“I understand your meaning, June,” she then said—“You wish me to know that some one has treacherously told your people where and how to find the island.”
June laughed, for in her eyes artifice in war, was oftener a merit than a crime, but she was too true to her tribe, herself, to say more than the occasion required. Her object was to save Mabel, and Mabel only, and she saw no sufficient reason for “travelling out of the record,” as the lawyers express it, in order to do any thing else.
“Pale face know now—” she added—“Block-house good for girls—no matter for men and warriors.”
“But it is much matter with me, June, for one of these men is my uncle, whom I love, and the others are my countrymen and friends. I must tell them what has passed.”
“Then June be kill—” returned the young Indian quietly, though she spoke with concern.
“No—they shall not know that you have been here. Still, they must be on their guard, and we can all go into the blockhouse.”
“Arrowhead know—see every thing, and June be kill. June come to tell young pale face friend, not to tell men. Every warrior watch his own scalp. June squaw, and tell squaw; no tell men.”
Mabel was greatly distressed at this declaration of her wild friend, for it was now evident the young creature understood that her communication was to go no farther. She was ignorant how far these people considered the point of honor interested in her keeping the secret, and most of all, was she unable to say how far any indiscretion of her own might actually commit June, and endanger her life. All these considerations flashed on her mind, and reflection only rendered their influence more painful. June, too, manifestly viewed the matter gravely, for she began to gather up the different little articles she had dropped, in taking Mabel’s hand, and was preparing to depart. To attempt detaining her, was out of the question, and to part from her, after all she had hazarded to serve her, was repugnant to all the just and kind feelings of our heroine’s nature.
“June,” she said eagerly, folding her arms around the gentle but uneducated being, “we are friends. From me you have nothing to fear, for no one shall know of your visit. If you could give me some signal just before the danger comes, some sign by which to know when to go into the block-house— how to take care of myself.”
June paused, for she had been in earnest in her intention to depart, and then she said quietly—
“Bring June pigeon.”
“A pigeon! Where shall I find a pigeon to bring you?”
“Next hut—bring old one—June go to canoe.”
“I think I understand you, June—but had I not better lead you back to the bushes, lest you meet some of the men?”
“Go out first—count men—one—two—tree—four—five—six”—here June held up her fingers and laughed—“All out of way, good—all but one, call him one side. Then sing, and fetch pigeon.”
Mabel smiled at the readiness and ingenuity of the girl, and prepared to execute her requests. At the door, however, she stopped, and looked back entreatingly at the Indian woman.
“Is there no hope of your telling me more, June?” she said.
“Know all now—Block-house good—pigeon tell—Arrowhead kill.”
The last words sufficed, for Mabel could not urge further communications when her companion herself told her, that the penalty of her revelations might be death by the hand of her husband. Throwing open the door, she made a sign of adieu to June, and went out of the hut. Mabel resorted to the simple expedient of the young Indian girl, to ascertain the situation of the different individuals on the island. Instead of looking about her, with the intention of recognizing faces and dresses, she merely counted them, and found that three still remained at the fire, while two had gone to the boat, one of whom was Mr. Muir. The sixth man was her uncle, and he was coolly arranging some fishing tackle, at no great distance from the fire. The woman was just entering her own hut, and this accounted for the whole party. Mabel now, affecting to have dropped something, returned nearly to the hut she had left, warbling an air, stooped as if to pick up some object from the ground, and hurried towards the hut June had mentioned. This was a dilapidated structure, and it had been converted by the soldiers of the last detachment, into a sort of store house for their live stock. Among other things, it contained a few dozen pigeons, which were regaling on a pile of wheat, that had been brought off from one of the farms plundered on the Canada shore. Mabel had not much difficulty in catching one of these pigeons, although they fluttered and flew about the hut, with a noise like that of drums, and concealing it in her dress, she stole back towards her own hut with the prize. It was empty; and without doing more than cast a glance in at the door, the eager girl hurried down to the shore. She had no difficulty in escaping observation, for the trees and bushes made a complete cover to her person. At the canoe, she found June, who took the pigeon, placed it in a basket of her own manufacturing, and repeating the words “Block-house good,” she glided out of the bushes and across the narrow passage, as noiselessly as she had come. Mabel waited some time to catch a signal of leave taking or amity, after her friend had landed, but none was given. The adjacent islands, without exception, were as quiet as if no one had ever disturbed the sublime repose of nature, and nowhere could any sign or symptom be discovered, as Mabel then thought, that might denote the proximity of the sort of danger of which June had given notice.
