THE CAUSE OF THE FIRING
The landing was but a part of the labyrinthine trickery in which our
leader delighted to play; for while Jean delayed the natives we ran
overland through the woods, launched our canoe far ahead of the Indian
flotilla, and went racing forward to the throbs of the leaping river.
"If a man would win, he must run fast as the hour-glass," observed M.
Radisson, poising his steering-pole. "And now, my brave lads," he began,
counting in quick, sharp words that rang with command, "keep
time--one--two--three! One--two--three!" And to each word the paddles
dipped with the speed of a fly-wheel's spokes.
"One--two--three! In and up and on! An you keep yourselves in hand,
men, you can win against the devil's own artillery! Speed to your
strokes, Godefroy," he urged.
And the canoe answered as a fine-strung racer to the spur. Shore-lines
blurred to a green streak. The frosty air met our faces in wind.
Gurgling waters curled from the prow in corrugated runnels. And we were
running a swift race with a tumult of waves, mounting the swell, dipping,
rising buoyant, forward in bounds, with a roar of the nearing rapids, and
spray dashing athwart in drifts. M. Radisson braced back. The prow
lifted, shot into mid-air, touched water again, and went whirling through
the mill-race that boiled below a waterfall. Once the canoe aimed
straight as an arrow for rocks in mid-current. M. Radisson's steel-shod
pole flashed in the sun. There was a quick thrust, answered by
Godefroy's counter-stroke at the stern; and the canoe grazed past the
rocks not a hair's-breadth off.
"Sainte Anne ha' mercy!" mumbled Godefroy, baling water from the canoe as
we breasted a turn in the river to calmer currents, "Sainte Anne ha'
mercy! But the master'd run us over Niagara, if he had a mind."
"Or the River Styx, if 'twould gain his end," sharply added Radisson.
But he ordered our paddles athwart for snatched rest, while he himself
kept alert at the bow. With the rash presumption of youth, I offered to
take the bow that he might rest; but he threw his head back with a loud
laugh, more of scorn than mirth, and bade me nurse a wounded hand. On
the evening of the third day we came to the Habitation. Without
disembarking, M. de Radisson sent the soldiers on sentinel duty at the
river front up to the fort with warning to prepare for instant siege.
"'Twill put speed in the lazy rascals to finish the fort," he remarked;
and the canoe glided out to mid-current again for the far expanse of the
bay.
By this we were all so used to M. Radisson's doings, 'twould not have
surprised us when the craft shot out from river-mouth to open sea if he
had ordered us to circumnavigate the ocean on a chip.
He did what was nigh as venturesome.
A quick, unwarned swerve of his pole, which bare gave Godefroy time to
take the cue, and our prow went scouring across the scud of whipping
currents where two rivers and an ocean-tide met. The seething waves
lashed to foam with the long, low moan of the world-devouring serpent
which, legend says, is ever an-hungering to devour voyageurs on life's
sea. And for all the world that reef of combing breakers was not unlike
a serpent type of malignant elements bent on man's destruction!
Then, to the amaze of us all, we had left the lower river. The canoe was
cutting up-stream against a new current; and the moan of the pounding
surf receded to the rear. Clouds blew inland, muffling the moon; and M.
Radisson ordered us ashore for the night. Feet at a smouldering fire too
dull for an enemy to see and heads pillowed on logs, we bivouacked with
the frosty ground for bed.
"Bad beds make good risers," was all M. Radisson's comfort, when Godefroy
grumbled out some complaint.
A _hard_ master, you say? A wise one, say I, for the forces he fought in
that desolate land were as adamant. Only the man dauntless as adamant
could conquer. And you must remember, while the diamond and the charcoal
are of the same family, 'tis the diamond has lustre, because it is
_hard_. Faults, M. Radisson had, which were almost crimes; but look you
who judge him--his faults were not the faults of nearly all other men,
the faults which _are_ a crime--_the crime of being weak_!
The first thing our eyes lighted on when the sun rose in flaming darts
through the gray haze of dawn was a half-built fort on an island in
mid-river. At the water side lay a queer-rigged brigantine, rocking to
the swell of the tide. Here, then, was cause of that firing heard across
the marsh on the lower river.
"'Tis the pirate ship we saw on the high sea," muttered Godefroy, rubbing
his eyes.
"She flies no flag! She has no license to trade! She's a poacher! She
will make a prize worth the taking," added M. Radisson sharply. Then, as
if to justify that intent--"As _we_ have no license, we must either take
or be taken!"
