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Les diagrammes suivants iilustrent ia m6thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 With Wolfe in Canada BLACKIE & SON LIMITED 50 Old Bailey, LONDON 17 Stanhope Street, Glasgow BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITFD iu8 Bay Street, Toronto "AGAIN AM) A(.AIN JAMl-S 1 IKKU ^' ^. Ygih/t-C' r - • - i, With .'./.. Wolfe in Canada Or, The Winning of a Continent BY G. A. HENTY Author of «With Cliv. in Indi:.'- "The Lion of the North' T:1l ^'""" "'T'^* '^"*°" »n«^ the Raven" By Sheer Pluck ""Facing Death "&c Illustrated BLACKIE & SON LIMITED LONDON AND GLASGOW /^'z^^aS./V'^"^' V/- n.ci I Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Limited^ Glasgow Preface In the present volume I have endeavoured to give the details of the principal events in a struggle whose importance can hardly be overrated. At its com- mencement the English occupied a mere patch of land on the eastern seaboard of America, hemmed in on all sides by the French, who occupied not only Canada in the north and Louisiana in the south, but possessed a chain of posts connecting them, so cutting off the English from all access to the vast countries of the west. On the issues of that struggle depended not only the destiny of Canada, but of the whole of North America, and, to a large extent, that of the two mother countries. When the contest began, the chances of France becoming the great colonizing empire of the world were as good as those of England. Not only did she hold far larger territories in America than did England, but she had rich colonies in the West Indies, where the flag of England was at that time hardly represented, and her prospects in India were better than our own. At that time, too, she disputed with us on equal terms the empire of the sea. The loss of her North American provinces turned the scale. With the monopoly of such a market the i '~7 I / o .o7^-^ Preface commerce of England increased enormously, and with her commerce her wealth and power of exten- sion, while the power of France was proportionately crippled. It is true that in time the North American colonies, with the exception of Canada, broke away from their connection with the old country, but they still remained English, still continued to be the best market for our ^ods and manufactures. Never was the shortsightedness of human beings shown more distir. 'tly than when P'rance wasted her strength and treasure in a sterile contest on the con- tinent of Europe, and permitted, with scarce an effort, her North American colonies to be torn from her. All the historical details of the war have been drawn from the excellent work entitled Montcalm, and WolfCy by Mr. Francis Parkman, and from the detailed history of the Louisbourg and Quebec ex- peditions, by Major Knox, who served under Generals Amherst and Wolfe G. A. HENTY. Contents Chap. r. 11. III. IV. V. VI. VII. Vlll. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XV n. XVI II. XIX. XX. XXI. A Rescue Thk Showman's Grandchild ThK Jt SriCE-ROOM .... Thk .Sqiirks (Jranddalt.hter - A QuiKT Time - - . . A Storm Tressed DlSCHARGKD The Defeat ok Braddock - The Fight at Lake (George Scouting A Commission An Abortive Attack ... Scouting on Lake Champi.ain - TirROUGII MANY PeRII.S - The Massacre at Fort William Hen LouisBouRG and Ticondkpoga - Quebec A Da.ngerous Expedition . The Path down the Heights RY Page II ^7 46 80 99 The Capture of Ouebec 7 •35 •52 169 .87 222 237 254 270 287 301 327 345 365 Ac Al Ea Hk Sk; PLi ) 1 1 i I f I I Illustrations Again and again James fired Page Colo u red fro n tispiece A LOW CRV OF ASTONISHMENT BROKE FROM THE SQUIRE - 72 The SOLDIERS were HALF-STUPEFIED with ' TERROR and confusion 168 Each placed himself behind one of the blackened STUMPS AND opened FIRE 264 He saw several paktils of redskins moving along on the river bank 352 Sketch Map of Lake Champlain and Lake George to illustrate operations, 1755-9 186 Plan of Quebec and its neig-hbourhood to illustrate the operations of Wolfe and Montcalm, 1759 - . - 303 9 I. I Ml I I! i 1 ! WITH WOLFE IN CANADA CHAPTER I A Rescue Most of the towns standing on our seacoast have suffered a radical change in the course of the last century. Rail- ways and the fashion of summer holiday-making have trans- formed them altogether, and great towns have sprung up where fishing villages once stood. There are a few places, however, which seem to have been passed by by the crowd. The number yearly becomes smaller as the iron roads throw out fresh branches. With the advent of these comes the speculative builder, rows of terraces and shops are run up, promenades are made, bathing machines and brass bands become familiar objects, and in a few years the original character of the place altogether disappears. Sidmouth for a long time was passed by by the world of holiday makers. East and west of her great changes took place, and many far smaller villages became fashionable seaside watering-places ; the