The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757 Read online

  CHAPTER 1

  "Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared: The worst is wordly loss thou canst unfold:-- Say, is my kingdom lost?"--Shakespeare

  It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, thatthe toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered beforethe adverse hosts could meet. A wide and apparently an imperviousboundary of forests severed the possessions of the hostile provincesof France and England. The hardy colonist, and the trained European whofought at his side, frequently expended months in struggling againstthe rapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of themountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit their courage in a moremartial conflict. But, emulating the patience and self-denial of thepracticed native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty;and it would seem that, in time, there was no recess of the woods sodark, nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim exemptionfrom the inroads of those who had pledged their blood to satiate theirvengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the distantmonarchs of Europe.

  Perhaps no district throughout the wide extent of the intermediatefrontiers can furnish a livelier picture of the cruelty and fiercenessof the savage warfare of those periods than the country which liesbetween the head waters of the Hudson and the adjacent lakes.

  The facilities which nature had there offered to the march of thecombatants were too obvious to be neglected. The lengthened sheet ofthe Champlain stretched from the frontiers of Canada, deep within theborders of the neighboring province of New York, forming a naturalpassage across half the distance that the French were compelled tomaster in order to strike their enemies. Near its southern termination,it received the contributions of another lake, whose waters were solimpid as to have been exclusively selected by the Jesuit missionariesto perform the typical purification of baptism, and to obtain for itthe title of lake "du Saint Sacrement." The less zealous English thoughtthey conferred a sufficient honor on its unsullied fountains, when theybestowed the name of their reigning prince, the second of the house ofHanover. The two united to rob the untutored possessors of its woodedscenery of their native right to perpetuate its original appellation of"Horican."*

  * As each nation of the Indians had its language or its dialect, they usually gave different names to the same places, though nearly all of their appellations were descriptive of the object. Thus a literal translation of the name of this beautiful sheet of water, used by the tribe that dwelt on its banks, would be "The Tail of the Lake." Lake George, as it is vulgarly, and now, indeed, legally, called, forms a sort of tail to Lake Champlain, when viewed on the map. Hence, the name.

  Winding its way among countless islands, and imbedded in mountains, the"holy lake" extended a dozen leagues still further to the south. Withthe high plain that there interposed itself to the further passage ofthe water, commenced a portage of as many miles, which conducted theadventurer to the banks of the Hudson, at a point where, with the usualobstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they were then termed in thelanguage of the country, the river became navigable to the tide.

  While, in the pursuit of their daring plans of annoyance, the restlessenterprise of the French even attempted the distant and difficultgorges of the Alleghany, it may easily be imagined that their proverbialacuteness would not overlook the natural advantages of the district wehave just described. It became, emphatically, the bloody arena, in whichmost of the battles for the mastery of the colonies were contested.Forts were erected at the different points that commanded the facilitiesof the route, and were taken and retaken, razed and rebuilt, as victoryalighted on the hostile banners. While the husbandman shrank back fromthe dangerous passes, within the safer boundaries of the more ancientsettlements, armies larger than those that had often disposed of thescepters of the mother countries, were seen to bury themselves in theseforests, whence they rarely returned but in skeleton bands, that werehaggard with care or dejected by defeat. Though the arts of peace wereunknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive with men; itsshades and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoesof its mountains threw back the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry,of many a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by them, in thenoontide of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness.

  It was in this scene of strife and bloodshed that the incidents weshall attempt to relate occurred, during the third year of the warwhich England and France last waged for the possession of a country thatneither was destined to retain.

