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

“As soon as it was light, I did that myself, sir.”

  “Flints, cartridge-boxes and bayonets, I hope?”

  “Each and all, sir. Does your honour remember the morning we had the affair near Fort du Quesne?”

  “You mean Braddock’s defeat, I suppose, Joyce?”

  “I call nothing a defeat, captain Willoughby. We were roughly handled that day, sir; but I am not satisfied it was a defeat. It is true, we fell back, and lost some arms and stores; but, in the main, we stuck to our colours, considering it was in the woods. No, sir; I do not call that a defeat, by any means.”

  “You will at least own we were hard pressed, and might have fared worse than we did, had it not been for a certain colonial corps, that manfully withstood the savages?”

  “Yes, sir; that I allow. I remember the corps, and its commander, a colonel Washington, with your honour’s permission.”

  “It was, indeed, Joyce. And do you happen to know what has became of this same colonel Washington?”

  “It never crossed my mind to inquire, sir, as he was a provincial. I dare say he may have a regiment -- or even a brigade by this time; and good use would he make of either.”

  “You have fallen far behind his fortunes, Joyce. The man is a commander-in-chief--a captain-general.”

  “Your honour is jesting--since many of his seniors are still living.”

  “This is the man who leads the American armies, in the war with England.”

  “Well, sir, in that way, he may indeed get a quick step, or two. I make no doubt, sir, so good a soldier will know how to obey orders.”

  “From which I infer you think him right, in the cause he has espoused?”

  “Bless your honour, sir, I think nothing about it, and care nothing about it. If the gentleman has taken service with congress, as they call the new head-quarters, why he ought to obey congress; and if he serve the king, His Majesty’s orders should be attended to.”

  “And, in this crisis, serjeant, may I ask in what particular service you conceive yourself to be, just at the present moment?”

  “Captain Willoughby’s, late of His Majesty’s --th Regiment of Foot, at your honour’s command.”

  “If all act in the same spirit, Joyce, we shall do well enough at the Knoll, though twice as many savages brave us as are to be seen on you rocks,” returned the captain, smiling.

  “And why should they no?” demanded Jamie Allen, earnestly. “Ye’re laird here, and we’ve no the time, nor the grace, to study and understand the orthodoxy and heterodoxy of the quarrel atween the House of Hanover and the houses of these Americans; so, while we a’ stand up for the house and household of our old maister, the Lord will smile on our efforts, and lead us to victory.”

  “Divil bur-r-n me, now, Jamie,” said Mike, who having seen the major to the gate, now followed his father, in readiness to do him any good turn that might offer--“Divil bur-r-n me, now, Jamie, if ye could have said it better had ye just aised yer conscience to a proper praist, and were talking on a clane breast! Stick up for the captain, says I, and the Lord will be of our side!”

  The serjeant nodded approbation of this sentiment, and the younger Pliny, who happened also to be within hearing, uttered the sententious word “gosh,” and clenched his fist, which was taken as proof of assent also, on his part. But, the Americans of the guard, all of whom were the tools of Joel’s and the miller’s arts, manifested a coldness that even exceeded the usual cold manner of their class. These men meant right; but they had been deluded by the falsehoods, machinations, and frauds of a demagogue, and were no longer masters of their own opinions or acts. It struck the captain that something was wrong; but, a foreigner by birth himself, he had early observed, and long known, the peculiar exterior and phlegm of the people of the country, which so nearly resemble the stoicism of the aborigines, as to induce many writers to attribute both alike to a cause connected with climate. The present was not a moment however, nor was the impression strong enough to induce the master of the place to enter into any inquiries. Turning his eyes in the direction of the two bearers of the flag, he there beheld matter for new interest, completely diverting his thoughts from what had just passed.

  “I see they have sent two men to meet our messengers, serjeant,” he said--“This looks as if they understood the laws of war.”

