Bennett, Emerson - Ella Barnwell

by Ella Barnwell (lit)

  What the meditations of the renegade were, we shall not essay to tell; but doubtless they were of a gloomy nature; for after sitting in the position we have described, some moments, without moving, he suddenly started, unclasped his hands, and looked hurriedly around him on every side, as if half expecting, yet fearful of beholding, some frightful phantom; but he apparently saw nothing to confirm his fears; and with a heavy sigh, he resumed his former position.

  What were the thoughts of that dark man, as he sat there?--he whose soul had been steeped in crime!--he whose hands had long been made red with the blood of numberless innocent victims! Who shall say what guilty deeds of the past might have been harrowing up his soul to fear and even remorse? Who shall say he was not then and there meditating upon death, and the dread eternity and judgment that must quickly follow dissolution? Who shall say he was not secretly repenting of that life of crime, which had already drawn down the curses of thousands upon his head? Something of the kind, or something equally powerful, must have been at work within him; for his features ever and anon, by their mournful contortions--if we may be allowed the phrase--gave visible tokens of one in deep agony of mind. It would be no pleasant task to analyze and lay bare the secret workings of so dark a spirit, even had we power to do it; and so we will leave his thoughts, whether good or evil, to himself and his God.

  By his side, and within two feet of the renegade, lay extended the beautiful form of Ella Barnwell--with nothing but a blanket and her own garments between her and the earth--with none but a similar covering over her--with her head resting upon a stone, and apparently asleep. We say apparently asleep; but the drowsy son of Erebus and Nox had not yet closed her eyelids in slumber; for there were thoughts in her breast more potent than all his persuasive arts of forgetfulness, or those of his prime minister, Morpheus. Was she thinking of her own hard fate--away there in that lonely forest--with not a friend nigh that could render her assistance--with no hope of escape from the awful doom to which she was hastening? Or was she thinking of him, for whom her heart yearned with all the thousand, undefined, indescribable sympathies of affection?--of him who so lately had been her companion?--for the heart of love measures duration, not by the cold mathematical calculation of minutes and hours, and days and weeks, and months and years, but by events and feelings; and the acquaintance of weeks may seem the friend of years, and the acquaintance of years be almost forgotten in weeks;--was she thinking of him, we say--of Algernon? who, even in misery, had been torn from her side, had said perchance his last trembling farewell, and gone to suffer a death at which humanity must shudder! Ay, all these thoughts, and a thousand others, were rushing wildly through her feverish brain. She thought of her own fate--of his--of her relations--pictured out in her imagination the terrible doom of each--and her tender heart became wrung to the most excruciating point of agony.

  By the side of Ella, was her adopted mother--buried in that troubled sleep which great fatigue sends to the body, even when the mind is ill at ease, filling it with startling visions--and around the fire, as we said before, lay the dusky forms of the savages, lost to all consciousness of the outer world. The position of Ella was such, that, by slightly turning her head, she could command a view of the features of the renegade; whose strange workings, as before noted, served to fix her attention and divide her thoughts between him, as the cause of her present unhappiness, and that unhappiness itself--and she gazed on his loathsome, contorted countenance, with much the same feeling as one might be supposed to gaze upon a serpent coiling itself around the body, whose deadly fangs, either sooner or later, would assuredly give the fatal stroke of death. She noted the sudden start of Girty, and the wildness with which he peered around him, with feelings of hope and fear--hope, that rescue m ight be at hand--fear, lest something more dreadful was about to happen. At length Girty started again, and turned his head toward Ella so suddenly, that she had not time to withdraw her eyes ere his were fixed searchingly upon them.

  "And are you too awake?" he said, with something resembling a sigh. "I thought the innocent could ever sleep!"

  "Not when the guilty are abroad, with deeds of death, and friends exposed," returned Ella, bitterly.

  "Ah! true--true!" rejoined Girty, again looking toward the fire, in a musing mood.

  "Well may you muse and writhe under the tortures of your guilty acts," continued Ella, in the same bitter tone; "for you have much to answer for, Simon Girty."

  "And who told you the past tortured me?" cried Girty, quickly, turning on her a fierce expression.

