There was the bustle and the din of preparation in the great Castle of
the Oneidas. With the first light of the morning, numerous small bands
began to pour in, summoned secretly long before, to hold a war
council, and to march against the enemy. Before noon larger bands
began to appear, led by several of the noted warriors of the nation,
and one very numerous body coming across the lake in a little fleet of
canoes brought with them a great quantity of baggage in the shape of
huts and provisions, with women and even children.
The scene which took place when all were assembled, in number more
than a thousand, is perfectly indescribable. Nor shall I attempt to
give a picture of it. A long period of peace seemed only to have given
the western warriors a sort of thirst for war; and their joy at the
unburying of the hatchet and the march against the enemy broke forth
in demonstrations which to any civilized eye would have appeared
perfectly frantic. Screaming, shouting, singing, dancing, striking the
war post with their tomahawks, and shaking their rifles in the air,
they seemed like beings possessed by some evil spirit--the calm and
grave demeanor was altogether cast aside, and the calmest and most
moderate boasted outrageously of deeds done in the past or to be
performed in the coming war. About an hour after noon, however, a
sudden and complete change came over the scene. In an open space
before the great lodge, all the chieftains of the different totems or
tribes assembled, and the usual circle was formed around the great war
post of the Black Eagle. The younger warriors gathered in other rows
without the first, and the youths, the women, and the children were
seen beyond these again. One exception to the usual order took place.
The great chief had on either side of him one of those, both of whom
he now called his children. Otaitsa, in her most brilliant costume,
stood upon his left, and Walter Prevost, armed and dressed like the
Oneidas, with the sole difference that his head was not shaved, like
theirs, remained standing throughout the ceremony, on his right.
As soon as all was quiet--and the stillness of death very soon fell
over the whole multitude--Black Eagle, in a speech of powerful
eloquence, related all that had occurred on the preceding night, and
justified the act of himself and the other chiefs in the eyes of the
people. He said that he himself and five of his brethren had been
prepared to sacrifice the son of Prevost to atone for the blood of the
Snake, and to satisfy the customs of the Oneidas, although they would
rather have slain their own son; but that the Great Spirit had spoken
by the tongue of his sister, and they had forborne. When he had done,
the Old Cedar Tree rose, but uttered only a few words. "It was the
voice of the Great Spirit," he said; and immediately a murmur of
"Koui! koui!" ran round the assembly, in confirmation of the act.
The chief then explained to his warriors why he had that day called
them around him; for although the object was already well known to
all, and the news had by that time spread that the Englishmen were
marching against the French upon Lake Champlain, the Indians never
acted in masses without solemn deliberation; and a war speech, as they
called it, was universally expected from their renowned leader. He
dealt at length upon the alliance between the English and the Five
Nations, upon the good faith with which the stipulations of their
treaties had been maintained by the British Provinces; he referred to
the talk held some six months before, at the Castle of Sir William
Johnson, skilfully mingling with his discourse the names of several
persons most popular with the tribes, and he ended by exhorting his
hearers to show their truth and friendship toward their English
brethren, and to pour down their fiercest wrath upon the French, whom
he spoke of contemptuously as brethren of the Hurons and the
Algonquins.
The same signs of approbation followed; and many another chief added
his voice, raising the passions of the warriors to the highest pitch.
One, especially, urged them to immediate action, telling them that the
Mohawks had already marched, that they were with the English army, and
that the faces of the children of the Stone would be full of shame if
a Mohawk brought home more scalps than an Oneida.
Some were for setting out on the instant, but this proposal was
overruled, and the following morning was appointed for the march to
begin, as more parties were expected from the different districts, and
some had not come fully prepared for the long journey and important
enterprise.
The council was succeeded by scenes similar to those with which the
day began, and it must not be concealed that in many instances the
dreadful firewater was employed, so far as even to produce beastly
intoxication. Small drums and wild instruments of music, songs of
every different character, from the wailing lament or the religious
chant to the fierce and boastful war song, rose from every part of,
the village; and it was not till the sun had completely set that
anything like quiet and order was restored. Paint it in what colors we
will, it was a barbarous and terrible, though exciting scene, and
Walter Prevost was well pleased to hear the noise gradually die away
into low murmurs, and silence again begin to resume her reign.
Then came a very, very happy hour. He sat with Otaitsa alone, in the
great lodge, while the Black Eagle wandered amongst his people
without; and for the first time since his deliverance from death the
two had an opportunity of pouring forth to each other the many
feelings which, had accumulated in the last four and twenty hours.
