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THE SUN OF QUEBEC
A STORY OF A GREAT CRISIS
BY
JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
AUTHOR OF
"LORDS OF THE WILD," "THE GREAT SIOUX TRAIL," ETC.
APPLETON-CENTURY-CROFTS, INC.
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
_All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, must not
be reproduced in any form without permission of the
publishers._
Copyright, 1947, by Sallie B. Altsheler
Printed in the United States of America
FOREWORD
"The Sun of Quebec" is the sixth and closing volume of the French and
Indian War Series of which the predecessors have been "The Hunters of
the Hills," "The Shadow of the North," "The Rulers of the Lakes," "The
Masters of the Peaks," and "The Lords of the Wild." The important
characters in the earlier books reappear, and the mystery in the life of
Robert Lennox, the central figure in all the romances, is solved.
CHARACTERS IN THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR SERIES
ROBERT LENNOX A lad of unknown origin
TAYOGA A young Onondaga warrior
DAVID WILLET A hunter
RAYMOND LOUIS DE ST. LUC A brilliant French officer
AGUSTE DE COURCELLES A French officer
FRANÇOIS DE JUMONVILLE A French officer
LOUIS DE GALISONNIÈRE A young French officer
JEAN DE MÉZY A corrupt Frenchman
ARMAND GLANDELET A young Frenchman
PIERRE BOUCHER A bully and bravo
PHILIBERT DROUILLARD A French priest
THE MARQUIS DUQUESNE Governor-General of Canada
MARQUIS DE VAUDREUIL Governor-General of Canada
FRANÇOIS BIGOT Intendant of Canada
MARQUIS DE MONTCALM French commander-in-chief
DE LEVIS A French general
BOURLAMAQUE A French general
BOUGAINVILLE A French general
ARMAND DUBOIS A follower of St. Luc
M. DE CHATILLARD An old French Seigneur
CHARLES LANGLADE A French partisan
THE DOVE The Indian wife of Langlade
TANDAKORA An Ojibway chief
DAGANOWEDA A young Mohawk chief
HENDRICK An old Mohawk chief
BRADDOCK A British general
ABERCROMBIE A British general
WOLFE A British general
COL. WILLIAM JOHNSON Anglo-American leader
MOLLY BRANT Col. Wm. Johnson's Indian wife
JOSEPH BRANT Young brother of Molly Brant, afterward
the great Mohawk chief, Thayendanegea
ROBERT DINWIDDIE Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia
WILLIAM SHIRLEY Governor of Massachusetts
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN Famous American patriot
JAMES COLDEN A young Philadelphia captain
WILLIAM WILTON A young Philadelphia lieutenant
HUGH CARSON A young Philadelphia lieutenant
JACOBUS HUYSMAN An Albany burgher
CATERINA Jacobus Huysman's cook
ALEXANDER MCLEAN An Albany schoolmaster
BENJAMIN HARDY A New York merchant
JOHNATHAN PILLSBURY Clerk to Benjamin Hardy
ADRIAN VAN ZOON A New York merchant
THE SLAVER A nameless rover
ACHILLE GARAY A French spy
ALFRED GROSVENOR A young English officer
JAMES CABELL A young Virginian
WALTER STUART A young Virginian
BLACK RIFLE A famous "Indian fighter"
ELIHU STRONG A Massachusetts colonel
ALAN HERVEY A New York financier
STUART WHITE Captain of the British sloop, _Hawk_
JOHN LATHAM Lieutenant of the British sloop, _Hawk_
EDWARD CHARTERIS A young officer of the Royal Americans
ZEBEDEE CRANE A young scout and forest runner
ROBERT ROGERS Famous Captain of American Rangers
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I OLD FRIENDS 1
II THE CHEST OF DRAWERS 22
III THE PURSUIT OF GARAY 46
IV OUT TO SEA 66
V MUSIC IN THE MOONLIGHT 85
VI THE ISLAND 104
VII THE PIRATE'S WARNING 123
VIII MAKING THE BEST OF IT 142
IX THE VOICE IN THE AIR 158
X THE SLOOP OF WAR 176
XI BACK TO THE WORLD 193
XII THE WILDERNESS AGAIN 217
XIII THE REUNION 238
XIV BEFORE QUEBEC 263
XV THE LONE CHÂTEAU 284
XVI THE RECKONING 303
THE SUN OF QUEBEC
CHAPTER I
OLD FRIENDS
Mynheer Jacobus Huysman walked to the window and looked out at the neat
red brick houses, the grass, now turning yellow, and the leaves, more
brown than green. He was troubled, in truth his heart lay very heavy
within him. He was thinking over the terrible news that had come so
swiftly, as evil report has a way of doing. But he had cause for
satisfaction, too, and recalling it, he turned to gaze once more upon
the two lads who, escaping so many perils, had arrived at the shelter of
his home.
