Thus was this place
A happy rural seat of various view.
MILTON.
Mabel was in waiting on the beach, and the canoe was soon launched.
Pathfinder carried the party out through the surf in the same
skillful manner that he had brought it in; and though Mabel's color
heightened with excitement, and her heart seemed often ready to
leap out of her mouth again, they reached the side of the _Scud_
without having received even a drop of spray.
Ontario is like a quick-tempered man, sudden to be angered, and as
soon appeased. The sea had already fallen; and though the breakers
bounded the shore, far as the eye could reach, it was merely in
lines of brightness, that appeared and vanished like the returning
waves produced by a stone which had been dropped into a pool. The
cable of the _Scud_ was scarcely seen above the water, and Jasper
had already hoisted his sails, in readiness to depart as soon as
the expected breeze from the shore should fill the canvas.
It was just sunset as the cutter's mainsail flapped and its stem
began to sever the water. The air was light and southerly, and
the head of the vessel was kept looking up along the south shore,
it being the intention to get to the eastward again as fast
as possible. The night that succeeded was quiet; and the rest of
those who slept deep and tranquil.
Some difficulty occurred concerning the command of the vessel, but
the matter had been finally settled by an amicable compromise. As
the distrust of Jasper was far from being appeased, Cap retained
a supervisory power, while the young man was allowed to work the
craft, subject, at all times, to the control and interference of
the old seaman. To this Jasper consented, in preference to exposing
Mabel any longer to the dangers of their present situation; for,
now that the violence of the elements had ceased, he well knew that
the _Montcalm_ would be in search of them. He had the discretion,
however, not to reveal his apprehensions on this head; for it
happened that the very means he deemed the best to escape the enemy
were those which would be most likely to awaken new suspicions of
his honesty in the minds of those who held the power to defeat
his intentions. In other words, Jasper believed that the gallant
young Frenchman, who commanded the ship of the enemy, would quit
his anchorage under the fort at Niagara, and stand up the lake,
as soon as the wind abated, in order to ascertain the fate of the
_Scud_, keeping midway between the two shores as the best means
of commanding a broad view; and that, on his part, it would be
expedient to hug one coast or the other, not only to avoid a meeting,
but as affording a chance of passing without detection by blending
his sails and spars with objects on the land. He preferred the
south because it was the weather shore, and because he thought it
was that which the enemy would the least expect him to take, though
it necessarily led near his settlements, and in front of one of
the strongest posts he held in that part of the world.
Of all this, however, Cap was happily ignorant, and the Sergeant's
mind was too much occupied with the details of his military trust
to enter into these niceties, which so properly belonged to another
profession. No opposition was made, therefore, and before morning
Jasper had apparently dropped quietly into all his former authority,
issuing his orders freely, and meeting with obedience without
hesitation or cavil.
The appearance of day brought all on board on deck again; and,
as is usual with adventurers on the water, the opening horizon
was curiously examined, as objects started out of the obscurity,
and the panorama brightened under the growing light. East, west,
and north nothing was visible but water glittering in the rising
sun; but southward stretched the endless belt of woods that then
held Ontario in a setting of forest verdure. Suddenly an opening
appeared ahead, and then the massive walls of a chateau-looking
house, with outworks, bastions, blockhouses, and palisadoes, frowned
on a headland that bordered the outlet of a broad stream. Just
as the fort became visible, a little cloud rose over it, and the
white ensign of France was seen fluttering from a lofty flagstaff.
Cap gave an ejaculation as he witnessed this ungrateful exhibition,
and he cast a quick suspicious glance at his brother-in-law.
"The dirty tablecloth hung up to air, as my name is Charles Cap!"
he muttered; "and we hugging this d----d shore as if it were our
wife and children met on the return from an India v'y'ge! Hark'e,
Jasper, are you in search of a cargo of frogs, that you keep so
near in to this New France?"
"I hug the land, sir, in the hope of passing the enemy's ship without
being seen, for I think she must be somewhere down here to leeward."
"Ay, ay, this sounds well, and I hope it may turn out as you say.
I trust there is no under-tow here?"
"We are on a weather shore, now," said Jasper, smiling; "and I think
you will admit, Master Cap, that a strong under-tow makes an easy
cable: we owe all our lives to the under-tow of this very lake."
"French flummery!" growled Cap, though he did not care to be heard
by Jasper. "Give me a fair, honest, English-Yankee-American tow,
above board, and above water too, if I must have a tow at all, and
none of your sneaking drift that is below the surface, where one
can neither see nor feel. I daresay, if the truth could be come
at, that this late escape of ours was all a contrived affair."
"We have now a good opportunity, at least, to reconnoitre the enemy's
post at Niagara, brother, for such I take this fort to be," put
in the Sergeant. "Let us be all eyes in passing, and remember that
we are almost in face of the enemy."
This advice of the Sergeant needed nothing to enforce it; for the
interest and novelty of passing a spot occupied by human beings
were of themselves sufficient to attract deep attention in that
scene of a vast but deserted nature. The wind was now fresh enough
to urge the _Scud_ through the water with considerable velocity,
and Jasper eased her helm as she opened the river, and luffed nearly
into the mouth of that noble strait, or river, as it is termed.
A dull, distant, heavy roar came down through the opening in the
banks, swelling on the currents of the air, like the deeper notes
of some immense organ, and occasionally seeming to cause the earth
itself to tremble.
"That sounds like surf on some long unbroken coast!" exclaimed Cap,
as a swell, deeper than common, came to his ears.
"Ay, that is such surf as we have in this quarter of the world,"
Pathfinder answered. "There is no under-tow there, Master Cap; but
all the water that strikes the rocks stays there, so far as going
back again is consarned. That is old Niagara that you hear, or
this noble stream tumbling down a mountain."
"No one will have the impudence to pretend that this fine broad
river falls over yonder hills?"
"It does, Master Cap, it does; and all for the want of stairs, or
a road to come down by. This is natur', as we have it up hereaway,
though I daresay you beat us down on the ocean. Ah's me, Mabel!
a pleasant hour it would be if we could walk on the shore some ten
or fifteen miles up this stream, and gaze on all that God has done
there."
"You have, then, seen these renowned falls, Pathfinder?" the girl
eagerly inquired.
"I have -- yes, I have; and an awful sight I witnessed at that
same time. The Sarpent and I were out scouting about the garrison
there, when he told me that the traditions of his people gave an
account of a mighty cataract in this neighborhood, and he asked
me to vary from the line of march a little to look at the wonder.
