By this time Hetty had become excited; her eye gleamed with the earnestness of her feelings, her cheeks flushed, and her voice, usually so low and modulated, became stronger and more impressive. With the bible she had been early made familiar by her mother, and she now turned from passage to passage, with surprising rapidity, taking care to cull such verses as taught the sublime lessons of christian charity and christian forgiveness. To translate half she said, in her pious earnestness, Wah-ta!-Wah would have found impracticable, had she made the effort, but wonder held her tongue tied, equally with the chiefs, and the young, simple-minded enthusiast had fairly become exhausted with her own efforts, before the other opened her mouth, again, to utter a syllable. Then, indeed, the Delaware girl gave a brief translation of the substance of what had been both read and said, confining herself to one or two of the more striking of the verses, those that had struck her own imagination as the most paradoxical, and which certainly would have been the most applicable to the case, could the uninstructed minds of the listeners embrace the great moral truths they conveyed.
It will be scarcely necessary to tell the reader the effect that such novel duties would be likely to produce among a group of Indian warriors, with whom it was a species of religious principle never to forget a benefit, or to forgive an injury. Fortunately, the previous explanations of Hist had prepared the minds of the Hurons for something extravagant, and most of that which to them seemed inconsistent and paradoxical, was accounted for by the fact that the speaker possessed a mind that was constituted differently from those of most of the human race. Still there were one or two old men who had heard similar doctrines from the missionaries, and these felt a desire to occupy an idle moment by pursuing a subject that they found so curious.
“This is the Good Book of the pale faces,” observed one of these chiefs, taking the volume from the unresisting hands of Hetty, who gazed anxiously at his face, while he turned the leaves, as if she expected to witness some visible results from the circumstance. “This is the law by which my white brethren professes to live?”
Hist, to whom this question was addressed, if it might be considered as addressed to any one, in particular, answered simply in the affirmative; adding that both the French of the Canadas, and the Yengeese of the British provinces equally admitted its authority, and affected to revere its principles.
“Tell my young sister,” said the Huron, looking directly at Hist, “that I will open my mouth and say a few words.”
“The Iroquois chief go to speak—My pale face friend listen,” said Hist.
“I rejoice to hear it!” exclaimed Hetty. “God has touched his heart, and he will now let father and Hurry go.”
“This is the pale face law,” resumed the chief. “It tells him to do good to them, that hurt him, and when his brother asks him for his rifle to give him the powder horn, too. Such is the pale face law?”
“Not so—not so—” answered Hetty earnestly, when these words had been interpreted—“There is not a word about rifles in the whole book, and powder and bullets give offence to the Great Spirit.”
“Why then does the pale face use them? If he is ordered to give double to him that asks only for one thing, why does he take double from the poor Indian who ask for no thing. He comes from beyond the rising sun, with this book in his hand, and he teaches the red man to read it, but why does he forget himself all it says? When the Indian gives, he is never satisfied; and now he offers gold for the scalps of our women and children, though he calls us beasts if we take the scalp of a warrior killed in open war. My name is Rivenoak.”
When Hetty had got this formidable question fairly presented to her mind in the translation, and Hist did her duty with more than usual readiness on this occasion, it scarcely need be said that she was sorely perplexed. Abler heads than that of this poor girl have frequently been puzzled by questions of a similar drift, and it is not surprising that with all her own earnestness and sincerity she did not know what answer to make.
“What shall I tell them, Hist,” she asked imploringly—“I know that all I have read from the book is true, and yet it would’n’t seem so, would it, by the conduct of those to whom the book was given?”
“Give ’em pale-face reason,” returned Hist, ironically— “that always good for one side; though he bad for t’other.”
“No—no—Hist there can’t be two sides to truth—and yet it does seem strange! I’m certain I have read the verses right, and no one would be so wicked as to print the word of God wrong. That can never be, Hist.”
“Well, to poor Injin girl, it seem every thing can be to pale faces,” returned the other, coolly. “One time ’ey say white, and one time ’ey say black. Why never can be?”
