A FRIEND IN NEED.
For more than a week Claude had been kept in confinement, and had
seen nothing of any of his former acquaintances. The confinement was
not so close as it might have been, and escape was not absolutely
impossible, for the window which lighted the chamber was merely a
wooden sash, with four panes of glass, which Claude could have
removed, had he been so disposed; but this he was not inclined to do,
and for two reasons. One reason was, because, if he did get out, he
had no idea where to go. Annapolis Royal was the nearest settlement
belonging to the English; but he did not know in which direction it
lay. He knew, however, that between Grand Pre and that place the
country was settled by the French, among whom he could not go without
being captured by his pursuers, while if he took to the woods he
would be sure to fall into the hands of the Indians, who were the
zealous allies of the French. Such a prospect was of itself
sufficient to deter him from the attempt to escape. But there was
also another reason. He could not bear the thought of leaving Mimi
forever, and never seeing her again. If he should succeed in escaping
to Annapolis Royal, it would be an eternal separation between her and
himself. Grand Pre seemed pleasant to him since she was here; and he
thought it better to be a prisoner here than a free man elsewhere.
He, therefore, deliberately preferred to run any risk that might be
before him, with the faint hope of seeing Mimi again, rather than to
attempt flight.
What had happened since he had come here he did not know very
clearly. From conversation which he had overheard he had gathered
that Labordo was dead; but, when he asked any of them about it, they
refused to tell him anything at all. Claude was, therefore, left to
make the most that he could out of this vague information. But the
intelligence caused him to feel much anxiety about Mimi. He
remembered well all that she had ever told him, and could not help
wondering what she would do under present circumstances. Would she be
willing to remain in the neighborhood of Cazeneau? But how could she
help it? Would not Cazeneau take advantage of her present loneliness
to urge forward any plans that he might have about her?
Already the suspicion had come to Claude that Cazeneau had certain
plans about Mimi. What he thought was this: that Laborde was rich,
that Mimi was his heiress, and that Cazeneau was a man of profligate
life and ruined fortunes, who was anxious to repair his fortunes by
marrying this heiress. To such a man the disparity in their years
would make no difference, nor would he particularly care whether Mimi
loved him or not, so long as he could make her his wife, and gain
control over her property. What had given him this idea about
Cazeneau's position and plans it is difficult to say; but it was
probably his own jealous fears about Mimi, and his deep detestation
of his enemy.
And now he began to chafe against the narrow confines of his chamber
with greater impatience. He longed to have some one with whom he
could talk. He wondered whether Cazeneau would remain here much
longer, and, if he went away, whether he would take Mimi or leave
her. He wondered, also, whether he would be taken to Louisbourg. He
felt as if he would rather go there, if Mimi was to go, even at the
risk of his life, than remain behind after she had left. But all his
thoughts and wonders resulted in nothing whatever, for it was
impossible to create any knowledge out of his own conjectures.
He was in the midst of such thoughts as these when his ears were
attracted by the sound of a familiar voice. He listened attentively.
It was the voice of Pere Michel. No sooner had Claude satisfied
himself that it was indeed the priest, than he felt sure that he had
come here to visit him; and a little longer waiting showed that this
was the case. There were advancing footsteps. Madame Comeau opened
the door, and Pere Michel entered the chamber. The door was then
shut, and the two were alone.
So overcome was Claude by joy that he flung himself into the priest's
arms and embraced him. The good priest seemed to reciprocate his
emotion, for there were tears in his eyes, and the first words that
he spoke were in tremulous tones.
"My son," the priest commenced, in gentle, paternal tones, and in a
voice that was tremulous with emotion, "you must calm yourself."
Then, suddenly speaking in English, he said, "It is necessaire dat we
sall spik Ingeles, for ze peuple of ze house may suspeck--"
Upon this Claude poured forth a torrent of questions in English,
asking about Laborde, Cazeneau, Zac, and Mimi. It will not be
necessary to report the words of the priest in his broken English,
but rather to set them down according to the sense of them. So the
priest said,--
"You speak too fast, my son. One thing at a time. The poor Laborde is
dead and buried. The Count Cazeneau is about to go to Louisbourg.
Mimi is going with him."
"Mimi going with him!" cried Claude, in deep agitation.
"Be calm, my son. Do not speak so loud. I have told the people of
this house that your life is in danger, and that I have come as a
priest, to hear your last confession. I do not wish them to suspect
my real errand. We may talk as we wish, only do not allow yourself to
be agitated."
"But tell me," said Claude, in a calmer voice, "how is it possible
that Mimi can trust herself with Cazeneau?"