I had heard some marvels consarning the spot from the soldiers of
the 60th, which is my nat'ral corps like, and not the 55th, with
which I have sojourned so much of late; but there are so many
terrible liars in all rijiments that I hardly believed half they
had told me. Well, we went; and though we expected to be led by our
ears, and to hear some of that awful roaring that we hear to-day,
we were disappointed, for natur' was not then speaking in thunder,
as she is this morning. Thus it is in the forest, Master Cap;
there being moments when God seems to be walking abroad in power,
and then, again, there is a calm over all, as if His spirit lay in
quiet along the 'arth. Well, we came suddenly upon the stream, a
short distance above the fall, and a young Delaware, who was in
our company, found a bark canoe, and he would push into the current
to reach an island that lies in the very centre of the confusion
and strife. We told him of his folly, we did; and we reasoned
with him on the wickedness of tempting Providence by seeking danger
that led to no ind; but the youth among the Delawares are very much
the same as the youth among the soldiers, risky and vain. All we
could say did not change his mind, and the lad had his way. To me
it seems, Mabel, that whenever a thing is really grand and potent,
it has a quiet majesty about it, altogether unlike the frothy
and flustering manner of smaller matters, and so it was with them
rapids. The canoe was no sooner fairly in them, than down it went,
as it might be, as one sails through the air on the 'arth, and no
skill of the young Delaware could resist the stream. And yet he
struggled manfully for life, using the paddle to the last, like the
deer that is swimming to cast the hounds. At first he shot across
the current so swiftly, that we thought he would prevail; but he
had miscalculated his distance, and when the truth really struck
him, he turned the head upstream, and struggled in a way that
was fearful to look at. I could have pitied him even had he been
a Mingo. For a few moments his efforts were so frantic that he
actually prevailed over the power of the cataract; but natur' has
its limits, and one faltering stroke of the paddle set him back,
and then he lost ground, foot by foot, inch by inch, until he got
near the spot where the river looked even and green, and as if it
were made of millions of threads of water, all bent over some huge
rock, when he shot backwards like an arrow and disappeared, the bow
of the canoe tipping just enough to let us see what had become of
him. I met a Mohawk some years later who had witnessed the whole
affair from the bed of the stream below, and he told me that the
Delaware continued to paddle in the air until he was lost in the
mists of the falls."
"And what became of the poor wretch?" demanded Mabel, who had been
strongly interested by the natural eloquence of the speaker.
"He went to the happy hunting-grounds of his people, no doubt; for
though he was risky and vain, he was also just and brave. Yes, he
died foolishly, but the Manitou of the red-skins has compassion on
his creatur's as well as the God of a Christian."
A gun at this moment was discharged from a blockhouse near the
fort; and the shot, one of light weight, came whistling over the
cutter's mast, an admonition to approach no nearer. Jasper was at
the helm, and he kept away, smiling at the same time as if he felt
no anger at the rudeness of the salutation. The _Scud_ was now
in the current, and her outward set soon carried her far enough to
leeward to avoid the danger of a repetition of the shot, and then
she quietly continued her course along the land. As soon as the
river was fairly opened, Jasper ascertained that the _Montcalm_
was not at anchor in it; and a man sent aloft came down with the
report that the horizon showed no sail. The hope was now strong
that the artifice of Jasper had succeeded, and that the French
commander had missed them by keeping the middle of the lake as he
steered towards its head.
All that day the wind hung to the southward, and the cutter continued
her course about a league from the land, running six or eight
knots the hour in perfectly smooth water. Although the scene had
one feature of monotony, the outline of unbroken forest, it was not
without its interest and pleasures. Various headlands presented
themselves, and the cutter, in running from one to another, stretched
across bays so deep as almost to deserve the name of gulfs. But
nowhere did the eye meet with the evidences of civilization;
rivers occasionally poured their tribute into the great reservoir
of the lake, but their banks could be traced inland for miles by
the same outlines of trees; and even large bays, that lay embosomed
in woods, communicating with Ontario only by narrow outlets, appeared
and disappeared, without bringing with them a single trace of a
human habitation.
Of all on board, the Pathfinder viewed the scene with the most
unmingled delight. His eyes feasted on the endless line of forest,
and more than once that day, notwithstanding he found it so grateful
to be near Mabel, listening to her pleasant voice, and echoing,
in feelings at least, her joyous laugh, did his soul pine to be
wandering beneath the high arches of the maples, oaks, and lindens,
where his habits had induced him to fancy lasting and true joys
were only to be found. Cap viewed the prospect differently; more
than once he expressed his disgust at there being no lighthouses,
church-towers, beacons, or roadsteads with their shipping. Such
another coast, he protested, the world did not contain; and, taking
the Sergeant aside, he gravely assured him that the region could
never come to anything, as the havens were neglected, the rivers
had a deserted and useless look, and that even the breeze had a
smell of the forest about it, which spoke ill of its properties.
But the humors of the different individuals in her did not stay
the speed of the _Scud_: when the sun was setting, she was already
a hundred miles on her route towards Oswego, into which river
Sergeant Dunham now thought it his duty to go, in order to receive
any communications that Major Duncan might please to make. With
a view to effect this purpose, Jasper continued to hug the shore
all night; and though the wind began to fail him towards morning,
it lasted long enough to carry the cutter up to a point that was
known to be but a league or two from the fort. Here the breeze
came out light at the northward, and the cutter hauled a little
from the land, in order to obtain a safe offing should it come on
to blow, or should the weather again get to be easterly.
When the day dawned, the cutter had the mouth of the Oswego well
under the lee, distant about two miles; and just as the morning
gun from the fort was fired, Jasper gave the order to ease off the
sheets, and to bear up for his port. At that moment a cry from
the forecastle drew all eyes towards the point on the eastern side
of the outlet, and there, just without the range of shot from the
light guns of the works, with her canvas reduced to barely enough
to keep her stationary, lay the _Montcalm_, evidently in waiting
for their appearance.
To pass her was impossible, for by filling her sails the French ship
could have intercepted them in a few minutes; and the circumstances
called for a prompt decision. After a short consultation, the
Sergeant again changed his plan, determining to make the best of his
way towards the station for which he had been originally destined,
trusting to the speed of the _Scud_ to throw the enemy so far astern
as to leave no clue to her movements.
The cutter accordingly hauled upon a wind with the least possible
delay, with everything set that would draw. Guns were fired from
the fort, ensigns shown, and the ramparts were again crowded. But
sympathy was all the aid that Lundie could lend to his party; and
the _Montcalm_, also firing four or five guns of defiance, and
throwing abroad several of the banners of France, was soon in chase
under a cloud of canvas.
For several hours the two vessels were pressing through the water
as fast as possible, making short stretches to windward, apparently
with a view to keep the port under their lee, the one to enter it
if possible, and the other to intercept it in the attempt.
At meridian the French ship was hull down, dead to leeward, the
disparity of sailing on a wind being very great, and some islands
were near by, behind which Jasper said it would be possible for
the cutter to conceal her future movements. Although Cap and
the Sergeant, and particularly Lieutenant Muir, to judge by his
language, still felt a good deal of distrust of the young man,
and Frontenac was not distant, this advice was followed; for time
pressed, and the Quartermaster discreetly observed that Jasper
could not well betray them without running openly into the enemy's
harbor, a step they could at any time prevent, since the only
cruiser of force the French possessed at the moment was under their
lee and not in a situation to do them any immediate injury.
