The German Pioneers Part 12

The rough word awakened laughter everywhere, but after the laughter it became still.

The minister slipped the snuff-box into his pocket, took off his large three-cornered hat, shoved back the much-used, short wig and thus proceeded:

"I wish with you all to call upon the Lord, and beseech Him that this time the cup, which we emptied last year to the last bitter dregs, the taste of which still lies on our tongues, may graciously pa.s.s from us; and if in His incomprehensible wisdom he has decreed that it shall not be so, and that He will again try our hearts and reins, that then, in His grace, He will give us strength to endure the severe trial like brave men who know that the good G.o.d, in spite of all and everything, does not forsake him who does not forsake himself, and helps him who helps himself. This, dear friends and countrymen, is a word which has been profitable in many ways and at many times, but never and for no one more than for us at this time. Who will deliver us out of our distress and danger here, on the utmost border of the earth, occupied by people of our race, where surrounding enemies lurk and go about to destroy us, but G.o.d and ourselves? And with G.o.d's help we will save ourselves--of this I am fully convinced--if we keep His commandment which reads: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' Since if we, as it becomes neighbors, stand beside each other, shoulder to shoulder, with one mind and one heart, and full of the same courage in danger, distress and death, then and only then, dear friends, shall we overcome the danger and deliver ourselves from the distress, and die, should death meet us, as brave men, discharging our highest duty as men and Christians. And now, dear friends, after having said what I, as a servant of the Word of G.o.d and a man of peace, wished to say, from a full and loving heart, I thank you that you have listened to me attentively. Will you not with equal attention listen to the man whom we all know and honor, an honest farmer like yourselves, and in addition a brave soldier. May the Lord bless him so that he may give you good advice; and may the Lord bless you so that you may take advice; and may He protect us all and let the light of His countenance fall upon us and give us peace. Amen."

The earnest words of the minister, who spoke--especially toward the last--with a deeply moved voice, did not entirely fail of their effect.

An approving murmur ran here and there through the a.s.sembly. But the voice of the speaker had scarcely ceased and his form disappeared from the table when again, though not as loud as before, some voices were raised asking what was the object of the talk? whether they had come here to hear a sermon?

"Talking costs no money and the minister can talk well. He was last year one of the first to run for the fort, and left the rest to their fate, but truly it is well not to be before a gun when it is fired off."

So here and there spake those who were dissatisfied. Others said they should be ashamed to say such things about so excellent a man. Others called: "Quiet! don't you see that Herkimer wants to speak?"

So at last Nicolas Herkimer, who had already stood on the table a few minutes and let his keen, earnest eyes pa.s.s over the a.s.sembly, raised his voice. He spoke long and impressively. He unfolded in every particular the plan which he had, in its chief parts, before told Lambert. In it he had thought of everything, remembered everything, and reduced to its smallest compa.s.s the threatened danger that could be avoided.

"That is what I have to say," he concluded. "Now it is for you to test my proposals. We are free men, and each one can in the end do what he pleases, and carry his hide to market this way or that. But that we are free does not forbid us to be united. On the other hand, only by being united shall we preserve and protect our freedom. United we cannot be and become, if you talk and cry out among each other as just now you did, again. Whoever knows anything better than I, let him come here and speak. Let him who does not, keep still and listen. And let us not forget--what we tell our children--that he who will not hear must feel.

Who wishes to speak after me?"

"I!" "I!" called out a couple of dozen voices.

"You cannot all speak at once," said Herkimer with some bitterness; "so you come here, Hans Haberkorn. You screamed the loudest."

Hans Haberkorn, the ferryman, appeared beside Herkimer on the table.