Hetty was more and more embarrassed, until overcome with the apprehension that she had failed in her object, and that the lives of her father and Hurry would be the forfeit of some blunder of her own, she burst into tears. From that moment the manner of Hist lost all its irony and cool indifference, and she became the fond caressing friend, again. Throwing her arms around the afflicted girl, she attempted to soothe her sorrows, by the scarcely ever failing remedy of female sympathy.
“Stop cry—no cry—” she said, wiping the tears from the face of Hetty, as she would have performed the same office for a child, and stopping to press her occasionally to her own warm bosom with the affection of a sister. “Why you so trouble? You no make he book, if he be wrong, and you no make he pale face if he wicked. There wicked red man, and wicked white man—no colour all good—no colour all wicked. Chiefs know that well enough.”
Hetty soon recovered from this sudden burst of grief, and then her mind reverted to the purpose of her visit, with all its single-hearted earnestness. Perceiving that the grim looking chiefs were still standing around her in grave attention, she hoped that another effort to convince them of the right might be successful.
“Listen, Hist,” she said, struggling to suppress her sobs, and to speak distinctly—“Tell the chiefs that it matters not what the wicked do—right is right—The words of The Great Spirit are the words of The Great Spirit—and no one can go harmless for doing an evil act, because another has done it before him. ‘Render good for evil,’ says this book, and that is the law for the red man as well as for the white man.”
“Never hear such law among Delaware, or among Iroquois—” answered Hist soothingly. “No good to tell chiefs any such laws as dat. Tell ’em somet’ing they believe.”
Hist was about to proceed, notwithstanding, when a tap on the shoulder, from the finger of the oldest chief caused her to look up. She then perceived that one of the warriors had left the group, and was already returning to it with Hutter and Hurry. Understanding that the two last were to become parties in the inquiry, she became mute, with the unhesitating obedience of an Indian woman. In a few seconds the prisoners stood face to face with the principal men of the captors.
“Daughter,” said the senior chief to the young Delaware, “ask this grey beard why he came into our camp?”
The question was put by Hist, in her own imperfect English, but in a way that was easy to be understood. Hutter was too stern and obdurate by nature, to shrink from the consequences of any of his acts, and he was also too familiar with the opinions of the savages not to understand that nothing was to be gained by equivocation or an unmanly dread of their anger. Without hesitating, therefore, he avowed the purpose with which he had landed, merely justifying it by the fact that the government of the province had bid high for scalps. This frank avowal was received by the Iroquois, with evident satisfaction, not so much, however, on account of the advantage it gave them in a moral point of view, as by its proving that they had captured a man worthy of occupying their thoughts and of becoming a subject of their revenge. Hurry, when interrogated, confessed the truth, though he would have been more disposed to concealment than his sterner companion, did the circumstances very well admit of its adoption. But he had tact enough to discover that equivocation would
be useless, at that moment, and he made a merit of necessity by imitating a frankness, which, in the case of Hutter, was the offspring of habits of indifference acting on a disposition that was always ruthless, and reckless of personal consequences.
As soon as the chiefs had received the answers to their questions, they walked away, in silence, like men who deemed the matter disposed of, all Hetty’s dogmas being thrown away on beings trained in violence, from infancy to manhood. Hetty and Hist were now left alone with Hutter and Hurry, no visible restraint being placed on the movements of either; though all four, in fact, were vigilantly and unceasingly watched. As respects the men, care was had to prevent them from getting possession of any of the rifles, that lay scattered about, their own included; and there all open manifestations of watchfulness ceased. But they, who were so experienced in Indian practices, knew too well how great was the distance between appearances and reality, to become the dupes of this seeming carelessness. Although both thought incessantly of the means of escape, and this without concert, each was aware of the uselessness of attempting any project of the sort that was not deeply laid, and promptly executed. They had been long enough in the encampment, and were sufficiently observant to have ascertained that Hist, also, was a sort of captive, and, presuming on the circumstance, Hutter spoke in her presence, more openly than he might otherwise have thought it prudent to do; inducing Hurry to be equally unguarded by his example.
