Although it was nearly true, as Captain Flint had told his men, that
they were about as well acquainted with his history since he landed in
this country as he was himself, such is not the case with the reader.
And in order that he may be as well informed in this matter as they
were, we shall now endeavor to fill up the gap in the narrative.
To the crew of the vessel who had rescued him and saved his life,
Captain Flint had represented himself as being one of the hands of a
ship which had been wrecked at sea, and from which the only ones who
had escaped, were himself and two negros, one of whom was the father
of the boy who had been found with him. The father of the boy had
fallen overboard, and been drowned just before the vessel hove in
sight.
This story, which seemed plausible enough, was believed by the men
into whose hands they had fallen, and Flint and the negro, received
every attention which their forlorn condition required. And upon
arriving in port, charitable people exerted themselves in the
captain's behalf, procuring him employment, and otherwise enabling him
to procure an honest livelihood, should he so incline.
But honesty was not one of the captain's virtues.
He had not been long in the country before he determined to try his
fortune among the Indians.
He adopted this course partly because he saw in it a way of making
money more rapidly than in any other, and partly because it opened to
him a new field of wild adventure.
Having made the acquaintance of some of the Indians who were in the
habit of coming to the city occasionally for the purpose of trading,
he accompanied them to their home in the wilderness, and having
previously made arrangements with merchants in the city, among others
Carl Rosenthrall, to purchase or dispose of his furs, he was soon
driving a thriving business. In a little while he became very popular
with the savages, joined one of the tribes and was made a chief.
This state of things however, did not last long. The other chiefs
became jealous of his influence, and incited the minds of many of the
people against him.
They said he cheated them in his dealings, that his attachment to the
red men was all pretence. That he was a paleface at heart, carrying on
trade with the palefaces to the injury of the Indians. Killing them
with his fire water which they gave them for their furs.
In all this there was no little truth, but Flint, confident of his
power over his new friends, paid no attention to it.
A crisis came at last.
One of the chiefs who had been made drunk by whiskey which he had
received from Flint in exchange for a lot of beaver skins, accused the
latter of cheating him; called him a paleface thief who had joined the
Indians only for the purpose of cheating them.
Flint forgetting his usual caution took the unruly savage by the
shoulders and thrust him out of the lodge.
In a few moments the enraged Indian returned accompanied by another,
when the two attacked the white man with knives and tomahawks.
Flint saw no way but to defend himself single-handed as he was,
against two infuriated savages, and to do to if possible without
killing either.
This he soon discovered was impossible. The only weapon he had at
command was a hunting knife, and he had two strong men to contend
against. Fortunately for him, one of them was intoxicated.
As it was, the savage who had begun the quarrel, was killed, and the
other so badly wounded that he died a few hours afterwards.
The enmity of the whole tribe was now aroused against Flint, by the
unfortunate termination of this affair.
It availed him nothing to contend that he had killed the two in self
defence, and that they begun the quarrel.
He was a white man, and had killed two Indians, and that was enough.
Besides, how did they know whether he told the truth or not?
He was a paleface, and palefaces had crooked tongues, and their words
could not be depended upon. Besides their brethren were dead, and
could not speak for themselves.
Finally it was decided in the grand council of the tribe that he
should suffer death, and although they called him a paleface, as he
had joined the tribe he should be treated as an Indian, and suffer
death by torture in order that he might have an opportunity of showing
how he could endure the most horrible torment without complaining.
The case of Flint now seemed to be a desperate one. He was bound hand
and foot, and escape seemed out of the question.
Relief came from a quarter he did not anticipate.
The place where this took place was not on the borders of the great
lakes where the tribe to which Flint had attached himself belonged,
but on the shores of the Hudson river a few miles above the Highlands,
where a portion of the tribe had stopped to rest for a few days, while
on their way to New York, where they were going for the purpose of
trading.
It happened that there was among them a woman who had originally
belonged to one of the tribes inhabiting this part of the country, but
who while young, had been taken prisoner in some one of the wars that
were always going on among the savages. She was carried away by her
captors, and finally adopted into their tribe.
