Ticonderoga: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley
Page 1
Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by theWeb Archive (University of Toronto)
Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: Web Archive https://archive.org/details/ticonderogastory00jameuoft (University of Toronto)
[Book Cover: Ticonderoga By G. P. R. JAMES]
[Illustration By J. Watson Davis:As a tall dark figure gilded into the room, Lord H---- drew Edithsuddenly back and placed himself before her. Page 99._Frontispiece_. --_Ticonderoga_]
-----------------------------------------------------
_A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley_
-----------------------------------------------------
_By G. P. R. JAMES_
_Author of "Darnley, A Romance of the times
of Henry VIII."; "Richelieu, A Tale of
France in the Reign of King Louis XIII_."
-----------------------------------------------------
A. L. BURT COMPANY,PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
-----------------------------------------------------
TICONDEROGA
CHAPTER I
The house was a neat, though a lowly one. It bore traces of newness,for the bark on the trunks which supported the little veranda had notyet mouldered away. Nevertheless, it was not built by the owner's ownhands; for when he came there he had much to learn in the rougher artsof life; but with a carpenter from a village some nine miles off, hehad aided to raise the building and directed the construction by hisown taste. The result was satisfactory to him; and, what was more, inhis eyes, was satisfactory to the two whom he loved best--at least, itseemed satisfactory to them, although those who knew them, even not sowell as he did, might have doubted, and yet loved them all the better.
The door of the house was open, and custom admitted every visitorfreely, whatever was his errand. It was a strange state of societythat, in which men, though taught by daily experience that precautionwas necessary, took none. They held themselves occasionally ready torepel open assault, which was rare, and neglected every safeguardagainst insidious attack, which was much more common.
It was the custom of the few who visited that secluded spot to enterwithout ceremony, and to search in any or every room in the house forsome one of the inhabitants. But on this occasion the horse that cameup the road stopped at the gate of the little fence, and the traveler,whoever he was, when he reached the door after dismounting, knockedwith his whip before he entered.
The master of the house rose and went to the door. He was somewhatimpatient of ceremony, but the aspect and demeanor of his visitor werenot of a kind to nourish any angry feeling. He was a young and veryhandsome man, probably not more than thirty years of age, sinewy andwell formed in person, with a noble and commanding countenance, abroad, high brow, and a keen but tranquil eye. His manner wascourteous, but grave, and he said, without waiting to have his errandasked: "I know not, sir, whether I shall intrude upon you too far inasking hospitality for the night, but the sun is going down, and I wastold by a lad whom I met in the woods just now that there is no otherhouse for ten miles farther; and, to say the truth, I am very ignorantof the way."
"Come in," said the master of the cottage. "We never refuse to receivea visitor here, and, indeed, have sometimes to accommodate more thanthe house will well hold. We are alone, however, now, and you will nothave to put up with the inconveniences which our guests are sometimesobliged to encounter. Stay! I will order your horse to be taken careof."
Thus saying, he advanced a step or two beyond the door and called in aloud voice for someone whom he named Agrippa. He had to shout morethan once, however, before a negro appeared, blind in one eye, andsomewhat lame withal, but yet, apparently, both active andintelligent. The necessary orders were soon given, and in a momentafter the traveler was seated with his host in the little parlor ofthe cottage. The manner of the latter could not be called cordial,though it was polite and courteous.
The other seemed to feel it in some degree, and a certain statelinessappeared in his demeanor which was not likely to warm his host intogreater familiarity. But suddenly the chilly atmosphere of the roomwas warmed in a moment, and a chain of sympathy established betweenthe two by the presence of youth. A boy of sixteen, and a girl alittle more than a year older, entered with gay and sunshiny looks,and the cloud was dispelled in a moment.
"My daughter Edith--my son Walter," said the master of the house,addressing the stranger, as the two young people bounded in; and thenhe added, with a slight inclination of the head: "It was an ancientand honorable custom in Scotland, when that country was almost asuncivilized as this, and possessed all the uncivilized virtues, neverto inquire the name of a guest; and therefore I cannot introduce youto my children; but doubtless they will soon acknowledge you as theirnameless friend."
"I am a friend of one of them already," answered the stranger, holdingout his hand to the lad. "This is the young gentleman who told me thatI should find the only house within ten miles about this spot, and hisfather willing to receive me, though he did not say that I should finda gem in the wilderness, and a gentleman in these wild woods."
"It has been a foolish fancy, perhaps," said the master of the house,"to carry almost into the midst of savage life some remnants ofcivilization. We keep the portraits of dead friends--a lock of hair--atrinket--a garment of the loved and departed. The habits and theornaments of another state of society are to me like those friends,and I long to have some of their relics near me."