"At this time last night," said the youth, "I was preparing to die."
"And at this time last night," answered the girl, gazing fondly upon
his face as he sat with his arm clasped fondly round her, and her head
leaning on his shoulder, "and at this time last night Otaitsa was
ready to die with you. I have since thought it very wrong of me,
Walter; and fearing what I did was sinful, I have prayed part of the
night to God for forgiveness, and another part I have spent in praise
and thanksgiving. But I believe I was mad, my beloved, for I hardly
knew what I did, and followed blindly what they told me to do to
rescue him for whom I would have sacrificed a thousand lives. Besides,
I was surrounded by my countrywomen, and you know they do not think as
we have been taught to think."
"If it was an error it was a blessed one, my own Blossom," answered
Walter, "for to it I owe my life; and life, when it is brightened by
Otaitsa's love, is but too precious to me. The time will come, dear
one, when we shall look back upon these days as but a painful dream,
and the only bright reality that will last will be the memory of my
Blossom's love, and all that she has done to save and bless me."
She gazed at him believingly; for hers was not a heart to doubt, and
his was not a heart to be doubted; and then she said, with a sigh:
"But you are now going to battle, to risk your life and all your
happiness. Still it is strange, but I would not stay you, though all I
have heard from good Mr. Gore should make me look upon such things
with horror, and though I would fain have you keep away from danger. I
suppose it is the habits of my people still clinging about me, even
with a better faith than theirs."
"Fear not, dearest, fear not," answered Walter, boldly. "No harm will
happen to me, I do trust and believe, and I only leave you for a few
short weeks."
"You will not leave me at all, Walter," she answered, "no, never more.
I will go with you, if not to the battle, as near it as I can be. I
have my father's leave; the warriors of my race will defend me, and I
will not part with my recovered treasure any more."
"Go to my father's house," said Walter, joyfully. "It is very near the
spot, and Edith will rejoice to have you with her."
Otaitsa fixed her eyes upon vacancy, and fell into a deep reverie; and
an expression came into her face which Walter had remarked more than
once before.
"Do you know, my beloved," he said, "that sometimes you strike me as
very like our dear Edith, especially when you look thoughtful, as you
did just now?"
"It is very natural," said Otaitsa, nestling closer to him; "you do
not know that she is my cousin. My mother was your father's sister.
Hush! not a word, especially in the ears of any of the tribe. My
father knows it, but he will not know it, because amongst the elder
people of the nation it was held contrary to our customs that cousin
should marry cousin. I asked Mr. Gore long ago if it were against your
law; but he said no, that it was neither against law nor religion. He
inquired why I asked so earnestly," she added, laughing, "but I would
not tell him. Come with me into my chamber, and I will show you many
things belonging to my mother. Stay! I will light my lamp!"
Otaitsa bent down and lighted her lamp, and guided her lover up to her
little chamber; and there they sat, and turned over many a long-stored
treasure, and she showed him the picture of his own father, and of her
mother, and of their mutual kin, and drawings of fair scenes in
Europe, some of which he remembered well, with others of the land in
which they then were, but of spots which he had never seen. There was
one, too, left unfinished, of a young, sweet child; and Walter gazed
first upon the infant face and then upon the bright, happy countenance
beside him, and clasped his Blossom warmly to his breast. The book,
too, with the drop of blood upon it, told its own tale to both their
hearts.
"And where is Mr. Gore?" he asked, at length; "he seems seems to have
left altogether his little flock, or I am sure I should have seen him
during my captivity."
"He is coming back now," said Otaitsa. "My father would not let him
return before. He was afraid, I believe, that the breath of the good
man would melt his icy purpose. He had a power over Black Eagle that
none other had. I prayed and besought in vain. But had Mr. Gore been
here he would have conquered. Black Eagle knew it and feared, and
therefore he sent him hence, and would not let him return till the day
was past."
"Would that he were here now," said Walter, earnestly.
Otaitsa asked him why, and he answered, with a warm kiss: "That he
might unite us forever."
A flush came upon her cheek, but there was the low sound of a step
below, and looking down the stairs, she said: "Is that you, my
father?"
"I come," said the chief; and slowly mounting the stairs, he entered
the chamber where they were. His eyes roved round the room in a manner
which evidently showed that it was strange to him; and then he fixed
them on the pictures which lay upon the table, lighted but faintly by
the lamp. At first he seemed not to distinguish what they were, but
the moment he saw them clearly, he drew his mantle over his face and
turned toward the door. He uttered no word, he shed no tear, but he
descended slowly, and Walter and Otaitsa followed.