THE ATTACK
The lights were extinguished; the inhabitants of the Marshes were apparently
sunk in slumber. It was near upon midnight, but the moon was shining so
brightly that it seemed almost as if it were daylight.
Loïs had risen, and, standing in the darkness at a window of an upper room at
Omega Marsh, looking down into the valley, was almost tempted to think she
must have been mistaken, that her interview with Nadjii was an evil dream, the
scene was so peacefully lovely. The church spire rose in the midst of the
surrounding houses. She knew every one of them; their inhabitants had been
familiar to her since her childhood, from the old grandfather to the toddling
child she had helped to carry on the road that morning. By the light of the
moon and stars she saw the outline of the hills, and farther on the mountain
ridges; whilst the river gleamed here and there as it wound through the
meadows. But what riveted her gaze was that dark, impenetrable forest. What
did it conceal? She knew full well that all around the garden men belonging to
the village lay on the ground watching, even as she was watching. Would to God
it might be in vain! but Nadjii had spoken, and Loïs had implicit confidence
in the Indian woman.
Suddenly, without warning, a loud shout arose. Then Loïs knew the enemy was at
hand, and in the space of a few seconds the settlement was surrounded. The
Indians poured down into the valley like a flock of locusts. Nat had issued
the order that no man was to stir until the savages should have passed the
boundaries, and then to fire on them simultaneously. Up towards the Marshes
they swarmed, never doubting that the inhabitants were sleeping; but they were
soon undeceived--a murderous fire came pouring down upon them. Shrieks, howls
of pain and anger, filled the air, and the dark figures, with their waving
headgears, leapt the barriers, striking out to the right and left with their
murderous hatchets.
To Loïs, as she shrank back, it was as if all the devils of hell had been
suddenly let loose. Steadily the fire continued; but so numerous were the
assailants, that even as they fell others poured in over them, filling up the
gaps. The settlement was surrounded on all sides. The besieged were not long
in perceiving this, for the triumphant yells of the red men were heard on
every side.
“They are too many for us, Marcus,” said Father Nat; “they are murdering our
people wholesale down yonder. Good Heavens! they are setting fire to the
barns; they’ll burn the village down!”
“I’m afraid they will,” said Marcus. Even whilst speaking they had not ceased
firing. With a score of other men they were crouching behind the trees in the
garden, just in front of Omega Marsh. Other groups were scattered here and
there, protecting the homestead. The dead and wounded lay around, but the
assailants still came on, the circle narrowing as they pressed forward.
“Where is Loïs?” asked Father Nat.
“Here,” she answered; and raising her gun, she fired over his shoulder at an
Indian, who had leapt to within a yard of them.
“We must back into the house and bar the doors,” she said; “it is our only
chance.”
“I think she’s right,” said the minister, and slowly they began to move
backwards. A yell of delight from the savages greeted this retrograde
movement, and one leapt forward, and, raising his tomahawk, would have brought
it down on Father Nat’s head, if a thrust from a knife had not made the
uplifted arm drop helpless, and with a shriek of agony the man sprang back. At
the same moment Loïs felt herself lifted from the ground and carried into the
house. With a sudden rush the others followed her. To bolt and bar the doors
and windows of the ground floor was the work of a few seconds. Some of the men
had ascended to the first story, and were firing from the windows upon the
savages.
“We can only hold out a certain time,” said John Cleveland; “and even that
depends upon their being kind enough not to set fire to the place.”
It seemed very unlikely that the Indians would refrain from doing so. The
village was burning; and by the light of the flames the terrible fight which
was going on below and around was clearly visible.
It was evident they had some reason for not setting fire to the homestead,
probably the desire of taking the inhabitants alive for the purpose of
torturing them “Father Nat” more especially, their anger being directed
against Roger. The house was strongly built, the doors and windows secured by
heavy iron bars, and so far the savages had been kept at bay by the incessant
firing of the beleaguered. Suddenly they appeared to retreat, making a rush
round to the back of the house. At the same moment Nadjii stood by the side of
Loïs.
“See!” she whispered. “Roger;” and even as she spoke, running swiftly up the
hill with shouts of “Hurrah, hurrah!” they saw the well-known red shirts of
the Rangers.