  “Quite true, your honour. They should now blindfold our party, and lead them within their own works, before they suffer them to see at all; though there would be no great advantage in it, as Strides is as well acquainted with every inch of that rock as I am with the manual exercise.”

  “Which would seem to supersede the necessity of the ceremony you have mentioned?”

  “One never knows, your honour. Blindfolding is according to the rules, and I should blindfold a flag before I let him approach, though the hostile ranks stood drawn up, one on each side of a parade ground. Much is gained, while nothing is ever lost, by sticking to the rules of a trade.”

  The captain smiled, as did all the Americans of the guard; the last having too much sagacity not to perceive that a thing might be overdone, as well as too little attended to. As for Jamie and Mike, they both received the serjeant’s opinions as law; the one from having tried the troops of the line at Culloden, and the other on account of divers experiences through which he had gone, at sundry fairs, in his own green island. By this time, however, all were too curious in watching the result of the meeting, to continue the discourse.

  Robert Willoughby and Joel had moved along the lane, towards the rocks, without hesitating, keeping their little flag flying. It did not appear that their approach produced any change among the savages, who were now preparing their breakfasts, until they had got within two hundred yards of the encampment, when two of the red-men, having first laid aside their arms, advanced to meet their visiters. This was the interview which attracted the attention of those at the Hut, and its progress was noted with the deepest interest.

  The meeting appeared to be friendly. After a short conference, in which signs seemed to be a material agent in the communications, the four moved on in company, walking deliberately towards the rocks. Captain Willoughby had sent for his field-glass, and could easily perceive much that occurred in the camp, on the arrival of his son. The major’s movements were calm and steady, and a feeling of pride passed over the father’s heart, as he noted this, amid a scene that was well adapted to disturbing the equilibrium of the firmest mind. Joel certainly betrayed nervousness, though he kept close at his companion’s side, and together they proceeded into the very centre of the party of strangers.

  The captain observed, also, that this arrival caused no visible sensation among the red-men. Even those the major almost touched in passing did not look up to note his appearance, while no one seemed to speak, or in any manner to heed him. The cooking and other preparations for the breakfast proceeded precisely as if no one had entered the camp. The two who had gone forth to meet the flag alone attended its bearers, whom they led through the centre of the entire party; stopping only on the side opposite to the Hut, where there was an open space of flat rock, which it had not suited the savages to occupy.

  Here the four halted, the major turning and looking back like a soldier who was examining his ground. Nor did any one appear disposed to interrupt him in an employment that serjeant Joyce pronounced to be both bold and against the usages of war to permit. The captain thought the stoicism of the savages amounted to exaggeration, and it renewed his distrust of the real characters of his visiters. In a minute or two, however, some three or four of the red-men were seen consulting together apart, after which they approached the bearers of the flag, and some communications passed between the two sides. The nature of these communications could not be known, of course, though the conference appeared to be amicable. After two or three minutes of conversation, Robert Willoughby, Strides, the two men who had advanced to meet them, and the four chiefs who had joined the group, left the summit of the rock in company, taking a foot-path that de
scended in the direction of the mills. In a short time they all disappeared in a body.

  The distance was not so great but these movements could easily be seen by the naked eye, though the glass was necessary to discover some of the details. Captain Willoughby had planted the instrument among the palisades, and he kept his gaze riveted on the retiring group as long as it was visible; then, indeed, he looked at his companions, as if to read their opinions in their countenances. Joyce understood the expression of his face; and, saluting in the usual military manner, he presumed to speak, in the way of reply.

  “It seems all right, your honour, the bandage excepted,” said the serjeant. “The flag has been met at the outposts, and led into the camp; there the officer of the day, or some savage who does the duty, has heard his errand; and, no doubt, they have all now gone to head-quarters, to report.”

  “I desired my son, Joyce--”

  “Whom, your honour--?”

  The general movement told the captain how completely his auditors were taken by surprise, at this unlooked-for announcement of the presence of the major at the Knoll. It was too late to recall the words, however, and there was so little prospect of Robert’s escaping the penetration of Joel, the father saw no use in attempting further concealment.