Left to himself, Jasper Western soon proved how much was really
in him. He weathered upon the islands, passed them, and on coming
out to the eastward, kept broad away, with nothing in sight in his
wake or to leeward. By sunset again the cutter was up with the
first of the islands that lie in the outlet of the lake; and ere
it was dark she was running through the narrow channels on her way
to the long-sought station. At nine o'clock, however, Cap insisted
that they should anchor; for the maze of islands became so complicated
and obscure, that he feared, at every opening, the party would
find themselves under the guns of a French fort. Jasper consented
cheerfully, it being a part of his standing instructions to approach
the station under such circumstances as would prevent the men from
obtaining any very accurate notions of its position, lest a deserter
might betray the little garrison to the enemy.
The _Scud_ was brought to in a small retired bay, where it would
have been difficult to find her by daylight, and where she was
perfectly concealed at night, when all but a solitary sentinel on
deck sought their rest. Cap had been so harassed during the previous
eight-and-forty hours, that his slumbers were long and deep; nor
did he awake from his first nap until the day was just beginning
to dawn. His eyes were scarcely open, however, when his nautical
instinct told him that the cutter was under way. Springing up, he
found the _Scud_ threading the islands again, with no one on deck
but Jasper and the pilot, unless the sentinel be excepted, who had
not in the least interfered with movements that he had every reason
to believe were as regular as they were necessary.
"How's this, Master Western?" demanded Cap, with sufficient fierceness
for the occasion; "are you running us into Frontenac at last, and
we all asleep below, like so many mariners waiting for the 'sentry
go'?"
"This is according to orders, Master Cap, Major Duncan having
commanded me never to approach the station unless at a moment when
the people were below; for he does not wish there should be more
pilots in those waters than the king has need of."
"Whe-e-e-w! a pretty job I should have made of running down among
these bushes and rocks with no one on deck! Why, a regular York
branch could make nothing of such a channel."
"I always thought, sir," said Jasper, smiling, "you would have done
better had you left the cutter in my hands until she had safely
reached her place of destination."
"We should have done it, Jasper, we should have done it, had it not
been for a circumstance; these circumstances are serious matters,
and no prudent man will overlook them."
"Well, sir, I hope there is now an end of them. We shall arrive in
less than an hour if the wind holds, and then you'll be safe from
any circumstances that I can contrive."
"Humph!"
Cap was obliged to acquiesce; and, as everything around him had the
appearance of Jasper's being sincere, there was not much difficulty
in making up his mind to submit. It would not have been easy indeed
for a person the most sensitive on the subject of circumstances
to fancy that the _Scud_ was anywhere in the vicinity of a port so
long established and so well known on the frontiers as Frontenac.
The islands might not have been literally a thousand in number, but
they were so numerous and small as to baffle calculation, though
occasionally one of larger size than common was passed. Jasper
had quitted what might have been termed the main channel, and was
winding his way, with a good stiff breeze and a favorable current,
through passes that were sometimes so narrow that there appeared
to be barely room sufficient for the _Scud's_ spars to clear the
trees, while at other moments he shot across little bays, and buried
the cutter again amid rocks, forests, and bushes. The water was
so transparent that there was no occasion for the lead, and being
of very equal depth, little risk was actually run, though Cap,
with his maritime habits, was in a constant fever lest they should
strike.
"I give it up, I give it up, Pathfinder!" the old seaman at length
exclaimed, when the little vessel emerged in safety from the
twentieth of these narrow inlets through which she had been so
boldly carried; "this is defying the very nature of seamanship,
and sending all its laws and rules to the d---l!"
"Nay, nay, Saltwater, 'tis the perfection of the art. You perceive
that Jasper never falters, but, like a hound with a true nose, he
runs with his head high as if he had a strong scent. My life on
it, the lad brings us out right in the ind, as he would have done
in the beginning had we given him leave."
"No pilot, no lead, no beacons, buoys, or lighthouses, no -- "
"Trail," interrupted Pathfinder; "for that to me is the most
mysterious part of the business. Water leaves no trail, as every
one knows; and yet here is Jasper moving ahead as boldly as if he
had before his eyes the prints of the moccasins on leaves as plainly
as we can see the sun in the heaven."
"D--- me, if I believe there is even any compass!"
"Stand by to haul down the jib," called out Jasper, who merely
smiled at the remarks of his companion. "Haul down -- starboard
your helm -- starboard hard -- so - meet her -- gently there with
the helm -- touch her lightly - now jump ashore with the fast, lad
-- no, heave; there are some of our people ready to take it."
All this passed so quickly as barely to allow the spectator time
to note the different evolutions, ere the _Scud_ had been thrown
into the wind until her mainsail shivered, next cast a little by
the use of the rudder only, and then she set bodily alongside of
a natural rocky quay, where she was immediately secured by good
fasts run to the shore. In a word, the station was reached, and
the men of the 55th were greeted by their expecting comrades, with
the satisfaction which a relief usually brings.
Mabel sprang up on the shore with a delight which she did not care
to express; and her father led his men after her with an alacrity
which proved how wearied he had become of the cutter. The station,
as the place was familiarly termed by the soldiers of the 55th,
was indeed a spot to raise expectations of enjoyment among those who
had been cooped up so long in a vessel of the dimensions of the
_Scud_. None of the islands were high, though all lay at a sufficient
elevation above the water to render them perfectly healthy and
secure. Each had more or less of wood; and the greater number
at that distant day were clothed with the virgin forest. The one
selected by the troops for their purpose was small, containing
about twenty acres of land, and by some of the accidents of the
wilderness it had been partly stripped of its trees, probably
centuries before the period of which we are writing, and a little
grassy glade covered nearly half its surface.
The shores of Station Island were completely fringed with bushes,
and great care had been taken to preserve them, as they answered as
a screen to conceal the persons and things collected within their
circle. Favored by this shelter, as well as by that of several
thickets of trees and different copses, some six or eight low huts
had been erected to be used as quarters for the officer and his men,
to contain stores, and to serve the purposes of kitchen, hospital,
etc. These huts were built of logs in the usual manner, had been
roofed by bark brought from a distance, lest the signs of labor
should attract attention, and, as they had now been inhabited
some months, were as comfortable as dwellings of that description
usually ever get to be.
At the eastern extremity of the island, however, was a small,
densely-wooded peninsula, with a thicket of underbrush so closely
matted as nearly to prevent the possibility of seeing across it,
so long as the leaves remained on the branches. Near the narrow
neck that connected this acre with the rest of the island, a small
blockhouse had been erected, with some attention to its means of
resistance. The logs were bullet-proof, squared and jointed with
a care to leave no defenceless points; the windows were loopholes,
the door massive and small, and the roof, like the rest of the
structure, was framed of hewn timber, covered properly with bark
to exclude the rain. The lower apartment as usual contained stores
and provisions; here indeed the party kept all their supplies;
the second story was intended for a dwelling, as well as for the
citadel, and a low garret was subdivided into two or three rooms,
and could hold the pallets of some ten or fifteen persons. All
the arrangements were exceedingly simple and cheap, but they were
sufficient to protect the soldiers against the effects of a surprise.
As the whole building was considerably less than forty feet high,
its summit was concealed by the tops of the trees, except from the
eyes of those who had reached the interior of the island. On that
side the view was open from the upper loops, though bushes even
there, more or less, concealed the base of the wooden tower.
