CHAPTER XLIV.

Sixteen thousand gallant men, led by a brave and experienced general, and supported by a fine, though not very large, park of artillery, seemed certainly sufficient for the reduction of a small fortress, not very well garrisoned, nor supplied with any great abundance of stores. But it seemed the fate of English officers in North America to adhere strictly to all ancient rules, when ancient rules could be of no service in face of a new and totally different mode of warfare, and to abandon those rules at times and in circumstances when only they could be available.

A large fleet of _bateaux_ had been collected at the southern extremity of Lake George, ready to transport the troops to the destined point of attack; and a council of the most experienced officers was held on the morning of the third of July, to consider the further proceedings of the army.

All had now assembled at what was then commonly called in the province "Fort Lyman," although the name was already changed to "Fort Edward."

General Abercrombie was there in person; and a number of other officers appeared at the council likewise, whose experience in Indian warfare was superior to his own. There is much reason to believe, that had Abercrombie's own opinion been followed in acting against a French fort under French command, all the operations would have been conducted in the same manner, and upon the same system which would have guided a similar enterprise in Europe; and thus much bloodshed and some disgrace would have been spared.

It was represented to the Commander-in-Chief, however, that numerous bodies of Indians were acting upon the side of France, and that all operations carried on according to European rules had hitherto failed in America; and more than one bloody disaster was held up as a warning to his eyes, which he unhappily suffered to bias his own better judgment. In a word, as it was known that every day fresh reinforcements were being thrown into Ticonderoga, that large bodies of Indians were collected for its defence, and that preparations of every kind were in progress, it was determined that a sudden and rapid rush should be made upon the fort, and that no consideration should be put in competition with celerity of movement and boldness of attack. Lord H---- alone represented that, from what he had personally learned during the last six months, it was absolutely necessary to employ cannon, though, perhaps, with a want of proper confidence in his own reputation, he offered to lead the advanced parties, lest the opinion he expressed should seem to any one to savour of timidity.

At as early an hour as possible the march commenced along what was called the King's Road; and in high spirits regiment after regiment entered the forest, confident in their numbers and their prowess. The regular troops pursued the well-constructed causeway, while clouds of Mohawks were scattered on the flanks, sweeping the forest ground on either side. The artillery, on the heavy and clumsy carriages of that day, the tumbrils and the baggage-waggons, came lumbering in the rear, and a large crowd of stragglers followed, comprising the scouts, who might have been much more advantageously employed in the front, but who, for some reason unexplained, had very little service assigned them on the expedition. General Abercrombie and his staff, with several of the superior officers, followed slowly, well aware that the advance of the forces would meet with no opposition, at least upon the first day's march. To this group, from every quarter, came numerous messengers throughout the day; some bringing news of a fresh levy marching up from the eastern states; some from the front seeking clearer orders when any little difficulty or impediment occurred; some from Albany, with intelligence from that city or New York; and several Indian runners from the west, bearing far more important tidings from the Indian tribes, now all in movement to support their British allies.

Amongst the rest appeared the silent runner Proctor, with a letter to General Abercrombie, who, as soon as he had read it, turned to Lord H----, saying,--

"This is a communication from your friends, the Oneidas, my lord, but written by some Englishman, who signs himself 'Gore.' He states that a war-party of the nation is already on the western bank of the lake, and that the main body, under Black Eagle himself, is expected in the course of the day. I suppose we may therefore consider ourselves secure upon our left flank."

"Undoubtedly," replied Lord H----, with a look of so much anxiety, as almost to induce the Commander-in-Chief to believe that he entertained doubts which he did not choose to express.

"You _think_ so, I presume," interposed Abercrombie, gazing at him.

"Entirely," replied Lord H----; "but I was in hopes of hearing some other intelligence of a private nature, concerning Mr. Prevost's son, whose alarming position amongst the Oneidas I mentioned to you, if you recollect."

"There is nothing more," said General Abercrombie, handing him the letter; "but there is the messenger. Probably he can give you some information."

Lord H---- immediately turned towards Proctor, who was running at a sort of trot by the side of the general's horse, and inquired if he had been at the Castle of the Oneidas. The man shook his head, and trotted on.

"Then where did you last come from?" asked Lord H----.

But Proctor only lifted his hand, and pointed towards the north-west.

"How many miles?" demanded the nobleman, determined to get some speech out of him.