  “I say I desired my son, major Willoughby, who is the bearer of that flag,” the captain steadily resumed, “to raise his hat in a particular manner, if all seemed right; or to make a certain gesture with his left arm, did he see anything that required us to be more than usually on our guard.”

  “And which notice has he given to the garrison, if it be your honour’s pleasure to let us know?”

  “Neither. I thought he manifested an intention to make the signal with the hat, when the chiefs first joined him; but he hesitated, and lowered his hand without doing as I had expected. Then, again, just as he disappeared behind the rocks, the left arm was in motion, though not in a way to complete the signal.”

  “Did he seem hurried, your honour, as if prevented from communicating by the enemy?”

  “Not at all, Joyce. Irresolution appeared to be at the bottom of it, so far as I could judge.”

  “Pardon me, your honour; uncertainty would be a better word, as applied to so good a soldier. Has major Willoughby quitted the king’s service, that he is among us, sir, just at this moment?”

  “I will tell you his errand another time, serjeant. At present, I can think only of the risk he runs. These Indians are lawless wretches; one is never sure of their faith.”

  “They are bad enough, sir; but no man can well be so bad as to disregard the rights of a flag,” answered the serjeant, in a grave and slightly important manner. “Even the French, your honour, have always respected our flags.”

  “That is true; and, yet, I wish we could overlook that position at the mill. It’s a great advantage to them, Joyce, that they can place themselves behind such a cover, when they choose!”

  The serjeant looked at the encampment a moment; then his eye followed the woods, and the mountain sides, that skirted the little plain, until his back was fairly turned upon the supposed enemy, and he faced the forest in the rear of the Hut.

  “If it be agreeable to your honour, a detachment can be detailed to make a demonstration”--Joyce did not exactly understand this word, but it sounded military--“in the following manner: I can lead out the party, by the rear of the house, using the brook as a covered-way. Once in the woods, it will be easy enough to make a flank movement upon the enemy’s position; after which, the detachment can be guided by circumstances.”

  This was very martial in sound, and the captain felt well assured that Joyce was the man to attempt carrying out his own plan; but he made no answer, sighing and shaking his head, as he walked away towards the house. The chaplain followed, leaving the rest to observe the savages.

  “Ye’re proposition, serjeant, no seems to give his honour much saitisfaction,” said the mason, as soon as his superior was out of hearing. “Still, it was military, as I know by what I saw mysal’ in the Forty-five. Flainking, and surprising, and obsairving, and demonstrating, and such devices, are the soul of war, and are a’ on the great highway to victory. Had Chairlie’s men obsairved, and particularised mair, there might have been a different family on the throne, an’ the prince wad ha’ got his ain ag’in. I like your idea much, serjaint, and gin’ ye gang oot to practise it, I trust ye’ll no forget that ye’ve an auld fri’nd here, willing to be of the pairty.”

  “I didn’t think the captain much relished the notion of being questioned about his son’s feelin’s, and visit up here, at a time like this,” put in one of the Americans.

  “There’s bowels in the man’s body!” cried Mike, “and it isn’t the likes of him that has no falin’. Ye don’t know what it is to be a father, or ye’d groan in spirit to see a child of yer own in the grip of fiery divils like them same. Isn’t he a pratty man, and wouldn’t I be sorrowful to hear that he had come to har-r-m? Ye’ve niver asked, serjeant, how the majjor got into the house, and ye a military sentry in the bargain!”

  “I suppose he came by command, Michael, and it is not the duty of the non-commissioned officers to question their superiors about anything that has happened out of the common way. I take things as I find them, and obey orders. I only hope that the son, as a field-officer, will not out-rank the father, which would be unbecoming; though date of commissions, and superiority, must be respected.”

  “I rather think if a major in the king’s service was to undertake to use authority here,” said the spokesman of the Americans, a little stiffly, “he wouldn’t find many disposed to follow at his heels.”