The object being purely defence, care had been taken to place the
blockhouse so near an opening in the limestone rock that formed
the base of the island as to admit of a bucket being dropped into
the water, in order to obtain that great essential in the event of
a siege. In order to facilitate this operation, and to enfilade
the base of the building, the upper stories projected several feet
beyond the lower in the manner usual to blockhouses, and pieces of wood
filled the apertures cut in the log flooring, which were intended
as loops and traps. The communications between the different stories
were by means of ladders. If we add that these blockhouses were
intended as citadels for garrisons or settlements to retreat to, in
the cases of attacks, the general reader will obtain a sufficiently
correct idea of the arrangements it is our wish to explain.
But the situation of the island itself formed its principal merit
as a military position. Lying in the midst of twenty others, it
was not an easy matter to find it; since boats might pass quite
near, and, by glimpses caught through the openings, this particular
island would be taken for a part of some other. Indeed, the
channels between the islands which lay around the one we have been
describing were so narrow that it was even difficult to say which
portions of the land were connected, or which separated, even as
one stood in the centre, with the express desire of ascertaining
the truth. The little bay in particular, which Jasper used as
a harbor, was so embowered with bushes and shut in with islands,
that, the sails of the cutter being lowered, her own people on one
occasion had searched for hours before they could find the _Scud_,
in their return from a short excursion among the adjacent channels
in quest of fish. In short, the place was admirably adapted to its
present objects, and its natural advantages had been as ingeniously
improved as economy and the limited means of a frontier post would
very well allow.
The hour which succeeded the arrival of the _Scud_ was one of hurried
excitement. The party in possession had done nothing worthy of
being mentioned, and, wearied with their seclusion, they were all
eager to return to Oswego. The Sergeant and the officer he came
to relieve had no sooner gone through the little ceremonies of
transferring the command, than the latter hurried on board the
_Scud_ with his whole party; and Jasper, who would gladly have passed
the day on the island, was required to get under way forthwith, the
wind promising a quick passage up the river and across the lake.
Before separating, however, Lieutenant Muir, Cap, and the Sergeant
had a private conference with the ensign who had been relieved,
in which the last was made acquainted with the suspicions that
existed against the fidelity of the young sailor. Promising due
caution, the officer embarked, and in less than three hours from
the time when she had arrived the cutter was again in motion.
Mabel had taken possession of a hut; and with female readiness
and skill she made all the simple little domestic arrangements of
which the circumstances would admit, not only for her own comfort, but
for that of her father. To save labor, a mess-table was prepared
in a hut set apart for that purpose, where all the heads of the
detachment were to eat, the soldier's wife performing the necessary
labor. The hut of the Sergeant, which was the best on the island,
being thus freed from any of the vulgar offices of a household,
admitted of such a display of womanly taste, that, for the first
time since her arrival on the frontier, Mabel felt proud of her
home. As soon as these important duties were discharged, she
strolled out on the island, taking a path which led through the
pretty glade, and which conducted to the only point not covered with
bushes. Here she stood gazing at the limpid water, which lay with
scarcely a ruffle on it at her feet, musing on the novel situation
in which she was placed, and permitting a pleasing and deep excitement
to steal over her feelings, as she remembered the scenes through
which she had so lately passed, and conjectured those which still
lay veiled in the future.
"You're a beautiful fixture, in a beautiful spot, Mistress Mabel,"
said David Muir, suddenly appearing at her elbow; "and I'll no'
engage you're not just the handsomest of the two."
"I will not say, Mr. Muir, that compliments on my person are
altogether unwelcome, for I should not gain credit for speaking
the truth, perhaps," answered Mabel with spirit; "but I will say
that if you would condescend to address to me some remarks of a
different nature, I may be led to believe you think I have sufficient
faculties to understand them."
"Hoot! your mind, beautiful Mabel, is polished just like the barrel
of a soldier's musket, and your conversation is only too discreet
and wise for a poor d---l who has been chewing birch up here these
four years on the lines, instead of receiving it in an application
that has the virtue of imparting knowledge. But you are no' sorry,
I take it, young lady, that you've got your pretty foot on _terra
firma_ once more."
"I thought so two hours since, Mr. Muir; but the _Scud_ looks so
beautiful as she sails through these vistas of trees, that I almost
regret I am no longer one of her passengers."
As Mabel ceased speaking, she waved her handkerchief in return to
a salutation from Jasper, who kept his eyes fastened on her form
until the white sails of the cutter had swept round a point, and
were nearly lost behind its green fringe of leaves.
"There they go, and I'll no' say 'joy go with them;' but may they
have the luck to return safely, for without them we shall be in
danger of passing the winter on this island; unless, indeed, we
have the alternative of the castle at Quebec. Yon Jasper Eau-douce
is a vagrant sort of a lad, and they have reports of him in the
garrison that it pains my very heart to hear. Your worthy father,
and almost as worthy uncle, have none of the best opinion of him."
"I am sorry to hear it, Mr. Muir; I doubt not that time will remove
all their distrust."
"If time would only remove mine, pretty Mabel," rejoined the
Quartermaster in a wheedling tone, "I should feel no envy of the
commander-in-chief. I think if I were in a condition to retire,
the Sergeant would just step into my shoes."
"If my dear father is worthy to step into your shoes, Mr. Muir,"
returned the girl, with malicious pleasure, "I'm sure that the
qualification is mutual, and that you are every way worthy to step
into his."
"The deuce is in the child! you would not reduce me to the rank of
a non-commissioned officer, Mabel?"
"No, indeed, sir; I was not thinking of the army at all as you spoke
of retiring. My thoughts were more egotistical, and I was thinking
how much you reminded me of my dear father, by your experience,
wisdom, and suitableness to take his place as the head of a family."
"As its bridegroom, pretty Mabel, but not as its parent or natural
chief. I see how it is with you, loving your repartee, and brilliant
with wit. Well, I like spirit in a young woman, so it be not the
spirit of a scold. This Pathfinder is all extraordinair, Mabel,
if truth may be said of the man."
"Truth should be said of him or nothing. Pathfinder is my friend
-- my very particular friend, Mr. Muir, and no evil can be said of
him in my presence that I shall not deny."
"I shall say nothing evil of him, I can assure you, Mabel; but, at
the same time, I doubt if much good can be said in his favor."
"He is at least expert with the rifle," returned Mabel, smiling.
"That you cannot deny."
"Let him have all the credit of his exploits in that way if you
please; but he is as illiterate as a Mohawk."
"He may not understand Latin, but his knowledge of Iroquois is
greater than that of most men, and it is the more useful language
of the two in this part of the world."
"If Lundie himself were to call on me for an opinion which I
admire more, your person or your wit, beautiful and caustic Mabel,
I should be at a loss to answer. My admiration is so nearly divided
between them, that I often fancy this is the one that bears off the
palm, and then the other! Ah! the late Mrs. Muir was a paragon
in that way also."
"The latest Mrs. Muir, did you say, sir?" asked Mabel, looking up
innocently at her companion.
"Hoot, hoot! That is some of Pathfinder's scandal. Now I daresay
that the fellow has been trying to persuade you, Mabel, that I have
had more than one wife already."