On returning, however, from the shore, Mabel was struck with a little circumstance, that, in an ordinary situation, would have attracted no attention, but which, now that her suspicions had been aroused, did not pass before her uneasy eye, unnoticed. A small piece of red bunting, such as is used in the ensigns of ships, was fluttering at the lower branch of a small tree, fastened in a way to permit it to blow out, or to droop like a vessel’s pennant.
Now that Mabel’s fears were awakened, June herself could not have manifested greater quickness in analyzing facts that she believed might affect the safety of the party. She saw at a glance, that this bit of cloth could be observed from an adjacent island, that it lay so near the line between her own hut and the canoe, as to leave no doubt that June had passed near it, if not directly under it, and that it might be a signal to communicate some important fact connected with the mode of attack, to those who were probably lying in ambush near them. Tearing the little strip of bunting from the tree, Mabel hastened on, scarce knowing what duty next required. June might be false to her; but her manner, her looks, her affection, and her disposition as Mabel had known it in the journey, forbade the idea. Then came the allusion to Arrowhead’s admiration of the Pale face beauties, some dim recollections of the looks of the Tuscarora, and a painful consciousness that few wives could view with kindness one who had estranged a husband’s affections. None of these images were distinct and clear, but they rather gleamed over the mind of our heroine than rested in it, and they quickened her pulses, as they did her step, without bringing with them the prompt and clear decisions that usually followed her reflections. She had hurried onwards towards the hut occupied by the soldier’s wife, intending to remove at once to the block-house, with the woman, though she could persuade no other to follow, when her impatient walk was interrupted by the voice of Muir.
“Whither so fast, Pretty Mabel,” he cried, “and why so given to solitude?—The worthy serjeant will deride my breeding, if he hear that his daughter passes the mornings alone and unattended to, though he well knows that it is my ardent wish to be her slave and companion, from the beginning of the year to its end.”
“Surely, Mr. Muir, you must have some authority here,” Mabel suddenly arrested her steps to say. “One of your rank would be listened to, at least, by a corporal!”
“I do’n’t know that—I do’n’t know that—” interrupted Muir, with an impatience and appearance of alarm that might have excited Mabel’s attention at another moment. “Command is command, discipline, discipline, and authority, authority. Your good father would be sore grieved did he find me i
nterfering to sully, or carry off the laurels he is about to win, and I cannot command the corporal, without equally commanding the serjeant. The wisest way will be for me to remain in the obscurity of a private individual in this enterprize, and it is so that all parties, from Lundie down, understand the transaction.”
“This I know, and it may be well; nor would I give my dear father any cause of complaint, but you may influence the corporal to his own good.”
“I’ll no say that,” returned Muir, in his sly Scotch way;—“it would be far safer to promise to influence him to his injury—Mankind, pretty Mabel, have their peculiarities, and to influence a fellow being to his own good, is one of the most difficult tasks of human nature, while the opposite is just the easiest. You’ll no forget this, my dear, but bear it in mind for your edification and government—but, what is that you’re twisting round your slender finger, as you may be said to twist hearts?”
“It is nothing but a bit of cloth—a sort of flag—a trifle that is hardly worth our attention at this grave moment—If—”
“A trifle! it’s no so trifling as ye may imagine, Mistress Mabel,” taking the bit of bunting from her, and stretching it at full length with both his arms extended, while his face grew grave, and his eye watchful. “Ye’ll no ha’ been finding this, Mabel Dunham, in the breakfast?”