“Saved,” said Father Nat, turning round quickly. “My brave lad!” He had hardly
uttered the words when he was felled to the earth, and the room was filled
with savages, yelling, hewing to the right hand and to the left. The settlers
were grouped together in a corner of the room, keeping the savages at bay with
their guns and rifles.
The last thing Loïs saw was Nadjii, who, thrusting her behind her, with blood
flowing down her own half-naked body, held aloft a glittering steel knife
stained with gore.
The sun rose upon a scene of utter devastation. The village of Marshwood lay
in ruins; upwards of one hundred men had been killed, or, worse still, were
missing.
Almost the only house which stood uninjured was Alpha Marsh; evidently the
Indians had their reasons for respecting it. Their own loss was immense. The
sudden appearance of the Rangers had been totally unexpected. When the savages
had forced an entrance at the back and had swarmed into the house, Roger and
his men took them in the rear and cut them to pieces, at the same time as they
were being fired on by the besieged; retreat was therefore impossible, and
they perished to a man. A few threw themselves out of the windows in the hope
of escaping, but were either killed in the fall or bayoneted by their
opponents stationed below; the same thing went on throughout the village. In
less than an hour after the Rangers appeared, the Indians were swept away,
leaving their dead and wounded to the mercy of the conquerors.
Of the group of men who had defended Omega Marsh only a few escaped unwounded.
When the fight was at an end, and Roger forced his way over the dead into the
room where the besieged had taken refuge, an awful sight met his eyes. Father
Nat lay apparently killed, Loïs was close beside him senseless, and almost
covering them with her naked body, gashed with wounds, lay Nadjii.
The scene was one of indescribable horror. For a second Roger’s spirit failed
him. The survivors, faint and exhausted, hardly believing they were saved,
still stood with their weapons in their hands. Marcus, badly wounded himself,
was striving to get at Loïs, but the Indian woman’s body had to be moved
first, and he had no strength left. Stern and agonised was Roger’s face, as
John Cleveland, clasping his hand, said, with a sob in his voice,--
“He knew you had come to the rescue. A minute sooner and you would have saved
him.”
“Are you sure he is dead?” said Roger, in a hoarse voice, as he helped Marcus
to move Nadjii and Loïs; and then he raised his father in his arms. Apparently
dead he certainly was; but the face was so swollen and disfigured by a ghastly
wound on the forehead that it was impossible to say positively.
“He and the women had better be carried over to Alpha Marsh,” he said; “the
flames are spreading below. I must go and help my men.”
At that moment Loïs opened her eyes, and consciousness came back to her
immediately. She sat up and looked around.
“Oh, Roger!” she exclaimed; and for the first time for years he did not turn
away from her, but asked,--
“Are you hurt, Loïs?”
She tried to rise. John Cleveland gave her his hand.
“No,” she answered, “I think not; it is their blood,” and she shivered,
pointing to her blood-stained garments.
“Alpha Marsh is uninjured; we are going to carry Father Nat there.”
“And she?” said Loïs, looking down at Nadjii.
“If you wish it,” answered Roger, turning away.
And so Nathaniel was laid in the best chamber of Alpha Marsh, and Nadjii in
Loïs’ own bedroom.
Nokomis, the Huron woman who had served Nathaniel ever since he rescued her
from another tribe of Indians, who had slain her son and her husband, came out
of hiding, and with a few other women, some old, some sick, who had refused to
leave the settlement, set to work to tend the wounded.
“He no dead, she no dead,” said Nokomis, after washing the blood from Father
Nat’s head and body, and, with Loïs’ help, performing the same office for
Nadjii. “But,” she added, shaking her head, “they both die; no meda[5] save
her.”
[Footnote 5: Medicine-man.]
“But you are as good as a meda,” said Lois. “You know of herbs and salves,
Nokomis; you must try what you can do.”
“For my Nosa[6] perhaps,” she said, as she bound up the ghastly wound which
had lain Father Nat’s head open; “but for the Nadjii, she dead;” and yet as
Loïs bent over the dark face, and held a feather to her lips, she knew that
Nadjii still lived.
[Footnote 6: Master.]
“Oh, Nokomis,” she said, tears running down her face, “she tried to save us
all; if I am living it is because she stood between me and death. She has a
brave heart.”
“She is a chief’s daughter,” answered Nokomis, with certain dignity; “but she
must die; her hour is come.”
Suddenly a thought struck Loïs; her pale face flushed.
The child--where had Nadjii left the child?