The river mist gradually lifted, and there emerged from the fog a
stockaded fort with two bastions facing the river and guns protruding
from loopholes.
"Not so easy to take that fort," growled Godefroy, who was ever a
hanger-back.
"All the better," retorted M. de Radisson. "Easy taking makes soft men!
'Twill test your mettle!"
"Test our mettle!" sulked the trader, a key higher in his obstinacy.
"All very well to talk, sir, but how can we take a fort mounted with
twenty cannon----"
"I'll tell you _the how_ when it's done," interrupted M. de Radisson.
But Godefroy was one of those obstinates who would be silent only when
stunned.
"I'd like to know, sir, what we're to do," he began.
"Godefroy, 'twould be waste time to knock sense in your pate! There is
only one thing to do always--only one, _the right thing_! Do it, fool!
An I hear more clack from you till it's done, I'll have your tongue out
with the nippers!"
Godefroy cowered sulkily back, and M. de Radisson laughed.
"That will quell him," said he. "When Godefroy's tongue is out he can't
grumble, and grumbling is his bread of life!"
Stripping off his bright doublet, M. Radisson hung it from a tree to
attract the fort's notice. Then he posted us in ambuscade with orders to
capture whatever came.
But nothing came.
And when the fort guns boomed out the noon hour M. Radisson sprang up all
impatience.
"I'll wait no man's time," he vowed. "Losing time is losing the game!
Launch out!"
Chittering something about our throats being cut, Godefroy shrank back.
With a quick stride M. Radisson was towering above him. Catching
Godefroy by the scruff of the neck, he threw him face down into the
canoe, muttering out it would be small loss if all the cowards in the
world had their throats cut.
"The pirates come to trade," he explained. "They will not fire at
Indians. Bind your hair back like that Indian there!"
No sooner were we in the range of the fort than M. Radisson uttered the
shrill call of a native, bade our Indian stand up, and himself enacted
the pantomime of a savage, waving his arms, whistling, and hallooing.
With cries of welcome, the fort people ran to the shore and left their
guns unmanned. Reading from a syllable book, they shouted out Indian
words. It was safe to approach. Before they could arm we could escape.
But we were two men, one lad, and a neutral Indian against an armed
garrison in a land where killing was no murder.
M. de Radisson stood up and called in the Indian tongue. They did not
understand.
"New to it," commented Radisson, "not the Hudson's Bay Company!"
All the while he was imperceptibly approaching nearer. He shouted in
French. They shook their heads.
"English highwaymen, blundered in here by chance," said he.
Tearing off the Indian head-band of disguise, he demanded in mighty
peremptory tones who they were.
"English," they called back doubtfully.
"What have you come for?" insisted Radisson, with a great swelling of his
chest.
"The beaver trade," came a faint voice.
Where had I heard it before? Did it rise from the ground in the woods,
or from a far memory of children throwing a bully into the sea?
"I demand to see your license," boldly challenged Radisson.
At that the fellows ashore put their heads together.
"In the name of the king, I demand to see your license instantly,"
repeated Sieur de Radisson, with louder authority.
"We have no license," explained one of the men, who was dressed with
slashed boots, red doublet, and cocked hat.
M. Radisson smiled and poled a length closer.
"A ship without a license! A prize-for the taking! If the rascals
complain--the galleys for life!" and he laughed softly.
"This coast is possessed by the King of France," he shouted. "We have a
strong garrison! We mistook your firing for more French ships!" Shaping
his hands trumpet fashion to his mouth, he called this out again, adding
that our Indian was of a nation in league with the French.
The pirates were dumb as if he had tossed a hand grenade among them.
"The ship is ours now, lads," said Radisson softly, poling nearer. "See,
lads, the bottom has tumbled from their courage! We'll not waste a pound
o' powder in capturing that prize!" He turned suddenly to me--"As I live
by bread, 'tis that bragging young dandy-prat--hop-o'-my-thumb--Ben
Gillam of Boston Town!"
"Ben Gillam!"
I was thinking of my assailant in the woods. "Ben was tall. The pirate,
who came carving at me, was small."
But Ben Gillam it was, turned pirate or privateer--as you choose to call
it--grown to a well-timbered rapscallion with head high in air,
jack-boots half-way to his waist, a clanking sword at heel, and a nose
too red from rum.