  “Mutiny would not fare well, did it dare to lift its head in this garrison”--answered the serjeant, with a dignity that might better have suited the mess-room of a regular regiment, than the situation in which he was actually placed. “Both captain Willoughby and myself have seen mutiny attempted, but neither has ever seen it succeed.”

  “Do you look on us as lawful, enlisted soldiers?” demanded one of the labourers, who had a sufficient smattering of the law, to understand the difference between a mercenary and a volunteer. “If I’m regimented, I should at least like to know in whose service it is?”

  “Ye’re over-quick at yer objections and sentiments,” said Jamie Allen, coolly, “like most youths, who see only their ain experience in the airth, and the providence o’ the Lord. Enlisted we are, a’ of us, even to Michael here, and it’s in the sairvice of our good master, his honour captain Willoughby; whom, with his kith and kin, may the Lord presairve from this and all other dangers.”

  The word master would, of itself, be very likely to create a revolt to-day, in such a corps as it was the fortune of our captain to command, though to that of “boss” there would not be raised the slightest objection. But the English language had not undergone half of its present mutations in the year 1776; and no one winced in admitting that he served a “master,” though the gorges of several rose at the idea of being engaged in the service of any one, considered in a military point of view. It is likely the suggestion of the mason would have led to a hot discussion, had not a stir among the savages, just at that instant, called off the attention of all present, to matters of more importance than even an angry argument.

  The movement seemed to be general, and Joyce ordered his men to stand to their arms; still he hesitated about giving the alarm. Instead of advancing towards the Hut, however, the Indians raised a general yell, and went over the cliffs, disappearing in the direction of the mill, like a flock of birds taking wing together. After waiting half an hour, in vain, to ascertain if any signs of the return of the Indians were to be seen, the serjeant went himself to report the state of things to his commander.

  Captain Willoughby had withdrawn to make his toilet for the day, when he saw the last of his son and the overseer. While thus employed he had communicated to his wife all that had occurred; and Mrs. Willoughby, in her turn, had told the same to her daughters. M
aud was much the most distressed, her suspicions of Joel being by far the most active and the most serious. From the instant she learned what had passed, she began to anticipate grave consequences to Robert Willoughby, though she had sufficient fortitude, and sufficient consideration for others, to keep most of her apprehensions to herself.

  When Joyce demanded his audience, the family was at breakfast, though little was eaten, and less was said. The serjeant was admitted, and he told his story with military precision.

  “This has a suspicious air, Joyce,” observed the captain, after musing a little; “to me it seems like an attempt to induce us to follow, and to draw us into an ambuscade.”

  “It may be that, your honour; or, it may be a good honest retreat. Two prisoners is a considerable exploit for savages to achieve. I have known them count one a victory.”

  “Be not uneasy, Wilhelmina; Bob’s rank will secure him good treatment, his exchange being far more important to his captors, if captors they be, than his death. It is too soon to decide on such a point, serjeant. After all, the Indians may be at the mills, in council. On a war-path, all the young men are usually consulted, before any important step is taken. Then, it may be the wish of the chiefs to impress our flag-bearers with an idea of their force.”

  “All that is military, your honour, and quite possible. Still, to me the movement seems as if a retreat was intended, in fact, or that the appearance of one was in view.”

  “I will soon know the truth,” cried the chaplain. “I, a man of peace, can surely go forth, and ascertain who these people are, and what is their object.”

  “You, Woods! My dear fellow, do you imagine a tribe of blood-thirsty savages will respect you, or your sacred office? You have a sufficient task with the king’s forces, letting his enemies alone. You are no missionary to still a war-cry.”

  “I beg pardon, sir”--put in the serjeant--“his reverence is more than half right”--here the chaplain rose, and quitted the room in haste, unobserved by the two colloquists-- “There is scarce a tribe in the colony, your honour, that has not some knowledge of our priesthood; and I know of no instance in which the savages have ever ill-treated a divine.”