Lords of the North
Page 27
CHAPTER XXV
HIS LORDSHIP TO THE RESCUE
Even at the hour of our triumph, we Nor'-Westers knew that we had yet toreckon with Lord Selkirk; and a speedy reckoning the indomitablenobleman brought about. The massacre at Seven Oaks afforded our rivalsthe very pretext they desired. Clothed with the authority of an officerof the law, Lord Selkirk hurried northward; and a personage of hisimportance could not venture into the wilderness without a strongbody-guard. At least, that was the excuse given for the retinue of twoor three hundred mercenaries decked out in all the regimentals of war,whom Lord Selkirk brought with him to the north. A more rascally, daringcrew of ragamuffins could not have been found to defend Selkirk's sideof the gentlemen adventurers' feud. The men were the offscourings ofEuropean armies engaged in the Napoleonic wars, and came directly fromthe old De Meurons' regiment. The information which the Fort Williambrigade brought of Selkirk's approach, also explained why that samebrigade hastened back to the defence of Nor'-West quarters on LakeSuperior; and their help was needed. News of events at Fort Williamcame to us in the Red River department tardily. First, there was a vaguerumor among the Indian _voyageurs_, who were ever gliding back andforward on the labyrinthine waters of that north land like the birds ofpassage overhead. Then came definite reports from freemen who had beenexpelled from Fort William; and we could no longer doubt that Nor'-Westheadquarters, with all the wealth of furs and provisions therein hadfallen into the hands of the Hudson's Bay forces. Afterwards camewarning from our _Bourgeois_, driven out of Fort William, for FortDouglas to be prepared. Lord Selkirk would only rest long enough at FortWilliam to take possession of everything worth possessing, in the nameof the law--for was he not a justice of the peace?--and in the name ofthe law would he move with like intent against Fort Douglas. To theearl's credit, be it said, that his victories were bloodless; but theywere bloodless because the Nor'-Westers had no mind to unleash thoseredskin bloodhounds a second time, preferring to suffer loss rather thanresort to violence. Nevertheless, we called in every available hand ofthe Nor'-West staff to man Fort Douglas against attack. But summerdragged into autumn and autumn into winter, and no Lord Selkirk. Then webegan to think ourselves secure; for the streams were frozen to a depthof four feet like adamant, and unless Selkirk were a madman, he wouldnot attempt to bring his soldiers north by dog-train during the bittercold of mid-winter. But 'tis ever the policy of the astute madman todiscount the enemy's calculations; and Selkirk utterly discounted oursby sending his hardy, dare-devil De Meurons across country under theleadership of that prince of braggarts, Captain D'Orsonnens. Indeed, wehad only heard the rumor of their coming, when we awakened one morningafter an obscure, stormy night to find them encamped at St. James,westward on the Assiniboine River. Day after day the menacing forceremained quiet and inoffensive, and we began to look upon thesenotorious ruffians as harmless. For our part, vigilance was not lacking.Sentinels were posted in the towers day and night. Nor'-West spiesshadowed every movement of the enemy; and it was seriously consideredwhether we should not open communication with D'Orsonnens to ascertainwhat he wanted; but, truth to say, we knew very well what he wanted, andhad had such a surfeit of blood, we were not anxious to re-openhostilities.
