Wyandotte; or, the Hutted Knoll . . . Volume 2 Read online

  “Is it understand that’s wanting?--Lord, yer honour, if ye can understand that Misther Strhides, that’s yon, ye’ll be a wise man. He calls hisself a ‘son of the poor’atin’s,’ and poor ’ating it must have been, in the counthry of his faders, to have produced so lane and skinny a baste as that same. The orders was as partic’lar as tongue of man could utter, and what good will it all do?--Ye’re not to fire, says serjeant Joyce, till ye all hear the wor-r-d; and the divil of a wor-r-d did they wait for; but blaze away did they, jist becaase a knot of savages comes on to them rocks ag’in, where they had possession all yesterday afthernoon; and sure it is common enough to breakfast where a man sups.”

  “You mean to say that the Indians have reappeared on the rocks, and that some of Strides’s men fired at them, without orders?--Is that the history of the affair?”

  “It’s jist that, majjor; and little good, or little har-r-m, did it do. Joel, and his poor’atin’s, blazed away at ’em, as if they had been so many christians--and ’twould have done yer heart good to have heard the serjeant belabour them with hard wor-r-ds, for their throuble. There’s none of the poor’atin’ family in the serjeant, who’s a mighty man wid his tongue!”

  “And the savages returned the volley -- which explains the distant discharge I heard.”

  “Anybody can see, majjor, that ye’re yer father’s son, and a souldier bor-r-n. Och! who would of t’ought of that, but one bred and bor-r-n in the army? Yes; the savages sent back as good as they got, which was jist not’in’ at all, seein’ that no one is har-r-m’d.”

  “And the single piece that followed--there was one discharge, by itself?”

  Mike opened his mouth with a grin that might have put either of the Plinys to shame, it being rather a favourite theory with the descendants of the puritans--or “poor’atin’s,” as the county Leitrim-man called Joel and his set-- that the Irishman was more than a match for any son of Ham at the Knoll, in the way of capacity about this portion of the human countenance. The major saw that there was a good deal of self-felicitation in the expression of Mike’s visage, and he demanded an explanation in more direct terms.

  “’Twas I did it, majjor, and ’twas as well fired a piece as ye’ve ever hear-r-d in the king’s sarvice. Divil bur-r-n me, if I lets Joel get any such advantage over me, as to have a whole battle to himself. No -- no -- as soon as I smelt his Yankee powther, and could get my own musket cock’d, and pointed out of the forthifications, I lets ’em have it, as if it had been so much breakfast ready cooked to their hands. ’Twas well pointed, too; for I’m not the man to shoot into a fri’nd’s countenance.”

  “And you broke the orders for a reason no better than the fact that Strides had broken them before?”

  “Divil a bit, majjor--Joel had broken the orders, ye see, and that settled the matter. The thing that is once broken is broken, and wor-r-ds can’t mend it, any more than forbearin’ to fire a gun will mend it.”

  By dint of cross-questioning, Robert Willoughby finally succeeded in getting something like an outline of the truth from Mike. The simple facts were, that the Indians had taken possession of their old bivouac, as soon as the day dawned, and had commenced their preparations for breakfast, when Joel, the miller, and a few of that set, in a paroxysm of valour, had discharged a harmless volley at them; the distance rendering the attempt futile. This fire had been partially returned, the whole concluding with the finale from the Irishman’s gun, as has been related. As it was now too light to apprehend a surprise, and the ground in front of the palisade had no very dangerous covers, Robert Willoughby was emboldened to send one of the Plinys to request an interview with his father. In a few minutes the latter appeared, accompanied by Mr. Woods.

  “The same party has reappeared, and seems disposed to occupy its old position near the mill,” said the captain, in answer to his son’s inquiries. “It is difficult to say what the fellows have in view; and there are moments when I think there are more or less whites among them. I suggested as much to Strides, chaplain; and I thought the fellow appeared to receive the notion as if he thought it might be true.”

