, there was no chance;
taking care, therefore, to keep the sun straight before him, he walked
right on in that direction; he avoided no thicket, no fallen tree, but
pressed on through the one, and climbed over the other, and soon found
himself above his knees in water, in a swamp which spread itself out
before him, and as far, at least, as he could see, was nowhere bounded
by higher ground.
What was to be done now? Should he turn back, or endeavour to force his
way through that desert of swamp, and catch a dreadful cold, if he got
nothing else? Suddenly, he heard something splash to his right;
immediately afterwards, a couple of dry boughs snapped, and
yonder--yonder, scarce thirty yards distant from him--bounded a mighty
stag, in an open place in the woods, where the water, too, seemed to be
but a few inches in depth. For a moment, the hunter stood as if
thunderstruck, for the whole had taken place so suddenly, so
unexpectedly, that he could hardly recover himself; at last, however, he
mechanically raised the gun to his shoulder, and pulled the trigger.
But, alas! in vain did he press the trigger till he almost pressed it
down--no hammer fell--no discharge followed; the stag sprang about
twenty yards further, and for some seconds more stood looking at the
strange object in the water. Von Schwanthal pulled and pressed, till the
perspiration stood in drops upon his forehead. But in vain; the hammers
descended, it is true, but the piece did not go off--not so much as a
cap even exploded. It was then that he recollected the unlucky "patent
safety," which he had pushed forward whilst among the creeping plants
and underwood; he quickly pushed it back, but the deer was, by this
time, probably tired of waiting--Heaven knows how long!--to be shot at,
and fled in rapid bounds into the thicket; and the two cracking shots
which were now sent after him--alas, too late--only served to add wings
to his already mighty bounds.
Schwanthal stood, and gazed after the stag, as he disappeared in the
bush, and then down at his gun. He next seated himself upon the bough of
a prostrate oak, which projected out of the water, took a screw-driver
from his pocket, and very deliberately removed both of the safety-screws
from the lock; wrapped them in a small piece of paper, and then went
back to the nearest dry land, or rather, to that which was not covered
with water, and trod them--without a syllable, without a single oath,
but with such rage and determination--into the soft damp earth, that
they had soon penetrated far into it; he then, giving them a last hearty
farewell kick, said:--"So now, lie there till you rot--when I want you
again, I'll let you know."
So far so good. Now the first thing was to re-load the gun; but what was
to be done then? To wade further into the mud, or to turn back, and that
without having accomplished his object? No, on no condition could he do
that; the attempt, at least, must be made, and, besides, the sun shone
so clearly and so cheerfully that, losing one's self was out of the
question; so he cautiously stepped further and further through the
silent, listening woods--further still, till at last he reached a small
flat ridge, which traversed the swamp from east to west, and was itself
dry.
If he should follow this he must leave the sun a little on his left,
and it was very questionable whether he would afterwards find the right
direction on his return. He determined, therefore, to remain on the
watch where he was, where, of course, it was just as possible that a
head of game might come right towards him, and where he would incur no
danger of losing himself.
With a patience that would have done honour to a saint, hour after hour
he stood there, immovable, and listened attentively, often breathlessly,
when here and there a dry twig fell into the water, to the slightest
noise, to the gentlest sound, to the most trifling rustling of the
leaves. At last, however, the declining sun warned him of his return,
and, although he could not conceal from himself that the best time for
the movement of game was just beginning, yet he could not prevail on
himself to remain there, and perhaps afterwards lose his way in the
dark, for the sun was his only guide in the wilderness.
Chagrined, he slowly turned to quit the post he had hitherto kept;
but--fresh horror!--whither? The sun, as he now for the first time
considered, had been travelling through the sky during many long hours,
and stood in a totally different quarter from that which it occupied in
the morning. Should he now find his way back?--might he not turn off too
much either to his right or left? The bare idea raised his hair on end.
Snatching up the gun, he sprang in great haste over the narrow tongue of
dry ground, and over the other side into the swamp again, in order not
to lose any more valuable time, and waded, as fast as his feet would
carry him, right through it, with such exertion and haste that the water
often splashed right over him, and in less than a quarter of an hour's
march he was completely wet through.
But his fears seemed to have been verified, for he ought long since, as
he firmly believed, to have reached the spot where the trees felled by
the settlers were lying, and yet the swamp did not come to an end; for
although Von Schwanthal saw dry land on his left, he would not on any
account deviate from what he considered the right course. He now felt
the water grow more shallow, and immediately afterwards found himself
upon dry ground--ran over it--came to one of the innumerable little
muddy brooks, which cross the country in all directions--dashed through
it without pausing to consider; found himself up to his arm-pits in
water--climbed as well as he could out on the other side--and, being now
firmly convinced that he must have lost his way, as he knew nothing of
this brook, he began to call out with all his might for help.