"Oh, my dear father," said Edith, seating herself by him and leaningher head upon his bosom, without timidity or restraint, "you couldnever do without them. I remember when we were coming hither, nowthree years ago, that you talked a great deal of free, unshackledexistence; but I knew quite well, even then, that you could not becontent till you had subdued the rough things around you to a morerefined state."
"What made you think so, Edith?" asked her father, looking down at herwith a smile.
"Because you never could bear the parson of the parish drinking punchand smoking tobacco pipes," answered the beautiful girl, with a laugh;"and I was quite sure that it was not more savage life you sought, butgreater refinement."
"Oh, yes, my father," added the lad; "and you often said, when we werein England, that the red Indian had much more of the real gentleman inhim than many a peer."
"Dreams, dreams," said their father, with a melancholy smile; andthen, turning to the stranger, he added: "You see, sir, how keenly ourweaknesses are read by even children. But come, Edith, our friend mustbe hungry with his long ride; see and hasten the supper. Our habitsare primeval here, sir, like our woods. We follow the sun to bed, andwake with him in the morning."
"They are good habits," answered the stranger, "and such as I amaccustomed to follow much myself. But do not, I pray you, hasten yoursupper for me. I am anything but a slave of times and seasons. I canfast long, and fare scantily, without inconvenience."
"And yet you are an Englishman," answered the master of the house,gravely, "a soldier, or I mistake; a man of station, I am sure; thoughall three would generally infer, as the world goes at this presenttime, a fondness for luxurious ease and an indulgence of all theappetites."
A slight flush came into his young companion's cheek, and the otherhastened to add: "Believe me, I meant nothing discourteous. I spoke ofthe Englishman, the soldier, and the man of rank and stationgenerally, not of yourself. I see it is far otherwise with you."
"You hit hard, my good friend," replied the stranger, "and there issome truth in what you say. But perhaps I have seen as many lands asyou,
and I boldly venture to pronounce that the fault is in the age,not in the nation, the profession, or the class."
As he spoke he rose, walked thoughtfully to the window, and gazed outfor a moment or two in silence; and then, turning round, he said,addressing his host's son: "How beautifully the setting sun shinesdown yonder glade in the forest, pouring, as it were, in a golden mistthrough the needle foliage of the pines. Runs there a road downthere?"
The boy answered in the affirmative, and drawing close to thestranger's side pointed out to him, by the undulation of the groundand the gaps in the tree tops, the wavy line that the road followed,down the side of the gentle hill, saying: "By a white oak and a greathemlock tree, there is a footpath to the left; at a clump of largecedars on the edge of the swamp the road forks out to the right andleft, one leading eastward toward the river, and one out westward tothe hunting grounds."
The stranger seemed to listen to him with pleasure, often turning hiseyes to the lad's face as he spoke, rather than to the landscape towhich he pointed; and when he had done he laid his hand on hisshoulder, saying, "I wish I had such a guide as you, Walter, for myonward journey."
"Will it be far?" asked the youth.
"Good faith, I cannot well tell," answered the other. "It may be asfar as Montreal, or even to Quebec, if I get not satisfaction soon."
"I could not guide you as far as that," replied the boy, "but I knowevery step toward the lakes, as well as an Indian."
"With whom he is very fond of consorting," said his father, with asmile.
But before the conversation could proceed farther, an elderly,respectable woman servant entered the room and announced that supperwas on the table. Edith had not returned, but they found her in alarge, oblong chamber to which the master of the house led the way.There was a long table in the midst, and four wooden chairs arrangedround one end, over which a snowy tablecloth was spread. The rest ofthe table was bare, but there were a number of other seats and two orthree benches in the room, while at equal distances on either side,touching the walls, lay a number of bear and buffalo skins, as ifspread out for beds.
The eye of the stranger glanced over them as he entered, but his hostreplied to his thoughts, with a smile: "We will lodge you somewhatbetter than that, sir. We have, just now, more than one room vacant;but you must know there is no such thing as privacy in this land, andwhen we have any invasion of our Indian friends those skins make themsupremely happy. I often smile to think how a redman would feel inHolland sheets. I tried it once, but it did not succeed. He pulled theblankets off the bed and slept upon the floor."
Seated at the table, the conversation turned to many subjects,general, of course, but yet personally interesting to both the eldermembers of the party.
More than an hour was beguiled at the table--a longer period thanordinary--and then the bright purple hues which spread over theeastern wall of the room, opposite the windows, told that the autumnalsun had reached the horizon. The master of the house rose to lead theway into another room again, but ere he moved from the table anotherfigure was added to the group around it, though the foot was sonoiseless that no one heard its entrance into the chamber.