Robert and Tayoga were thin and worn, their clothing was soiled and
torn, but youth was youth and they were forgetting dangers past in a
splendid dinner that the fat Caterina was serving for them while Mynheer
Jacobus, her master, stood by and saw the good deed well done.
The dining room, large and furnished solidly, was wonderful in its
neatness and comfort. The heavy mahogany of table, sideboard and chairs
was polished and gleaming. No trace of dirt was allowed to linger
anywhere. When the door to the adjoining kitchen opened, as Caterina
passed through, pleasant odors floated in, inciting the two to fresh
efforts at the trencher. It was all as it had been when they were young
boys living there, attending the school of Alexander McLean and
traveling by painful steps along the road to knowledge. In its snugness,
its security and the luxury it offered it was a wonderful contrast to
the dark forest, where death lurked in every bush. Robert drew a long
sigh of content and poured himself another cup of coffee.
"And you escaped from the French after the great battle?" said Mynheer
Jacobus, asking the same question over and over again.
"Yes, sir," replied Robert, "and it was not a difficult thing to do at
all. The victory of the French was so remarkable, and I think so
unexpected, that they were paying little attention to me. I just walked
out of their camp, and the only man I met was the Chevalier de St. Luc,
who did not seem at all interested in stopping me--a curious fact, but a
fact all the same."
"A great leader and a fine man iss the Chevalier de St. Luc," said Mr.
Huysman.
"He's both, as I've had many chances to learn, and I intend to know more
about him some day."
"It may be that you will know even more than you think."
Robert looked sharply at the burgher, and he was about to ask questions,
but he reflected that Mynheer Jacobus, if he were able to answer, would
be evasive like all the others and so he checked the words at his lips.
"I suppose that time will disclose everything," he contented himself
with saying. "Meanwhile, I want to tell you, sir, that Tayoga and I
appreciate to the full your hospitality. It is noble, it always was
noble, as we've had ample occasion to discover."
The full red face of Mynheer Jacobus bloomed into a smile. The corners
of his mouth turned up, and his eyes twinkled.
"I must have had a premonition that you two were coming," he said, "and
so I stocked the larder. I remembered of old your appetites, a hunger
that could be satisfied only with great effort, and then could come back
again an hour later, as fresh and keen as ever. You are strong and
healthy boys, for which you should be grateful."
"We are," said Robert, with great emphasis.
"And you do not know whether Montcalm iss advancing with his army?"
"We don't, sir, but is Albany alarmed?"
"It iss! It iss alarmed very greatly. It wass not dreamed by any of us
that our army could be defeated, that magnificent army which I saw go
away to what I thought was certain victory. Ah, how could it have
happened? How could it have happened, Robert?"
"We simply threw away our chances, sir. I saw it all. We underrated the
French. If we had brought up our big guns it would have been easy. There
was no lack of courage on the part of our men. I don't believe that
people of British blood ever showed greater bravery, and that means
bravery equal to anybody's."
Mynheer Jacobus Huysman sighed heavily.
"What a waste! What a waste!" he said. "Now the army hass retreated and
the whole border iss uncovered. The tomahawk and scalping knife are at
work. Tales of slaughter come in efery day, and it iss said that
Montcalm iss advancing on Albany itself."