As we landed, he sent his men scattering to the fort, and stood twirling
his mustaches till the recognition struck him.
"By Jericho--Radisson!" he gasped.
Then he tossed his chin defiantly in air like an unbroken colt disposed
to try odds with a master.
"Don't be afraid to land," he called down out of sheer impudence.
"Don't be afraid to have us land," Radisson shouted up to him. "We'll
not harm you!"
Ben swore a big oath, fleered a laugh, and kicked the sand with his
heels. Raising a hand, he signalled the watchers on the ship.
"Sorry to welcome you in this warlike fashion," said he.
"Glad to welcome you to the domain of His Most Christian Majesty, the
King of France," retorted Radisson, leaping ashore.
Ben blinked to catch the drift of that.
"Devil take their majesties!" he ejaculated. "He's king who conquers!"
"No need to talk of conquering when one is master already," corrected M.
de Radisson.
"Shiver my soul," blurts out Ben, "I haven't a tongue like an eel, but
that's what I mean; and I'm king here, and welcome to you, Radisson!"
"And that's what I mean," laughed M. Radisson, with a bow, quietly
motioning us to follow ashore. "No need to conquer where one is master,
and welcome to you, Captain Gillam!"
And they embraced each other like spider and fly, each with a free hand
to his sword-hilt, and a questioning look on the other's face.
Says M. Radisson: "I've seen that ship before!"
Ben laughs awkwardly. "We captured her from a Dutchman," he begins.
"Oh!" says Sieur Radisson. "I meant outside the straits after the storm!"
Gillam's eyes widen. "Were those your ships?" he asks. Then both men
laugh.
"Not much to boast in the way of a fleet," taunts Ben.
"Those are the two smallest we have," quickly explains Radisson.
Gillam's face went blank, and M. Radisson's eyes closed to the watchful
slit of a cat mouse-hunting.
"Come! Come!" exclaims Ben, with a sudden flare of friendliness, "I am
no baby-eater! Put a peg in that! Shiver my soul if this is a way to
welcome friends! Come aboard all of you and test the Canary we got in
the hold of a fine Spanish galleon last week! Such a top-heavy ship,
with sails like a tinker's tatters, you never saw! And her hold running
over with Canary and Madeira--oh! Come aboard! Come aboard!" he urged.
It was Pierre Radisson's turn to blink.
"And drink to the success of the beaver trade," importunes Ben.
'Twas as pretty a piece of play as you could see: Ben, scheming to get
the Frenchman captive; M. Radisson, with the lightnings under his brows
and that dare-devil rashness of his blood tempting him to spy out the
lad's strength.
"Ben was the body of the venture! Where was the brain? It was that took
me aboard his ship," M. Radisson afterward confessed to us.
"Come! Come!" pressed Gillam. "I know young Stanhope there"--his mighty
air brought the laugh to my face--"young Stanhope there has a taste for
fine Canary----"
"But, lad," protested Radisson, with a condescension that was vinegar to
Ben's vanity, "we cannot be debtors altogether. Let two of your men stay
here and whiff pipes with my fellows, while I go aboard!"
Ben's teeth ground out an assent that sounded precious like an oath; for
he knew that he was being asked for hostages of safe-conduct while M.
Radisson spied out the ship. He signalled, as we thought, for two
hostages to come down from the fort; but scarce had he dropped his hand
when fort and ship let out such a roar of cannonading as would have
lifted the hair from any other head than Pierre Radisson's.
Godefroy cut a caper. The Indian's eyes bulged with terror, and my own
pulse went a-hop; but M. Radisson never changed countenance.
"Pardieu," says he softly, with a pleased smile as the last shot went
skipping over the water, "you're devilish fond o' fireworks, to waste
good powder so far from home!"
Ben mumbled out that he had plenty of powder, and that some fools didn't
know fireworks from war.
M. Radisson said he was glad there was plenty of powder, there would
doubtless be use found for it, and he knew fools oft mistook fireworks
for war.
With that a cannon-shot sent the sand spattering to our boots and filled
the air with powder-dust; but when the smoke cleared, M. Radisson had
quietly put himself between Ben and the fort.
Drawing out his sword, the Frenchman ran his finger up the edge.
"Sharp as the next," said he.
Lowering the point, he scratched a line on the sand between the mark of
the last shot and us.
"How close can your gunners hit, Ben?" asked Radisson. "Now I'll wager
you a bottle of Madeira they can't hit that line without hitting you!"