But he lifted up his hands three times with the ten fingers spread abroad, without ever opening his lips.

"Did you hear amongst those who sent you," asked Lord H----, "any tidings of young Mr. Prevost?"

The man shook his head; but then suddenly stopped in his trot, and said, as if upon recollection,--

"They thought he had been put to death."

He paused, as if what he had said had cost him a great effort; but then added, slowly, when he saw the painful expression of the young nobleman's countenance, "They only _thought_. They did not _know_. They left before."

"Did you see or hear of a man whom you know as Woodchuck--the man you saw with me at Albany?" asked Lord H----.

But the other shook his head; and nothing more could be extracted from him. He was then sent forward to join the rear-guard; but his taciturnity gave Lord H---- good assurance that Mr. Prevost, who had gone forward, would not be pained by the terrible rumour which he bore.

The long and fatiguing march to the nearest point of Lake Horicon I need not describe. Many of the scenes recorded in the life of the gallant Putnam passed near or on the very route pursued; and the feats of daring and the escapes of that fine soldier are almost as marvellous still in our eyes as in those of the savage Indians of his own time, who supposed him to bear a charmed life. Suffice it, that, after encountering great difficulty and severe fatigue in dragging the cannon over a road which in the neighbourhood of the settled portion of the colony was good enough, but which became almost impassable near the lake, in consequence of the heavy rains, the whole army arrived in safety at the newly-constructed and yet incomplete works of Fort George, lying a little to the east of the site of ever-memorable Fort William-Henry.

By the care and diligence of the commissary-general, everything that could refresh the weary soldiers was found prepared; a fleet of one hundred and thirty-five large boats and nine hundred _bateaux_ was seen lying along the shore of the lake of pure and holy waters; and hardly a head was laid down to slumber in the tents that night, which did not fondly fancy that Ticonderoga must inevitably fall.

As usual in camp, or on the march, Lord H---- dined with his soldiers, and shared their simple fare; but he passed the evening with Mr. Prevost, who had found quarters in the fort. Both were grave, but the deeper gravity was with Lord H----; for though through the mind of the elder man continually flitted painful fancies--thoughts, images, or whatever they may be called--of the fate of poor Brooks, and his lips murmured twice, almost involuntarily, the words, "Poor Woodchuck!" yet the certainty which he felt of the safety of his son, however great the sacrifice which purchased it, was a comfort--a great, a mighty consolation, although he almost reproached himself for the sensation of rejoicing, which he could not help experiencing.

Lord H----, on the contrary, felt no such certainty. Ever since his conversation with Proctor, if conversation it can be called, a gloomy feeling of apprehension had rested on him. He did not doubt poor Woodchuck in the least: he was sure that he would hold fast to his resolution. Neither had he any fears that the execution of his purpose would be delayed or prevented by any such accident as that which had in reality occurred. But he asked himself, "Might he not come too late?" They had been told the time allowed by the Oneida chief to provide a substitute for Walter, and had taken it at the European calculation of months; but, since he heard that a rumour of the young man's death was prevalent amongst the Indians, he doubted whether there had not here been a mistake. The very rumour showed that some of the natives, at least, imagined the time had expired, and implied that their calculation was different. The effect upon the mind of Edith, he knew, would be terrible, when she found that her brother might have been saved, but that his life had been lost by such a mistake.

From Mr. Prevost, he strove to hide his apprehensions as far as possible; knowing well that previous anxiety never diminishes an inevitable evil; and soon after nightfall he left him, to seek thought in his own tent.

The sky was clear and cloudless; the stars shining out with a largeness and a lustre such as European skies can never give; a light breeze stirred the waters of the lake, and made them musical along the shore; and one of the voyageurs was singing a tranquil song of home in a clear, mellow voice, as he sat in his bark. The air was mild and gentle as a morning dream: yet the whole had that solemn calmness which is always allied to melancholy. All things which, in their calmness, detach us from this untranquil earth, bring with them the feeling of parting from old friends.

Under the influence of such sensations, he went not more than a hundred steps from the gates of the fort; but seated himself upon a mass of the dark gray marble recently quarried for building, and gave himself up to the thoughts in which he would have indulged had he been in his tent. They were sadder perhaps than they had ever been before in life--without anything like presentiment, without anything like apprehension, on his own account. But new ties, new affections, tenderer sympathies, warmer hopes, than any he had yet tasted in existence, had lately grown up around him; and it is a sad fact, with man, as with states, that the more he increases his possessions--be they mundane, or be they of the heart--the more defenceless points does he expose to ever-ready enemies.