"_Ma foi_," said the priest, "it is possible, for she cannot help it.
But do not fear. I am going to accompany them, and, as far as my
feeble power can do anything, I will watch over her, and see that she
suffers no injustice. I hope that Heaven will assist her innocence
and my protection; so do not allow yourself to be uneasy about her;
but hope for the best, and trust in Heaven."
At this Claude was silent for a few moments. At length he said,--
"O, Pere Michel, must I stay here when she goes? Can you tell me what
they are going to do with me?"
"It is about yourself that I am going to speak, and it was for this
that I came," said the priest.
"Can I go with the others to Louisbourg?" asked Claude, eagerly; for
he thought only of being near Mimi.
"Heaven forbid!" said the priest. "It is in a for different way that
you are to go. Listen to me. The Count de Cazeneau is going to set
out to-morrow, with a party of Indians as escort. Mimi is to be taken
with him. I am going, too. It is his intention to leave you here for
a time, till his escort can return. They will then take you to
Louisbourg. If he can find any Indians on the way whom he can make
use of, he will send them here for you. But meantime you are to be
kept imprisoned here.
"Now, I am acquainted with the Indians better than most men. I lived
in Acadie formerly, long enough to be well known to the whole tribe.
I am also well known to the Acadians. Among the Indians and the
Acadians there are many who would willingly lay down their lives for
me. I could have delivered you before this, but I saw that you were
not in any immediate danger; so I preferred postponing it until the
Count de Cazeneau had left. I do not wish him to suspect that I have
any interest in you; and when he hears of your escape, I do not wish
him to think that I had anything to do with it. But I have already
made all the plans that are necessary, and the men are in this
neighborhood with whom I have arranged for your escape."
"What is the plan?" asked Claude, eagerly.
"I will tell you," said the priest. "There are six Indians, all of
them devoted to me. They will guide you to a place of safety, and
will be perfectly faithful to you as long as they are with you. They
are ready to go anywhere with you, to do anything for you, even to
the extent of laying down their lives for you. It is for my sake that
they are willing to show this devotion. I have presented you to them
as my representative, and they look upon you as they would look upon
me. But, first of all, you are to get out of this. Can you open that
window?"
"It was fastened tight when I first came," said Claude; "but I have
loosened it, so that I can take it out very quickly."
"Very good. Now, one of these Indians will be here to-morrow night.
We shall leave to-morrow morning; and I do not want you to be rescued
till after our departure. At midnight, to-morrow, then, the Indian
will be here. He will give a sound like a frog, immediately outside,
under the window. You must then open the window. If you see him, or
hear him, you must then get out, and he will take you to the woods.
After that he and the rest of the Indians will take you through the
woods to Port Royal, which they call Annapolis Royal. Here you will
be safe from Cazeneau until such time as may suit you to go back to
Boston. Annapolis Royal is about twenty-four leagues from this place,
and you can easily go there in two days."
Claude listened to all this without a word; and, after the priest had
ended, he remained silent for some time, with his eyes fixed on the
floor.
"The Indians will be armed," said the priest, "and will have a rifle
and a sword for you. So you need have no trouble about anything."
"My dear Pere Michel," said Claude, at last, "you lay me under very
great obligations; but will you not add to them by allowing me to
select my own route?"
"Your own route?" asked the priest. "What do you mean? You don't know
the country, especially the woods, while these Indians will be at
home there."
"What I mean is this," said Claude: "will you not allow me the use of
this Indian escort in another direction than the one you mention?"
"Another direction? Why, where else can you possibly go? Annapolis is
the nearest place for safety."
"I should very much prefer," said Claude "to go to Canso."
"To Canso!" said the priest, in great surprise; "to Canso! Why, you
would come on our track!"
"That is the very reason why I wish to go there. Once in Canso, I
should be as safe as in Annapolis."
The priest shook his head.
"From what I hear, Canso cannot be a safe place for you very long.
England and France are on the eve of war, and Cazeneau expects to get
back Acadie--a thing that is very easy for him to do. But why do you
wish to venture so near to Louisburg? Cazeneau will be there now; and
it will be a very different place from what it would have been had
you not saved Cazeneau from the wreck, and made him your enemy."
"My dear Pere Michel," said Claude, "I will be candid with you. The
reason why I wish to go in that direction is for the sake of being
near to Mimi, and on account of the hope I have that I may rescue
her."
"Mimi! Rescue her!" exclaimed the priest, astonished, not at the
young man's feelings towards Mimi, for those he had already
discovered, but rather at the boldness of his plan,--"rescue her! Why
how can you possibly hope for that, when she will be under the
vigilant eye of Cazeneau?"
