The King's Warrant Part 13

Two months pa.s.sed away, and beneath the bright August sun the still waters of the St. Lawrence were reflecting the clear and well-defined image of its lofty and thickly wooded banks, when Isidore again stood on that well-remembered knoll, conversing eagerly with his humble Canadian friend. The contrast between the two men was even more striking than on the last occasion of their meeting there. Boulanger seemed if possible more hale and hearty than ever, and there was in his whole manner and deportment a vivacity and joyousness even greater than that which commonly characterised him. Still he seemed to check himself as much as it was in his nature to do, and paused more than once in his warmly expressed greetings as he surveyed the pitiable condition of his visitor, which was indeed more deplorable and wretched than when the hospitable woodsman and his wife had done their best to fit him out for his expedition to Louisburg.

"Alas!" said the Canadian, "we have already heard that it was all of no use and that the place has fallen, but as yet few particulars have reached us here, as you may suppose. Indeed I too have been away from here almost all the time, and have only just come back. But we must do what we can to recruit you a little, and then perhaps monsieur will tell us all about it." So once more Isidore found himself seated within the walls of the forester's dwelling, and as the meal went on did his best to satisfy his host's inquiries as to what had befallen him since their last meeting.

"I came too late to witness the beginning of the siege," said he, "for the fleet arrived there on the 2nd of June. They thought to take the place by surprise, but our brave General Drucour was not the man to let them do that, and he had already taken every precaution that skill and daring could devise to strengthen the defences in every direction."

"It was a pretty strong place even without that," said Boulanger. "I was down at Louisburg myself last year and know it well, with its great harbour that would hold all the British navy together, and the two great tongues of land sheltering it from the south-western and north-western gales, and Goat Island in the middle with its long reef of rocks."

"Just so," continued Isidore. "Well, there had been such a fog for the first week, and the sea broke on the beach so heavily, that even those bold English, with that fellow Wolfe to lead them, could not effect a landing until the 8th, and then they met with a pretty warm reception.

It was of no use, however; our fellows were gradually driven back, and the siege began in good earnest. Every yard of ground was contested, but by degrees our outlying batteries were first silenced, then taken, and it was whilst this was going on that I reached the place. Besides our regular troops there were three or four hundred Canadians and some Indians; and being a soldier with some experience, I got the command of a company of irregulars. So matters went on, until at length the Goat Island batteries were silenced; but on the 9th of last month----"

"The 9th!" cried Boulanger. "Ah, I recollect that day well enough.

I'll tell you about that presently; go on, I pray you."

"Well, on that night we made a tremendous sortie, and took the enemy by surprise. They were commanded by a British Lord--Dundonald was his name--but if the poor fellow was taken unawares he paid dearly for it, for he was killed, together with a great number of his men. Yet they were soon reinforced, and came on so gallantly that we were repulsed, losing many men and some prisoners. I, too, was. .h.i.t, but luckily it was only a graze."

"What! You were in the sortie then?" exclaimed Boulanger, not a little excited by the narrative.

"Yes, and our brave general was pleased to say I had done good service in bringing off some of our men who were nearly surrounded. He offered at once to give me a company of regulars, and asked my name. But I told him plainly that I was under a cloud and could not accept his offer; still he insisted on giving me a few words in writing, which he said might some day be of use to me.

"The rest of my sad story is soon told," Isidore went on to say.

"Three of our great ships had already been set on fire in the harbour, and the enemy kept up such a cannonade upon them that it was impossible to save them; but the town being, as you know, three or four miles from the spot where the landing was made, the siege was not yet at an end.

Ten or twelve days after the sortie, however, Wolfe had pushed on his attack almost up to the walls. Then the citadel was burnt, and on the day after that the barracks, and at last three great breaches were made in the defences of the place itself. The day following two more of our line of battle ships were captured and burnt by some of their captains, who made a sudden attack on them in the very harbour itself. All hope of further resistance was now at an end, and on the 26th the unfortunate Drucour was obliged to surrender."

"Yes, we have heard that," said Boulanger; "but General Montcalm has already done something to make up for that, though Louisburg has been such a triumph for those terrible English."

"It must indeed be something of importance to make up for what we have lost there," replied Isidore. "My old habits on the staff led to my knowing better than most people the extent of our misfortune. The English took and destroyed eleven of our great ships, and made nearly six thousand of our men prisoners, to say nothing of capturing 250 guns and fifteen thousand stand of arms, and, what is worst of all, they can boast of taking nearly a dozen of our colours."

"But how did you escape?" inquired the forester anxiously.

"Well, that is of little consequence," answered Isidore, "though that was strange enough after all. I told you that we had some Indians fighting on our side, and very well they fought too, though I do not care to have to do with those rascals. Fortunately there were none on the English side--I say fortunately, for I have always found there is more anxiety connected with watching against a handful of them than against any number of regulars; one never knows what cunning wiles and surprises they may be devising. Strange to say, the chief of our Indians, a fellow named White Eagle, seemed to have taken a mighty liking to me, and stuck close to me wherever I went. I fancy most of his tribe managed to escape at the last; but after the capitulation, when I found myself with a number of our Canadian volunteers lodged in a shattered block-house awaiting the decision of our captors, whom should I find seated quietly by my side but my friend the red skin."