To this woman Flint had shown some kindness, and had at several times
made her presents of trinkets and trifles such as he knew would
gratify an uncultivated taste. And which cost him little or nothing.
He little thought when making these trifling presents the service he
was doing himself.
Late in the night preceding the day on which he was to have been
executed, this woman came into the tent where he lay bound, and cut
the thongs with which he was tied, and telling him in a whisper to
follow her, she led the way out.
With stealthy and cautious steps they made their way through the
encampment, but when clear of this, they traveled as rapidly as the
darkness of the night and the nature of the ground would admit of.
All night, and a portion of the next day they continued their journey.
The rapidity with which she traveled, and her unhesitating manner,
soon convinced Flint that she was familiar with the country.
Upon reaching Butterhill, or Mount Tecomthe, she led the way to the
cave which we have already described.
After resting for a few moments in the first chamber, the Indian
woman, who we may as well inform the reader was none other than our
friend Lightfoot, showed Flint the secret door and the entrance to the
grand chamber, which after lighting a torch made of pitch-pine, they
entered.
"Here we are safe," said Lightfoot; "Indians no find us here."
The moment Flint entered this cavern it struck him as being a fine
retreat for a band of pirates or smugglers, and for this purpose he
determined to make use of it.
Lightfoot's knowledge of this cave was owing to the fact, that she
belonged to a tribe to whom alone the secrets of the place were known.
It was a tribe that had inhabited that part of the country for
centuries. But war and privation had so reduced them, that there was
but a small remnant of them left, and strangers now occupied their
hunting grounds.
The Indians in the neighborhood knew of the existence of the cave, but
had never penetrated farther than the first chamber, knowing nothing
of the concealed entrance which led to the other. Having as they said,
seen Indians enter it who never came out again, and who although
followed almost immediately could not be found there, they began to
hold it in a kind of awe, calling it the mystery or medicine cave, and
saying that it was under the guardianship of spirits.
Although the remnants of the once powerful tribe to whom this cave had
belonged, were now scattered over the country, there existed between
them a sort of masonry by which the different members could recognise
each other whenever they met.
Fire Cloud, the Indian chief, who has already been introduced to the
reader, was one of this tribe.
Although the existence of the cave was known to the members of the
tribe generally, the whole of its secrets were known to the medicine
men, or priests only.
In fact it might be considered the grand temple where they performed
the mystic rites and ceremonies by which they imposed upon the people,
and held them in subjection.
Flint immediately set about fitting up the place for the purpose which
he intended it.
To the few white trappers who now and then visited the district, the
existence of the cave was entirely unknown, and even the few Indians
who hunted and fished in the neighborhood, were acquainted only with
the outer cave as before stated.
When Flint was fully satisfied that all danger from pursuit was over,
he set out for the purpose of going to the city in order to perfect
the arrangements for carrying out the project he had in view.
On passing out, the first object that met his view was his faithful
follower Black Bill, siting at the entrance.
"How the devil did you get here!" was his first exclamation.
"Follered de Ingins what was a comin' arter massa," replied the boy.
Bill had followed his master into the wilderness, always like a body
servant keeping near his person when not prevented by the Indians,
which was the case while his master was a prisoner.
When the escape of Flint was discovered, he was free from restraint,
and he, unknown to the party who had gone in pursuit, had followed
them.
From the negro, Flint learned that the Indians had tracked him to the
cave, but not finding him there, and not being able to trace him any
further, they had given up the pursuit.
Flint thinking that the boy might be of service to him in the business
he was about to enter upon, took him into the cave and put him in
charge of Lightfoot.
On reaching the city, Flint purchased the schooner of which he was in
command when first introduced to the reader.
It is said that, "birds of a feather flock together," and Flint having
no difficulty gathering about him a number of kindred spirits, was
soon in a condition to enter upon the profession as he called it, most
congenial to his taste and habits.