"I don't believe, sir, that he will come," said Robert. "The French
numbers are much fewer than is generally supposed, and I can't think he
will dare to attack Albany."
"It does not seem reasonable, but there iss great alarm. Many people are
leaving on the packets for New York. Who would have thought it? Who
could have thought it! But I mean to stay, and if Montcalm comes I will
help fight in the defense."
"I knew you wouldn't leave, sir. But despite our defeat we've a powerful
army yet, and England and the Colonies will not sit down and just weep."
"What you say iss so, Robert, my boy. I am not of English blood, but
when things look worst iss the time when England shows best, and the
people here are of the same breed. I do not despair. What did you say
had become of Willet?"
"Shortly before we reached Albany he turned aside to see Sir William
Johnson. We had, too, with us, a young Englishman named Grosvenor, a
fine fellow, but he went at once to the English camp here to report for
duty. He was in the battle at Ticonderoga and he also will testify that
our army, although beaten, could have brought up its artillery and have
fought again in a day or two. It would have gained the victory, too."
"I suppose so! I suppose so! But it did not fight again, and what might
have been did not happen. It means a longer war in this country and a
longer war all over the world. It spreads! It iss a great war, extending
to most of the civilized lands, the greatest war of modern times and
many think it will be the last war, but I know not. The character of
mankind does not change. What do you two boys mean to do?"
"We have not decided yet," replied Robert, speaking for both. "We'll go
back to the war, of course, which means that we'll travel once more
toward the north, but we'll have to rest a few days."
"And this house iss for you to rest in--a few days or many days, as you
please, though I hope it will be many. Caterina shall cook for you four,
five meals a day, if you wish, and much at every meal. I do not forget
how when you were little you raided the fruit trees, and the berry
bushes and the vines. Well, the fruit will soon be ripe again und I will
turn my back the other way. I will make that fat Caterina do the same,
and you and Tayoga can imagine that you are little boys once more."
"I know you mean that, Mynheer Jacobus, and we thank you from the bottom
of our hearts," said Robert, as the moisture came into his eyes.
"Here comes Master Alexander McLean," said Mr. Huysman, who had turned
back to the window. "He must have heard of your arrival and he wishes to
see if your perils in the woods have made you forget your ancient
history."
In a minute or two Master McLean, tall, thin, reddish of hair, and
severe of gaze entered, his frosty blue eyes lighting up as he shook
hands with the boys, though his manner remained austere.
"I heard that you had arrived after the great defeat at Ticonderoga," he
said, "and you are fortunate to have escaped with your lives. I rejoice
at it, but those who go into the woods in such times must expect great
perils. It is of course well for all our young men to offer their lives
now for their country, but I thought I saw in you at least, Robert
Lennox, the germ of a great scholar, and it would be a pity for you to
lose your life in some forest skirmish."
"I thank you for the compliment," said Robert, "but as I was telling
Mynheer Jacobus I mean to go back into the woods."
"I doubt it not. The young of this generation are wise in their own
conceit. It was hard enough to control Tayoga and you several years ago,
and I cannot expect to do it now. Doubtless all the knowledge that I
have been at such pains to instill into you will be lost in the
excitement of trail and camp."
"I hope not, sir, though it's true that we've had some very stirring
times. When one is in imminent danger of his life he cannot think much
of his Latin, his Greek and his ancient history."
The severe features of Master Alexander McLean wrinkled into a frown.
"I do not know about that," he said. "Alexander the Great slept with his
Homer under his pillow, and doubtless he also carried the book with him
on his Asiatic campaigns, refreshing and strengthening his mind from
time to time with dips into its inspiring pages. There is no crisis in
which it is pardonable for you to forget your learning, though I fear me
much that you have done so. What was the date, Robert, of the fall of
Constantinople?"
"Mahomet the Second entered it, sir, in the year 1453 A. D."
"Very good. I begin to have more confidence in you. And why is Homer
considered a much greater poet than Virgil?"
"More masculine, more powerful, sir, and far more original. In fact the
Romans in their literature, as in nearly all other arts, were merely
imitators of the Greeks."
