CHAPTER VII.
It will be remembered that when M. de Valricour quitted France in orderto return to Canada he promised the Marquis de Beaujardin that he woulddo his best to find Isidore, and report whatever he might learnrespecting him. In those days, however, the communication between Newand Old France was slow and uncertain enough, and it was not until theensuing spring that the marquis received any tidings respecting hisson. From what he then heard it could scarcely be doubted that Isidorewas in Canada, and de Valricour was able to inform his brother-in-lawnot only that Marguerite had been a prisoner at Sorel, and hadsubsequently escaped through the devotion of Amoahmeh, but that Jasminwas actually a prisoner there. He was further enabled to send to themarquis the mutilated letter supposed to have been destroyed byIsidore, and this circumstance not only cleared away that imputation,but proved beyond question that Isidore had had grounds for supposingthat his father had no objection to his union with Marguerite.
Full of remorse for his unjust suspicions, the marquis felt his oldaffection for his son revive more strongly than ever, and when hesubsequently received further accounts to the effect that Isidore hadgone to Fort Duquesne, but that he had not since been heard of, hecould no longer restrain his ardent longing to seek out his lost son,and do him at least some tardy justice. In the first place, however,he proceeded to Paris in order that he might use all his influence toascertain how matters stood in regard to the _lettre de cachet_, and,if possible, to obtain its revocation. To his astonishment he foundthat, through the influence of Montcalm, the king's warrant had alreadybeen cancelled; but about Isidore himself he could learn nothing, andhe consequently resolved to proceed at once to Canada in search of him.
He had, however, by this time learned by experience that any plan ofhis might be thwarted if it once came to the ears of Madame deValricour, and without even communicating his intentions to themarchioness, he returned home by way of Nantes, where he madearrangements for his voyage to Quebec. This was no easy matter; it waswell known that the English fleet was already on its way up the St.Lawrence with General Wolfe's army to undertake the siege of Quebec,and French vessels could no longer hope to reach that place. But themarquis was prepared to pay almost any sum for the accomplishment ofhis object, and with the help of Jean Perigord the innkeeper he at lastprevailed on a certain Maitre Duboscq to undertake the task, andendeavour at least to land the marquis as near Quebec as possible.This being settled, M. de Beaujardin proceeded home to take leave ofhis wife and inform her of his purpose.
He had reckoned without his host, and little knew that Madame deValricour was well informed of all his movements. No sooner had hereached the chateau than that lady calmly informed him that she hadresolved to go out and join her husband, and would feel indebted to himif he would write to Nantes and procure a passage for her.
Thoroughly convinced that the object of the voyage could only be tosearch out or to meet with Isidore, she felt that if she allowed themarquis to proceed alone her long cherished schemes would be wrecked atlast and she resolved, come what might, to accompany him. Argument andpersuasion were alike unavailing. There was nothing for it but tooffer to take her out in the "Pompadour." Nor was she the only personwho was destined to accompany the marquis, for on hearing of hisintention old Perigord besought him with tears in his eyes to let himgo too: "Monseigneur," said he, "I have served you faithfully from mycradle, do not compel me to leave yon. Let me, too, see my youngmaster once more before I die."
It was not the first time, by a score, that Duboscq had threaded themazy channels of the St. Lawrence, or that he had baffled the pursuitof an English cruiser. The "Pompadour" was a tight little ship, andwell in hand, swift, and drawing but little water, but much caution wasrequired, and the voyage was a long one. Passing northwards throughthe Straits of Belle Isle to avoid the track of the English fleet, the"Pompadour" made a splendid run up the St. Lawrence, eluding oneBritish vessel, and fairly out-sailing another, and at last came insight of the rugged bluffs of Cape Tourment, about a dozen leaguesbelow Quebec. It was, however, late in the afternoon, and as there wasno hope of their reaching Quebec that evening the "Pompadour" hove to,and was about to anchor for the night, when Duboscq descried an Englishsloop of war about a couple of miles off, right ahead and standingtowards them, and he at once went below to consult with the marquis,who immediately returned with him on deck.
It was evident that they had been seen by the English sloop, and thedanger was imminent. The marquis took in the situation at a glance:"The 'Pompadour' cannot escape, but we may yet do so," said he toDuboscq. "You have done your best hitherto, and I will indemnify youfor the loss of your vessel. Lower your boat at once, and we may allreach the shore before the Englishman comes up. We may as well becaptured on shore, if we are to see the inside of an English prison,but we may be able to make our way by land to Quebec."
The boat was soon lowered, but it would only hold three persons besidesthe two men required to row it; and Duboscq, as steersman, who, afterlanding their passengers, would have to return to fetch off theremainder of the crew. The marquis, with Madame de Valricour andPerigord, at once stepped into the boat, and as the beach was not faroff, they were quickly rowed to the shore. "Now," said Duboscq, whenthey were fairly landed, "push on into the wood straight ahead, and Iwill join you there. We shall give our friends the slip after all,thanks to monsieur's suggestion."
The little party did as they were told, and presently stopped to awaitthe coming of the others; but they waited in vain, and were destinedsoon to find out that they had only escaped one danger to rush uponanother. From a lofty point overhanging the river an Indian scout hadwatched all that had occurred. Suddenly the wood rang with a terriblewar-whoop, and half a dozen savages darted through the trees and cameupon the panic-stricken group. The chief, who was a little in advance,sprang towards Perigord, but on perceiving that the party consistedonly of two unarmed men and a woman, stopped short, making a sign tohis followers to do the same. Then, contemptuously flinging oldPerigord down, he snatched from him an ornamented casket which he wasclutching in his hands: it was his master's strong box, which he hadrescued at the last moment, and brought away with him from the ship.Wrenching it open the savage drew out the first thing that came tohand: it was the ribbon and order of St. Louis.
With an exclamation of surprise he held it up and examined it. He hadseen the like once or twice before, but only on the breasts of Montcalmand Governor de Vaudreuil.
"Whose is this? Who are you?" said he, quickly regarding the old_chef_ with evident astonishment.
"It belongs to the Marquis de Beaujardin," replied Perigord, piteously.
"Beaujardin! Beaujardin!" answered the Indian, with increasingamazement. "There is one of that name in the camp. Who is thisBeaujardin?"
"His father--his father!" exclaimed Perigord. "Have you seen him? Ishe at Quebec? My poor Isidore! He was lost, and we have come out hereto seek him.'
"Yes, Isidore--that is his name," replied the chief; and with that heturned to his warriors, and spoke to them rapidly, gesticulatingvehemently all the while.
Perigord would have questioned him further, but the chief at first tookno heed of him; after some further conference, however, he once moreaddressed his excited prisoner, saying, "It is well--the Frenchmanshall see his son again."
"But in one thing you are mistaken," cried Perigord, with animation."Yonder is his father--it is not I."
In some surprise the Indian looked first at one and then at the other,scanning alternately the plain suit which the marquis had beenaccustomed to wear on board ship, and the full dress costume in whichold Perigord invariably waited on him. But apart from these the fieryblack eyes, the dark complexion, and even the hooked nose of oldAchille, and most of all the tears which had betrayed his emotion onhearing the name of Isidore, would have sufficed to settle the question.
"Is a chief of the Algonquins an owl that he cannot see in broaddaylight?" said the Indian, contemptuously.
"Does the cunningFrenchman think that a warrior of the red skins does not know thedifference between a wild goose and an eagle?"
Then without further parley he gave the word for the march, and theamazed and terrified prisoners were hurried away into the woods.
Headpiece to Chapter VIII]
The King's Warrant: A Story of Old and New France Page 21