Mabel simply acquainted him with the spot where, and the manner in which she had found the bit of cloth. While she was speaking, the eye of the Quarter Master was not quiet for a moment, glancing from the rag to the face of our heroine, then back again to the rag. That his suspicions were awakened was easy to be seen, nor was he long in letting it be known what direction they had taken.
“We are not in a part of the world, where our ensigns and gauds ought to be spread abroad to the winds, Mabel Dunham!” he said, with an ominous shake of his head.
“I thought as much myself, Mr. Muir, and brought away the little flag, lest it might be the means of betraying our presence here, to the enemy, even though nothing is intended by its display. Ought not my uncle to be made acquainted with the circumstance?”
“I no see the necessity for that, pretty Mabel, for as you justly say it is a circumstance, and circumstances sometimes worry the worthy mariner. But this flag, if flag it can be called, belongs to a seaman’s craft. You may perceive that it is made of what is called bunting, and that is a description of cloth used only by vessels for such purposes, our colours being of silk, as you may understand, or painted canvass. It’s surprisingly like the fly of the Scud’s ensign! And now I recollect me, to have observed that a piece had been cut from that very flag!”
Mabel felt her heart sink, but she had sufficient self command not to attempt an answer.
“It must be looked to,” Muir continued, “and, after all, I think it may be well to hold a short consultation with Master Cap, than whom a more loyal subject does not exist in the British Empire.”
“I have thought the warning so serious,” Mabel rejoined, “that I am about to remove to the block-house, and to take the woman with me.”
“I do not see the prudence of that, Mabel. The block-house will be the first spot assailed, should there really be an attack, and it’s no well provided for a siege, that must be allowed. If I might advise in so delicate a contingency, I would recommend your taking refuge in the boat, which, as you may now perceive, is most favorably placed to retreat by that channel opposite, where all in it would be hid by the islands, in one or two minutes. Water leaves no trail, as Pathfinder well expresses it, and there appear to be so many different passages, in that quarter, that escape would be more than probable. I’ve always been of opinion that Lundie hazarded too much, in occupying a post as far advanced, and as much exposed as this.”
“It’s too late to regret it now, Mr. Muir, and we have only to consult our own security.”
“And the King’s honor, pretty Mabel. Yes, His Majesty’s arms, and his glorious name, are not to be overlooked on any occasion.”
“Then I think it might be better, if we all turned our eyes towards the place that has been built to maintain them, instead of the boat,” said Mabel, smiling, “and so, Mr. Muir, I am for the block-house, with a disposition to await there the return of my father, and his party. He would be sadly grieved, at finding we had fled, when he got back, successful himself, and filled with the confidence of our having been as faithful to our duties, as he has been to his own.”
“Nay, nay, for Heaven’s sake, do not misunderstand me, Mabel,” Muir interrupted with some alarm of manner, “I am far from intimating that any but you females ought to take refuge in the boat. The duty of us men is sufficiently plain no doubt, and my resolution has been formed from the first, to stand or fall by the block-house.”
“And did you imagine, Mr. Muir, that two females could row that heavy boat, in a way to escape the bark canoe of an Indian?”
“Ah! my pretty Mabel, love is seldom logical, and its fears and misgivings are apt to warp the faculties. I only saw your sweet person in possession of the means of safety, and overlooked the want of ability to use them. But you’ll no be so cruel, lovely creature, as to impute to me as a fault, my intense anxiety on your own account!”
Mabel had heard enough. Her mind was too much occupied with what had passed that morning, and with her fears, to wish to linger further to listen to love speeches, that, in her most joyous and buoyant moments, she would have found unpleasant. She took a hasty leave of her companion, and was about to trip away towards the hut of the other woman, when Muir arrested the movement, by laying a hand on her arm.