  "Your changing features and guilty starts," answered Ella.

  "Ha! then you have been a spy upon me, have you?" said Girty, pressing the words slowly through his clenched teeth, knitting his shaggy brows, and fixing his eye with intensity upon hers, until she quailed and trembled beneath its seeming fiery glance; which the light, whereby it was seen, rendered more demon-like than usual; while it made shadow chase shadow, like waves of the sea, across his face: "You have been a spy upon my actions, eh? Beware! Ella Barnwell--beware! Do not put your head in the lion's mouth too often, or he may think the bait troublesome; and by ----! had other than you told me what I just now heard, he or she had not lived to repeat it."

  "Far better an early death and innocence, than a long life of guilt and misery," returned Ella, at once regaining her boldness of speech; "Far better the fate you speak of, than mine."

  "And would you prefer being wedded to death, rather than me?" asked Girty, quickly, in surprise.

  "Ay, a thousand times!" replied Ella, energetically, rising as she spoke, into a sitting posture, and looking fearlessly upon the renegade, her previously pale features now flushed with excitement. "I fear not death, Simon Girty; I have done no act that should make me fear the change that all must sooner or later undergo; but I could not join my hand to that of a man of blood, without loathing and horror, and feeling criminal in the sight of God and man; and least of all to you, Simon Girty, whose name has become a word of terror to the weak and innocent of my race, and whose deeds of late have been such as to make me join my voice in the general maledictions called down upon you."

  During this speech of Ella, Girty sat and gazed upon her with the look of a baffled demon; and, as she concluded, fairly hissed through his teeth:

  "And so you would prefer death to me, eh? By ----! you shall have your choice!"

  As he spoke, he grasped Ella by the wrist with one hand, seized his tomahawk with the other, and sprung upon his feet. His rapid movement and wild manner now really frightened her; and uttering a faint cry of horror, she endeavored to release his hold; while the warriors, aroused by the noise, bounded up from the earth, weapon in hand, with looks of alarm.

  Turning to them, Girty now spoke a few words in the Indian tongue; and, with significant glances at Ella, they were just in the act of again encamping, when crack went some five or six rifles, followed by yells little less savage than their own, and four of them rolled upon the earth, groaning with pain; while the others, surprised and bewildered, grasped their weapons and shouted:

  "The Shemanoes!" "The Long Knives!" not knowing whether to stand or fly.

  Girty, meantime, had been left unharmed; although the shivering of the helve of the tomahawk in his hand, in front of his breast, showed him he had been a target for no mean marksman, and that his life had been preserved almost by a miracle. For a moment he stood irresolute--his nostrils fairly dilated with fear and rage, still holding Ella by the wrist, who was too paralyzed with what she had seen to speak or move--straining his eyes in every direction to note, if possible, the number of his foes and whence their approach. The whole glance was momentary; but he saw himself nearly surrounded by his enemies, who were fast closing in toward the center with fierce yells; and pausing no longer in indecision, he encircled Ella's waist with his left arm, raised her from the ground, and keeping her as much as possible between himself and his enemies, to deter them from firing, darted away toward a thicket, some fifty yards distant
, pursued by two of the attacking party.

  Just as Girty gained the thicket, one of his pursuers made a sudden bound forward and grasped him by the arm; but his hold was the next moment shaken off by the renegade, who, being now rendered desperate, drew a pistol from his belt, with the rapidity of lightning, and laid the bold adventurer dead at his feet. Almost at the same moment, Girty received a blow on the back of his head, from the breech of the rifle of his other antagonist, that staggered him forward; when, releasing his hold of Ella, he turned and darted off in another direction, firing a pistol as he went, the ball of which whizzed close to the head of him for whom it was designed; and in a moment more he was lost in the mazes of the forest.

  Meantime the bloody work was going forward in the center; for at the moment when Girty darted away, the report of some three or four rifles again echoed through the wood, two more of the red warriors bit the dust, while the other two fled in opposite directions, leaving Boone and his party sole masters of the field.