Nor was he in the fresh hey-day of life, when the down of the butterfly has never been crushed--when all is joy: the present in fruition--the future in anticipation--the past forgotten. He knew that there were sorrows: he felt that there were dangers to his peace; he was conscious how frail is the thread upon which mortal happiness is poised in the midst of the dark abyss. True, he would not have yielded the blessing of Edith's love for all that earth could give of security; still, he was well aware that his heart had now a vulnerable point to be reached by weapons which had never yet been encountered. All that touched her, touched him; and the uncertainty of Walter's fate threw a sadness over his meditations. What would have been his sensations, had he known that for Walter he need have no fear? that it was _her_ fate he had to dread? But that was spared him.

He sat there long: no inclination to sleep interrupted his reveries, notwithstanding the fatigues of the day; and at length the moon rose over the high eastern hills, showing an unrivalled scene of solemn beauty. The moment the beams touched the waters, they were converted into a flood of liquid silver: the grand forms of Rattlesnake Mountain, and its fellow giants, to the east, and of that high hill now called French Mountain to the north-west, the deep gloomy woods, the walls of the fortress, picturesque in their rugged incompleteness, the tents of the sleeping army, with here and there the light of a night-Gwatcher gleaming amongst them, and the slopes of the nearer hills dotted with Indian fires, formed a scene such as the eye of man has seldom rested on; while over all poured the lustrous stream of light, calm and passionless like the look of a good, pure being cast over the troublous scene of mortal life.

Lord H---- rose; and, after gazing round him for a few moments, drinking in as it were the solemn loveliness, walked on slowly towards the blackened remains of Fort William-Henry. Little was to be seen there. Montcalm had not left his work half done; for all had been destroyed, and little beyond some irregularities in the ground, and some large detached fragments of masonry, showed where so many gallant men had fought in their country's cause, only to be slaughtered after surrender by a treacherous enemy.

By report, he knew the ground well; and after pausing for a minute or two amongst the ruins, he turned down the dark and fearful dell where the horrible massacre was perpetrated. Every rock around had echoed to the yell of the Indians, the groan of the dying soldier, or the shrieks of defenceless women and children. Every tree had seen beneath its boughs some of the deeds of horror and of blood which went to make up that great crime. The bones of hundreds were lying still unburied; and where the moonlight fell on the western side of the gorge, some portion of a woman's garment, which had caught upon a bush, was seen fluttering in the breeze.

The immediate path along which Lord H---- went, was still in profound shadow; but, suddenly, across the moonlight side, a little in advance of him, he saw, gliding along with noiseless step, a troop of eight or ten shadowy figures, looking like ghosts in the pale moonlight. So much was their colour the same as the rocks around, that you might almost fancy you saw through them, and that they were but the shadows from some other objects cast upon the broken crags as they passed.

Lord H---- stood and gazed; when suddenly the band stopped, and, comprehending that he had been perceived, he challenged them in English, judging at once that they must be a troop of friendly Indians. A deep voice replied in the same language, but with a strong Indian accent, "We are friends--children of the Stone. Can you tell us where to find Prevost?"

As he spoke, the leader of the Indians had advanced nearer down the sloping ground at the foot of the rocks, and there seemed something in his tall, powerful form, and majesty of carriage, familiar to the eyes of the young nobleman, who exclaimed, "Is that the Black Eagle?"

"It is," answered the other, whose limited knowledge of English did not suffer him to indulge in his usual figurative language. "Art not thou the Falling Cataract?"

"I am he to whom you gave that name," returned Lord H----. "But what want you with Mr. Prevost? Where is his son?"

"On yonder side of Horicon," answered the Indian chief, pointing with his hand towards the western side of the lake. "The boy is safe; be thy mind at rest."

Lord H---- took the hand he proffered, and pressed it in his; but at the same time he asked, "And poor Woodchuck--what of him?"

"I know not," answered Black Eagle; "we have not beheld him."

"That is strange," rejoined the nobleman; "he set out to deliver himself up to you, to save the young man's life."

"He is brave," answered Black Eagle; "the Good Spirit kept him away."