The small, undersized, barefoot fellow who had, behind the bar connected with his ferry, so often spoken large words and scolded his rich neighbor on the other side of the river, could not let the opportunity pa.s.s to tell the last speaker the truth--as he expressed it--before all the world. He wanted to know whether it was honest and neighborly in Nicolas Herkimer that he wanted three ferries at the same time over the river within half a mile of each other, after it had been promised him, Hans Haberkorn, that he should be the only ferryman on this ground? That he on that account had settled on a piece of land which consisted of moor and sand, and on which he would long since have starved if he had not also a beer saloon. Now the two ferries should be used only in urgent cases, and then again discontinued, or--what would follow--let the wolf eat. It was absolutely certain that one ferry without a beer saloon could not support itself. Both the other ferries would want to set up beer saloons, and then it would be to him, personally, the same whether the French came to-day or to-morrow and killed him with his wife and children. For his part he would rather be put to death at once than starve to death by degrees.

"Hans Haberkorn is right!" called out half a dozen voices.

"Shame on the good-for-nothing fellow who thinks only about himself!"

cried others, and pressed toward the table from which Hans Haberkorn quickly jumped. The place he vacated was again occupied by big John Mertens, who had a large farm on the moor between the Mohawk and the creek, near the church, and by some was considered to be better off than Herkimer himself. In any case one could always be sure that John Mertens would oppose anything that Herkimer and the minister wanted, of whom he observed that they always stuck under the same cover. With this--his favorite expression--he began his discourse, saying: That one might well know what to think of a plan that had been formed without consulting him, John Mertens, who also had a word to say, having ten head of cattle in the pasture more than people whom he would not name; nor would he speak of the sheep and the English hogs which he had first introduced; that every child knew that one could not bring sheep out of a stable when the roof over their heads was afire; nor could one drive fifty hogs away so fast that a lame Indian could not overtake them, not to speak of a dozen who could run. They might think of John Mertens so or so, but he is an honest fellow who does not hide his meaning behind a bush. This was what he wanted to say--The discourse of the big farmer was very confused, and was partly lost in the fat of his double chin; but his adherents, of whom the number was not small, showed their approbation with screams and yells. The opposite party did not fail to pay back such an answer as was due. A dreadful tumult arose, which Nicolas Herkimer's powerful voice could not overcome. It seemed as if the consultation on whose issue the weal or woe of hundreds hung, through the folly and conceit of a couple of dozen would end in empty confusion and disorder.

Suddenly there stood beside Nicolas Herkimer a person, the mere sight of whom, as with a blow, brought the boisterous a.s.sembly to order, as though a dead man had become alive and wished to address them. The giant-long, skeleton-lean form of Christian Ditmar, whose bony hands were stretched apart as if in conjuration, while, from under the thick fur cap the gray hair in disordered strands was whipped by the wind about his ghost-like face, was awe-inspiring. Then he raised his voice, which now shrieked frantically, and then again rung out like thunder, and thus spoke:

"So is being fulfilled the Word of G.o.d: 'The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children to the third and fourth generation.' Yes, the sins of the fathers. You have quarreled with each other and raised your arms against each other while French wolves are howling around the German flock, and have worried and killed as their wicked hearts desired. They murdered my parents and brothers and sisters. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw too my parents' house go up in flames, and our neighbors' houses burning, and the city became a ruin and an ash-heap--the beautiful proud city on the Neckar. Among the ruins wandered weeping wives looking among the ashes for the bones of husbands and brothers, and cried: 'Woe!' 'Woe!' 'A deadly curse on you hangmen and murdering incendiaries!'

"I, a weak boy, cried along with them: 'Woe! Woe! A curse upon you, you hangmen, and murdering incendiaries!' After many years I came here, and again found them, the mean French wolves, howling around the German flock; and I disputed with the rest and separated from the others, and went out with my wife and my sons to take vengeance on those who had killed my parents and all my kindred. How did the vengeance look when my four brave boys lay dead at their father's feet, each with a bullet through his breast?"