The face of Master McLean relaxed into a smile.
"Excellent! Excellent!" he exclaimed. "You have done better than you
claimed for yourself, but modesty is an attribute that becomes the
young, and now I tell you again, Robert, that I am most glad you and
Tayoga have come safely out of the forest. I wish to inform you also
that Master Benjamin Hardy and his chief clerk, Jonathan Pillsbury, have
arrived from New York on the fast packet, _River Queen_, and even now
they are depositing their baggage at the George Inn, where they are
expecting to stay."
Master Jacobus who had been silent while the schoolmaster talked, awoke
suddenly to life.
"At the George Inn!" he exclaimed. "It iss a good inn, good enough for
anybody, but when friends of mine come to Albany they stay with me or I
take offense. Bide here, my friends, and I will go for them. Alexander,
sit with the lads and partake of refreshment while I am gone."
He hastened from the room and Master McLean, upon being urged, joined
Robert and Tayoga at the table, where he showed that he too was a good
man at the board, thinness being no bar to appetite and capacity. As he
ate he asked the boys many questions, and they, knowing well his kindly
heart under his crusty manner, answered them all readily and freely.
Elderly and bookish though he was, his heart throbbed at the tale of the
great perils through which they had gone, and his face darkened when
Robert told anew the story of Ticonderoga.
"It is our greatest defeat so far," he said, "and I hope our misfortunes
came to a climax there. We must have repayment for it. We must aim at
the heart of the French power, and that is Quebec. Instead of fighting
on the defense, Britain and her colonies must strike down Canada."
"So it seems to me too, sir," said Robert. "We're permitting the Marquis
de Montcalm to make the fighting, to choose the fields of battle, and as
long as we do that we have to dance to his music. But, sir, that's only
my opinion. I would not presume to give it in the presence of my
superiors."
"You've had much experience despite your youth and you're entitled to
your thoughts. But I hear heavy steps. 'Tis odds that it's Jacobus with
his friends."
The door was opened and Mr. Huysman with many words of welcome ushered
in his guests, who being simple and strong men brought their own baggage
from the inn. Robert rose at once and faced Benjamin Hardy in whose eyes
shone an undoubted gladness. The merchant did not look a day older than
when Robert had last seen him in New York, and he was as robust and
hearty as ever. Jonathan Pillsbury, tall, thin and dressed with
meticulous care, also permitted himself a smile.
"Robert, my lad!" exclaimed Benjamin Hardy, dropping his baggage and
holding out two sinewy hands. "'Tis a delight to find you and Tayoga
here. I knew not what had become of you two, and I feared the worst, the
times being so perilous. Upon my word, we've quite a reunion!"
Robert returned his powerful and friendly grasp. He was more than glad
to see him for several reasons; for his own sake, because he liked him
exceedingly, and because he was sure Master Benjamin held in his keeping
those secrets of his own life which he was yet to learn.
"Sir," he said, "'tis not my house, though I've lived in it, and I know
that Mr. Huysman has already given you a most thorough welcome, so I add
that it's a delight to me to see you again. 'Twas a pleasant and most
memorable visit that Tayoga and I had at your home in New York."
"And eventful enough, too. You came very near going to the Guineas on a
slave trip. That was the kind of hospitality I offered you."
"No fault of yours, sir. I shall never forget the welcome you gave us in
New York. It warms my heart now to think of it."
"I see you've not lost your gift of speech. Words continue to well from
your lips, and they're good words, too. But I talk overmuch myself. Here
is Jonathan waiting to speak to you. I told him I was coming to Albany.
'Upon what affair?' he asked. ''Tis secret,' I replied. 'Meaning you do
not want to tell me of its nature,' he said. 'Yes,' I replied. Then he
said, 'Whatever its gist, you'll need my presence and advice. I'm going
with you.' And here he is. Doubtless he is right."
Jonathan Pillsbury clasped Robert's hand as warmly as he ever clasped
anybody's and permitted himself a second smile, which was his limit, and
only extraordinary occasions could elicit two.
