On that part of Lake Champlain, or Corlear, as it was called by the
Indians, where, quitting the narrow basin which it occupies from its
southern extremity to some distance northward of Ticonderoga, it opens
out into a broader sheet of water, and sweeps round the small
peninsula of Crown Point, a large canoe was seen crossing to the
Canada side, with some sixteen or seventeen persons on board, amongst
whom were Edith Prevost and her companion, Woodchuck. There was no
attempt at concealment, no creeping along under shelter of the banks,
but boldly and openly the Indians paddled on, within range of the guns
of the French fort, and then directly across the bows of two large,
flat-bottomed boats or batteaux, accompanied by several light canoes,
each of the latter containing six or seven men, which were going down
the lake in the direction of Ticonderoga.
From each of the larger boats the flag of France was conspicuously
displayed; but as the strange canoe above mentioned seemed bearing
straight for the shore, fully in possession of France, its movements,
for a time, appeared to excite no attention. Neither the batteaux nor
the other canoes altered their course, the men in the former
continuing a shouted conversation in a mixed jargon, part French, part
Indian, with their dusky companions in the lesser craft, who kept as
nearly alongside as possible.
At length, however, it would seem some suspicion was excited. Two
figures, male and female, were discerned from the batteaux in the
stern of the strange canoe, whose dress at once showed them to belong
to none of the Indian tribes, and was also somewhat different from
that of either the Canadian colonists or the native French. The two
parties were now within less than a hundred yards of each other, and
it seemed doubtful whether the large canoe would clear the eastern
French boat without trouble. But suddenly a voice was raised loud in
the foremost batteau and a question was put in French as to whither
the others were bound, and who they were.
The Indians were silent, for they did not understand the words
addressed to them; but Woodchuck whispered eagerly: "Answer! answer!
if you can speak their jargon. Rather be in the hands of French
officers than these incarnate devils!"
Edith's eyes had been cast down, and so full of bitter tears that she
had seen nothing since they left the western shore. But now she looked
up, and in an instant her presence of mind returned. It is true she
did not speak at once, for she feared her voice would not reach the
boat; but it was nearing the canoe fast, and in a moment after the
question was repeated in a more peremptory and a more distinct tone.
"Tell them we are allies of the great French chief," said Apukwa, who
seemed to comprehend in some degree the meaning of the call. "Say we
are going to join our Canadian father;" and he glared fiercely as he
spoke.
"We are English!" exclaimed Edith, in French, exerting her utmost
power of voice. "We are English and Iroquois, going I know not
whither!"
Instantly, at a signal from the batteaux, the light canoes dashed out
with extraordinary rapidity, and before any effectual effort could be
made to escape, the larger canoe was surrounded, while the yells of
the Hurons announced that they recognized at length a band of ancient
enemies. With a fiend-like look at Edith, Apukwa drew his tomahawk
from his belt; but the brother of the Snake spoke some words to him in
a low tone, the weapon was replaced, the men ceased to work the
paddles, and every face assumed the quiet stillness of perfect
indifference. The yells and whoops of the Hurons still continued, so
that one danger seemed only to be escaped to encounter a still
greater. Their fierce faces and dark, half-naked forms, tattooed and
painted, were seen all round, and the tomahawk and the knife were
brandished, as if for immediate action. But one of the large boats
bore right down amongst them, and soon grappled the canoe in which
Edith and her companion were. A handsomely dressed, middle-aged man
stood up in the stern, as it came near, and turning to an Indian who
seemed a chief, by his side, said to him in French: "Keep your people
quiet, Great Elk!"
A few words were then spoken, or rather shouted, by the Indian to the
others in the canoes, in a language which Edith did not at all
understand, and in an instant every Huron sank down in silence, and
the light skiffs lay quiet upon the water, or only moved slightly with
the momentum they had already received from the paddles. Then raising
his hat and plume, with an air of much grace, the French officer
addressed Edith, saying: "Will you have the goodness to explain to me,
mademoiselle, who and what you are, and how you came to be in the
position in which I find you? I am sorry to be obliged to detain a
lady, but you have too many men with you to suffer your canoe to
pass."