The person who had joined the little party was a man of middle age, ofa tall, commanding figure, upright and dignified carriage, and fine,but somewhat strongly marked features. The expression of hiscountenance was grave and noble, but yet there was a certainstrangeness in it--a touch of wildness, perhaps I might call it--verydifficult to define. It was not in the eyes, for they were good, calm,and steadfast, gazing straight at any object of contemplation, andfixed full upon the face of anyone he addressed. It was not in thelips, for, except when speaking, they were firm and motionless.Perhaps it was in the eyebrow, which, thick and strongly marked, wasoccasionally suddenly raised or depressed, without apparent cause.
His dress was very strange. He was evidently of European blood,although his skin was embrowned by much exposure to sun and weather.But yet he wore not altogether the European costume, the garb of theAmerican backwoodsman, or that of the Indian. There was a mixture ofall, which gave him a wild and fantastic appearance. His coat wasevidently English, and had straps of gold lace upon the shoulders; hisknee breeches and high riding boots would have looked English, also,had not the latter been destitute of soles, properly so called; forthey were made somewhat like a stocking, and the part beneath the footwas of the same leather as the rest. Over his shoulder was a belt ofrattlesnake skin, and round his waist a sort of girdle, formed fromthe claws of the bear, from which depended a string of wampum, whiletwo or three knives and a small tomahawk appeared on either side. Noother weapons had he whatever. But under his left arm hung a commonpowder flask, made of cow's horn, and beside it, a sort of wallet,such as trappers commonly used for carrying their little store ofIndian corn. A round fur cap of bearskin, without any ornamentwhatever, completed his habiliments.
It would seem that in that house he was well known, for its masterinstantly held forth his hand to him, and the young people sprangforward and greeted him warmly. A full minute elapsed before he spoke,but nobody uttered a word till he did so, all seeming to understandhis habits.
"Well, Mr. Prevost," he said, at length, "I have been a stranger toyour wigwam for some time. How art thou, Walter? Not a man yet, inspite of all thou canst do? Edith, my sweet lady, time dealsdifferently with thee from thy brother. He makes thee a woman againstthy will." Then turning suddenly to the stranger, he said: "Sir, I amglad to see you. Were you ever at Kielmansegge?"
"Once," replied the stranger, laconically.
"Then we will confer presently," replied the newcomer. "How have youbeen this many a day, Mr. Prevost? You must give me food, for I haveridden far. I will have that bearskin, too, for my night's lodgingplace, if it be not pre-engaged. No, not that one, the next. I havetold Agrippa to see to my horse, for I ever count upon your courtesy."
There was something extremely stately and dignified in his whole tone,and with frank straightforwardness, but without any indecorous haste,he seated himself at the table, drew toward him a large dish of coldmeat, and while Edith and her brother hastened to supply him witheverything else he needed, proceeded to help himself liberally towhatever was within his reach. Not a word more did he speak forseveral minutes, while Mr. Prevost and his guest stood looking on insilence, and the two young people attended the newcomer at the table.
As soon as he had done he rose abruptly, and then, looking first toMr. Prevost, and next to the stranger, said: "Now, gentlemen, if youplease, we will to council."
The stranger hesitated, and Mr. Prevost answered, with a smile: "I amnot of the initiated, Sir William; but I and the children will leaveyou with my guest, whom you seem to know, but of whose name[1] andstation I am ignorant."
"Stay! stay!" replied the other, to whom he spoke. "We shall need notonly your advice but your concurrence. This gentleman I will answerfor as a faithful and loyal subject of his majesty King George. He hasbeen treated with that hardest of all treatments--neglect. But his isa spirit in which not even neglect can drown out loyalty to his kingand love to his country. Moreover, I may say, that the neglect whichhe has met with has proceeded from a deficiency in his own nature.God, unfortunately, did not make him a grumbler, or he would have beena peer long ago. The Almighty endowed him with all the qualities thatcould benefit his fellow creatures, but denied him those which werenecessary to advance himself. Others have wondered that he never metwith honors, or distinction, or reward. I wonder not at all; for he isneither a charlatan, nor a coxcomb, nor a pertinacious beggar. Hecannot stoop to slabber the hand of power, nor lick the spittle of theman in office. How can such a man have advancement? It is contrary tothe course of the things of this world. But as he has loved his fellowmen, so will he love them. As he has served his country, so will heserve it. As he has sought honor and truth more than promotion, honorand truth will be his reward--alas! that it should be the only one.But when he dies, if he dies unrecompensed, it will not beunregretted, or unvenerated.
He must be of our council."
Mr. Prevost had stood by in silence, with his eyes bent upon theground. But Edith sprang forward and caught Sir William Johnson's handas he ended the praises of her father, and bending her head withexquisite grace, pressed her lips upon it. Her brother seemed inclinedto linger for a moment, but saying, "Come, Walter," she glided out ofthe room, and the young lad, following, closed the door behind him.