  The imbecility of her military leaders abroad, and the fatal want ofenergy in her councils at home, had lowered the character of GreatBritain from the proud elevation on which it had been placed by thetalents and enterprise of her former warriors and statesmen. No longerdreaded by her enemies, her servants were fast losing the confidenceof self-respect. In this mortifying abasement, the colonists, thoughinnocent of her imbecility, and too humble to be the agents of herblunders, were but the natural participators. They had recently seen achosen army from that country, which, reverencing as a mother, theyhad blindly believed invincible--an army led by a chief who had beenselected from a crowd of trained warriors, for his rare militaryendowments, disgracefully routed by a handful of French and Indians, andonly saved from annihilation by the coolness and spirit of a Virginianboy, whose riper fame has since diffused itself, with the steadyinfluence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines of Christendom.* Awide frontier had been laid naked by this unexpected disaster, and moresubstantial evils were preceded by a thousand fanciful and imaginarydangers. The alarmed colonists believed that the yells of the savagesmingled with every fitful gust of wind that issued from the interminableforests of the west. The terrific character of their merciless enemiesincreased immeasurably the natural horrors of warfare. Numberless recentmassacres were still vivid in their recollections; nor was there anyear in the provinces so deaf as not to have drunk in with avidity thenarrative of some fearful tale of midnight murder, in which the nativesof the forests were the principal and barbarous actors. As the credulousand excited traveler related the hazardous chances of the wilderness,the blood of the timid curdled with terror, and mothers cast anxiousglances even at those children which slumbered within the security ofthe largest towns. In short, the magnifying influence of fear began toset at naught the calculations of reason, and to render those who shouldhave remembered their manhood, the slaves of the basest passions. Eventhe most confident and the stoutest hearts began to think the issueof the contest was becoming doubtful; and that abject class was hourlyincreasing in numbers, who thought they foresaw all the possessions ofthe English crown in America subdued by their Christian foes, or laidwaste by the inroads of their relentless allies.

  * Washington, who, after uselessly admonishing the European general of the danger into which he was heedlessly running, saved the remnants of the British army, on this occasion, by his decision and courage. The reputation earned by Washington in this battle was the principal cause of his being selected to command the American armies at a later day. It is a circumstance worthy of observation, that while all America rang with his well-merited reputation, his name does not occur in any European account of the battle; at least the author has searched for it without success. In this manner does the mother country absorb even the fame, under that system of rule.

  When, therefore, intelligence was received at the fort which covered thesouthern termination of the portage between the Hudson and the lakes,that Montcalm had been seen moving up the Champlain, with an army"numerous as the leaves on the trees," its truth was admitted with moreof the craven reluctance of fear than with the stern joy that a warriorshould feel, in finding an enemy within reach of his blow. The news hadbeen brought, toward the decline of a day in midsummer, by an Indianrunner, who also bore an urgent request from Munro, the commander ofa work on the shore of the "holy lake," for a speedy and powerfulreinforcement. It has already been mentioned that t
he distance betweenthese two posts was less than five leagues. The rude path, whichoriginally formed their line of communication, had been widened for thepassage of wagons; so that the distance which had been traveled by theson of the forest in two hours, might easily be effected by a detachmentof troops, with their necessary baggage, between the rising and settingof a summer sun. The loyal servants of the British crown had given toone of these forest-fastnesses the name of William Henry, and to theother that of Fort Edward, calling each after a favorite prince of thereigning family. The veteran Scotchman just named held the first, witha regiment of regulars and a few provincials; a force really by fartoo small to make head against the formidable power that Montcalm wasleading to the foot of his earthen mounds. At the latter, however,lay General Webb, who commanded the armies of the king in the northernprovinces, with a body of more than five thousand men. By uniting theseveral detachments of his command, this officer might have arrayednearly double that number of combatants against the enterprisingFrenchman, who had ventured so far from his reinforcements, with an armybut little superior in numbers.

  But under the influence of their degraded fortunes, both officers andmen appeared better disposed to await the approach of their formidableantagonists, within their works, than to resist the progress of theirmarch, by emulating the successful example of the French at Fort duQuesne, and striking a blow on their advance.

  After the first surprise of the intelligence had a little abated, arumor was spread through the entrenched camp, which stretched along themargin of the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the body of thefort itself, that a chosen detachment of fifteen hundred men was todepart, with the dawn, for William Henry, the post at the northernextremity of the portage. That which at first was only rumor,soon became certainty, as orders passed from the quarters of thecommander-in-chief to the several corps he had selected for thisservice, to prepare for their speedy departure. All doubts as to theintention of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two of hurried footstepsand anxious faces succeeded. The novice in the military art flew frompoint to point, retarding his own preparations by the excess of hisviolent and somewhat distempered zeal; while the more practiced veteranmade his arrangements with a deliberation that scorned every appearanceof haste; though his sober lineaments and anxious eye sufficientlybetrayed that he had no very strong professional relish for the, as yet,untried and dreaded warfare of the wilderness. At length the sun set ina flood of glory, behind the distant western hills, and as darkness drewits veil around the secluded spot the sounds of preparation diminished;the last light finally disappeared from the log cabin of some officer;the trees cast their deeper shadows over the mounds and the ripplingstream, and a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that whichreigned in the vast forest by which it was environed.