"Mercy on us! what's the matter?" asked the little tailor, who stood
close beside him without his having noticed it,--"why, you're on dry
ground again."
"Oh, Meier, are you here?" exclaimed Von Schwanthal, delighted; "why,
there's the shoemaker, too. You haven't--surely, you haven't lost
yourselves, have you?"
"Lost ourselves? no, no!" laughed the little fellow; "we are too wide
awake for that; I, for instance, never go further away from the rest
than I can reach with my hand one of them, at all events. But what did
you halloo so for?"
"Oh, I--I--haven't you seen a stag come past here?" asked Von
Schwanthal, taking up his cue, for he was ashamed to let the people see
that he had been frightened. "I only called 'Look out!' in case any one
might have been out here with a gun."
"It sounded exactly like 'Help!'" said the shoemaker, grinning, and
giving the tailor a sly push with the crosscut-saw, which rested on a
slight oak, felled by Charles's hands, lying between them. "Have you
shot nothing?--there was a report."
"I--I wounded a stag," answered the sportsman; "but there was so much
water on the spot, that the tracks could not be followed, I couldn't
trace the blood; and, as I had no dog, why----"
"Of course!" said the tailor, elevating his eyebrows and nodding his
head violently--"of course! I think I shouldn't catch a stag either,
without a dog--the critters run so fast."
Schwanthal turned away in vexation, and, in a very bad humour, strode
towards the encampment, which was no longer distant; but he suddenly
began to limp, and declared, when he arrived at the first fire, where he
met Mrs. Hehrmann, that he had sprained his ancle, and most likely must
give up wandering about for a few days.
Von Schwanthal was pretty well cured of his apparently insatiable
passion for sport, and even began to help the labourers at their work;
but that was the wisest thing he could have done, for he thereby escaped
ridicule, and he comforted himself meanwhile with the idea that he
should soon be sufficiently acquainted with the woods--at all events, in
the neighbourhood--as to be exposed to no further danger of losing
himself, and to be enabled to hunt in all directions.
The men worked away perseveringly, without murmuring, and the women,
seeing the energy and spirit with which the men bore the greatest
hardships, abstained from complaining about their failed hopes and
disappointed expectations; but instead thereof, as it could not be
helped, they bore their privations with exemplary patience and
fortitude. Hehrmann's family, especially, was foremost in setting a good
example, and Bertha and her sister Louisa were the first at every kind
of work.
But the men stood in need of such encouragement, for their labours
progressed very slowly; the negro, it is true, had arrived, and with his
help many a tree lay felled and chopped; but it was not until now, when
they had begun the work, that they perceived the full extent of all they
had got to do. How they were to clear five acres of land, in as many
years, appeared an inexplicable riddle to them all, however they might
conceal their thoughts from each other.
The tailor gave vent to his feelings the most candidly of all, for when
Wolfgang relieved the negro again, he showed him the dreadful blisters
which he had got on his hands, and confessed to him (in confidence, of
course) that he never could think of passing another year in that place.
But where, during all this time, was the Doctor, who, for the sake of a
few hundred dollars, had sent the poor settlers, ignorant of the
country, in such a shameful manner into the wilderness? As he had now
obtained his end, received the money, and left the strangers to their
fate, the most natural thing for him to do was to take himself off, and
carry away his plunder to a place of security--and such had been his
original intention; but something on which he had not reckoned, and
which he had not foreseen, forbade the execution of it; for a wild
uncontrollable passion took possession of his heart for the lovely
daughter of the Pastor. Blinded by love, he determined to follow the
colony to its destination, and partly to weather the storm of those who
would discover that they had been deceived, partly to turn it off--to
remain in Bertha's neighbourhood, perhaps to make her his wife--at all
events, to be able to call her his. With this object he had, as a
primary step, to ascertain what her feelings were towards him, and it
was for this that he had approached her, on the last morning, with a
confession of his love.
But her cold behaviour showed him at once what he had to hope from her
heart and feelings; moreover, it could not escape him how she blushed
and became embarrassed at the allusion to Werner.
At a glance--with the glance of a man of the world--he saw that nothing
was to be accomplished there by honest wooing; but he was not the man so
readily to give up a plan he had once formed. During eleven years past a
sojourner in foreign lands, during the latter portion of that time in
America, he had learned to surmount whatever obstacles might come in his
way; and as he was not particular whether he resorted to honest or
dishonest means, if he could only attain the ends he had proposed to
himself, he seldom failed in carrying out his plans.
But, to follow to Tennessee those very settlers who had been deceived by
him, to play a part in all those unpleasant scenes which he could very
well foresee, and yet not advance a step nearer to his aim, did not seem
to him expedient. He determined, therefore, on remaining in Cincinnati
for the present; for that Bertha must be his he had vowed, and only the
more stimulated by the obstacles to the realization of his project, he
now considered ways and means to carry off, by force, the girl who would
not voluntarily follow him.