"I am the daughter of an English gentleman," replied Edith. "I have
been attacked and captured with the friend who was escorting me from
my father's house to that of Colonel Schneider; my two servants were
murdered--at least one of them, I am sure, was. The Indians who are
with me are Iroquois, who are taking me forcibly across the lake,
toward Canada, and I have little doubt that I shall be put to death
also, if you do not save me from their hands."
"But this is a strange story, mademoiselle," said the officer. "The
Iroquois and your countrymen are in alliance."
"I cannot account for it," said Edith. "They are certainly Iroquois,
for they speak no other language, except a few words of English. You
must ask them what is the meaning of their conduct, if you have any on
board who can speak their tongue."
The officer turned once more to his Indian companion and addressed
some words to him in French; but the chief shook his head, and then
drawing his eyelids together, as if to see more distinctly, gazed into
the canoe, scanning the persons of the Indians closely. "They are
Iroquois," he said, at length. "Let us scalp them."
This proposal the officer did not think fit to comply with, at least
for the time, and he replied, with a laugh: "Wait a little, my friend.
The Great Elk shall have scalping enough soon. We will take them
ashore with us, at all events, and perhaps may learn more. Then, if
they are really enemies, you may exercise your skill upon them to your
heart's content. The lady and her English companion, however, I claim
as my prisoners. Permit me, mademoiselle, to assist you into the boat.
You will be safer here, and may trust to the honor and courtesy of a
French gentleman."
"I have no fears on that score, sir," answered Edith, rising; and,
with the aid of the officer and Woodchuck, passing into the other
boat, which, flat-bottomed and heavily laden, was not much higher
above the water than the canoe. Woodchuck followed her closely, but
not without exciting the wrath of the Honontkoh. They had sat ever
since the canoe had been grappled by the boat with the most tranquil
stillness. Not a limb, not a feature had moved; and to the eye of an
observer ignorant of their habits, they would have seemed perfectly
indifferent to all that was taking place. In fact, one of them
appeared actually going to sleep; for the sun, which had now broken
out after the storm, shone full on his face, and his eyes were closed,
and his head bent. But the moment that Woodchuck put his foot over the
side of the batteau a yell of disappointed rage burst from every lip;
and, unable to contain himself, Apukwa arose and poured forth a few
words of Huron, mixed with a good deal of Iroquois.
"Hold your tongues!" exclaimed the French officer, waving his hand
imperiously. "Tow them along behind us; and you, Great Elk, command
your people to keep close round them and see they do not cut the rope
and slip away."
The orders were given as he directed, and the arrangements made; but
when all was completed, and the boat was once more moving along the
lake, the Indian by his side pulled the officer's sleeve, thus
interrupting a speech he had just begun, with a gallant air, to Edith,
and seemed to explain something to him in a low tone.
"Well, we shall soon find out," said the Frenchman, with a gay laugh.
"If they are Iroquois who are going to become Hurons, and take service
under his majesty, we will make them fight for us where we are going.
We shall not have too many hands to help us, Great Elk, and they'll
make a good reinforcement to your party. As for the lady and her
attendant, I will take care of them;" and turning to Edith, with a
courteous smile, he spread his roquelaure in a more convenient part of
the boat, and assisted her to seat herself more comfortably, saying:
"Mademoiselle is a great deal too charming to travel any more with
such savages. But may I know the name of this gentleman? Can he not
speak French?"
"Not a word, I believe," replied Edith.
"That is singular," exclaimed the Frenchman, giving expression to the
general feeling of his nation, who seem to believe that the French
language is one of those blessings of God which it is strange He
should deny to any of his creatures. "What is his name?"
It instantly passed through the mind of Edith that if she gave her
good companion the name of Captain Brooks she would be certain to
cause his detention as a prisoner of war, and she therefore simply
replied: "He is called Woodchuck."