“I’ll not blame you, Hetty, for coming on this errand, which was well meant if not very wisely planned,” commenced the father, seating himself by the side of his daughter, and taking her hand; a sign of affection that this rude being was accustomed to manifest to this particular child. “But preaching, and the bible, are not the means to turn an Indian from his ways. Has Deerslayer sent any message; or has he any scheme by which he thinks to get us free?”
“Ay, that’s the substance of it!” put in Hurry. “If you can help us, gal, to half a mile of freedom, or even a good start of a short quarter, I’ll answer for the rest. Perhaps the old man may want a little more, but for one of my height and years that will meet all objections.”
Hetty looked distressed, turning her eyes from one to the other, but she had no answer to give to the question of the reckless Hurry.
“Father,” she said, “neither Deerslayer, nor Judith knew of my coming, until I had left the Ark. They are afraid the Iroquois will make a raft, and try to get off to the hut, and think more of defending that, than of coming to aid you.”
“No—no—no—” said Hist hurriedly, though in a low voice, and with her face bent towards the earth, in order to conceal from those whom she knew to be watching them the fact of her speaking at all. “No—no—no—Deerslayer different man. He no t’ink of defending ’self, with friend in danger. Help one another, and all get to hut.”
“This sounds well, old Tom,” said Hurry, winking and laughing, though he too used the precaution to speak low—“Give me a ready witted squaw for a fri’nd, and though I’ll not downright defy an Iroquois, I think I would defy the devil.”
“No talk loud,” said Hist. “Some Iroquois got Yengeese tongue, and all got Yengeese ear.”
“Have we a friend in you, young woman?” enquired Hutter with an increasing interest in the conference. “If so, you may calculate on a solid reward, and nothing will be easier than to send you to your own tribe, if we can once fairly get you off with us to the castle. Give us the Ark and the canoes, and we can command the lake, spite of all the savages in the Canadas. Nothing but artillery could drive us out of the castle, if we can get back to it.”
“ ’S’pose ’ey come ashore to take scalp?” retorted Hist, with cool irony, at which the girl appeared to be more expert than is common for her sex.
“Ay—ay—that was a mistake; but there is little use in lamentations, and less still, young woman, in flings.”
“Father,” said Hetty, “Judith thinks of breaking open the big chest, in hopes of finding something in that which may buy your freedom of the savages.”
A dark look came over Hutter at the announcement of this fact, and he muttered his dissatisfaction in a way to render it intelligible enough.
“What for no break open chest?” put in Hist. “Life sweeter than old chest—scalp sweeter than old chest. If no tell darter to break him open, Wah-ta!-Wah no help him to run away.”
“Ye know not what ye ask—ye are but silly girls, and the wisest way for ye both is to speak of what ye understand and to speak of nothing else. I little like this cold neglect of the savages, Hurry; it’s a proof that they think of something serious, and if we are to do any thing, we must do it soon. Can we count on this young woman, think you?”
“Listen—” said Hist quickly, and with an earnestness that proved how much her feelings were concerned—“Wah-ta!-Wah no Iroquois—All over Delaware—got Delaware heart—Delaware feeling. She prisoner, too. One prisoner help t’udder prisoner. No good to talk more, now. Darter stay with fader—Wah-ta!-Wah come and see friend—all look right—Then tell what he do.”
This was said in a low voice, but distinctly, and in a manner to make an impression. As soon as it was uttered the girl arose, and left the group, walking composedly towards the hut she occupied, as if she had no further interest in what might pass between the pale-faces.
Chapter XII
“She speaks much of her father; says she hears,
There’s tricks i’ the world; and hems, and beats her breast;
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense; her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection;—”
—Hamlet, IV.v.4–9.