"In that case his time would have been thrown away, sir, as everybody
knows that you have been so unfortunate as to have had four."
"Only three, as sure as my name is David Muir. The fourth is pure
scandal -- or rather, pretty Mabel, she is yet _in petto_, as they
say at Rome; and that means, in matters of love, in the heart, my
dear."
"Well, I'm glad I'm not that fourth person, _in petto_, or in
anything else, as I should not like to be a scandal."
"No fear of that, charming Mabel; for were you the fourth, all
the others would be forgotten, and your wonderful beauty and merit
would at once elevate you to be the first. No fear of your being
the fourth in any thing."
"There is consolation in that assurance, Mr. Muir," said Mabel,
laughing, "whatever there may be in your other assurance; for I
confess I should prefer being even a fourth-rate beauty to being
a fourth wife."
So saying she tripped away, leaving the Quartermaster to meditate
on his success. Mabel had been induced to use her female means of
defence thus freely, partly because her suitor had of late been so
pointed as to stand in need of a pretty strong repulse, and partly
on account of his innuendoes against Jasper and the Pathfinder.
Though full of spirit and quick of intellect, she was not naturally
pert; but on the present occasion she thought circumstances called
for more than usual decision. When she left her companion, therefore,
she believed she was now finally released from attentions which she
thought as ill-bestowed as they were certainly disagreeable. Not
so, however, with David Muir; accustomed to rebuffs, and familiar
with the virtue of perseverance, he saw no reason to despair, though
the half-menacing, half-self-satisfied manner in which he shook
his head towards the retreating girl might have betrayed designs
as sinister as they were determined. While he was thus occupied,
the Pathfinder approached, and got within a few feet of him unseen.
"'Twill never do, Quartermaster, 'twill never do," commenced the
latter, laughing in his noiseless way; "she is young and active,
and none but a quick foot can overtake her. They tell me you are
her suitor, if you are not her follower."
"And I hear the same of yourself, man, though the presumption would
be so great that I scarcely can think it true."
"I fear you're right, I do; yes, I fear you're right; --when I
consider myself, what I am, how little I know, and how rude my life
has been, I altogether distrust my claim, even to think a moment
of one so tutored, and gay, and light of heart, and delicate -- "
"You forget handsome," coarsely interrupted Muir.
"And handsome, too, I fear," returned the meek and self-abased guide;
"I might have said handsome at once, among her other qualities; for
the young fa'n, just as it learns to bound, is not more pleasant
to the eye of the hunter than Mabel is lovely in mine. I do indeed
fear that all the thoughts I have harbored about her are vain and
presumptuous."
"If you think this, my friend, of your own accord and natural
modesty, as it might be, my duty to you as an old fellow-campaigner
compels me to say -- "
"Quartermaster," interrupted the other, regarding his companion
keenly, "you and I have lived together much behind the ramparts of
forts, but very little in the open woods or in front of the enemy."
"Garrison or tent, it all passes for part of the same campaign, you
know, Pathfinder; and then my duty keeps me much within sight of
the storehouses, greatly contrary to my inclinations, as ye may well
suppose, having yourself the ardor of battle in your temperament.
But had ye heard what Mabel had just been saying of you, ye'd no
think another minute of making yourself agreeable to the saucy and
uncompromising hussy."
Pathfinder looked earnestly at the lieutenant, for it was impossible
he should not feel an interest in what might be Mabel's opinion;
but he had too much of the innate and true feeling of a gentleman
to ask to hear what another had said of him. Muir, however, was not
to be foiled by this self-denial and self-respect; for, believing
he had a man of great truth and simplicity to deal with, he determined
to practise on his credulity, as one means of getting rid of his
rivalry. He therefore pursued the subject, as soon as he perceived
that his companion's self-denial was stronger than his curiosity.
"You ought to know her opinion, Pathfinder," he continued; "and
I think every man ought to hear what his friends and acquaintances
say of him: and so, by way of proving my own regard for your character
and feelings, I'll just tell you in as few words as possible. You
know that Mabel has a wicked, malicious way with them eyes of her
own, when she has a mind to be hard upon one's feelings."
"To me her eyes, Lieutenant Muir, have always seemed winning and
soft, though I will acknowledge that they sometimes laugh; yes, I
have known them to laugh, and that right heartily, and with downright
goodwill."
"Well, it was just that then; her eyes were laughing with all their
might, as it were; and in the midst of all her fun, she broke out
with an exclamation to this effect: - I hope 'twill no' hurt your
sensibility, Pathfinder?"
"I will not say Quartermaster, I will not say. Mabel's opinion of
me is of no more account than that of most others."
"Then I'll no' tell ye, but just keep discretion on the subject;
and why should a man be telling another what his friends say of him,
especially when they happen to say that which may not be pleasant
to hear? I'll not add another word to this present communication."
"I cannot make you speak, Quartermaster, if you are not so minded,
and perhaps it is better for me not to know Mabel's opinion, as
you seem to think it is not in my favor. Ah's me! if we could be
what we wish to be, instead of being only what we are, there would
be a great difference in our characters and knowledge and appearance.
One may be rude and coarse and ignorant, and yet happy, if he does
not know it; but it is hard to see our own failings in the strongest
light, just as we wish to hear the least about them."
"That's just the _rationale_, as the French say, of the matter;
and so I was telling Mabel, when she ran away and left me. You
noticed the manner in which she skipped off as you approached?"
"It was very observable," answered Pathfinder, drawing a long breath
and clenching the barrel of his rifle as if the fingers would bury
themselves in the iron.
"It was more than observable -- it was flagrant; that's just the
word, and the dictionary wouldn't supply a better, after an hour's
search. Well, you must know, Pathfinder, -- for I cannot reasonably
deny you the gratification of hearing this, -- so you must know
the minx bounded off in that manner in preference to hearing what
I had to say in your justification."
"And what could you find to say in my behalf, Quartermaster?"
"Why, d'ye understand, my friend, I was ruled by circumstances, and
no' ventured indiscreetly into generalities, but was preparing to
meet particulars, as it might be, with particulars. If you were
thought wild, half-savage, or of a frontier formation, I could tell
her, ye know, that it came of the frontier, wild and half-savage
life ye'd led; and all her objections must cease at once, or there
would be a sort of a misunderstanding with Providence."
"And did you tell her this, Quartermaster?"
"I'll no' swear to the exact words, but the idea was prevalent in
my mind, ye'll understand. The girl was impatient, and would not
hear the half I had to say; but away she skipped, as ye saw with
your own eyes, Pathfinder, as if her opinion were fully made up,
and she cared to listen no longer. I fear her mind may be said to
have come to its conclusion?"
"I fear it has indeed, Quartermaster, and her father, after all, is
mistaken. Yes, yes; the Sergeant has fallen into a grievous error."
"Well, man, why need ye lament, and undo all the grand reputation
ye've been so many weary years making? Shoulder the rifle that ye
use so well, and off into the woods with ye, for there's not the
female breathing that is worth a heavy heart for a minute, as I
know from experience. Tak' the word of one who knows the sax, and
has had two wives, that women, after all, are very much the sort of
creatures we do not imagine them to be. Now, if you would really
mortify Mabel, here is as glorious an occasion as any rejected
lover could desire."