"Eh?" exclaimed Boulanger with marked surprise. "What tribe did he belong to?"

"Oh, he was an Algonquin," replied Isidore. "I asked him how he came there when most of his people had got safe away? He only grunted the usual 'ugh'; but when most of the prisoners had fallen asleep, tired out with their long and weary work, he said to me quietly, 'When the sun sets, the pale face can escape and go back to Quebec.' Not a word more could I get out of him till night had come on. Then he touched my arm and pointed to the window frame, close to which we lay. The window itself had been blown out, indeed the place was riddled with shot holes, and the roof had been half blown off, so that what little light the moon did give shone right down upon us. Wondering what was to come next I watched him attentively, and saw him stealthily tie the end of a long wampum belt to the stump of one of the iron window stanchions.

'Slip down and drop; it is but a couple of lengths more to the ground,'

said he. Without a word I crept to the window, and in another minute had slid down. The drop, however, was longer than I had counted on, and I fell rather heavily. 'Who goes there?' shouted a sentry on the wall, a little way off. Of course I lay as still as death, and fortunately the shadow of a b.u.t.tress fell exactly across the spot where I had fallen. The sentry challenged again and fired, but as he did so the Indian dropped lightly down at my side, seized me by the arm and hurried me away. I suppose there was an alarm, but if they did miss me from amongst the prisoners, they probably did not think it worth while to give chase. Accustomed as we were to the ins and outs of the place, my friend and I managed easily to evade the sentries, and in a quarter of an hour more we were clear of them, and in the open country beyond the town. We did not slacken our pace, however, and in a couple of hours we reached an Indian encampment, where I recognised many of the red skins I had seen during the siege. At daybreak we moved off, and I returned with the tribe to the neighbourhood of Quebec. At parting the chief presented me with a new wampum belt, which he drew from beneath his vest, saying, 'Keep this in token that White Eagle has discharged his trust.'"

"What!" cried Boulanger, in great excitement. "Is that the belt which you now have on?"

"Yes," said Isidore, untying and showing it to him; "and I shall certainly keep it in recollection of my most extraordinary escape."

The forester gave one look at it, and uttered the word, "Amoahmeh!"

"Who--what?" said Isidore. "By the by, I have been going to ask you more than once what has become of that poor Indian girl."

"Nay, you ought to know better than I, to judge from this wampum belt,"

replied Boulanger.

"Why so? What has become of her?"

"Well," answered the Canadian, "if you had asked me a few minutes ago I should have spoken out pretty strongly about her, but I suspect she is not so bad after all."

"Bad! What do you mean?"

"Why, you see, monsieur," replied Boulanger, "you had scarcely left us a couple of days when she bolted without a word, not even saying as much as 'thank ye,' or 'good-bye.' I did feel vexed, I confess, for I was quite sure she had joined a tribe of Indians that had been loafing about here for some time. I had more than once noticed her at work over a wampum belt, as if she had a hankering after her old life.

'What's bred in the bone is sure to come out in the flesh,' I said to Bibi, and 'you can't make a silk purse out of a pig's ear.' However, as she seems to have had some hand in your escape, I'll not say a word against her. But what does monsieur intend to do now?"

Isidore did not answer him, and Boulanger was making some remarks as to the need in which his guest stood of a long rest after so much fatigue and anxiety, when Bibi suddenly held up her hand, saying softly, "Hush, I declare he has dropped off."

There was no mistake about that--the seat which the young soldier occupied, and which very possibly did duty as a bed by night, made by day a particularly comfortable couch, covered as it was with a fine soft buffalo-robe of huge dimensions. More than once towards the conclusion of his story Isidore had nodded, but had roused himself with a spasmodic start. At last, utterly overcome by prolonged fatigue, he had sunk down gradually and fallen fast asleep.

"Poor gentleman," said Boulanger, in a whisper, "I don't wonder at it, and I would not wake him for the world after all he has had to go through."

So the little curtain was drawn as noiselessly as possible to keep out the rays of the now setting sun, and creeping away stealthily on tiptoe, the kind-hearted and hospitable couple left their visitor to his dreams.

The sun had not only set, but had risen again when Isidore was aroused from his sleep by the noisy gambols of Boulanger's little ones beneath the window. Refreshed by his long rest, he was soon fortifying himself still further by a hearty breakfast, at which the conversation of the previous day was at once resumed.

"I am quite ashamed of having talked of nothing but myself yesterday,"

said Isidore, "instead of listening to others. You were saying something about our having had successes to set against the fall of Louisburg, and I did hear a report that Montcalm had repulsed the English on Lake George, but of course I have heard no particulars.