"Woodchuck!" exclaimed the Frenchman; "quel drol de nom! Is Monsieur
Woodchuck in the army?"
To the question, thus put, Edith could fairly answer in the negative,
for Brooks, though he had seen no little fighting in his day, was
merely one of those amateur soldiers, then very common in the
provinces, who rarely missed an opportunity of joining some band of
volunteers in times of war with France, or fighting upon their own
hand, according to the Dutchman's expression, as one of the extensive
class called stragglers. They generally bore away from the field,
especially if they distinguished themselves, some military title, such
as captain or major, without ever having commanded half a dozen men in
their lives.
After having asked hie questions, and settled his conduct, the French
officer's next business was, of course, politeness, and he would fain
have engaged his lovely companion in gay and lively conversation
during the rest of their little voyage; but Edith, though her mind was
greatly relieved to find herself freed from the power of the
Honontkoh, had many a subject of melancholy contemplation to occupy
her thoughts. There was the dark and dreary consideration of her
brother's fate; there was the uncertainty of what might befall her
father and her lover; there was the separation from all most dear to
her; there was the doubt, even now, whether she might not herself be
detained a prisoner amongst strangers; for the war in America had
hitherto been conducted by the French upon principles the most
barbarous and most opposed to the ordinary characteristics of the
nation. The scene which succeeded the capture of Fort William Henry
was a dark and damning fact, never to be obliterated from the minds of
men; and although it has been put forth by an American author as the
only stain upon the character of Montcalm, that author must surely
have forgotten the violated capitulation of Oswego, the death of the
gallant De la Court, and the scalping and massacre of the sick in the
hospital. All that we can trust is that these barbarities were only
permitted, not encouraged. But how can we account for or excuse, how
can we even palliate, the witting and voluntary delivery of twenty of
the garrison into the hands of the Indians, in direct violation of the
articles of capitulation, to be tortured to death under the very eyes
of the French soldiery, as compensation for the loss of twenty of the
French Indians? It is a fact which has never been denied, or it would
be too horrible for belief.
Edith replied briefly, therefore, to the compliments and pretty
speeches of her military companion, and in the meanwhile the boat
proceeded rapidly over the surface of the lake, passed Crown Point,
and entered the narrow portion of Lake Champlain, which stretches from
that promontory to the spot where the Sounding Waters, as the Indians
called the outlet of Lake George, flow into the greater lake, near
Ticonderoga.
The French officer, somewhat baffled in his attempts to make her
speak, tried his fortune with Woodchuck, but with still less success;
for to everything he said in French he received what can hardly be
called an answer in English; and generally, it must be said, not a
very civil one; for Brooks was filled with all the most unreasonable
prejudices of his country, and never uttered the word "Frenchman"
without coupling it with the epithet "rascally." The voyage was
brought to a close, however, before night fell, for the boat stopped
short by a mile or two of Ticonderoga, and considerably to the north
of the spot where the ferry now exists.
The scene would have appeared beautiful, had Edith's mind been free to
enjoy it, for in front were seen the tops of the several bold
eminences round the French fort, On the one side were those rich
lands, varied at that time with scattered masses of forest, though now
more highly cultivated, known as the New Hampshire grants, and to the
westward a varied country, rising gradually to the foot of the Mohegan
Mountains. The spot chosen for the landing was a secluded cove in the
woods, where the shelving rocks broke through the soil and dipped
gradually into the water. Boats and canoes were all speedily hauled
up. The commander of the party, with delicate attention, handed Edith
out, and then gave orders to his men to follow him, which was effected
with rapidity and precision. The savages, under the orders of their
chief, took care of the Iroquois prisoners, and apparently by no
slight act of forbearance resisted the great temptation to possess
themselves of their scalps. When all had disembarked the canoes were
drawn safely up under concealment of the bushes on either side, and
the voyageurs in the two larger boats pushed off and took their way up
the lake again.