railway which passed by some twelve miles away carried its tens of thousands westward, but left few of them for Sidmouth, and anyone who visited the pretty little place some years back would have seen it almost as it stood when our story opens over a century ago. u 12 With Wolfe in Canada !if There are few places in England with a fairer site ; it lies embosomed in the hills which rise sharply on either side of it, while behind stretches a rich undulating country thickly dotted with orchards and snug homesteads, with lanes bright with wild flowers and ferns, with high hedges and trees meeting overhead. The cold breezes which render so bare of interest the walks round the great majority of our seaside towns pass harmlessly over the valley of the Sid, where the vegetation is as bright and luxuriant as if the ocean lay leagues away instead of breaking on the shore within a few feet of the front line of houses. The cliff^s which on either side rise from the water's edge are neither white like those to the east, nor grey as are the rugged bulwarks to the west. They are of a deep red, warm and pleasant to the eye, with clumps of green show- ing brightly up against them on every little ledge where vegetation can get a footing; while the beach is neither pebble, nor rock, nor sand, but a smooth level surface slop- ing evenly down, hard and pleasant to walk on when the sea has gone down, and the sun has dried and baked it for an hour or two, but slippery and treacherous when freshly wetted, for the red cliffs are of clay. Those who sail past in a boat would hardly believe that this is so, for the sun has baked its face, and the wind dried it till it is cracked and seamed, and makes a brave imitation of red granite ; but the clammy ooze when the sea goes down tells its nature only too plainly, and Sidmouth will never be a populai watering-place for children, for there is no digging sand castles here, and a fall will stain light dresses and pinafores a ruddy hue, and the young labourers will look as if they had been at work in a brickfield. But a century since the march of improvement had no- where begun, and there were few larger and no prettier seaside villages on the coast than Sidmouth. It was an afternoon in August; the sun was blazing down hotly, scarce a breath of wind was stirring, and the tiny waves lin A Rescue 13 site; it lies ither side of ntry thickly with lanes hedges and :h render so ority of our of the Sid, nt as if the n the shore 'ater's edge ' as are the I deep red, reen shou- ;dge where is neither irface slop- 1 when the aked it for len freshly o sail past or the sun is cracked d granite ; its nature a popular jing sand pinafores as if they t had no- o prettier t was an vn hotly, ny waves roke along the shore with a low rustle like that of falling leaves. Some fishermen were at work recaulking a boat liauled up on the shore, others were laying out some nets Jto dry in the sun ; some fisherboys were lying asleep like dogs basking in the heat; and a knot of lads sitting under the shade of a boat were discussing with some warmth the question of smuggling. '* What do you say to it, Jim Walsham?" one of the party said, looking up at a boy some twelve years old, who was leaning against a boat, but who had hitherto taken no part in the discussion. " There is no doubt that it's wrong," the boy said. "Not V wrong like stealing, and lying, and that sort of thing; still it's wrong because it's against the law, and the revenue men it they come upon a gang landing the tubs fight with them, and if any are killed they are not blamed for it, so i there is no doubt about its being wrong. Then on the other '^hand no one thinks any the worse of the men that do it, and there is scarce a one, gentle or simplt, as won't buy some of the stuff if he gets a chance, so it can't be so very I wrong. It must be great fun to be a smuggler, to be always 4 dodging the king's cutters, and running cargoes under the I nose of the officers ashore. There is some excitement in a "^life like that." •'There is plenty of excitement in fishing," one of the boys said sturdily. ** If you had been out in that storm last March you would have had as much excitement as you liked. For twelve hours we expected to go down every minute, and we were half our time bailing for our lives." - An approving murmur broke from the others, who were p all, with the exception of the one addressed as Jim Wal- sham, of the fisher class. His clothing differed but little from that of the rest; his dark- blue pilot trousers were old and sea-stained, his hands and face were dyed brown with exposure to the sun and the salt water; but there was something in his manner and tone of voice which showed 14 With Wolfe in Canada \ that a distinction existed. James Walsham was indeed the son of the late doctor of the village, who had died two years previously. Dr. Walsham had been clever in his profession, but cir- cumstances were against him. Sidmouth and its neighbour- hood were so healthy that