"Our conversation has been repeated with accuracy," he said. "I do not
yet know why I have come to Albany, but I feel sure it is well that I
have come."
Mr. Huysman hustled about, his great red face glowing while fat Caterina
brought in more to eat. He insisted that the new guests sit at the table
and eat tremendously. It was a time when hospitality meant repeated
offerings of food, which in America was the most abundant of all things,
and Mr. Hardy and Mr. Pillsbury easily allowed themselves to be
persuaded.
"And now, Robert, you must tell me something more about Dave," said the
merchant as they rose from the table.
Young Lennox promptly narrated their adventures among the peaks and
about the lakes while the older men listened with breathless attention.
Nor did the story of the great hunter suffer in Robert's telling. He had
an immense admiration for Willet and he spoke of his deeds with such
vivid words and with so much imagery and embroidery that they seemed to
be enacted again there in that quiet room before the men who listened.
"Ah, that is Dave! True as steel. As honest and brave as they ever make
'em," said Master Benjamin Hardy, when he had finished. "A man! a real
man if ever one walked this earth!"
"And don't forget Tayoga here," said Robert. "The greatest trailer ever
born. He saved us more than once by his ability to read the faintest
sign the earth might yield."
"When Dagaeoga begins to talk he never knows how to stop," said Tayoga;
"I but did the things all the warriors of my nation are taught to do. I
would be unworthy to call myself a member of the clan of the Bear, of
the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, if I could
not follow a trail. Peace, Dagaeoga!"
Robert joined in the laugh, and then the men began to talk about the
prospects of an attack upon Albany by the French and Indians, though all
of them inclined to Robert's view that Montcalm would not try it.
"As you were a prisoner among them you ought to know something about
their force, Robert," said Mr. Hardy.
"I had opportunities to observe," replied the lad, "and from what I saw,
and from what I have since heard concerning our numbers I judge that we
were at least four to one, perhaps more. But we threw away all our
advantage when we came with bare breasts against their wooden wall and
sharpened boughs."
"It is a painful thing to talk about and to think about, but Britain
never gives up. She marches over her mistakes and failures to triumph,
and we are bone of her bone. And you saw St. Luc!"
"Often, sir. In the battle and in the preparations for it he was the
right arm of the Marquis de Montcalm. He is a master of forest war."
"He is all that, Robert, my lad. A strange, a most brilliant man, he is
one of our most formidable enemies."
"But a gallant one, sir. He did nothing to prevent my escape. I feel
that at Ticonderoga as well as elsewhere I am greatly in his debt."
"Undoubtedly he favors you. It does not surprise me."
Intense curiosity leaped up in Robert's heart once more. What was he to
St. Luc! What was St. Luc to him! All these elderly men seemed to hold a
secret that was hidden from him, and yet it concerned him most. His lips
twitched and he was about to ask a question, but he reflected that, as
always before, it would not be answered, it would be evaded, and he
restrained his eager spirit. He knew that all the men liked him, that
they had his good at heart, and that when the time came to speak they
would speak. The words that had risen to his lips were unspoken.
Robert felt that his elders wanted to talk, that something they would
rather not tell to the lads was in their minds, and meanwhile the
brilliant sunshine and free air outside were calling to him and the
Onondaga.
"I think," he said, addressing them all collectively, "that Tayoga and I
should go to see Lieutenant Grosvenor. He was our comrade in the
forest, and he has been somewhat overcome by his great hardships."
"The idea would not be bad," said Master Benjamin Hardy. "Youth to
youth, and, while you are gone, we old fellows will talk of days long
ago as old fellows are wont to do."
And so they did want him and Tayoga to go! He had divined their wishes
aright. He was quite sure, too, that when he and the Onondaga were away
the past would be very little in their minds. These active men in the
very prime of their powers were concerned most about the present and the
future. Well, whatever it was he was sure they would discuss it with
wisdom and foresight.
"Come, Tayoga," he said. "Outdoors is calling to us."
"And be sure that you return in time for supper," said Master Jacobus.
"This house is to be your home as long as you are in Albany. I should be
offended mortally if you went elsewhere."