As for Hamilton, I can hardly call his life at Fort Douglas anythingmore than a mere existence. A blow stuns, but one may recover. Repeatedfailure gradually benumbs hope and willpower and effort, like someghoulish vampire sucking away a man's life-blood till he faint and diefrom very inanition. The blow, poor Eric had suffered, when he lostMiriam; the repeated failure, when we could not restore her; and I sawthis strong, athletic man slowly succumb as to some insidious,paralyzing disease. The thought of effort seemed to burden him. Hewould silently mope by the hour in some dark corner of Fort Douglas, orwander aimlessly about the courtyard, muttering and talking to himself.He was weary and fatigued without a stroke of work; and what littlesleep he snatched from wakeful vigils seemed to give him no rest. Hisfood, he thrust from him with the petulance of a child; and at everysuggestion I could make, he sneered with a quiet, gentle insistence thatwas utterly discomfiting. To be sure, I had Father Holland's boisterousgood cheer as a counter-irritant; for the priest had remained at FortDouglas, and was ministering to the tribes of the Red and Assiniboine.But it was on her, who had been my guiding star and hope and inspirationfrom the first, that I mainly depended. As hard, merciless winter closedin, I could not think of those shelterless colonists driven to the lake,without shuddering at the distress I knew they must suffer; and Idespatched a runner, urging them to return to Red River, and givingpersonal guarantee for their safety. Among those, who came back, werethe Sutherlands; and if my quest had entailed far greater hardship thanit did, that quiet interval with leisure to spend much time at theSelkirk settlement would have repaid all suffering. After sundown, I wasfree from fort duties. Tying on snow-shoes after the manner of thenatives, I would speed over the whitened drifts of billowy snow. Thesurface, melted by the sun-glare of mid-day and encrusted with brittle,glistening ice, never gave under my weight; and, oddly enough, my wayalways led to the Sutherland homestead. After the coming of the DeMeurons, Frances used to expostulate against what she called myfoolhardiness in making these evening visits; but their presence made nodifference to me.
"I don't believe those drones intend doing anything very dreadful, afterall, sir," I remarked one night to Frances Sutherland's father,referring to the soldiers.
Following his daughter's directions I had been coming very early, alsovery often, with the object of accustoming the dour Scotchman to mystaying late; and he had softened enough towards me to take part inoccasional argument.
"Don't believe they intend doing a thing, sir," I reiterated.
Pushing his spectacles up on his forehead, he closed the book ofsermons, which he had been reading, and puckered his brows as if he werecompromising a hard point with conscience, which, indeed, I afterwardsknew, was exactly what he had been doing.
"Aye," said he, "aye, aye, young man. But I'm thinking ye'll no do y'rcompany ony harm by speerin' after the designs o' fightin' men who makeladders."
"Oh!" I cried, all alert for information. "Have they been makingladders?"
He pulled the spectacles down on his nose and deliberately reopened thebook of sermons.
"Of that, I canna say," he replied.
Only once again did he emerge from his readings. I had risen to go.Frances usually accompanied me to the outer door, where I tied mysnow-shoes and took a farewell unobserved by the father; but when Iopened the door, such a blast of wind and snow drove in, I instantlyclapped it shut again and began tying the racquets on inside.
"O Rufus!" exclaimed Frances, "you can't go back to Fort Douglas in thatstorm!"
Then we both noticed for the first time that a hurricane of wind wasrocking the little house to its foundations.
"Did that spring up all of a sudden?" I cried. "I never saw a blizzarddo that before."
"I'm afraid, Rufus, we were not noticing."
"No, we were otherwise interested," said I, innocently enough; but shelaughed.
"You can't go," she declared.
"The wind will be on my back," I assured her. "I'll be all right," and Iwent on lacing the snow-shoe thongs about my ankle.
The book of sermons shut with a snap and the father turned towards us.
"Let no one say any man left the Sutherland hearth on such a night! Putby those senseless things," and he pointed to the snow-shoes.
"But those ladders," I interposed. "Let no one say when the enemy cameRufus Gillespie was absent from his citadel!"
The wind roared round the house corners like a storm at sea; and thefather looked down at me with a strange, quizzical expression.
"Ye're a headstrong young man, Rufus Gillespie," said the hard-setmouth. "Ye maun knock a hole in the head, or the wall! Will ye go?"
"Knock the hole in the wall," I laughed back. "Of course I go."
"Then, tak' the dogs," said he, with a sparkle of kindliness
in the coldeyes. So it came that I set out in the Sutherlands' dog-sled with asupply of robes to defy biting frost.