  According to the orders of the preceding night, the heavy sleep of thearmy was broken by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rattlingechoes were heard issuing, on the damp morning air, out of every vistaof the woods, just as day began to draw the shaggy outlines of some tallpines of the vicinity, on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudlesseastern sky. In an instant the whole camp was in motion; the meanestsoldier arousing from his lair to witness the departure of his comrades,and to share in the excitement and incidents of the hour. The simplearray of the chosen band was soon completed. While the regular andtrained hirelings of the king marched with haughtiness to the right ofthe line, the less pretending colonists took their humbler positionon its left, with a docility that long practice had rendered easy.The scouts departed; strong guards preceded and followed the lumberingvehicles that bore the baggage; and before the gray light of the morningwas mellowed by the rays of the sun, the main body of the combatantswheeled into column, and left the encampment with a show of highmilitary bearing, that served to drown the slumbering apprehensions ofmany a novice, who was now about to make his first essay in arms. Whilein view of their admiring comrades, the same proud front and orderedarray was observed, until the notes of their fifes growing fainter indistance, the forest at length appeared to swallow up the living masswhich had slowly entered its bosom.

  The deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible column had ceased tobe borne on the breeze to the listeners, and the latest straggler hadalready disappeared in pursuit; but there still remained the signsof another departure, before a log cabin of unusual size andaccommodations, in front of which those sentinels paced their rounds,who were known to guard the person of the English general. At this spotwere gathered some half dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner whichshowed that two, at least, were destined to bear the persons of females,of a rank that it was not usual to meet so far in the wilds of thecountry. A third wore trappings and arms of an officer of the staff;while the rest, from the plainness of the housings, and the travelingmails with which they were encumbered, were evidently fitted for thereception of as many menials, who were, seemingly, already waitingthe pleasure of those they served. At a respectful distance from thisunusual show, were gathered divers groups of curious idlers; someadmiring the blood and bone of the high-mettled military charger,and others gazing at the preparations, with the dull wonder of vulgarcuriosity. There was one man, however, who, by his countenance andactions, formed a marked exception to those who composed the latterclass of spectators, being neither idle, nor seemingly very ignorant.

  The person of this individual was to the last degree ungainly, withoutbeing in any particular manner deformed. He had all the bones and jointsof other men, without any of their proportions. Erect, his staturesurpassed that of his fellows; though seated, he appeared reduced withinthe ordinary limits of the race. The same contrariety in his membersseemed to exist throughout the whole man. His head was large; hisshoulders narrow; his arms long and dangling; while his hands weresmall, if not delicate. His legs and thighs were thin, nearly toemaciation, but of extraordinary length; and his knees would havebeen considered tremendous, had they not been outdone by the broaderfoundations on which this false superstructure of blended human orderswas so profanely reared. The ill-assorted and injudicious attire of theindividual only served to render his awkwardness more conspicuous. Asky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts and low cape, exposed a long,thin neck, and longer and thinner legs, to the worst animadversionsof the evil-disposed. His nether garment was a yellow nankeen, closelyfitted to the shape, and tied at his bunches of knees by large knots ofwhite ribbon, a good deal sullied by use. Clouded cotton stockings, andshoes, on one of the latter of which was a plated spur, completed thecostume of the lower extremity of this figure, no curve or angle ofwhich was concealed, but, on the other hand, studiously exhibited,through the vanity or simplicity of its owner.

  From beneath the flap of an enormous pocket of a soiled vest of embossedsilk, heavily ornamented with tarnished silver lace, projected aninstrument, which, from being seen in such martial company, might havebeen easily mistaken for some mischievous and unknown implement of war.Small as it was, this uncommon engine had excited the curiosity of mostof the Europeans in the camp, though several of the provincialswere seen to handle it, not only without fear, but with the utmostfamiliarity. A large, civil cocked hat, like those worn by clergymenwithin the last thirty years, surmounted the whole, furnishing dignityto a good-natured and somewhat vacant countenance, that apparentlyneeded such artificial aid, to support the gravity of some high andextraordinary trust.

  While the common herd stood aloof, in deference to the quarters of Webb,the figure we have described stalked into the center of the domestics,freely expressing his censures or commendations on the merits of thehorses, as by chance they displeased or satisfied his judgment.