“One word, Mabel,” he said, “before you leave me. This little flag may, or it may not have a particular meaning; if it has, now that we are aware of its being shown, may it not be better to put it back again, while we watch vigilantly for some answer, that may betray the conspiracy; and if it mean nothing, why nothing will follow.”
“This may be all right, Mr. Muir, though if the whole is accidental, the flag might be the occasion of the post’s being discovered.”
Mabel stayed to utter no more, but she was soon out of sight, running into the hut towards which she had been first proceeding. The Quarter Master remained on the very spot, and in the precise attitude, in which she had left him, for quite a minute, first looking at the bounding figure of the girl, and then at the bit of bunting, which he still held before him, in a way to denote indecision. His irresolution lasted but for this minute, however, for he was soon beneath the tree, where he fastened the mimic flag to a branch, again, though, from his ignorance of the precise spot from whence it had been taken by Mabel, he left it fluttering from a part of the oak, where it was still more exposed than before, to the eyes of any passengers on the river, though less in view from the island itself.
Chapter XXI
“Each one has had his supping mess,
The cheese is put into the press,
The pans and bowls clean scalded all,
Reared up against the milk house wall.”
—Cotton, “Evening Quatrains,” ll. 33–36.
* * *
IT SEEMED STRANGE to Mabel Dunham, as she passed along, on her way to find her female companion, that others should be so composed, while she herself felt as if the responsibilities of life and death rested on her shoulders. It is true, that distrust of June’s motives, mingled with her forebodings, but when she came to recall the affectionate and natural manner of the young Indian girl, and all the evidences of good faith and sincerity that she had seen in her conduct, during the familiar intercourse of their journey, she rejected the idea, with the willingness of a generous disposition, to believe the best of others. She saw, however, that she could not put her companions properly on their guard, without letting them into the secret of her conference with June, and she found herself, compelled to act cautiously and with a forethought to which she was unaccustomed, more especially in a matter of so much moment.
The soldier’s wife was told to transport the necessaries i
nto the block-house, and admonished not to be far from it, at any time, during the day. Mabel did not explain her reasons. She merely stated that she had detected some signs, in walking about the island, that induced her to apprehend that the enemy had more knowledge of its position, than had been previously believed, and that they two, at least, would do well to be in readiness to seek a refuge at the shortest notice. It was not difficult to arouse the apprehension of this person, who, though a stout-hearted Scotch woman, was ready enough to listen to any thing that confirmed her dread of Indian cruelties. As soon as Mabel believed that her companion was sufficiently frightened to render her wary, she threw out some hints touching the inexpediency of letting the soldiers know the extent of their own fears. This was done, with a view to prevent discussions and inquiries that might embarrass our heroine, she determining to render her uncle, the corporal and his men more cautious by adopting a different course. Unfortunately, the British army could not have furnished a worse person, for the particular duty that he was now required to discharge, than Corporal McNab, the individual who had been left in command, during the absence of Serjeant Dunham. On the one hand he was resolute, prompt, familiar with all the details of a soldier’s life, and used to war; on the other, he was supercilious as regards the provincials, opinionated on every subject connected with the narrow limits of his professional practice, and much disposed to fancy the British empire the centre of all that is excellent in the world, and Scotland the focus of at least all moral excellence in that empire. In short, he was an epitome, though on a scale suited to his rank, of those very qualities, which were so peculiar to the servants of the crown, that were sent into the colonies, as these servants estimated themselves in comparison with the natives of the country, or, in other words he considered the American as an animal inferior to the parent stock, and viewed all his notions of military service in particular as undigested and absurd. Braddock, himself, was not less disposed to take advice from a provincial, than his humble imitator, and he had been known, on more than one occasion, to demur to the directions and orders of two or three commissioned officers of the corps, who happened to be born in America, simply for that reason; taking care, at the same time, with true Scotch wariness, to protect himself from the pains and penalties of positive disobedience. A more impracticable subject, therefore, could not well have offered for the purposes of Mabel, and yet she felt obliged to lose no time in putting her plan in execution.
The Leatherstocking Tales II Page 39