  “Joel is a little of an enigma to me, captain Willoughby,” returned the chaplain; “sometimes seizing an idea like a cat pouncing upon a rat, and then coquetting with it, as the same cat will play with a mouse, when it has no appetite for food.”

  “Och! he’s a precious poor’atin’!” growled Mike, from his corner of the room.

  “If whites are among the savages, why should they not make themselves known?” demanded Robert Willoughby. “Your character, sir, is no secret; and they must be acquainted with their own errand here.”

  “I will send for Strides, and get his opinion a little more freely,” answered the captain, after a moment of deliberation. “You will withdraw, Bob; though, by leaving your door a little ajar, the conversation will reach you; and prevent the necessity of a repetition.”

  As Robert Willoughby was not unwilling to hear what the overseer might have to say in the present state of things, he did not hesitate about complying, withdrawing into his own room as requested, and leaving the door ajar, in a way to prevent suspicion of his presence, as far as possible. But, Joel Strides, like all bad men, ever suspected the worst. The innocent and pure of mind alone are without distrust; while one constituted morally, like the overseer, never permitted his thoughts to remain in the tranquillity that is a fruit of confidence. Conscious of his own evil intentions, his very nature put on armour against the same species of machinations in others, as the hedge-hog rolls himself into a ball, and thrusts out his quills, at the sight of the dog. Had not captain Willoughby been one of those who are slow to see evil, he might have detected something wrong in Joel’s feelings, by the very first glance he cast about him, on entering the library.

  In point of fact, Strides’ thoughts had not been idle since the rencontre of the previous night. Inquisitive, and under none of the usual restraints of delicacy, he had already probed all he dared approach on the subject; and, by this time, had become perfectly assured that there was some mystery about the unknown individual whom he had met in his master’s company. To own the truth, Joel did not suspect that major Willoughby had again ventured so far into the lion’s den; but he fancied that some secret agent of the crown was at the Hut, and that the circumstance offered a fair opening for helping the captain down the ladder of public favour, and to push himself up a few of its rounds. He was not sorry, therefore, to be summoned to this conference, hoping it might lead to some opening for farther discoveries.

  “Sit down, Strides”--said captain. Willoughby, motioning towards a chair so distant from the open door of the bed-room, and so placed as to remove the danger of too close a proximity--“Sit down--I wish to consult you about the state of things towards the mills. To me it seems as if there were more pale-faces than red-skins among our visiters.”

  “That’s not onlikely, captain--the people has got to be greatly given to paintin’ and imitatin’, sin’ the hatchet has been dug up ag’in the British. The tea-boys were all in Indian fashion.”

  “True; but, why should white men assume such a disguise to come to the Knoll? I am not conscious of having an enemy on earth who could meditate harm to me or mine.”

  Alas! poor captain. That a man at sixty should yet have to learn that the honest, and fair-dealing, and plain-dealing, and affluent--for captain Willoughby was affluent in the eyes of those around him -- that such a man should imagine he was without enemies, was to infer that the Spirit of Darkness had ceased to exercise his functions among men. Joel knew better, though he did not perceive any necessity, just then, for letting the fact reach the ears of the party principally concerned.

  “A body might s’pose the captain was pop’lar, if any man is pop’lar,” answered the overseer; “nor do I know that visiters in paint betoken onpopularity to a person in these times more than another. May I ask why the captain consaits these Injins a’nt Injins? To me, they have a desperate savage look, though I a’n
’t much accustomed to redskin usages.”

  “Their movements are too open, and yet too uncertain, for warriors of the tribes. I think a savage, by this time, would have made up his mind to act as friend or foe.”

  Joel seemed struck with the idea; and the expression of his countenance, which on entering had been wily, distrustful and prying, suddenly changed to that of deep reflection.

  “Has the captain seen anything else, partic’lar, to confirm this idee?” he asked.

  “Their encampment, careless manner of moving, and unguarded exposure of their persons, are all against their being Indians.”

  “The messenger they sent across the meadow, yesterday, seemed to me to be a Mohawk?”