* * *
WE LEFT THE OCCUPANTS of the castle and the ark, buried in sleep. Once, or twice, in the course of the night, it is true, Deerslayer, or the Delaware, arose and looked out upon the tranquil lake; when, finding all safe, each returned to his pallet, and slept like a man who was not easily deprived of his natural rest. At the first signs of the dawn, the former arose, however, and made his personal arrangements for the day; though his companion, whose nights had not been tranquil, or without disturbances, of late, continued on his blanket, until the sun had fairly risen. Judith too, was later than common, that morning, for the earlier hours of the night had brought her little of either refreshment, or sleep. But ere the sun had shown himself over the eastern hills, these too were up and afoot, even the tardy in that region seldom remaining on their pallets, after the appearance of the great luminary.
Chingachgook was in the act of arranging his forest toilet, when Deerslayer entered the cabin of the Ark and threw him a few coarse but light summer vestments that belonged to Hutter.
“Judith hath given me them for your use, chief,” said the latter, as he cast the jacket and trousers at the feet of the Indian, “for it’s ag’in all prudence and caution to be seen in your war dress and paint. Wash off all them fiery streaks from your cheeks, put on these garments, and here is a hat, such as it is, that will give you an awful oncivilized sort of civilization, as the missionaries call it. Remember that Hist is at hand, and what we do for the maiden, must be done while we are doing for others. I know it’s ag’in your gifts and your natur’ to wear clothes, unless they are cut and carried in a redman’s fashion, but make a vartue of necessity, and put these on, at once, even if they do rise a little in your throat.”
Chingachgook, or the Serpent, eyed the vestments with strong disgust; but he saw the usefulness of the disguise, if not its absolute necessity. Should the Iroquois discover a red-man, in or about the Castle, it might, indeed, place them more on their guard, and give their suspicions a direction towards their female captive. Any thing was better than a failure as it regarded his betrothed, and, after turning the different garments round and round, examining them with a species of grave irony, affecting to draw them on in a way that defeated itself, and otherwise manifesting the reluctance
of a young savage to confine his limbs in the usual appliances of civilized life, the chief submitted to the directions of his companion, and finally stood forth, so far as the eye could detect, a red man in colour alone. Little was to be apprehended from this last peculiarity, however, the distance from the shore, and the want of glasses preventing any very close scrutiny, and Deerslayer, himself, though of a brighter and fresher tint, had a countenance that was burnt by the sun to a hue scarcely less red than that of his Mohican companion. The awkwardness of the Delaware in his new attire, caused his friend to smile, more than once that day, but he carefully abstained from the use of any of those jokes, which would have been bandied among white men on such an occasion, the habits of a chief, the dignity of a warrior on his first path, and the gravity of the circumstances in which they were placed, uniting to render so much levity out of season.
The meeting at the morning meal of the three islanders, if we may use the term, was silent, grave and thoughtful. Judith showed by her looks that she had passed an unquiet night, while the two men had the future before them, with its unseen and unknown events. A few words of courtesy passed between Deerslayer and the girl, in the course of the breakfast, but no allusion was made to their situation. At length Judith, whose heart was full, and whose novel feelings disposed her to entertain sentiments more gentle and tender than common, introduced the subject, and this in a way to show how much of her thoughts it had occupied, in the course of the last sleepless night.
“It would be dreadful, Deerslayer,” the girl abruptly exclaimed, “should any thing serious befall my father and Hetty! We cannot remain quietly here, and leave them in the hands of the Iroquois, without bethinking us of some means of serving them.”
“I’m ready, Judith, to sarve them, and all others who are in trouble, could the way to do it be p’inted out. It’s no trifling matter to fall into red-skin hands, when men set out on an ar’n’d like that which took Hutter and Hurry ashore; that I know as well as another, and I would’n’t wish my worst inimy in such a strait, much less them with whom I’ve journeyed, and eat, and slept. Have you any scheme, that you would like to have the Sarpent and me, indivour to carry out?”
The Leatherstocking Tales II Page 77