How difficult, how impossible, almost, pursuit was on the Mississippi,
when that mighty stream, with its wilderness on either shore, once
divided the pursued from the pursuers, he knew but too well, and all
that he now required was some trusty friend to assist him in his
undertaking. Such an one he had already found in Cincinnati, on the
previous evening, and while the "Dayton" was puffing and blowing down
the beautiful Ohio river, Normann and Turner (the latter a gambler by
profession from New Orleans, but who stayed in the North during the warm
summer months) stood on the quay, and Turner said, smilingly, when the
Doctor had made him acquainted with his wishes--
"Capital, Doctor--capital! And she has got a pretty sister, too, eh?"
"A beautiful girl," he assured him.
"Here's my hand, then; I'm your man! I could not better employ my time,
till the healthy season in New Orleans commences again. Perhaps we may
get both the girls."
"That is hardly possible!--how are we to bring them away?"
"Well, it's all one," said the profligate, laughing; "we're sure of one.
Moreover, I know that part of the country as well as though I had spent
all my life there. Five of us once ran all the way from Randolph up to
the Halchee on foot, most of the way at night, and with about twenty
stout boatmen after us. I shouldn't forget that chase, were I to live a
thousand years."
"And how did you get off?"
"There was a small boat on the Halchee; we jumped into it. The owner
would have made some difficulties, but luckily I had a loaded pistol
with me,--but that has nothing to do with it. The bargain is made."
"Shall we go alone?"
"No; we must have some one else to row, but I know one that will do; a
free nigger in the town here, whom I could lead to Perdition with us for
twenty dollars a month, and an extra allowance of whisky."
"Good,--such a fellow will be useful. And when shall we start? To-day?"
"Halloo! not so fast. I have got a young Italian, who has been
recommended to me, to pluck first; he seems immensely rich, so we will
get all ready for starting; perhaps, a hasty departure may be convenient
some of these days."
"Well, then," said the Doctor, "I'll get together everything that is
necessary, and this evening we'll meet at the old place in
Sycamore-street."
Normann left him, and walked along the quay, and up Main-street; but
Turner remained, with his arms folded, and followed Normann's retreating
figure with a contemptuous smile, and wheeled round on his heel when the
other turned the corner, and disappeared in the street to the right; and
with the same malicious expression he whispered to himself--
"We'll steal the girl together, my little Doctor, and if she's as pretty
as you've described her, why you shall help me; but if you suppose, my
short-sighted Dutchman, that she's for you, why you're confoundedly out
in your reckoning, I guess!"
FOOTNOTES:
[9] Mosquitoes always sting an old-countryman during the first year
ensuing his arrival more than they ever do afterwards, and more than
they do natives.--TR.
[10] There is no dawn in the latitude of the Big Halchee in August, or
none worth mentioning.--TR.
[11] This is not a picture of an average log-house, (which is wind and
water tight, and warm,) but of a very temporary shanty; it is not
consistent with the occupant's skill as a back-woodsman, or his
industry, that he should have let his wife live a single week in such a
hole--especially when a few shingles, and some moss and clay, would have
remedied all--TR.
[12] The watchmen in Germany, twenty years ago, used to (and, for aught
I know, still may) carry a horn, like that of our newsmen, which they
blew and announced the hours, &c.--TR.
[13] The fires in the back-woods are raked together at bed-time, and
covered with thin ashes, and so remain all night, smouldering, so that
in the morning they only require to be fanned a little, in order to burn
again, so as to ignite fresh fuel; indeed, the back log is usually a
thick piece of heavy wood, which lasts a day or two.--TR.
[14] The blowing of a horn is the usual signal to come home to
breakfast, dinner, supper, or for any other purpose, on North-American
farms.--TR.
[15] This seems to be rather unaccountable; it may be the popular
belief.--TR.
[16] Wood is used for fuel throughout Germany, and the numerous forests
are under the care of officers, called foresters, who have assistants,
called huntsmen, under them; they plant, thin, manage, and cut the
timber; also preserve game, kill vermin, &c.--TR.
[17] Rough shanties and small log-houses are sometimes covered with
planks, as in the text; but the more usual course in America is to roof
houses with shingles, which are rectangular pieces of pine split (with a
shingle knife) into the thickness of about a quarter of an inch, or
less, and these are nailed on, overlapping each other, like tiles; they
are light, weathertight, and durable, and only inferior to tiles, slate
or tin, in being more liable to accidents by fire.--TR.
[18] As the old chimney, even assuming it to have been of brick, would
not have sufficed, the reader may perhaps ask where the bricks and
mortar came from; but it is common in shanties in the woods, when these
cannot be had, to form chimneys of slabs of bass-wood, and plaster them
with clay. It need hardly be added that they sometimes take fire.--TR.
[19] Persons who once take to chopping--i. e., felling trees--prefer it
to all other work, and even feel a kind of passion for it.--TR.