  Eager, excited, reckless and wild, several of the young men now rushed forward, with yells of triumph, to the wounded Indians, whom they immediately tomahawked without mercy, and began to scalp, when the voice of Boone, who had been more cautious, reached them from a distance:

  "Beware o' the fire-light, lads! or the red varmints will draw a bead[11] on some of ye."

  Scarcely were the words uttered, ere his warning was sadly fulfilled; for the two savages finding they were not pursued, and thirsting for revenge, turned and fired almost simultaneously, with aims so deadly, that one of the young men, by the name of Beecher, fell mortally wounded and expired a moment after; and another, by the name of Morris, had his wrist shattered by a ball. This fatal event produced a panic in the others, who at once fled precipitately into the darkness, leaving Mrs. Younker, who had by this time gained her feet, standing alone by the fire, a bewildered spectator of the terrible tragedies that had so lately been enacted by her side. To her Boone now immediately advanced, notwithstanding the caution he had given the others; and turning to him as he came up, the good lady exclaimed, in a tone of astonishment:

  "Why, Colonel Boone, be this here you? Why when did you come--and how on yarth did ye git here--and what in the name o' all creation has been happening? For ye see I war jest dosing away thar by the fire, and dreaming all sorts of things, like all nater, when somehow I kind o' thought I'd all at once turned into a man and gone to war a rale soldier; and the battle had opened, and the big guns war blazing away, and the little guns war popping off, and the soldiers war shrieking and groaning and falling around me, like all possessed; and men a trampling, and horses a running like skeered deer; and then I sort o' woke up, and jumped up, and seed all them dead Injen wretches; and then I jest begun to think as how it warn't no dream at all, but a living truth, all 'cept my being a man and a soldier, as you com'd up. Well, ef this arn't a queer world," resumed the good dame, catching breath meanwhile, "as Preacher Allprayer used to say, then maybe as how I don't know nothing at all about it."

  "Your dream war a very nateral one, Mrs. Younker," returned Boone, who, during the speech of the other, had been actively employed in scattering the burning brands, to prevent the recurrence of another sad catastrophe; "and I'm rejoiced to see that you've escaped unharmed, amid this bloody work. Allow me to set you free;" and as he spoke, he drew his scalping knife, and severed the thongs that bound her wrists.

  "Gracious on me!" cried the dame, chafing the parts which had been swollen by the tightness of the cords; "how clever 'tis to get free agin, and have the use o' one's hands and tongue, to do and say jest what a body pleases; for d'ye know, Colonel Boone, them thar imps of Satan war awfully afeared o' my talking to 'em, to convince 'em they war the meanest varmints in the whole univarsul yarth o' creation; and actually put a peremshus stop to my saying what I thought on 'em; although I told 'em as how it war a liberty as these blessed colonies war this moment fighting for with the hateful red-coated Britishers. But, Lord presarve us! gracious on us! where in marcy's sake is my dear, darling Ella?" concluded Mrs. Younker, with vehemence and alarm, as she now missed her adopted daughter for the first time.

  "She's here, mother," answered a voice close behind her; and turning round, the dame uttered a cry of joy, sprung into the arms of her son Isaac, and wept upon his neck--occasionally articulating, in a choked voice:

  "God bless you, Isaac! God bless you, son!--you're a good boy--the Lord's presarved you through the whole on't--the Lord be praised!--but your father, poor lad--your father!" and with a strong burst of emotion, she buried her face upon his breast, and wept aloud.

  "I know it," sobbed forth Isaac, his whole frame shaken with the force of his feelings: "I--I know the whole on't, mother--Ella's told me. I'd rather he'd bin killed a thousand times; but thar's no help for it now!"

  "No help for it!" cried Ella in alarm, who, having greeted the old hunter, with tearful eyes, now stood weepin g by his side. "No help for it! Heaven have mercy!--say not so! They must--they must be rescued!" Then turning wildly to Boone, she grasped his hand in both of hers, and exclaimed: "Oh! sir, speak! tell me they can be saved--and on my knees will I bless you!"