his patients were few and far between, and when he died of injuries received from being thrown over his horse's head when the animal one night trod on a stone coming down the hill into Sidmouth, his widow and son were left almost penniless. Mrs. Walsham was fortunately an energetic woman, and a fortnight after her husband's death she went round among the tradesme.. of the place and the farmers of the neighbourhood, and announced her intention of opening a school for girls. She had received a good education, being the daughter of a clergyman, and she soon obtained enough pupils to enable her to pay her way and to keep up the pretty home in which her husband lived in the outskirts of Sidmouth. If she would have taken boarders she could have obtained far higher terms, for good schools were scarce, but this she would not do, and her pupils all lived within distances where they could walk backwards and forwards to their homes. Her evenings she devoted to her son, and though the edu- cation which she was enabled to give him would be con- sidered meagre indeed in these days of universal cramming, he learned as much as the average boy of the period. He would have learned more had he followed her desires, and devoted the time when she was engaged in teaching to his books; but this he did not do; for a few hours in the day he would work vigorously at his lessons, the rest of his time he spent either on the seashore or in the boats of the fishermen ; and he could swim, row, or handle a boat under sail in all weather as well or better than any lad in the village of his own age. His disposition was a happy one, and he was a general favourite among the boatmen. He had not as yet made up lis A Rescue •5 was indeed lad died two iion, but cir- s neighbour- few and far 1 from being il one night dmouth, his s. Walsham tnight after 2 tradesmen, irhood, and r girls. She ughter of a ils to enable me in which ive obtained 3ut this she inces where leir homes, jh the edu- ild be con- cramming, jriod. ler desires, eaching to )urs in the rest of his oats of the 3oat under lad in the a general t made up mind as to his future. His mother wanted him to fol- ■ his father's profession ; he himself longed to go to sea, but he had promised his mother that he would never do so Jirithout her consent, and that consent he had no hope of ^taining. The better-class people in the village shook their heads gravely over James Walsham, and prophesied no good things of him. They considered that he demeaned himself freatly by association with the fisherboys, and more than nee he had fallen into disgrace with the more quiet-minded of the inhabitants by mischievous pranks. His reputation that way once established, every bit of mischief in the place which could not be clearly traced to someone else was put j|ovvn to him, and as he was not one who would peach upon others to save himself, he was seldom in a position to prove his innocence. The parson had once called upon Mrs. Walsham, and had talked to her gravely over her son's delinquencies, but his success had not been equal to his anticipations. Mrs. Walsham had stood up warmly for her son. •* The boy may get into mischief sometimes, Mr. AUanby, hut it is the nature of boys to do so. James is a good boy, upright and honourable, and would not tell a lie under any Oonsideration. What is he to do? If I could afford to iend him to a good school it would be a different thing, but that you know I cannot do. From nine in the morning until five in the afternoon my time is occupied by teaching, And I cannot expect, nor do I wish, that he should sit moping indoors all day. He had far better be out in the jboats with the fishermen than be hanging about the place |3oing nothing. If anything happened to me before he is ^tarted in life there would be nothing for him but to take to the sea. I am laying by a little money every month, and if I live for another year there will be enough to buy him fishing boat and nets. I trust that it may not come to hat, but I see nothing derogatory in his earning an hop^st I I I i6 With Wolfe in Canada living- with his own hands; he will always be somethin; better than a common fisherman. The education I hav striven to give him, and his knowledge that he was born gentleman will nerve him to try and rise. As to what yo say about mischief, so far as I know all boys are mis .:hievous. 