"No danger of that," said Robert. "Tayoga and I know a good home when we
find it. And we know friends, too, when we see them."
It was a bit of sentiment, but he felt it very deeply and he saw that
all of the men looked pleased. As he and Tayoga went out he noticed that
they drew their chairs about the dining-room table that Caterina had
cleared, and before the door closed upon the two lads they were already
talking in low and earnest tones.
"They have affairs of importance which are not for us," he said, when he
and the Onondaga were outside.
"It is so," said Tayoga. "The white people have their chiefs and sachems
like the nations of the Hodenosaunee, and their ranks are filled by age.
The young warriors are for the trail, the hunt, and the war path, and
not for the council. It is right that it should be thus. I do not wish
to be a chief or a sachem before my time. I am glad, Dagaeoga, to enjoy
youth, and let our elders do the hard thinking for us."
"So am I," said Robert joyfully as he filled his lungs with draught
after draught of the fresh air. "No seat at the council for me! Not for
twenty years yet! Give me freedom and action! Let others do the planning
and take the responsibility!"
He felt a great elation. His sanguine temperament had made a complete
rebound from the depression following Ticonderoga. Although he did not
know it the result was partly physical--good food and abundant rest, but
he did not seek to analyze the cause, the condition was sufficient. The
color in his cheeks deepened and his eyes glowed.
"Dagaeoga is feeling very, very good," said Tayoga.
"I am," replied Robert with emphasis. "I never felt better. I'm
forgetting Ticonderoga; instead, I'm beholding our army at Quebec, and
I'm seeing our flag wave over all Canada."
"Dagaeoga sees what he wants to see."
"It's not a bad plan. Then the lions die in your path."
"It is so. Dagaeoga speaks a great truth. We will now see how Red Coat
feels."
A portion of the army that had retreated from Ticonderoga was camped on
the flats near the town, and Robert and Tayoga walked swiftly toward the
tents. It was a much more silent force, British and American, than that
which had gone forth not so very long ago to what seemed certain
victory. Officers and men were angry. They felt that they had been
beaten when there was no reason why they should have been defeated.
Obeying orders, they had retreated in sullen silence, when they had felt
sure they could have gone on, fought a new battle, and have crushed
Montcalm. Now they waited impatiently for another call to advance on
Canada, and win back their lost laurels. Both lads felt the tension.
"They are like the wounded bear," said Tayoga. "They feel very sore, and
they wish for revenge."
They learned that Grosvenor was in his tent and soon found him there
lying upon his blankets. Some of the ruddy color was gone from his
cheeks, and he looked worn and thin. But he sat up, and welcomed Robert
and Tayoga joyously.
"It's foolish of me to break down like this," he said, "but after we got
back to civilization something seemed to cave in. I hope you chaps won't
overlook the fact that I'm not as much used to the forest as you are,
and bear in mind that I did my best."
"Red Coat's best was very good," said Tayoga in his grave, precise
manner. "Few who have been in the forest as little as he could have done
as much and have borne as much."
"Do you really think so, Tayoga? You're not merely flattering me?"
"Our wisest sachem would tell you so, Red Coat."
"Thanks, my friend. You make me feel better. I was lucky enough to go
through the great battle with little hurt. It was a most ghastly
slaughter, and I still dream of it. I stood up all right until we got
back to Albany, and then I collapsed. But to-morrow I'll be on my feet
again. Your friends, Colden, Wilton and Carson are all here. They showed
great courage and they have some slight wounds, but not enough to
trouble 'em."
Robert found the Philadelphians a little later, and they all went back
to Grosvenor's tent, where they were joined in a half hour by the
Virginians, Walter Stuart and James Cabell, who had been with them in
Braddock's defeat and whom Robert had known at Williamsburg. It was a
tight squeeze for them all in the tent, but there was another and joyous
reunion. Youth responded to youth and hope was high.
"Stuart and I did not arrive in time for Ticonderoga," said Cabell, "but
we mean to be in the next great battle."
"So we do!" exclaimed Cabell. "The Old Dominion had a taste of defeat at
Fort Duquesne and you've had the like here. Now we'll all wait and see
how victory agrees with us."