And I needed them every one. Old settlers, describing winter storms,have been accused of an imagination as expansive as the prairie; but Iaffirm no man could exaggerate the fury of a blizzard on the unbrokenprairie. To one thing only may it be likened--a hurricane at sea. Peoplein lands boxed off at short compass by mountain ridges forget with whatviolence a wind sweeping half a continent can disport itself. In theboisterous roar of the gale, my shouts to the dogs were a feeble whispercaught from my lips and lost in the shrieking wind. The fine snowyparticles were a powdered ice that drove through seams of clothing andcut one's skin like a whip lash. Without the fringe of woods along theriver bank to guide me, it would have been madness to set out by day,and worse than madness by night; but I kept the dogs close to the woods.The trees broke the wind and prevented me losing all sense of directionin the tornado whirl of open prairie. Not enough snow had fallen on thehard-crusted drifts to impede the dogs. They scarcely sank and with thewind on their backs dashed ahead till the woods were passed and we wereon the bare plains. No light could be seen through the storm, but I knewI was within a short distance of the fort gate and wheeled the dogstoward the river flats of the left. The creatures seemed to scent humanpresence. They leaped forward and brought the sleigh against the wallwith a knock that rolled me out.
"Good fellows;" I cried, springing up, uncertain where I was.
The huskies crouched around my feet almost tripping me and I feltthrough the snowy darkness against the stockades, stake by stake.
Ah! There was a post! Here were close-fitted boards--here,iron-lining--this must be the gate; but where was the lantern that hungbehind? A gust of wind might have extinguished the light; so I drubbedloudly on the gate and shouted to the sentry, who should have beeninside.
The wind lulled for a moment and up burst wild shouting from thecourtyard intermingled with the jeers of Frenchmen and cries of terrorfrom our people. Then I knew judgment had come for the deeds at SevenOaks. The gale broke again with a hissing of serpents, or red irons, andthe howling wind rose in shrill, angry bursts. Hugging the wall, whilethe dogs whined behind, I ran towards the rear. Men jostled through thesnowy dark, and I was among the De Meurons. They were too busy scalingthe stockade on the ladders of which I had heard to notice an intruder.Taking advantage of the storm, I mounted a ladder, vaulted over thepickets and alighted in the courtyard. Here all was noise, flight,pursuit and confusion. I made for the main hall, where valuable paperswere kept, and at the door, cannoned against one of our men, whoshrieked with fright and begged for mercy.
"Coward!" said I, giving him a cuff. "What has happened?"
A flare fell on us both, and he recognized me.
"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!"
I left him bawling out his fear and rushed inside.
"What has happened?" I asked, tripping up a clerk who was flying throughthe hallway.
"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!"
"Stop!" I commanded, grasping the lap of his coat."What--_has_--happened?"
"The De Meurons!" This was fairly screamed.
I shook him till he sputtered something more.
"They've captured the fort--our people didn't want to shed blood----"
"And threw down their guns," I interjected, disgusted beyond word.
"Threw down their guns," he repeated, as though that were a praiseworthyaction. "The s-s-sentinels--saw the court--full--full--full ofs-soldiers!"
"Full of soldiers!" I thundered. "There are not a hundred in the gang."
Thereupon I gave the caitiff a toss that sent him reeling against thewall, and dashed up-stairs for the papers. All was darkness, and I nighbroke my neck over a coffin-shaped rough box made for one of thetrappers, who had died in the fort. Why was the thing lying there,anyway? The man should have been put into it and buried at once withoutany drinking bout and dead wake, I reflected with some sharpness, as Irubbed my bruised shins and shoved the box aside. Shouts rang up fromthe courtyard. Heavy feet trampled in the hall below. Hamilton, as aHudson's Bay man, and Father Holland, I knew, were perfectly safe. But Iwas far from safe. Why were they not there to help me, I wondered, withthe sort of rage we all vent on our friends when we are cornered andthey at ease. I fumbled across the apartment, found the right desk,pried the drawer open with my knife, and was in the very act of seizingthe documents when I saw my own shadow on the floor. Lantern light burstwith a glare through the gloom of the doorway.