1 know that my own brothers were ahvav getting into scrapes, and I have no doubt, Mr. AUanbv that when you look back upon your own boyhood yc will see that you were not an exception to the genera rule." Mr. Allanby smiled. He had come rather against hi own inclinations; but his wife had urged him to speak t Mrs. Walsham, her temper being ruffled by the disappear ance of two favourite pigeons, whose loss she, without shadow of evidence, most unjustly put down to Janie Walsham. The parson was by no means strict with his flock. H was a tall man, inclined to be portly, a good shot and a ardent fisherman, and although he did not hunt he was frf quently seen on his brown cob at the "meet" whenever took place within a reasonable distance of Sidmouth, an without exactly following the hounds his knowledge of 11 country often enabled him to see more of the hunt tha those who did. As Mrs. Walsham spoke, the memory c his old school and college days came across him. '•That is the arguvientuin ad hoinineviy Mrs. Walsliarr and when a lady takes to that we can say no more. Yo know I like your boy, there is much that is good in hiir but it struck me that you were letting him run a little to wild. However, there is much in what you say, and I don believe that he is concerned in half the mischief that he get credit for. Still you must remember that a little of th curb, just a little, is good for us all. It spoils a horse tob always tugging at his mouth, but he will go very badly i he does not t'eel that there is a hand on the reins. I hav; said the same thing to the squire. He spoils that boy o (337) l!^ A Rescue 17 be somethin; ication I hav he was born IS to what yc boys are mis ; were alway Mr. Allanby boyhood yr to the genen ler against hi im to speak t the disappear she, without own to Jame his flock. Ht 3d shot and a unt he was frt 't " whenever : . Sidmouth, an; owledge ot" th he hunt tha he memory c )ss him. Irs. Walsliarr 10 more. Yo good in him nm a little to ay, and I doii ief that he get a little of th s a horse to b o very badly i reins. I havt ils that boy | (337) his, for whom, between ourselves, I have no great liking The old man will have trouble with him before he is done, or I am greatly mistaken." Nothing came of Mr. Allanby's visit. Mrs. Walsham told James that he had been there to remonstrate with her. '• I do not want to stop you from going out sailing, Jim; but I wish you would give up your mischievous pranks, they only get you bad will and a bad name in the place. Many people here think that I am wrong in allowing you to associate so much with the fisherboys, and when you get into scrapes it enables them to impress upon me how right they were in their forecasts. I do not want my boy to be named in the same breath with those boys of Robson's, or young Peterson, or Blaine." '• But you know I have nothing to do with them, mother," James said indignantly. "They spend half their time about the public-house, and they do say that when Peterson has been out with that lurcher of his he has been seen coming back with his coat bulged out, and there is often a smell of hare round his father's cottage at supper-time. You know I wouldn't have anything to do with them." *' No, Jim, I am sure you would not; but if people mix up your name with theirs it is almost as bad for you as if you had. Unfortunately people are too apt not to distinguish between tricks which are really only the outcome of high spirit and a lack of something better to do, and real vice. ; Therefore, Jim, I say, keep yourself from mischief. I know that though you are out-of-doors so many hours of the day you really do get through a good deal of work ; but other people do not give you credit for this. Remember how your father was respected here. Try to act always as you would have done had he been alive, and you cannot go far wrong." James had done his best, but he found it hard to get rid of his reputation for getting into mischief, and more than once, when falsely suspected, he grumbled that he might (337) 2 Ill i8 With Wolfe in Canada I I just as well have the fun of the thing, for he was sure to have the blame. As Jim Walsham and his companions were chatting in the shade of a boat their conversation was abruptly broken off by the sight of a figure coming along the road. It was a tall figure, with a stiff military bearing; he was pushing before him a large box mounted on a framework supported by four wheels; low down, close to the ground, swung a large flat basket. In this on a shawl spread over a thick bed of hay sat a little girl some five years old. ** It is the sergeant," one of the boys exclaimed. •• I wonder whether he has got a fresh set of views ; the last were first-rate ones." The sergeant gave a friendly nod to the boys as he passed, and then turning up the main street from the beach went along until he came to a shaded corner, and there stopped. The boys had all got up and followed him, and now stood looking on with interest at his proceedings. The little girl had climbed out of her basket as soon as he stopped, and after asking leave, trotted back along the street to the beach, and was soon at play among the seaweed and stones. She was a singularly pretty child, with dark-blue eyes, and brown hair with a touch of gold. Her print dress was spotlessly clean and neat; a huge flapping sunbonnet shaded her face, whose expression was bright and winning, •'Well, boys," the sergeant said cheerfully, "how have you been getting on since I was here last? Nobody drowned, I hope, or come to any ill ; not that we must grumble what- ever comes ; we have all got to do our duty, whether it be to march up a hill with shot and shell screaming and whistling round, as I have had to do ; or to be far out at sea with the wind blowing fit to take the hair off your head, as comes to your lot sometimes; or following the plough from year's end to year's end, as happens to some. We have got to make the best of it whatever it is. 1 have got a grand new set of pictures from Exeter. They came A Rescue 19 Lire to have :hatting in )tly broken d. It was as pushing supported i, swung a ver a thick limed. " 1 s; the last J he passed, beach went ire stopped. 