"The last wish I have, Lieutenant, would be to mortify Mabel."
"Well, ye'll come to that in the end, notwithstanding; for it's
human nature to desire to give unpleasant feelings to them that give
unpleasant feelings to us. But a better occasion never offered to
make your friends love you, than is to be had at this very moment,
and that is the certain means of causing one's enemies to envy us."
"Quartermaster, Mabel is not my inimy; and if she was, the last
thing I could desire would be to give her an uneasy moment."
"Ye say so, Pathfinder, ye say so, and I daresay ye think so; but
reason and nature are both against you, as ye'll find in the end.
Ye've heard the saying 'love me, love my dog:' well, now, that
means, read backwards, 'don't love me, don't love my dog.' Now,
listen to what is in your power to do. You know we occupy an
exceedingly precarious and uncertain position here, almost in the
jaws of the lion, as it were?"
"Do you mean the Frenchers by the lion, and this island as his
jaws, Lieutenant?"
"Metaphorically only, my friend, for the French are no lions, and
this island is not a jaw -- unless, indeed, it may prove to be,
what I greatly fear may come true, the jaw-bone of an ass."
Here the Quartermaster indulged in a sneering laugh, that proclaimed
anything but respect and admiration for his friend Lundie's sagacity
in selecting that particular spot for his operations.
"The post is as well chosen as any I ever put foot in," said
Pathfinder, looking around him as one surveys a picture.
"I'll no' deny it, I'll no' deny it. Lundie is a great soldier,
in a small way; and his father was a great laird, with the same
qualification. I was born on the estate, and have followed the
Major so long that I've got to reverence all he says and does:
that's just my weakness, ye'll know, Pathfinder. Well, this post
may be the post of an ass, or of a Solomon, as men fancy; but it's
most critically placed, as is apparent by all Lundie's precautions
and injunctions. There are savages out scouting through these
Thousand Islands and over the forest, searching for this very
spot, as is known to Lundie himself, on certain information; and
the greatest service you can render the 55th is to discover their
trails and lead them off on a false scent. Unhappily Sergeant Dunham
has taken up the notion that the danger is to be apprehended from
up-stream, because Frontenac lies above us; whereas all experience
tells us that Indians come on the side which is most contrary to
reason, and, consequently, are to be expected from below. Take
your canoe, therefore, and go down-stream among the islands, that
we may have notice if any danger approaches from that quarter."
"The Big Sarpent is on the look-out in that quarter; and as he knows
the station well, no doubt he will give us timely notice, should
any wish to sarcumvent us in that direction."
"He is but an Indian, after all, Pathfinder; and this is an affair
that calls for the knowledge of a white man. Lundie will be eternally
grateful to the man who shall help this little enterprise to come
off with flying colors. To tell you the truth, my friend, he is
conscious it should never have been attempted; but he has too much
of the old laird's obstinacy about him to own an error, though it
be as manifest as the morning star."
The Quartermaster then continued to reason with his companion, in
order to induce him to quit the island without delay, using such
arguments as first suggested themselves, sometimes contradicting
himself, and not unfrequently urging at one moment a motive that at
the next was directly opposed by another. The Pathfinder, simple
as he was, detected these flaws in the Lieutenant's philosophy,
though he was far from suspecting that they proceeded from a desire
to clear the coast of Mabel's suitor. He did not exactly suspect
the secret objects of Muir, but he was far from being blind to
his sophistry. The result was that the two parted, after a long
dialogue, unconvinced, and distrustful of each other's motives,
though the distrust of the guide, like all that was connected with
the man, partook of his own upright, disinterested, and ingenuous
nature.
A conference that took place soon after between Sergeant Dunham
and the Lieutenant led to more consequences. When it was ended,
secret orders were issued to the men, the blockhouse was taken
possession of, the huts were occupied, and one accustomed to the
movements of soldiers might have detected that an expedition was
in the wind. In fact, just as the sun was setting, the Sergeant,
who had been much occupied at what was called the harbor, came
into his own hut, followed by Pathfinder and Cap; and as he took
his seat at the neat table which Mabel had prepared for him, he
opened the budget of his intelligence.
"You are likely to be of some use here, my child," the old soldier
commenced, "as this tidy and well-ordered supper can testify; and
I trust, when the proper moment arrives, you will show yourself to
be the descendant of those who know how to face their enemies."
"You do not expect me, dear father, to play Joan of Arc, and to
lead the men to battle?"
"Play whom, child? Did you ever hear of the person Mabel mentions,
Pathfinder?"
"Not I, Sergeant; but what of that? I am ignorant and unedicated,
and it is too great a pleasure to me to listen to her voice, and
take in her words, to be particular about persons."
"I know her," said Cap decidedly; "she sailed a privateer out of
Morlaix in the last war; and good cruises she made of them."
Mabel blushed at having inadvertently made an allusion that went
beyond her father's reading, to say nothing of her uncle's dogmatism,
and, perhaps, a little at the Pathfinder's simple, ingenuous
earnestness; but she did not forbear the less to smile.
"Why, father, I am not expected to fall in with the men, and to
help defend the island?"
"And yet women have often done such things in this quarter of the
world, girl, as our friend, the Pathfinder here, will tell you.
But lest you should be surprised at not seeing us when you awake
in the morning, it is proper that I now tell you we intend to march
in the course of this very night."
"_We_, father! and leave me and Jennie on this island alone?"
"No, my daughter; not quite as unmilitary as that. We shall leave
Lieutenant Muir, brother Cap, Corporal M'Nab, and three men to
compose the garrison during our absence. Jennie will remain with
you in this hut, and brother Cap will occupy my place."
"And Mr. Muir?" said Mabel, half unconscious of what she uttered,
though she foresaw a great deal of unpleasant persecution in the
arrangement.
"Why, he can make love to you, if you like it, girl; for he is
an amorous youth, and, having already disposed of four wives, is
impatient to show how much he honors their memories by taking a
fifth."
"The Quartermaster tells me," said Pathfinder innocently, "that
when a man's feelings have been harassed by so many losses, there
is no wiser way to soothe them than by ploughing up the soil anew,
in such a manner as to leave no traces of what have gone over it
before."
"Ay, that is just the difference between ploughing and harrowing,"
returned the Sergeant, with a grim smile. "But let him tell Mabel
his mind, and there will be an end of his suit. I very well know
that _my_ daughter will never be the wife of Lieutenant Muir."
This was said in a way that was tantamount to declaring that
no daughter of his ever _should_ become the wife of the person in
question. Mabel had colored, trembled, half laughed, and looked
uneasy; but, rallying her spirit, she said, in a voice so cheerful
as completely to conceal her agitation, "But, father, we might
better wait until Mr. Muir manifests a wish that your daughter
would have him, or rather a wish to have your daughter, lest we
get the fable of sour grapes thrown into our faces."
"And what is that fable, Mabel?" eagerly demanded Pathfinder, who
was anything but learned in the ordinary lore of white men. "Tell
it to us, in your own pretty way; I daresay the Sergeant never
heard it."