Christian Ditmar was silent a few moments. He must suppress the sadness that rose in his heart at these recollections. He then proceeded with increasing emotion:

"And so you have suffered and bled, earlier and later, under the greedy teeth. However I, who have suffered more than you all, I tell you that I deserved it since I blindly followed the voice of my heart crying for vengeance and did not hearken to the advice of more prudent men; and so you have deservedly suffered, and will suffer, since you also will not listen, you fools and madmen, and propose to separate as you came, the one this way, the other that, by which the wolves will again have an easy play. But then your own and your children's blood will rest on you as my children's blood has come upon me. Here--!"

Christian Ditmar tore his fur cap from his head. A broad, fearful scar ran like a stream of blood over the high forehead from one temple to the other.

"Here!" he repeated, while with his forefinger he pointed to the track of blood; "here! here!" He raised both hands to his head, and with a dull cry that rang dreadfully through the silent a.s.sembly, he fell helpless. Nicolas Herkimer caught him in his arms; but soon the old man gathered himself up and, with Lambert's help, who quickly sprang to his aid, descended from the table and walked slowly to the entrance into the door-yard, supported by the strong arm of his wife and attended by Lambert.

"Have you now heard?" said Aunt Ursul to the rest who crowded around, helpful and eager. "Have you now heard, you straw-heads? Why do you stand about here and gape? I can take care of my old man alone. Better go and do what he has told you. You also stay here, Lambert, and when you pa.s.s our house stop a moment. I wish to speak with you."

Lambert brought out the horses of his relatives from the long row of those which were swinging their tails under the shed, and bridled them.

He now helped into the saddle his uncle, who had fallen back into his former stupidity, and after his great excitement seemed to take no farther part in the matter. Meanwhile Aunt Ursul had resolutely brought a stool and from it mounted her horse. Lambert looked at the retreating figures until they reached the ferry, where Hans Haberkorn's oldest boy, in the absence of his father, attended to the service, and then returned to the meeting, in which there now prevailed a very different mood.

The appearance and words of Christian Ditmar had produced a powerful effect. Everybody knew the witless Christian and his history, and that he had been dumb since he had lost his sons, and his oldest friends could no longer remember the sound of his voice. And now the dumb had opened his mouth and had spoken fearful words, which cut to the heart those who listened in dumb wonderment. Yes, yes; it was, if not a miracle, at least a sign--a gray sign--well enough understood by the superst.i.tious. When men are silent stones will speak. They had not been silent before--far otherwise--but they had not listened; they would now listen; they wanted to hear Herkimer explain his views once more.

Nicolas Herkimer did so, and with a result far different from the first. They now found that it must be altogether so, and not otherwise--that better advice could not be given. Should the French this time select Canada Creek as the first point of attack, as to all appearance they would, it would be very bad for Lambert Sternberg and the Ditmars and the Eisenlords and the rest. But it could not be helped. When now Lambert appeared on the table and in a few plain words said that he was proud to a.s.sume the existing responsibility, and that he would hold out on his post to his last breath, and that he now desired the young men who had a heart and a good rifle for the undertaking, at once to go with him to-day; then August and Fritz Volz and Christian Eisenlord, and half a dozen others, cried out: "I!" "I!"

with one voice, and pressing up joined the fighting band.

The leaders of the three cavalry squads were now selected. These were to help those on and away from the Mohawk, and on the creek, as they were fleeing to the forts. So also right men were quickly appointed for the old ferry, and for the added new ones, and for the other important posts which were yet to be provided for.

The excellent spirit which had seized the a.s.sembly made them unwilling to hear any more quarreling and strife; and those who grumbled secretly, such as Hans Haberkorn, John Mertens and others, thought it better policy to lay aside their opposition for a more convenient time.

It was late in the afternoon when Nicolas Herkimer declared the business finished, and asked the minister to close the meeting. The minister put up his snuff-box, stepped on the table and spoke with a loud voice which clearly indicated deep feeling, as follows:

"Dear neighbors and friends: I will not speak long, for you are in a hurry to get home to your wives and children. I will only ask you with me briefly to thank G.o.d that He has opened our hearts to the spirit of brotherliness and love, and to beseech Him that He will keep awake in us this spirit for the miserable days with which we are now threatened.

