CHAPTER XL.
It was a sad and weary day to poor Walter Prevost, for he was withouthis consolation. The time of his long imprisonment, indeed, had beenless burdensome than might have been supposed, although, during thefirst two or three weeks, many a fruitless effort to escape hadwearied his spirits. He learned, however, that escape was impossible;he was too closely and too continually watched. There was nothing toprevent his quitting the hut; but the moment he did so, whether nightor day, he was met by two or three armed Indians. They were kind andcourteous to him, though they suffered him not to bend his steps inthe direction of their castle, or village, nor to approach the lake,to the banks of which many a canoe was moored. Sometimes one of themwould take him to hunt; but two or three others followed, and neverseparated from his side. They were not fond of speaking of hisprobable fate, and generally avoided the subject with true Indianskill; but once a young warrior, less experienced than the rest,related to him the messages which the great chief had sent by therunner Proctor, and Walter learned the decision regarding his ownfate, and the chances on which it hung. That young Indian was neverseen near him more. It was evident that he was looked upon as havingbetrayed counsel, and that he had been removed.
But, about that time, the greatest solace and balm he could receivewas afforded him. Otaitsa suddenly appeared in the hut, and told himthat, by promising to make no personal effort for his rescue, and totake no advantage of the freedom granted her to facilitate his escapeby his own efforts, she had obtained permission to visit him for twohours each day. She had explained to him, however, that others, inwhom she trusted, were busy in his cause; and that the Grey Doveherself, on whom all her people looked with the greatest reverence,had positively assured her he should not die.
At first, their interviews were sad enough. Hope and fear kept uptheir battle in the heart; but in time those emotions passed away, andlove and happiness were all that remained; or, if aught of fearmingled with those blessings, it was but enough, as it were, tosanctify their intercourse, to purify it of some portion of earthlypassion, so that, even while they sat twined in each other's arms,their conversation would often be of death and future life, andhappiness unmingled. She often called him "husband" to her father; butit was always "brother" when they were there alone.
Day after day, beneath the sunshine or the cloud, over the snow or thegreen earth, Otaitsa visited the hut. But she had grown anxious as thedays rolled on. She had not calculated the time accurately; but sheknew the appointed day was near, and Walter was not delivered. Sheaccused herself of folly in having trusted to others; though she sawnot how, watched as he was, his deliverance could be effected byherself. But she resolved now to bestir herself, and, if she lost herlife in the attempt, to make one last great effort to set him free.
Such was her resolution on the preceding day, when, on parting withhim, she whispered in his ear, lest any one should be listeningwithout,--
"I shall not come to you again, my brother, till I come to save you. Iknow not how it will be; but, if I fail, Walter will not be long inheaven ere Otaitsa seeks him there."
He hardly believed she could keep her resolution of abstaining from atleast one more interview. But the weary day passed by; the Indians whobrought him food and fire appeared and disappeared; the rain fellheavily; the wind shook the hut; and Otaitsa did not come.
At length, the night began to fall, stern, gloomy, dark; a raylesssunset, a brief twilight, and then utter blackness. His spirit sanklow indeed; his heart felt heavy and oppressed: he bent him down,stirred up the embers of his fire, piled more wood upon it, andkindled a bright, cheerful blaze. But it had no effect in raising hisspirits or warming his heart. All within him was cheerless.
He sat and gazed into the fire, and thought of his absent home, and ofthe pleasant days of youth, and of the sweet dreams he had oncecherished--the hopes that hung like faded pictures upon the wall ofmemory. A thousand little incidents, a thousand delightfulrecollections, came back upon him, while he sat and meditated, as ifmerely to make life more dear; when, suddenly, on the other side ofthe hut, a dark figure crossed the firelight, and then another, andanother, and another, till they numbered six. They were all chiefs,and men of lofty mien; but stern, and grave, and silent. They seatedthemselves in a semicircle at the very further part of the hut, andfor several minutes remained profoundly still.
He understood at once what it meant. The last hour of life was come;and the dead, heavy sinking of the heart which the aspect of deathsuddenly presented to an unprepared and unexcited mind, was the firstsensation. True, the door stood at a little distance, on his righthand, and they were at the other end of the hut, with no one betweenhim and the means of egress; but he knew their swiftness of foot anddeadly aim too well. It was better to stay and to meet the worstthere, than to fall by the thrown tomahawk in inglorious flight. Herallied his spirits: he called all his courage to his aid: hebethought him of how an Indian would die, and resolved to die boldlyand calmly likewise.
Sitting still in silence, he gazed over the countenances of thechiefs, scanning their stern, hard features thoughtfully. Only twowere there whom he knew; Black Eagle himself, and an old man with awhite scalp-lock, whom he recollected having comforted and supportedonce when he found him ill and exhausted near his father's house. Theothers were all strangers to him: and nothing could be read upon theirfaces but cold, rigid determination. No passion, no anger, no emotion,could be traced; but there was something inexpressibly dreadful ingazing on those still, quiet countenances, with a knowledge of thebloody purpose of the men. To have died in battle--to have struggledwith them fiercely for life--would have been nothing; but to sitthere, coldly awaiting the moment of the ruthless blow, and to knowthat they expected it to be borne with the same quiet, stoical apathywith which it was dealt, was very, very terrible to the youngEuropean.
Yet Walter tried to nerve himself to the utmost against any sign offear; and strove for resolution not to disgrace himself, his name, andfamily, even in the opinion of those wild Indians. There must havebeen apprehension in his eyes--in the straining eagerness with whichhe scanned them; but there was no other mark of alarm: not a musclemoved; the lip did not quiver; the brow was not contracted.
At length, after that long, solemn pause, the voice of Black Eagle washeard speaking low and softly.