Mabel repeated the well-known fable, and, as her suitor had desired,
in her own pretty way, which was a way to keep his eyes riveted
on her face, and the whole of his honest countenance covered with
a smile.
"That was like a fox!" cried Pathfinder, when she had ceased; "ay,
and like a Mingo, too, cunning and cruel; that is the way with both
the riptyles. As to grapes, they are sour enough in this part of
the country, even to them that can get at them, though I daresay
there are seasons and times and places where they are sourer to
them that can't. I should judge, now, my scalp is very sour in
Mingo eyes."
"The sour grapes will be the other way, child, and it is Mr. Muir
who will make the complaint. You would never marry that man,
Mabel?"
"Not she," put in Cap; "a fellow who is only half a soldier after
all. The story of them there grapes is quite a circumstance."
"I think little of marrying any one, dear father and dear uncle,
and would rather talk about it less, if you please. But, did I
think of marrying at all, I do believe a man whose affections have
already been tried by three or four wives would scarcely be my
choice."
The Sergeant nodded at the guide, as much as to say, You see how
the land lies; and then he had sufficient consideration for his
daughter's feelings to change the subject.
"Neither you nor Mabel, brother Cap," he resumed, "can have any
legal authority with the little garrison I leave behind on the
island; but you may counsel and influence. Strictly speaking,
Corporal M'Nab will be the commanding officer, and I have endeavored
to impress him with a sense of his dignity, lest he might give
way too much to the superior rank of Lieutenant Muir, who, being
a volunteer, can have no right to interfere with the duty. I wish
you to sustain the Corporal, brother Cap; for should the Quartermaster
once break through the regulations of the expedition, he may pretend
to command me, as well as M'Nab."
"More particularly, should Mabel really cut him adrift while you
are absent. Of course, Sergeant, you'll leave everything that is
afloat under my care? The most d----ble confusion has grown out
of misunderstandings between commanders-in-chief, ashore and afloat."
"In one sense, brother, though in a general way, the Corporal is
commander-in-chief. The Corporal must command; but you can counsel
freely, particularly in all matters relating to the boats, of which
I shall leave one behind to secure your retreat, should there be
occasion. I know the Corporal well; he is a brave man and a good
soldier; and one that may be relied on, if the Santa Cruz can be
kept from him. But then he is a Scotchman, and will be liable to
the Quartermaster's influence, against which I desire both you and
Mabel to be on your guard."
"But why leave us behind, dear father? I have come thus far to be
a comfort to you, and why not go farther?"
"You are a good girl, Mabel, and very like the Dunhams. But you
must halt here. We shall leave the island to-morrow, before the
day dawns, in order not to be seen by any prying eyes coming from
our cover, and we shall take the two largest boats, leaving you
the other and one bark canoe. We are about to go into the channel
used by the French, where we shall lie in wait, perhaps a week, to
intercept their supply-boats, which are about to pass up on their
way to Frontenac, loaded, in particular, with a heavy amount of
Indian goods."
"Have you looked well to your papers, brother?" Cap anxiously
demanded. "Of course you know a capture on the high seas is piracy,
unless your boat is regularly commissioned, either as a public or
a private armed cruiser."
"I have the honor to hold the Colonel's appointment as sergeant-major
of the 55th," returned the other, drawing himself up with dignity,
"and that will be sufficient even for the French king. If not, I
have Major Duncan's written orders."
"No papers, then, for a warlike cruiser?"
"They must suffice, brother, as I have no other. It is of vast
importance to his Majesty's interests, in this part of the world,
that the boats in question should be captured and carried into
Oswego. They contain the blankets, trinkets, rifles, ammunition,
in short, all the stores with which the French bribe their accursed
savage allies to commit their unholy acts, setting at nought our
holy religion and its precepts, the laws of humanity, and all that
is sacred and dear among men. By cutting off these supplies we
shall derange their plans, and gain time on them; for the articles
cannot be sent across the ocean again this autumn."
"But, father, does not his Majesty employ Indians also?" asked
Mabel, with some curiosity.
"Certainly, girl, and he has a right to employ them --God bless him!
It's a very different thing whether an Englishman or a Frenchman
employs a savage, as everybody can understand."
"But, father, I cannot see that this alters the case. If it be
wrong in a Frenchman to hire savages to fight his enemies, it would
seem to be equally wrong in an Englishman. _You_ will admit this,
Pathfinder?"
"It's reasonable, it's reasonable; and I have never been one of
them that has raised a cry ag'in the Frenchers for doing the very
thing we do ourselves. Still it is worse to consort with a Mingo
than to consort with a Delaware. If any of that just tribe were
left, I should think it no sin to send them out ag'in the foe."
"And yet they scalp and slay young and old, women and children!"
"They have their gifts, Mabel, and are not to be blamed for following
them; natur' is natur', though the different tribes have different
ways of showing it. For my part I am white, and endeavor to maintain
white feelings."
"This is all unintelligible to me," answered Mabel. "What is right
in King George, it would seem, ought to be right in King Louis."
As all parties, Mabel excepted, seemed satisfied with the course
the discussion had taken, no one appeared to think it necessary to
pursue the subject. Supper was no sooner ended than the Sergeant
dismissed his guests, and then held a long and confidential
dialogue with his daughter. He was little addicted to giving way
to the gentler emotions, but the novelty of his present situation
awakened feelings that he was unused to experience. The soldier
or the sailor, so long as he acts under the immediate supervision
of a superior, thinks little of the risks he runs, but the moment
he feels the responsibility of command, all the hazards of his
undertaking begin to associate themselves in his mind: with the chances
of success or failure. While he dwells less on his own personal
danger, perhaps, than when that is the principal consideration, he
has more lively general perceptions of all the risks, and submits
more to the influence of the feelings which doubt creates. Such
was now the case with Sergeant Dunham, who, instead of looking
forward to victory as certain, according to his usual habits, began
to feel the possibility that he might be parting with his child
for ever.
Never before had Mabel struck him as so beautiful as she appeared
that night. Possibly she never had displayed so many engaging
qualities to her father; for concern on his account had begun to
be active in her breast; and then her sympathies met with unusual
encouragement through those which had been stirred up in the
sterner bosom of the veteran. She had never been entirely at her
ease with her parent, the great superiority of her education creating
a sort of chasm, which had been widened by the military severity
of manner he had acquired by dealing so long with beings who could
only be kept in subjection by an unremitted discipline. On the
present occasion, however, the conversation between the father and
daughter became more confidential than usual, until Mabel rejoiced
to find that it was gradually becoming endearing, a state of feeling
that the warm-hearted girl had silently pined for in vain ever
since her arrival.
"Then mother was about my height?" Mabel said, as she held one of
her father's hands in both her own, looking up into his face with
humid eyes. "I had thought her taller."
"That is the way with most children who get a habit of thinking of
their parents with respect, until they fancy them larger and more
commanding than they actually are. Your mother, Mabel, was as near
your height as one woman could be to another."
"And her eyes, father?"