  "This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not of home raising, but isfrom foreign lands, or perhaps from the little island itself over theblue water?" he said, in a voice as remarkable for the softness andsweetness of its tones, as was his person for its rare proportions; "Imay speak of these things, and be no braggart; for I have been down atboth havens; that which is situate at th
e mouth of Thames, and is namedafter the capital of Old England, and that which is called 'Haven', withthe addition of the word 'New'; and have seen the scows and brigantinescollecting their droves, like the gathering to the ark, being outwardbound to the Island of Jamaica, for the purpose of barter and trafficin four-footed animals; but never before have I beheld a beast whichverified the true scripture war-horse like this: 'He paweth in thevalley, and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to meet the armedmen. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battleafar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting' It would seemthat the stock of the horse of Israel had descended to our own time;would it not, friend?"

  Receiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal, which in truth, as itwas delivered with the vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited somesort of notice, he who had thus sung forth the language of the holybook turned to the silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressedhimself, and found a new and more powerful subject of admiration in theobject that encountered his gaze. His eyes fell on the still, upright,and rigid form of the "Indian runner," who had borne to the camp theunwelcome tidings of the preceding evening. Although in a state ofperfect repose, and apparently disregarding, with characteristicstoicism, the excitement and bustle around him, there was a sullenfierceness mingled with the quiet of the savage, that was likely toarrest the attention of much more experienced eyes than those which nowscanned him, in unconcealed amazement. The native bore both the tomahawkand knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance was not altogether thatof a warrior. On the contrary, there was an air of neglect about hisperson, like that which might have proceeded from great and recentexertion, which he had not yet found leisure to repair. The colorsof the war-paint had blended in dark confusion about his fiercecountenance, and rendered his swarthy lineaments still more savageand repulsive than if art had attempted an effect which had been thusproduced by chance. His eye, alone, which glistened like a fiery staramid lowering clouds, was to be seen in its state of native wildness.For a single instant his searching and yet wary glance met the wonderinglook of the other, and then changing its direction, partly in cunning,and partly in disdain, it remained fixed, as if penetrating the distantair.

  It is impossible to say what unlooked-for remark this short and silentcommunication, between two such singular men, might have elicited fromthe white man, had not his active curiosity been again drawn to otherobjects. A general movement among the domestics, and a low sound ofgentle voices, announced the approach of those whose presence alonewas wanted to enable the cavalcade to move. The simple admirer of thewar-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt, switch-tailed mare, thatwas unconsciously gleaning the faded herbage of the camp nigh by; where,leaning with one elbow on the blanket that concealed an apology for asaddle, he became a spectator of the departure, while a foal was quietlymaking its morning repast, on the opposite side of the same animal.

  A young man, in the dress of an officer, conducted to their steeds twofemales, who, as it was apparent by their dresses, were prepared toencounter the fatigues of a journey in the woods. One, and she wasthe more juvenile in her appearance, though both were young, permittedglimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden hair, and bright blueeyes, to be caught, as she artlessly suffered the morning air to blowaside the green veil which descended low from her beaver.

  The flush which still lingered above the pines in the western sky wasnot more bright nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor was theopening day more cheering than the animated smile which she bestowed onthe youth, as he assisted her into the saddle. The other, who appearedto share equally in the attention of the young officer, concealed hercharms from the gaze of the soldiery with a care that seemed betterfitted to the experience of four or five additional years. It could beseen, however, that her person, though molded with the same exquisiteproportions, of which none of the graces were lost by the travelingdress she wore, was rather fuller and more mature than that of hercompanion.

  No sooner were these females seated, than their attendant sprang lightlyinto the saddle of the war-horse, when the whole three bowed to Webb,who in courtesy, awaited their parting on the threshold of his cabin andturning their horses' heads, they proceeded at a slow amble, followedby their train, toward the northern entrance of the encampment. As theytraversed that short distance, not a voice was heard among them; buta slight exclamation proceeded from the younger of the females, as theIndian runner glided by her, unexpectedly, and led the way along themilitary road in her front. Though this sudden and startling movementof the Indian produced no sound from the other, in the surprise her veilalso was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed an indescribable lookof pity, admiration, and horror, as her dark eye followed the easymotions of the savage. The tresses of this lady were shining and black,like the plumage of the raven. Her complexion was not brown, but itrather appeared charged with the color of the rich blood, that seemedready to burst its bounds. And yet there was neither coarseness norwant of shadowing in a countenance that was exquisitely regular, anddignified and surpassingly beautiful. She smiled, as if in pity at herown momentary forgetfulness, discovering by the act a row of teeth thatwould have shamed the purest ivory; when, replacing the veil, she bowedher face, and rode in silence, like one whose thoughts were abstractedfrom the scene around her.