1 now stood he little girl topped, and o the beach, itones. -blue eyes, dress was sunbonnet nd winning, how have y drowned, imble what- whether it aming and be far out air oflF your lowing the ns to some, is. 1 have They came i'^ *} % ',1 all the way down from London town for me by wagon. London Bridge, and Windsor Castle, with the flag flying over it, telling that the king — God bless his gracious majesty — is at home. "Then I have got some pictures of foreign parts that will make you open your eyes. There's Niagara. I don't know whether you've heard of it, but it's a place where a great river jumps down over a wall of rock as high as that steeple there, with a roar like thunder that can be heard, they say, on a still night, for twenty miles round. I have got some that will interest you more still, because you are sailors, or are going to be sailors. I have got one of the killing of a whale ; he has just thrown a boat with five sailors into the air, with a lash of his tail ; but it's of no use, for there are other boats round, and the harpoons are striking deep in his flesh. He is a big fish and a strong one ; but he will be beaten, for he does not know how to use his strength. That's the case with many men. They throw away their life and their talents, just because they don't know what's in them, and what they might do if they tried. •' And 1 have got a picture of the fight with the Spanish Armada. You have heard about that, boys, surely ; for it began out there over the water almost in sight of Sid- mouth, and went on all the way up the Channel, our little ships hanging on to the great Spaniards and giving them no rest, but worrying them and battering them till they were glad to sail away to the Dutch coast; but they were not safe there, for we sent fire ships at them, and they had to cut and run, and then a storm came on, and sunk many and drove others ashore all around our coasts, even round the north of Scotland and Ireland. You will see it all here, boys, and as you know the price is only one penny." By this time the sergeant had let down one side of the box and discovered four round holes, and had arranged a low stool in front, for any of those who were not tall J» 20 With Wolfe in Canada enough to look through the glasses, to stand upon. A considerable number of girls and boys had now gathered round, for Sergeant Wilks and his show were old-estab- lished favourites at Sidmouth, and the news of his arrival had travelled quickly round the place. Four years before he had appeared there for the first time, and since then had come every few months. He travelled round the south-western counties, Dorset and Wilts, Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, and his cheery good temper made him a general favourite wherever he went. He was somewhat of a martinet, and would have no crowding and pushing, and always made the boys stand aside till the girls had a good look; but he never hurried them, and allowed each an ample time to see the pictures, which were of a better class than those in most travelling peepshows. There was some murmuring at first because the show contained none of the popular murders and blood- curdling scenes to which the people were accustomed. "No," the sergeant had said firmly, when the omission was suggested to him; " the young ones see quite enough scenes of drunkenness and fighting. When I was a child I remember seeing in a peepshow the picture of a woman lying with her head nearly cut off, and her husband with a bloody chopper standing beside her, and it spoiled my sleep for weeks. No, none of that sort of thing for Ser- geant Wilks; he has fought for his country, and has seen bloodshed enough in his time, and the ground half-covered with dead and dying men, but that was duty — this is pleasure. Sergeant Wilks will show the boys and girls who pay him their pennies views in all parts of the world such as would cost them thousands of pounds if they travelled to see them, and all as natural as life. He will show them great battles by land and sea, where the soldiers and sailors shed their blood like water in the service of their country; but cruel murders and notorious crimes he will not show them." A Rescue 21 upon. A gathered old-estab- rjis arrival ars before since then round the Somerset, iiper made d have no boys stand ^rer hurried le pictures, t travelling rst because and blood- omed. pe omission lite enough was a child )f a woman sband