"Her eyes were like thine, child, too; blue and soft, and inviting
like, though hardly so laughing."
"Mine will never laugh again, dearest father, if you do not take
care of yourself in this expedition."
"Thank you, Mabel -- hem -- thank you, child; but I must do my duty.
I wish I had seen you comfortably married before we left Oswego;
my mind would be easier."
"Married! -- to whom, father?"
"You know the man I wish you to love. You may meet with many gayer,
and many dressed in finer clother; but with none with so true a
heart and just a mind."
"None father?"
"I know of none; in these particulars Pathfinder has few equals at
least."
"But I need not marry at all. You are single, and I can remain to
take care of you."
"God bless you, Mabel! I know you would, and I do not say that
the feeling is not right, for I suppose it is; and yet I believe
there is another that is more so."
"What can be more right than to honor one's parents?"
"It is just as right to honor one's husband, my dear child."
"But I have no husband, father."
"Then take one as soon as possible, that you may have a husband
to honor. I cannot live for ever, Mabel, but must drop off in the
course of nature ere long, if I am not carried off in the course of
war. You are young, and may yet live long; and it is proper that
you should have a male protector, who can see you safe through life,
and take care of you in age, as you now wish to take care of me."
"And do you think, father," said Mabel, playing with his sinewy
fingers with her own little hands, and looking down at them, as if
they were subjects of intense interest, though her lips curled in
a slight smile as the words came from them, -- "and do you think,
father, that Pathfinder is just the man to do this? Is he not,
within ten or twelve years, as old as yourself?"
"What of that? His life has been one of moderation and exercise,
and years are less to be counted, girl, than constitution. Do you
know another more likely to be your protector?"
Mabel did not; at least another who had expressed a desire to that
effect, whatever might have been her hopes and her wishes.
"Nay, father, we are not talking of another, but of the Pathfinder,"
she answered evasively. "If he were younger, I think it would be
more natural for me to think of him for a husband."
"'Tis all in the constitution, I tell you, child; Pathfinder is a
younger man than half our subalterns."
"He is certainly younger than one, sir -- Lieutenant Muir."
Mabel's laugh was joyous and light-hearted, as if just then she
felt no care.
"That he is -- young enough to be his grandson; he is younger
in years, too. God forbid, Mabel, that you should ever become an
officer's lady, at least until you are an officer's daughter!"
"There will be little fear of that, father, if I marry Pathfinder,"
returned the girl, looking up archly in the Sergeant's face again.
"Not by the king's commission, perhaps, though the man is even now
the friend and companion of generals. I think I could die happy,
Mabel, if you were his wife."
"Father!"
"'Tis a sad thing to go into battle with the weight of an unprotected
daughter laid upon the heart."
"I would give the world to lighten yours of its load, my dear sir."
"It might be done," said the Sergeant, looking fondly at his child;
"though I could not wish to put a burthen on yours in order to do
so."
The voice was deep and tremulous, and never before had Mabel witnessed
such a show of affection in her parent. The habitual sternness of
the man lent an interest to his emotions which they might otherwise
have wanted, and the daughter's heart yearned to relieve the father's
mind.
"Father, speak plainly!" she cried, almost convulsively.
"Nay, Mabel, it might not be right; your wishes and mine may be
very different."
"I have no wishes -- know nothing of what you mean. Would you
speak of my future marriage?"
"If I could see you promised to Pathfinder -- know that you were
pledged to become his wife, let my own fate be what it might, I
think I could die happy. But I will ask no pledge of you, my child;
I will not force you to do what you might repent. Kiss me, Mabel,
and go to your bed."
Had Sergeant Dunham exacted of Mabel the pledge that he really so
much desired, he would have encountered a resistance that he might
have found it difficult to overcome; but, by letting nature have
its course, he enlisted a powerful ally on his side, and the
warm-hearted, generous-minded Mabel was ready to concede to her
affections much more than she would ever have yielded to menace.
At that touching moment she thought only of her parent, who was
about to quit her, perhaps for ever; and all of that ardent love
for him, which had possibly been as much fed by the imagination
as by anything else, but which had received a little check by the
restrained intercourse of the last fortnight, now returned with a
force that was increased by pure and intense feeling. Her father
seemed all in all to her, and to render him happy there was no
proper sacrifice which she was not ready to make. One painful,
rapid, almost wild gleam of thought shot across the brain of the
girl, and her resolution wavered; but endeavoring to trace the
foundation of the pleasing hope on which it was based, she found
nothing positive to support it. Trained like a woman to subdue
her most ardent feelings, her thoughts reverted to her father, and
to the blessings that awaited the child who yielded to a parent's
wishes.
"Father," she said quietly, almost with a holy calm, "God blesses
the dutiful daughter."
"He will, Mabel; we have the Good Book for that."
"I will marry whomever you desire."
"Nay, nay, Mabel, you may have a choice of your own -- "
"I have no choice; that is, none have asked me to have a choice,
but Pathfinder and Mr. Muir; and between _them_, neither of us
would hesitate. No, father; I will marry whomever you may choose."
"Thou knowest my choice, beloved child; none other can make thee
as happy as the noble-hearted guide."
"Well, then, if he wish it, if he ask me again -- for, father,
you would not have me offer myself, or that any one should do that
office for me," and the blood stole across the pallid cheeks of
Mabel as she spoke, for high and generous resolutions had driven
back the stream of life to her heart; "no one must speak to him
of it; but if he seek me again, and, knowing all that a true girl
ought to tell the man she marries, he then wishes to make me his
wife, I will be his."
"Bless you, my Mabel! God in heaven bless you, and reward you as
a pious daughter deserves to be rewarded!"
"Yes, father, put your mind at peace; go on this expedition with a
light heart, and trust in God. For me you will have now no care.
In the spring -- I must have a little time, father -- but in the
spring I will marry Pathfinder, if that noble-hearted hunter shall
then desire it."
"Mabel, he loves you as I loved your mother. I have seen him weep
like a child when speaking of his feelings towards you."
"Yes, I believe it; I've seen enough to satisfy me that he thinks
better of me than I deserve; and certainly the man is not living
for whom I have more respect than for Pathfinder; not even for you,
dear father."
"That is as it should be, child, and the union will be blessed.
May I not tell Pathfinder this?"
"I would rather you would not, father. Let it come of itself, come
naturally." The smile that illuminated Mabel's handsome face was
angelic, as even her parent thought, though one better practised
in detecting the passing emotions, as they betray themselves in
the countenance, might have traced something wild and unnatural
in it. "No, no, _we_ must let things take their course; father,
you have my solemn promise."
"That will do, that will do, Mabel, now kiss me. God bless and
protect you, girl! you are a good daughter."
Mabel threw herself into her father's arms -- it was the first time
in her life -- and sobbed on his bosom like an infant. The stern
soldier's heart was melted, and the tears of the two mingled; but
Sergeant Dunham soon started, as if ashamed of himself, and, gently
forcing his daughter from him, he bade her good-night, and sought
his pallet. Mabel went sobbing to the rude corner that had
been prepared for her reception; and in a few minutes the hut was
undisturbed by any sound, save the heavy breathing of the veteran.