"I fear, mademoiselle," said the captain of the French soldiers, who
might have amounted to sixty or seventy, "I must trouble you to take a
somewhat fatiguing promenade of some four or five miles; at least so I
am told, for I have never been here myself, and do not know the
distance."
"Then are we not going to Fort Ticonderoga?" asked Edith.
"Not so," replied the officer. "We are going a little beyond, and I
shall have no opportunity of detaching any party whom I could trust to
send you into the fort to-night. The Indians, indeed, could be
spared--at least a sufficient number to escort you--but I should
really be apprehensive from what I know of their habits, that you
might not be quite so safe in their charge as under the protection of
my musketeers, with your devoted servant at their head. We will
endeavor to make you as comfortable as we can for the night, and I
doubt not that early to-morrow I shall be visited by some superior
officer, who will have the honor of conveying you to the fort."
"Then am I to consider myself as a prisoner?" asked Edith, in a cold
tone. "I did not know that it was the habit of French officers to make
women captives."
"No!" replied the Frenchman, with a graceful bow; "we ourselves are
much more frequently their captives. But, my dear lady, within the
limits of this garrison I myself have no command--am merely acting
under orders, and feel myself imperatively bound to send you and your
companion, Monsieur Woodchuck, to the commandant of the fortress, who
will act, I am sure, as he finds befitting. I only regret that I
cannot do so at once; but my orders are strict, my route marked out,
and I am told to hasten across this small peninsula, as fast as
possible without approaching the fortress. It is certainly a rather
long walk, but if you feel fatigued I can easily make my men construct
a little litter, and carry you. We shall find some preparation made
for us where we are going, though, I am afraid, not very suitable for
your use."
Edith evidently saw that remonstrance was in vain; and saying that she
should prefer to walk, she took the arm of Woodchuck, and explained to
him as they went all that had passed between her and the Frenchman.
"I guess he is going to form an ambuscade," said Woodchuck. "If so,
Miss Prevost, our army must be near, and we shall be long in their
hands. I wish to heaven I could get away from them, and had but a
horse to carry me," he added, thoughtfully, and with a sigh. "But it's
no use wishing. God knows his own ways best! Them Hurons look very
much as if they would eat the Oneidas before they've done. Pray God
they mayn't take such a fancy to us, too!"
Thus saying, he took the place which was assigned to him and Edith in
the march. A number of Indians preceded, several little parties moved
upon the flanks, the small body of French infantry moved on two
abreast, for the trail was barely wide enough for that number.
Woodchuck and Edith followed them, and the French officer, with the
Indian whom he called Great Elk, walked next, succeeded by the
Iroquois prisoners, a large quantity of baggage, borne on men's
shoulders, and the remainder of the Huron auxiliaries.
It was now twilight in the forest, and for more than an hour after
darkness had fallen upon the earth the weary and somewhat perilous
march was continued. Once a small stream was crossed, Woodchuck taking
up his fair companion in his sturdy arms and bearing her over like an
infant. Nothing of any note occurred, except a slow and low-toned
conversation in the rear, which led Edith to believe that the
Iroquois, her late captors, had found some of the other band of
natives with whom they could converse; but she could not distinguish
anything that was said.
Weary and exhausted, the sight of a fire at length glimmering through
the trees was an exceedingly pleasant sight to her eyes, and a minute
or two after a scene presented itself which might have seemed dreary
and comfortless enough under other circumstances, but which looked
cheerful and comfortable after that long and miserable march.
The trail which they had followed terminated in a small open space,
flanked on three sides by low earthworks of no very regular
construction, but evidently designed by an experienced military hand.
The outer surface of these works was partially concealed by a thicket,
and great care had been taken not only to preserve the brambles and
the large-leaved raspberry, but to fill every gap in this shrubbery
screen with branches of pine, and hemlock, and maple. Within these
embankments the ground had, to a certain extent, been cleared, though
two or three of the larger trees had been left standing, to prevent a
vacancy being apparent from without. About the middle of the open
space a number of rude huts had been erected, of small felled trees
and branches; and before one, somewhat larger than the rest, a
sentinel was seen planted, who, at the moment Edith came in sight,
stood motionless, presenting arms, as his comrades filed into the
little quadrangle. Behind the soldier, and between him and the huts,
was a large blazing fire, which threw out his dark figure, sharply
outlined upon the flame.