Then this open heart and this wakeful spirit will make our hands strong, and we shall live in a strong tower, which is our G.o.d. And the prince of this world, however terrible he may be, will accomplish nothing against the eternal G.o.d in heaven, who will not leave His brave Germans. And now, dear neighbors and friends, go home, and keep your eyes stiff and your powder dry. To-morrow, as may happen, if you have more to do and cannot come to church, no damage will be done. G.o.d give us all a happy reunion. Amen."

"Amen!" "Amen!" sounded forth everywhere in the circle of men, among whom there were none who had not found for the moment a deep and holy earnestness. They had a.s.sembled in disputation and quarreling. They separated in peace and harmony. Most of them at their departure went to shake hands with Nicolas Herkimer, and specially a.s.sured him that he could in any case rely on them. The honor of a pinch of snuff from the minister was sought by so many that the n.o.ble man could at last, laughing, only present the empty box. The young people who desired to be placed on the most dangerous post, had gathered about Lambert, and it required Herkimer's authority to settle the choice. Lambert had declared that he could not accept more than four, since he himself and Conrad must also be added, making six good rifles for the protection of the house. A larger number would unnecessarily consume food and ammunition in case they had to stand a siege. So then, to grieve no one, the lot should determine, and it fell on Fritz Volz, from the creek; Jacob Ehrlich and Anthony Bierman, from the Mohawk; and on Richard Herkimer. Lambert was satisfied with the issue. They were, on the whole, wide-awake young men--at least Fritz Volz and Richard Herkimer, his special friends. They agreed that the last two, who lived near enough, should occupy the post yet this evening, and that the two others should come early in the morning.

Now at last, after about all who had been a.s.sembled had gone, could Lambert leave Nicolas Herkimer, who said: "I will keep you no longer now. I will ride over to-morrow, as there are yet many things about which I want to talk to you." Lambert had not improperly pressed to go.

As he reached the other side he found the Eisenlords, the Teicherts and a dozen others who all, with a gla.s.s of Hans Haberkorn's genuine, were discussing what they had heard and decided upon. He shook hands with them and hastened on, Fritz Volz calling after him that he would see him in the evening. As now he gave loose rein to his horse he cast an anxious, inquiring glance at the sky, in which the sun had nearly run its course. It was perhaps yet half an hour to its setting. On his left the level fields and marshes shimmered and glimmered in red, blended lights, so that he could hardly distinguish the shingled roofs of the houses; and the forms of riders and footmen appeared now and then as dark points in the sea of fire. To the right, where the farther he went the nearer did the hills and rocks press toward him, the mighty trunks of the giant pines glowed in dark purple, and their branching tops blazed in green-golden flames to the cloudless sky. With every hoof-beat of the horse the sun sunk deeper, and Lambert had just left Bellinger's farm behind when the sea of fire to the left was extinguished by a blue fog; and toward evening only the highest tops of the tallest trees reflected the departing light of day. Night soon came on. As his n.o.ble beast rapidly struck the gra.s.sy soil with strong hoofs he saw that he could not reach home in less than an hour.

A nameless discontent seized him. The longing for the beloved one, which he had so n.o.bly fought all these hours, now a.s.serted its rights, and so filled his breast that he could hardly breathe. Minutes seemed like hours. There was also another distressing feeling--a feeling of fear for something he could not conceive of, for which he had no name, and which may on that account have been more terrible. In all his life he had never before had such an experience. Nearest to it were the frightful dreams that had terrified him when a boy, from which he in vain sought to wake. Lambert groaned aloud, and Hans groaned under the pressure of the rider's legs.

So he rushed forward faster and faster, without looking to the right or left, without stopping at Eisenlord's or at Volz', though everywhere from the doors the women called to him: "Holla, Lambert, whither in such haste?" until at last Hans, angry at the conduct of his otherwise reasonable master, ran at full speed.