  A few words now rapidly uttered by Isaac, put the old hunter in possession of the facts, concerning the forced march of Younker and Reynolds, of which he had previously heard nothing; and musing on the information a few moments, he shook his head sadly, and said, with a sigh:

  "I'm sorry for you, Ella--I'm sorry for all o' ye--I'm sorry on my own account--but I'm o' the opinion o' Isaac, that thar's no help for it now. They're too far beyond us--we're in the Indian country--our numbers are few--two or three o' the red varmints have escaped to give 'em information o' what's been done--they'll be thirsty for revenge--and nothing but a special Providence can now alter that prisoners' doom. I had hoped it war to be otherwise; but we must submit to God's decrees;" and raising his hand to his eyes, the old woodsman hastily brushed away a tear, and turned aside to conceal his emotion; while Ella, overcome by her feelings, at the thought of having parted, perhaps for the last time, from Algernon and her uncle, staggered forward and sunk powerless into the arms of Mrs. Younker, whose tears now mingled with her own.

  By this time the whole party had gathered silently around their noble leader, and were observing the sad scene as much as the feeble light of the scattered brands would permit, their faces exhibiting a mournfulness of expression in striking contrast to that they had so lately displayed, previous to the death of their comrade. To them Boone now turned, and running his eye slowly over the whole, said, in a sad voice:

  "Well, lads, one o' our party's gone to his last account, I perceive," and he pointed mournfully to the still body of Beecher, some three or four paces distant; "another I see is wounded, and a third's missing. I hope no harm's befallen him, the noble Master Harry Millbanks!"

  "Alas! he's dead, Colonel!" answered Isaac, covering his eyes with his hand.

  "Dead?" echoed Boone.

  "Dead?" cried the others, simultaneously.

  "Yes," rejoined Isaac, with a sigh; "He and I war chasing that thar infernal renegade Girty, who war running away with Ella thar; and he'd jest got up to him, and got him by the arm, when Girty shuk him off like it warn't nothing at all, and then shot him dead on the spot. Ef he hadn't a bin quite so quick about it, I think as how it wouldn't a happened; for the next moment I hit him a rap on the head with the butt-end o' my rifle, that sent him a staggering off, and would ha' fetched him to the ground, ef it hadn't first struck a limb. Howsomever, it made him let go o' Ella, and start up a new trail--jest leaving his compliments for me in the shape of a bullet, which, ef it didn't do me no harm, it warn't 'cause he didn't intend it to. I jest stopped to look at poor Harry; and finding he war dead, I took Ella by the hand and come straight down here."

  "Who's that you said war dead, Isaac?" inquired his mother, who had partially overheard the conversation.

  "Harry Millbanks, mother."

  "Harry Millbanks!" repe
ated the dame in astonishment. "What, young Harry?--our Harry?--Goodness gracious, marcy on me! what orful mean wretches them Injens is, to kill sech as him. Dear me! then the hull family is gone; for I hearn from Rosetta, that her father and mother and all war killed afore her eyes; and now she's bin taken on to be killed too, the darling."

  "Ha! yes," said Boone, as if struck with a new thought; "I remember seeing the foot-prints of a child--war they made by this unfortunate young man's sister?"

  "I reckon as how they war," answered Mrs. Younker; "for the poor thing war a prisoner along with us, crying whensomever she dared to, like all nater."

  "Well," rejoined the old hunter, musingly, "we've done all we could--I'm sorry it didn't turn out better--but we must now leave their fates in the hands o' Providence, and return to our homes. We must bury our dead first; and I don't know o' any better way than to sink thar bodies in the Ohio."

  Accordingly, after some further conversation, four of the party proceeded for the body of Millbanks--with which they soon returned--while Boone conducted the ladies away from the scene of horror, and down to where Ella informed him the canoes were hidden, leaving his younger companions to rifle and scalp the savages if they chose. In a few minutes from his arrival at the point in question, he was joined by the others, who came slowly, in silence, bearing the mortal remains of Millbanks and Beecher. Placing the canoes in the water, the whole party entered them, in the same silent and solemn manner, and pulled slowly down the Miami, into the middle of the Ohio; then leaving the vessels to float with the current, they uncovered their heads, and mournfully consigned the bodies of the deceased to the watery element.