"My son, thou must die," he said. "Thou art dear to me as a child; thyfather is my brother; but thou hast drawn an evil lot, and thou mustdie. The morning of thy days has been short and bright; the nightcomes for thee before the day is well begun. The blood of our brotherwho was slain must be atoned for by the blood of one of the race thatslew him--the white man for the red man. We have sought in vain forthe murderer of our brother, or for some one who might have been asubstitute for him whom we love. Each man here would have perilled hisown head to find another in thy place; but it could not be. Thepale-faces took fright at the news of what had been done, and none hasbeen found within our territory. We know that the man who did the deedhas been here. We fancied that he had come generously to pay thepenalty of his own act; but fear was in his heart, and twice heescaped us. He is as cunning as the fox, and as swift to flee. Now, Othou son of my brother! thou must die; for the time has gone by thatwas given thee in the hope of some deliverance: the hours have runswiftly and in vain; and the last has come. We know that it is thecustom of thy people to sing no war-song at their death; but to prayto their Good Spirit to receive them speedily into the happyhunting-grounds. We shall not think it want of courage if thouprayest; for the son of our brother Prevost will not disgrace his nameat his death. Pray, therefore, to thy God; thy prayer shall be as itwere a war-song, and, strengthened by it, thou shalt die as a man anda warrior."
Walter remained silent for a moment, while a terrible struggle went onin his heart; but resolution conquered, and he rose from the ground onwhich he was sitting, erect and firm; and, stretching forth his hand,he said,--
"Chiefs of the Oneidas, you are unjust. At this hour of my death,
Itell you, you know not equity. Your laws are not of the Good Spirit,but of the bad; for it is evil to kill an innocent man, black anddastardly to slay a helpless man who trusted you and loved you; and,if it is by your law you do it, your law is bad, and the Good Spiritwill condemn it. My father came and planted his tree amongst you; wegrew up,--my sister and myself,--loving and confiding in your people.We made your tongue our tongue; and my heart became one with the heartof the daughter of your chief. Lo, now, how ye repay kindness, andlove, and truth, with falsehood, cruelty, and death! You are greatwarriors, but you are not good men. In this last hour, I reproach you;and I tell you, with the voice of a dying man, as with the voice ofone from the land of spirits, that, sooner or later, the great God ofall men will make you feel that you have done an evil thing in mydeath."
He paused suddenly; for his eyes, turning somewhat in the direction ofthe door, saw a female figure enter, wrapped in the peculiar blanketor mantle of the Indian women. Another and another entered; and one byone the shadowy forms ranged themselves in line along the side of thehut, their faces but faintly seen by the flickering firelight. Theywere all as silent as death; and there they stood as solemn witnessesof the dreadful scene about to be enacted.
The eyes of all the chiefs were turned in the same direction as hisown, and a moment or two of wonder and embarrassment passed; but thenthe voice of Black Eagle was raised loudly and sternly, saying,--
"Get you home to the Castle, Oneida women. This is no place for you.Meddle not with the business of warriors and of men. Dare not tointrude upon the sacrifice of atonement for our brother's blood."
"Who is it that speaks?" said the clear, shrill voice of the GreyDove. "Is it the man of the black heart who slays the son of hisbrother? Who is it that dares to speak thus to her who sees the GreatSpirit in her visions, and holds communion with the souls of the dead?Is it a man pure in heart and hand--a man whose purposes are good inthe sight of the Great Spirit, and who is doing a deed pleasing in hissight? Is he taking the life of an enemy in the battle? Is he scalpinga foe with whom he has fought and conquered? Lo, now, this is a bravedeed, to slay the son of a friend, and a boy who has no power toresist. But the boy shall not die. If a pale-face has killed one ofthe children of the Stone, this boy has saved the life of more thanone. His hand has been free, and his heart open to the Oneida, and hisgood deeds are more than enough to atone for the evil deeds ofanother. The ashes of thy pipe, Black Eagle, upon the hearth ofPrevost, call out shame upon the murderer of his son."
"Get you hence, woman!" vociferated another chief. "We are not soft aswater, to be turned in what course you will; we are the children ofthe Stone, and our heart is the rock."
"Be it so, then," cried Black Eagle's sister. "Look upon us now, oh,chiefs! We are here, your mothers, your sisters, your daughters, yourwives; those you love best, those who best love you. See now what weare commanded to do by the voice of the Good Spirit. If you slay theyouth, you slay us. Every lodge shall be left desolate; there shall bewailing through the village, and through the land. Now, my sisters, iftheir heart be a stone, let our heart be soft, and let the knife findit easily."
As she spoke, every mantle was thrown back, and every arm raised, andin every hand was seen the gleam of a knife.
Black Eagle covered his eyes with his mantle, but sat still. Waltersprang across, and cast himself at the feet of Otaitsa, exclaiming,--
"Hold, hold! for God's sake hold, my Blossom!"
"Back, back!" cried the girl, vehemently; "if thou diest, I die."
"All, all!" exclaimed the women, in the same determined tone.
At this moment, the old priest rose and stretched forth his hands.
"It is the voice of the Great Spirit," he ejaculated, in the tone ofone inspired. "He speaks to us by their tongue; he tells us toforbear. The deed is evil in his sight; we must not do it. The bloodof our brother is atoned for. It is the voice of the Great Spirit!"
"It is the voice of the Great Spirit--it is the voice of the GreatSpirit!" exclaimed each of the chiefs. And Black Eagle, casting fromhim the tomahawk, took Walter in his arms, saying, in a low voice,--
"My son, my son!"
Otaitsa advanced a step towards them; but, before she reached herfather, her sight grew dim, and she fell fainting at his feet.
The Black Eagle; or, Ticonderoga Page 40