Ben's hand went up quick enough. The gunners ceased firing and M.
Radisson sheathed his sword with a laugh.
"You'll not take the odds? Take advice instead! Take a man's advice,
and never waste powder! You'll need it all if he's king who conquers!
Besides," he added, turning suddenly serious, "if my forces learn you are
here I'll not promise I've strength to restrain them!"
"How many have you?" blurted Ben.
"Plenty to spare! Now, if you are afraid of the Hudson's Bay Company
ships attacking you, I'd be glad to loan you enough young fire-eaters to
garrison the fort here!"
"Thanks," says Ben, twirling his mustaches till they were nigh jerked
out, "but how long would they stay?"
"Till you sent them away," says M. de Radisson, with the lights at play
under his brows.
"Hang me if I know how long that would be," laughed Gillam, half-puzzled,
half-pleased with the Frenchman's darting wits.
"Ben," begins M. Radisson, tapping the lace ruffle of Gillam's sleeve,
"you must not fire those guns!"
"No?" questions Gillam.
"My officers are swashing young blades! What with the marines and the
common soldiers and my own guard, 'tis all I can manage to keep the
rascals in hand! They must not know you are here!"
Gillam muttered something of a treaty of truce for the winter.
M. Radisson shook his head.
"I have scarce the support to do as I will," he protests.
Young Gillam swore such coolness was scurvy treatment for an old friend.
"Old friend," laughed Radisson afterward. "Did the cub's hangdog of a
father not offer a thousand pounds for my head on the end of a pikestaff?"
But with Ben he played the game out.
"The season is too far advanced for you to _escape_," says he with soft
emphasis.
"'Tis why I want a treaty," answers the sailor.
"Come, then," laughs the Frenchman, "now--as to terms----"
"Name them," says Gillam.
"If you don't wish to be discovered----"
"I don't wish to be discovered!"
"If you don't wish to be discovered don't run up a flag!"
"One," says Gillam.
"If you don't wish to be discovered, don't let your people leave the
island!"
"They haven't," says Gillam.
"What?" asks M. Radisson, glancing sharply at me; for we were both
thinking of that night attack.
"They haven't left the island," repeats Gillam.
"Ten lies are as cheap as two," says Radisson to us. Then to Gillam,
"Don't let your people leave the island, or they'll meet my forces."
"Two," says Gillam.
"If you don't wish the Fur Company to discover you, don't fire guns!"
"Three," says Gillam.
"That is to keep 'em from connecting with those inlanders," whispered
Godefroy, who knew the plays of his master's game better than I. "We can
beat 'em single; but if Ben joins the inlanders and the Fur Company
against us----"
Godefroy completed his prophecy with an ominous shake of the head.
"My men shall not know you are here," M. Radisson was promising.
"One," counts Gillam.
"I'll join with you against the English ships!"
Young Gillam laughed derisively.
"My father commands the Hudson's Bay ship," says he.
"Egad, yes!" retorts M. Radisson nonchalantly, "but your father doesn't
command the governor of the Fur Company, who sailed out in his ship."
"The governor does not know that I am here," flouts Ben.
"But he would know if I told him," adds M. de Radisson, "and if I told
him the Company's captain owned half the ship poaching on the Company's
preserve, the Company's captain and the captain's son might go hang for
all the furs they'd get! By the Lord, youngster, I rather suspect both
the captain and the captain's son would be whipped and hanged for the
theft!"
Ben gave a start and looked hard at Radisson. 'Twas the first time, I
think, the cub realized that the pawn in so soft-spoken a game was his
own neck.
"Go on," he said, with haste and fear in his look. "I promised three
terms. You will keep your people from knowing I am here and join me
against the English--go on! What next?"
"I'll defend you against the Indians," coolly capped M. Radisson.
Godefroy whispered in my ear that he would not give a pin's purchase for
all the furs the New Englander would get; and Ben Gillam looked like a
man whose shoe pinches. He hung his head hesitating.
"But if you run up a flag, or fire a gun, or let your people leave the
island," warned M. Radisson, "I may let my men come, or tell the English,
or join the Indians against you."
Gillam put out his hand.
"It's a treaty," said he.
There and then he would have been glad to see the last of us; but M.
Radisson was not the man to miss the chance of seeing a rival's ship.
"How about that Canary taken from the foreign ship? A galleon, did you
say, tall and slim? Did you sink her or sell her? Send down your men to
my fellows! Let us go aboard for the story."