  “He was. Of his being a real red-skin there can be no question. But he could neither speak nor understand English. The little that passed between us was in Low Dutch. Our dialogue was short; for, apprehensive of treachery, I brought it to a close sooner than I might otherwise have done.”

  “Yes; treachery is a cruel thing,” observed the conscientious Joel; “a man can’t be too strongly on his guard ag’in it. Does the captain ra’ally calcilate on defending the house, should a serious attempt be brought forward for the day?”

  “Do I! That is an extraordinary question, Mr. Strides. Why have I built in this mode, if I have no such intention? --why palisaded?--why armed and garrisoned, if not in earnest?”

  “I s’posed all this might have been done to prevent a surprise, but not in any hope of standin’ a siege. I should be sorry to see all our women and children shut up under one roof, if the inimy came ag’in us, in airnest, with fire and sword.”

  “And I should be sorry to see them anywhere else. But, this is losing time. My object in sending for you, Joel, was to learn your opinion about the true character of our visiters. Have you any opinion, or information to give me, on that point?”

  Joel placed his elbow on his knee, and his chin in the palm of his hand, and pondered on what had been suggested, with seeming good-will, and great earnestness.

  “If any one could be found venturesome enough to go out with a flag,” he at length remarked, “the whole truth might be come at, in a few minutes.”

  “And who shall I employ? Cheerfully would I go myself, were such a step military, or at all excusable in one in my situation.”

  “If the likes of myself will sarve yer honour’s turn,” put in Mike, promptly, and yet with sufficient diffidence as regarded his views of his own qualifications -- “there’ll be nobody to gainsay that same; and it isn’t wilcome that I nade tell you, ye’ll be to use me as ye would yer own property.”

  “I hardly think Mike would answer,” observed Joel, not altogether without a sneer. “He scurce knows an Indian from a white man; when it comes to the paint, it would throw him into dreadful confusion.”

  “If ye thinks that I am to be made to believe in any more Ould Nicks, Misther Strhides, then ye’re making a mistake in my nature. Let but the captain say the word, and I’ll go to the mill and bring in a grist of them same, or l’ave my own body for toll.”

  “I do not doubt you in the least, Mike,” captain Willoughby mildly observed; “but there will be no occasion, just now, of your running any such risks. I shall be able to find other truce-bearers.”

  “It seems the captain has his man in view,” Joel said, keenly eyeing his master. “Perhaps ’t is the same I saw out with him last night. That’s a reliable person, I do s’pose.”

  “You have hit the nail on the head. It was the man who was out last night, at the same time I was out myself, and his name is Joel Strides.”

  “The captain’s a little musical, this morning--waal--if go I must, as there was two on us out, let us go to these savages together. I saw enough of that man, to know he is reliable; and if he’ll go, I’ll go.”

  “Agreed” -- said Robert Willoughby, stepping into the library--“I take you at your word, Mr. Strides; you and I will run what risks there may be, in order to relieve this family from its present alarming state.”

  The captain was astounded, though he knew not whether to be displeased or to rejoice. As for Mike, his countenance expressed great dissatisfaction; for he ever fancied things were going wrong so long as Joel obtained his wishes. Strides, himself, threw a keen glance at the stranger, recognised him at a glance, and had sufficient self-command to conceal his discovery, though taken completely by surprise. The presence of the major, however, immediately removed all his objections to the proposed expedition; since, should the party prove friendly to the Americans, he would be safe on his own account; or, should it prove the reverse, a king’s officer could not fail to be a sufficient protection.

  “The gentleman’s a total stranger to me,” Joel hypocritically resumed; “but as the captain has belief in him, I must have the same. I am ready to do the ar’n’d, therefore, as soon as it is agreeable.”

  “This is well, captain Willoughby,” put in the major, in order to anticipate any objections from his father; “and the sooner a thing of this sort is done, the better will it be for all concerned. I am ready to proceed this instant; and I take it this worthy man--I think you called him Strides-- is quite as willing.”