"Ah! this will do," said the French commander, in a tone of relief.
"The commandant has been careful of us. Mademoiselle, I welcome you to
my redoubt, and will do my best to make the evening pass pleasantly
for you. Now bring in the baggage. Tell the cook to get supper ready;
and you, Pierrot, see that hut properly arranged for this young lady's
accommodation. I calculated on sleeping upon a very comfortable
bearskin to-night, but I will most willingly resign it to you,
mademoiselle, in the hope of your passing a good night's rest."
Edith would fain have declined accepting a sacrifice so enhanced, but
the captain insisted; and his servant, whom he called Pierrot, at once
set about the preparations for her comfort with a degree of skill and
dexterity truly French. In the meantime, while Edith, sitting on the
trunk of a fallen tree, waited till all was ready, and while a group
of stragglers unpacked the baggage which had just been deposited from
the sturdy shoulders of the bearers, the French officer called his
friend, the Huron chief, to council; and Apukwa and the other Oneidas
were brought before him, accompanied by two young Hurons, who
undertook to act as interpreters. Many were the questions asked, and
what between the captain's ignorance of Indian manners, and the
interpreters' ignorance both of the French and Iroquois, the worthy
officer seemed completely puzzled.
At length, however, after consulting the Great Elk in a low voice, he
exclaimed: "Tell them, if their tale be really true--though I've got
my doubts, for I never heard of Free Masons amongst Indians before,
and that must be what you mean by Honontkoh--but if their tale be
really true, they may stay here with us, and prove their devotion to
His Majesty Louis the Fifteenth, King of France, by fighting the
English at our side. They shall be sharply watched, however," he
added, in a low voice, as if speaking to himself.
Apukwa heard his words translated, and then, saying something in
reply, pointed to Edith and her English companion with a look of too
much meaning to be misunderstood.
"Nothing of the kind," answered the French officer, without waiting
for the words which seemed about to follow. "Tell him there's but one
choice, either to prove their story and their loyalty by fighting on
our side, or to pass under the fire of these gentlemen," and he laid
his hand upon a pile of muskets which stood close beside him.
This intimation was quite sufficient. The Honontkoh agreed to stay and
fight without any further conditions, and the Frenchman then gave
strict orders, both to his own soldiers and the Hurons--by whom they
were much more likely to be efficiently obeyed--that their very
doubtful allies should be kept continually in sight. He then seemed to
cast all thought of the affair behind him, and turned toward Edith,
who was already in the hut, saying: "I hope, mademoiselle, Pierrot has
taken good care of you."
"With all the skill and courtesy of a Frenchman, monsieur," she
answered, really pleased with the attention and almost fatherly
kindness of the soldier who had been arranging the hut.
"Then, now, as you have the means of rest, it only remains to provide
you with meat and drink," said the officer. "I see they have spread my
tablecloth on the grass there. Will you and your friend come and
partake of my fare? Pray make my words understood to him."
Woodchuck readily agreed to accept the Frenchman's hospitality, but
Edith declined taking anything more than a little bread and some wine,
alleging that she needed rest more than anything. The French officer,
however, would not be content with this, but with his own hands
brought her some savory messes which would not have disgraced a
Parisian dinner table, some choice wine, and, what was still more
valuable to her, a small lamp. He then closed the hurdle door of the
hut upon her and returned to his meal with Woodchuck, keeping up with
him for half an hour a sort of conversation by words and signs,
one-half of which was probably unintelligible to both. The Frenchman
then took possession of another hut, and invited Woodchuck to share it
with him for the night; but the stout woodsman declined any covering
but the sky, and stretching himself across Edith's door, was soon in
profound slumber.