Aunt Ursul had requested him to stop on his return, and he himself wished to speak with her about what the minister had said. So he stopped his foaming horse unwillingly when he came to the Ditmar house.

"Is he near comfort.'" said Aunt Ursul who had heard him coming and now stepped to the door. "The poor beast is like a cat which has been lying eight days in the water. How you look yourself: Like the rider in the book of Revelation."

"I feel as though some misfortune had happened there," stammered Lambert, pointing homeward.

"Papperlapap!" said Aunt Ursul. "What can have happened? Conrad--yes, Lambert; I already see that now I can't get a rational word out of you, so in G.o.d's name, drive on. I have just put my old man to bed and given him a cup of tea, so I am entirely free and will come over in about an hour."

She gave Hans, who was already restlessly champing his bit, a blow on his wet neck. He sprang away with his rider. "Those whom we love are always but half near comfort," said Aunt Ursul, looking after him and shaking her head; "nevertheless--nevertheless--Conrad is a madcap, and acted this morning as though he had lost his reason. I must see that all things go right."

Aunt Ursul turned back into the house, took her gun from the rack and, with long strides, followed Lambert, who was already immersed in the evening fog which rose from the creek in thick streaks.

CHAPTER X

When at noon to-day Lambert tore himself away from Catherine, she stood still as though stunned. The conviction that she ought to remain behind had come to her on the instant; the determination to do so had been uttered so soon; the carrying out of the resolution too had followed so closely at its heels, that now, as the forms of the riders disappeared behind a turn of the road and she found herself really alone, it appeared to her as though she were having a disagreeable, fearful dream out of which she must momentarily awake. She struck herself over her forehead and eyes, but all was real. There stood the empty crib. There lay the pail which the mare had pushed over. There was the pillion which at the last moment Lambert had unbuckled from the saddle. There were the short, trampled gra.s.s and the tracks of the hoofs of the horses. There was the open door in which she had just now seen Lambert.

Catherine took a few steps, as though she would follow the beloved one, and then stood still, pressing her hand on her loud-beating heart. Deep sadness overwhelmed her, but she vigorously fought down the feeling.

"He has so often called you a brave girl," said she to herself, "and will you weep and complain like a child which the mother has left alone for a few moments? He will soon come back; surely he will soon come back."

She entered the house to see what time it was. The hand of the Swartzwald clock pointed to twelve. The distance to Nicolas Herkimer's house was six miles. If she counted going and returning it was twelve, and on the calculation of the men themselves would take them two hours, so that Lambert could be back by six o'clock, or by seven at the latest. That was indeed a long time, but there was yet much to do, and perhaps also to-day Conrad would return earlier from hunting.

"On Conrad's account I should remain here," said Catherine to herself as she cleared away the dinner-dishes. "He must learn to see in me his sister, and he will, when we show our confidence in him and have no secrets before him. Ah, could I only yesterday have greeted him as a brother! However, that will follow. It must follow yet to-day, when he returns. Then we will live together in peace, and the wild man will find that it is not a bad thing to have a female friend who takes care of him until he himself loves a girl, and establishes a home and builds a house for himself here near us, or at the edge of the woods he so much loves. That will be a joyful, happy life. We will be good neighbors. I shall love his wife and she me."

Catherine had sat down on the hearth and, with her head supported by her hand, looked before her with half-closed eyes, thinking. The fire on the hearth gently crackled; the wall-clock said "tick-tack." In the meadow outside the birds sang. Through the open door the sun shone clear into the cool, shaded room; and in the bright sunbeams, which reached as far as her knees, dust atoms danced, lighted up, and twinkling like golden stars seemed to be waving and playing and catching one another. Then they were no longer golden stars, but children's laughing faces, which emerged out of the partial darkness of the background, came up to her knees, and again disappeared in the dark corners, and from them looked out with bright, blue, happy eyes. Then the vision vanished. The sun still shone into the silent room. The fire crackled. The wall-clock said "tick-tack," and out in the meadows sang the birds.