"Then, how was the boy delivered?" asked Lord H----. "We feared that your people would be inexorable."

"The Great Spirit spoke by the voices of the women," answered the chief. "She who sees beyond the earth in her visions, heard the voice, and told its words. It was decreed that if the boy died, our wives, our daughters, our sisters, should all die with him; and we listened to the voice, and obeyed."

"Come with me quickly," said Lord H---- eagerly; "let us carry the news to Mr. Prevost. He is here at the fort, now holding an office in our army."

"I know it," replied Black Eagle. "I have been to his lodge, and found no one but the slaves, who told me. The boy I sent on with my people; for the children of the Stone have taken the war-path for England, and a thousand warriors are on their way to the place of the Sounding Waters. He goes to fight amongst us as our son. But I must speak with Prevost before I go, for the wings of the Black Eagle are spread, perhaps, for his last flight; and who knows but he will leave his scalp on the war-post of the Huron?"

Lord H---- led the way with a quick step; and the chief and his companions followed. At the first outpost they were of course challenged; and, strict orders having been given to admit no troop of Indians within the limits of the fort, the young nobleman and the chief proceeded alone to the quarters of Mr. Prevost. They found him still up, and busily writing orders for the following morning. When he beheld the face of Black Eagle following his noble friend, he started up, and, at first, drew back; but then, with a sudden change of feeling, he seized the warrior's hand, exclaiming, "My son lives! my son lives, or you would not be here!"

"He lives," replied Black Eagle.

He then proceeded to give the same account to Mr. Prevost which had been heard by Lord H----. The former, however, understanding the Indian better, soon drew from him, partly in English, and partly in Iroquois, the whole particulars of Walter's deliverance.

"And would you really have slain him?" asked Mr. Prevost.

"I would," replied Black Eagle, calmly and firmly. "I would have torn out my own heart, had the laws of my people required it."

The father mused for a few moments, and then said, in a thoughtful tone,--

"I believe you would. Dear Otaitsa, did she then really peril her life to save her young friend?"

"She did more," answered Black Eagle; "she was one of those prepared to go to the happy hunting-ground, with him; but I tell thee, Prevost, not the sight of my child, with the knife in her hand ready to plunge it into her own heart, made the Black Eagle pause or hesitate. It was, that we heard the voice of the Great Spirit in the words that were spoken. He only can change the laws of the Oneida, and he changed them. But now hear me, Prevost, for I must back to my people and thy son. I sent them forward towards the Sounding Waters, while I sought thee first at thy lodge, and then here; and I must join them, for they must not throw a hatchet or fire a rifle without the Black Eagle."

He had seated himself when first he entered, but now he rose, and stood erect, as if about to make a speech.

"There is a Blossom on the Black Eagle's tree," he said, "which is dear to his eyes; and thou hast a Bough on thy tree, which is dear to thee. Otaitsa is a Christian--believes in your Good Spirit. She is descended from a race of warriors, every one of whom has left a name in the hearts of his people. She is of the highest race of the highest tribe of the children of the Stone. The blood of the red man is as fine as the blood of the white. Her mother was the daughter of a great chief, and of a race as good as thine own; a race that is renowned."

Mr. Prevost bent down his head; but he knew the Indian customs too well to interrupt, and the chief went on:--

"The Blossom loves the Bough: the Bough loves the Blossom. She has purchased him; she has bought him for herself; she has offered her heart's blood for his price. Is he not hers? If the Black Eagle should never return from his war-flight--if the bullet of the French should break his wing, or the arrow of the Huron pierce his heart, will his brother Prevost bind the Blossom and the Bough together as the white men bind them, and as the Christian people unite those who love? Will he take the Blossom to his own home, and make her indeed his daughter?"

Mr. Prevost rose, and threw his arms round the chief, saying,--

"Thou art my brother; I will do as thou hast said; and may the Good Spirit deal with me as I deal with thee in this matter! _Thy_ daughter is _my_ daughter; _my_ son is _thy_ son. But thou knowest not, perhaps----"

Black Eagle raised his hand, saying, in Iroquois,--

"Forbear! I know what I know; thou knowest what thou knowest. We may believe much that it is not right to prove. Silence is a good thing when secrets are dangerous. Now go I to my people with my heart at rest."

And, without more words, he glided out of the room.