"Some of us have been in at both defeats," said Grosvenor rather sadly.
But the presence of so many friends and the cheerful talk made him feel
so much better that he averred his ability to go anywhere and do
anything at once.
"You've leave of absence if you wish it?" asked Cabell.
"For several days more," replied Grosvenor.
"Then let's all go into the town. I haven't had a good look at Albany
yet. I want to see if it's as fine a place as Williamsburg."
"It's larger," said Robert.
"But size is not everything. That's where you northern people make your
mistake."
"But you'll admit that Philadelphia's a fine city, won't you?" said
Colden, "and you know it's the largest in the colonies."
"But it's comparatively near to Virginia," said Cabell briskly, "and our
influence works wonders."
"We've our own conceit in Philadelphia," said Wilton, "but conceit and
Virginia are just the same words, though they may have a different
sound."
"Come on to the George Inn," said Grosvenor, "and you can argue it out
there. Old England likes to see this healthy rivalry among her children.
She doesn't mind your being bumptious."
"We're bumptious, because we're like our parent," said Cabell. "It's a
matter of inheritance."
"Let the George Inn settle it. Come on, lads."
Grosvenor was feeling better and better. He was adaptable and this was a
sprightly group, full of kindred spirits. The Virginians were as English
as he was, and the others nearly as much so. He had acquitted himself
well in the New World, in fields with which he was unfamiliar, and these
lads were friends. Danger and hardships faded quite away into a
forgotten past. He was strong and well once more.
"You shall all be my guests at the George Inn!" he exclaimed. "We shall
have refreshment and talk, plenty of both."
"As we Virginians are the oldest people in the colonies, it's the right
of Stuart and myself to be the hosts," said Cabell.
"Aye, so 'tis," said Stuart.
"As we're from Philadelphia, the greatest and finest city in the
country, it's the right of Wilton, Carson and myself," said Colden.
But Grosvenor was firm. He had given the invitation first, he said, and
nobody could take the privilege from him. So the others yielded
gracefully, and in high good humor the eight, saying much and humming
little songs, walked across the fields from the camp and into the town.
Robert noticed the bustling life of Albany with approval. The forest
made its appeal to him, and the city made another and different but
quite as strong appeal. The old Fort Orange of the Dutch was crowded
now, not only with troops but with all the forms of industry that
follow in the train of an army. The thrifty Dutch, despite their
apprehension over the coming of the French, were busy buying, selling,
and between battles much money was made.
The George Inn, a low building but long and substantial was down by the
river. The great doors stood wide open and much life flowed in and out,
showing that it too profited by war. The eight found seats at a table on
a sanded floor, and contented themselves with lemonade, which they drank
slowly, while they talked and looked.
It was a motley and strange throng; American, English, Dutch, German,
Indian, Swedish. A half dozen languages were heard in the great room,
forerunner of the many elements that were to enter in the composition of
the American nation. And the crowd was already cosmopolitan. Difference
of race attracted no attention. Men took no notice of Tayoga because he
was an Indian, unless to admire his tall, straight figure and proud
carriage. Albany had known the Iroquois a century and a half.
Robert's spirits, like Grovenor's, mounted. Here he was with many
friends of his own age and kindred mind. Everything took on the color of
rose. All of them were talking, but his own gift of speech was the
finest. He clothed narrative with metaphor and illustration until it
became so vivid that the others were glad to fall silent and listen to
him, though Robert himself was unconscious of the fact. They made him
relate once more his story of the battle as he saw it from inside the
French lines at Ticonderoga, and, just as he came to the end of the
tale, he caught a glimpse of a tall man entering the tavern.
"Tell us what you saw from the other side," he said to Grosvenor, and
they compelled the reluctant Englishman to talk. Then Robert turned his
eyes toward the tall man who was now sitting at a small table in the
corner and drinking from a long glass. Something familiar in his walk
had caught his attention as he came in, and, under cover of Grosvenor's
talk, he wished to observe him again without being noticed even by his
own comrades.