"I will hope it, at any rate," said Claude. "Besides, Cazeneau will
not be vigilant, as he will not suspect that he is followed. His
Indians will suspect nothing. I may be able, by means of my Indians,
to entice her away, especially if you prepare her mind for my
enterprise."
The priest was struck by this, and did not have any argument against
it; yet the project was evidently distasteful to him.
"It's madness," said he. "My poor boy, it may cost you your life."
"Very well," said Claude; "let it go. I'd rather not live, if I can't
have Mimi."
The priest looked at him sadly and solemnly.
"My poor boy," said he, "has it gone so far as that with you?"
"As far as that--yes," said Claude, "and farther. Recollect I saved
her life. It seems to me as if Heaven threw her in my way; and I'll
not give her up without striking a blow. Think of that scoundrel
Cazeneau. Think of the danger she is in while under his power. There
is no hope for her if he once gets her in Louisbourg; the only hope
for her is before she reaches that place; and the only one who can
save her is myself. Are my Indians faithful for an enterprise of that
kind?"
"I have already told you," said the priest, "that they would all lay
down their lives for you. They will go wherever you lead. And now, my
dear son," continued the priest, "I did not think that you would
dream of an enterprise like this. But, since you have made the
proposal, and since you are so earnest about it, why, I make no
opposition. I say, come, in Heaven's name. Follow after us; and, if
you can come up with us, and effect a communication with Mimi, do so.
Your Indians must be careful; and you will find that they can be
trusted in a matter of this kind. If I see that you are coming up
with us, and find any visitors from you, I will prepare Mimi for it.
But suppose you succeed in rescuing her," added the priest; "have you
thought what you would do next?"
"No," said Claude; "nor do I intend to think about that. It will
depend upon where I am. If I am near Canso, I shall go there, and
trust to finding some fisherman; if not, I shall trust to my Indians
to take us back through the woods to Annapolis. But there's one thing
that you might do."
"What?"
"Zac--is he on board the schooner, or ashore?"
"The skipper?" said the priest. "No. I have not seen him. I think he
must be aboard the schooner. It is my intention to communicate with
him before I leave this place."
"Do so," said Claude, eagerly; "and see if you can't get him free, as
you have managed for me; and if you can persuade him, or beg him for
me, to sail around to Canso, and meet me there, all will be well.
That is the very thing we want. If he will only promise to go there,
I will push on to Canso myself, at all hazards."
The priest now prepared to go. A few more words were exchanged, after
which Claude and Pere Michel embraced. The priest kissed him on both
cheeks.
"Adieu, my dear son," said he. "I hope we may meet again."
"Adieu, dear Pere Michel," said Claude. "I shall never forget your
kindness."
With this farewell the two separated; the priest went out, and the
door was fastened again upon Claude.
For the remainder of that night, Claude did not sleep much. His mind
was filled with the new prospect that the priest's message had opened
before him. The thought of being free once more, and at the head of a
band of devoted followers, on the track of Mimi, filled him with
excitement. That he would be able to overtake the party of Cazeneau,
he did not doubt; that he would be able to rescue Mimi, he felt
confident. The revulsion from gloom and despondency to hope and joy
was complete, and the buoyant nature of Claude made the transition an
easy one. It was with difficulty that he could prevent himself from
bursting forth into songs. But this would have been too dangerous,
since it would have attracted the attention of the people of the
house, and led them to suspect that the priest had spoken other words
to him than those of absolution; or they might report this sudden
change to Cazeneau, and thereby excite his suspicions.
The next day came. Claude knew that on this day Cazeneau and his
party had left, for he overheard the people of the house speaking
about it. According to their statements, the party had left at about
four in the morning. This filled Claude with a fever of impatience,
for he saw that this first day's march would put them a long way
ahead, and make it difficult for him to catch up with them. But there
was only one day, and he tried to comfort himself with the thought
that he could travel faster than the others, and also that the priest
and Mimi would both manage to retard their progress, so as to allow
him to catch up.
The day passed thus, and evening came at last. Hour after hour went
by. All the family retired, and the house was still. Claude then
slowly, and carefully, and noiselessly removed the window from its
place. Then he waited. The hours still passed on. At last he know
that it must be about midnight.
Suddenly he heard, immediately outside, a low, guttural sound--the
well-known sound of a frog. It was the signal mentioned by the
priest. The time had come.
He put his head cautiously outside. Crouched there against the wall
of the house, close underneath, he saw a dusky figure. A low,
whispered warning came up. Claude responded in a similar manner.
Then, softly and noiselessly, he climbed out of the window. His feet
touched the ground. No one had heard him. He was saved.