What does it all amount to?"

"I fancy I can tell you about as much as any one," answered Boulanger; "I happened to be there."

"You!" exclaimed Isidore, with some surprise.

"Yes. You must know that very shortly after you left us, and whilst I was fretting about Miss Amoahmeh's unceremonious departure, I found our folks at Quebec preparing to send up reinforcements to General Montcalm at Ticonderoga, where a great attack was expected."

"I thought so," said his guest; "indeed I heard even before leaving France that Pitt's plans comprised not only the attack on Louisburg, but simultaneous operations on the lakes, and also in the west, on the Ohio."

"Well, it is all up with them on Lake George, at all events," continued the forester. "I found they wanted guides at Quebec for the detachments going up country, and being unsettled and just in the humour for it, I offered my services, and so it came about that I reached Ticonderoga at the beginning of last month. It was on the 4th, just as Montcalm's scouts reported the embarkation of the English at the southern end of Lake George, on the way to attack us. You know that country, monsieur?"

"Of course; I was at Fort William Henry, you know. Ticonderoga, I recollect, lies just at the southern extremity of Lake Champlain, just where the northern end of the comparatively small Lake George almost joins it. What was the English force?"

"Ah, you gentlemen on the staff are always asking what's the enemy's strength. Well, I heard one of our officers say that General Abercromby had with him nine or ten thousand New England militia, and about six thousand English regulars. They had more than a thousand boats and barges, and I'm told that there never was a grander sight than to see them all coming up the lake on the 5th of July, with music playing and streamers flying, just for all the world like a holiday procession."

"They could not add to the beauty of that lovely lake," said Isidore, interrupting him. "Well do I remember it with its myriads of enchanting little islands mirrored in its clear smooth waters, and glowing all bright and lovely in the setting sun."

"A good many of those poor fellows only saw the sun set once or twice more," continued the Canadian. "They landed on the following day a few miles from Fort Ticonderoga, and marched forward at once, our small force of men stationed there retiring before them, and by some blunder losing their way in the thick woods lying between that spot and the fort. As it happened, they fell in that afternoon with a body of the English under a milord Howe--as brave an officer as ever fought they say--who was killed by one of the first shots fired; but his men got the better of ours, and we lost a few killed and some prisoners. Their general, however, seems not to have been good for much, and fell back; but on the day after that he sent part of his army forward under another brave fellow, Colonel Bradstreet."

"I know," said Isidore; "the same who gallantly forced a pa.s.sage up the Onondaga quite at the outset of the war. Well, go on."

"On the 8th they reached a place named Carillon, close to Ticonderoga, and began their attack on the fort. Some of the provincial militia came on first, but soon gave way, for our general, as you can guess, monsieur, had not only strengthened the fort with a formidable rampart some eight feet high, but had studded the approach to it with an abatis of prodigious trunks and branches of trees, which not only seemed, but actually proved impenetrable. On came the regulars as briskly and bravely as our men could have done, but it was only to be shot down in scores and hundreds by our sharpshooters sheltered behind the earthworks, who picked them off as they crossed the open and tried in vain to struggle through the abatis. Three times the attack was renewed by fresh troops, and the English fought splendidly; but even the Highlanders, though they climbed like wild cats, could only here and there get a few men through the tangled defences outside of us. At last their General Abercromby seemed to despair of success, and instead of trying some other point to the right or left, where I believe we were not half so well protected, he ordered a retreat. From that moment it was all up with them; their general's loss of heart seemed to affect even the brave fellows he commanded. When on the following day--the very 9th of July, monsieur, on which you were making your sortie at Louisburg--he gave the order to fall back towards the place where they had landed, a panic seized them. They fancied, I suppose, that all was lost, and there was a regular stampede for the lake, into which they might perhaps have rushed like a herd of bisons over a precipice, if that same Colonel Bradstreet had not made a stand against them and restored something like order. However, there they embarked as fast as they could, and went back to Fort William Henry, leaving nearly two thousand killed and wounded behind them, which was pretty well, considering that the troops our general had did not number more than about three thousand altogether."

"A great and glorious day for us indeed," exclaimed Isidore; "and from what you say of the nature of the conflict, I should hope it did not cost us very dear."

"Less than four hundred men in all," replied the Canadian; "so if we have lost Louisburg we beat them at Ticonderoga. And if they are proud of their General Wolfe, let them send him to fight Montcalm and we shall see who is the best man."

It may easily be imagined that Isidore had listened to this narrative with the deepest interest, and indeed at times with no little excitement. No sooner was it concluded than he started up, exclaiming, "I cannot stay here brooding over my misfortunes whilst such things are going on around me--it would kill me. No, I will not sit idle with my hands folded whilst others are shedding their blood for France. I have made up my mind to go to the army on the lakes. I should hardly be recognised now," he added, somewhat bitterly, "and if I were, what matters it? One can but die once, and I have little to live for save one thing, that seems every hour to become more utterly hopeless."