The stranger was sitting with the side of his face to Robert, and his
features were not well disclosed. His dress was that of a seafaring man,
rough but rather good in texture, and a belt held a long dirk in a
scabbard which was usual at that time. The hand that raised the long
glass to his lips was large, red and powerful. Robert felt that his
first belief was correct. He had seen him before somewhere, though he
could not yet recall where, but when he turned his head presently he
knew. They had met under such circumstances that neither was ever likely
to forget time or place.
He was amazed that the stranger had come so boldly into Albany, but
second thought told him that there was no proof against him, it was
merely Robert's word against his. Among people absorbed in a great war
his own story would seem wildly improbable and the stranger's would have
all the savor of truth. But he knew that he could not be mistaken. He
saw now the spare face, clean shaven, and the hard eyes, set close
together, that he remembered so well.
Robert did not know what to do. He listened for a little while to
Grosvenor's narrative but his attention wandered back to the seafaring
man. Then he decided.
"Will you fellows talk on and excuse me for a few minutes?" he said.
"What is it, Lennox?" asked Colden.
"I see an acquaintance on the other side of the room. I wish to speak to
him."
"That being the case, we'll let you go, but we'll miss you. Hurry back."
"I'll stay only a few minutes. It's an old friend and I must have a
little talk with him."
He walked with light steps across the room which was crowded, humming
with many voices, the air heavy with smoke. The man was still at the
small table, and, opposite him, was an empty chair in which Robert sat
deliberately, putting his elbows on the table, and staring into the hard
blue eyes.
"I'm Peter Smith," he said. "You remember me?"
There was a flicker of surprise in the Captain's face, but nothing more.
"Oh, yes, Peter," he said. "I know you, but I was not looking for you
just at this moment."
"But I'm here."
"Perhaps you're coming back to your duty, is that it? Well, I'm glad.
I've another ship now, and though you're a runaway seaman I can afford
to let bygones be bygones."
"I hope your vessel has changed her trade. I don't think I'd care to
sail again on a slaver."
"Always a particular sort of chap you were, Peter. It's asking a lot for
me to change the business of my ship to suit you."
"But not too much."
The conversation was carried on in an ordinary tone. Neither raised his
voice a particle. Nobody took any notice. His own comrades, engrossed in
lively talk, seemed to have forgotten Robert for the moment, and he felt
that he was master of the situation. Certainly the slaver would be more
uncomfortable than he.
"I was wondering," he said, "how long you mean to stay in Albany."
"It's a pleasant town," said the man, "as I have cause to know since
I've been here before. I may remain quite a while. Still, I shall decide
wholly according to my taste."
"But there is a certain element of danger."
"Oh, the war! I don't think the French even if they come to Albany will
have a chance to take me."
"I didn't have the war in mind. There are other risks of which I think
that I, Peter Smith, who sailed with you once before ought to warn you."
"It's good of you, Peter, to think so much of my safety, but I don't
believe I've any cause for fear. I've always been able to take care of
myself."
The last words were said with a little snap, and Robert knew they were
meant as a defiance, but he appeared not to notice.
"Ah, well you've shown that you know how to look out for number one," he
said. "I'm only Peter Smith, a humble seaman, but I've the same faculty.
I bid you good-day."
"Good-day, Peter. I hope there's no ill feeling between us, and that
each will have whatever he deserves!"
Cool! wonderfully cool, Robert thought, but he replied merely: "I trust
so, too, and in that case it is easy to surmise what one of us would
get."
He sauntered back to his comrades, and, lest he attract their attention,
he did not look toward the slaver again for a minute or two. When he
glanced in that direction he saw the man walking toward the door, not in
any hurried manner, but as if he had all the time in the world, and need
fear nobody. Cool! wonderfully cool, Robert thought a second time.
The slaver went out, and Robert thought he caught a glimpse of a man
meeting him, a second man in whose figure also there was something
familiar. They were gone in an instant, and he was tempted to spring up
and follow them, because the figure of which he had seen but a little at
the door reminded him nevertheless of Achille Garay, the spy.