  Joel signified his assent; and the captain, perceiving no means of retreat, was fain to yield. He took the major into the bed-room, however, and held a minute’s private discourse, when he returned, and bade the two go forth together.

  “Your companion has his instructions, Joel,” the captain observed, as they left the library together; “and you will follow his advice. Show the white flag as soon as you quit the gate; if they are true warriors, it must be respected.”

  Robert Willoughby was too intent on business, and too fearful of the reappearance and reproachful looks of Maud, to delay. He had passed the court, and was at the outer gate, before any of the garrison even noted his appearance among them. Here, indeed, the father’s heart felt a pang; and, but for his military pride, the captain would gladly have recalled his consent. It was too late, however; and, squeezing his hand, he suffered his son to pass outward. Joel followed steadily, as to appearances, though not without misgivings as to what might be the consequences to himself and his growing family.

  CHAPTER II.

  “I worship not the sun at noon,

  The wandering stars, the changing moon,

  The wind, the flood, the flame;

  I will not bow the votive knee

  To wisdom, virtue, liberty;

  There is no god, but God for me,

  Jehovah is his name.”

  Montgomery So sudden and unexpected had been the passage of Robert Willoughby through the court, and among the men on post without the inner gates, that no one recognised his person. A few saw that a stranger was in their midst; but, under his disguise, no one was quick enough of eye and thought to ascertain who that stranger was. The little white flag that they displayed, denoted the errand of the messengers; the rest was left to conjecture.

  As soon as captain Willoughby ascertained that the alarm of the morning was not likely to lead to any immediate results, he had dismissed all the men, with the exception of a small guard, that was stationed near the outer gate, under the immediate orders of serjeant Joyce. The latter was one of those soldiers who view the details of the profession as forming its great essentials; and when he saw his commander about to direct a sortie, it formed his pride not to ask questions, and to seem to know nothing about it. To this, Jamie Allen, who composed one of the guard, quietly assented; but it was a great privation to the three or four New England-men to be commanded not to inquire into the why and wherefore.

  “Wait for orders, men, wait for orders,” observed the serjeant, by way of quieting an impatience that was very apparent. “If his honour, the captain, wished us to be acquainted with his movements, he would direct a general parade, and lay the matter before us, as you know he always does, on proper occasions. ’Tis a flag going out, as you can see, and should a truce follow, we’ll lay aside our muskets,
and seize the plough-shares; should it be a capitulation -- I know our brave old commander too well to suppose it possible--but should it be even that, we’ll ground arms like men, and make the best of it.”

  “And should Joel, and the other man, who is a stranger to me, be scalped?” demanded one of the party.

  “Then we’ll avenge their scalps. That was the way with us, when my Lord Howe fell--‘avenge his death!’ cried our colonel; and on we pushed, until near two thousand of us fell before the Frenchmen’s trenches. Oh! that was a sight worth seeing, and a day to talk of!”

  “Yes, but you were threshed soundly, serjeant, as I’ve heard from many that were there.”

  “What of that, sir! we obeyed orders. ‘Avenge his death!’ was the cry; and on we pushed, in obedience, until there were not men enough left in our battalion to carry the wounded to the rear.”

  “And what did you do with them?” asked a youth, who regarded the serjeant as another Cæsar -- Napoleon not having come into notice in 1776.

  “We let them lie where they fell. Young man, war teaches us all the wholesome lesson that impossibilities are impossible to be done. War is the great schoolmaster of the human race; and a learned man is he who has made nineteen or twenty campaigns.”

  “If he live to turn his lessons to account”--remarked the first speaker, with a sneer.

  “If a man is to die in battle, sir, he had better die with his mind stored with knowledge, than be shot like a dog that has outlived his usefulness. Every pitched battle carries out of the world learning upon learning that has been got in the field. Here comes his honour, who will confirm all I tell you, men. I was letting these men, sir, understand that the army and the field are the best schools on earth. Every old soldier will stick to that, your honour.”

  “We are apt to think so, Joyce--have the arms been inspected this morning?”