with spoiled my ng for Ser- id has seen lalf-covered ty — this is s and girls the world ids if they e. He will the soldiers service of s crimes he It was not the boys and girls only who were the scr- dj^ant'fe patrons. Picture books were scarce in those days, tCid grown-up girls and young men were not ashamed to fldy their pennies to peep into the sergeant's box. There tias scarcely a farmhouse throughout his beat where he lias not known and welcomed. His care of the child, who, when he first came round, was but a year old, won the heart of the women, and a bowl of bread-and-milk for tht' little one, and a mug of beer and a hunch of bread and IHcon for himself, were always at his service before ho 0j^( tied his box and showed its wonders to the maids and ^ildren of the house. Sidmouth was one of his regular halting-places, and, indeed, he visited it more often than any other town on hfe beat. There was always a room ready for him there to the house of a fisherman's widow when he arrived on tllie Saturday, and he generally stopped till the Monday. Thus he had come to know the names of most of the boys of the place as well as of many of the elders; for it was hll custom of a Saturday evening, after the little one was ill bed, to go and smoke his pipe in the taproom of the "Anchor", where he would sometimes relate tales of his adventures to the assembled fishermen. But, although clmtty and cheery with his patrons. Sergeant Wilks was a teticent rather than a talkative man. At the "Anchor" ho was, except when called upon for a story, a listener rsther than a talker. As to his history, or the county to which he belonged, he never alluded to it, although communicative enough as tOthis military adventures; and any questions which were atited him he quietly put on one side. He had intimated, io^eed, that the father and mother of his grandchild were ht^h dead; but it was not known whether she was the cUPd of his son or daughter; for under his cheerful talk thire was something of military strictness and sternness, 90 he was not a man of whom idle questions would be asked. 22 With Wolfe in Canada 1 *' Now, boys and girls," he said, •• step up; the show ij ready. Those who have got a penny cannot spend it better. Those who haven't must try and get their father or mother to give them one and see the show later on Girls first, boys should always give way to their sisters The bravest men are always the most courteous and gentle with women." P'our girls of various ages paid their pennies and took their places at the glasses, and the sergeant then began to describe the pictures, his descriptions of the wonders within being so exciting that several boys and girls stole off from the little crowd and made their way to their home* to coax their parents out of the necessary coin. James Walsham listened a while, and then walked avva) to the sea, for there would be several sets of girls before i: came to the turn of the boys. He strolled along, and a he came within sight of the beach stopped for a momeii suddenly, and then with a shout ran forward at the lop c his speed. The little girl, after playing some time with the seaweed had climbed into a small boat which lay at the edge of the advancing tide, and leaning over the stern watched the little waves as they ran up one after another. A fev minutes after she had got into it, the rising tide floatec the boat, and it drifted out a few yards, as far as it: neadrope allowed it. Ignorant of what had happened the child was kneeling up at the stern, leaning over, anc dabbling her hands in the water. No one had noticcc her; the boys had all deserted the beach. None of tht fishermen were near the spot. Just before James Wal sham came within sight of the sea the child had o\er balanced itself. His eye fell on the water just as twe arms and a frightened little face appeared above it. There was a little splash and a struggle, and the sea was bare again. At the top of his speed James dashed across the road ,.=4, I i ii A Rescue 23 ; the show b inot spend i; it their fathe: low later on their sisters )us and ^^entlt nies and tool it then be^^ar the wonders md girls stok to their home> in. 1 walked avva) girls before 1 along, and a for a momeiv 1 at the top 1 the seaweed e edge of tht watched iht ther. A fev Ig tide floatet as far as it: d happened |ing over, aiic had notice None of th James Wai lid had o\ei just as twi kve it. Then Isea was bare )ss the road sprang down the beach, and rushing a few yards Into the water, dived down. He knew which way the tide was fnaking, and allowed for the set. A few vigorous strokes, Und he reached something white on the surface. It was |he sunbonnet which had in the child's struggles become iinfastened. He dived at once, and almost immediately ^aw a confused mass before him. Another stroke, and he ■$fized the child's clothes, and grasping her firmly rose to ^|he surface and swam towards the shore. Although the liccident had not been perceived, his shout and sudden 4riish into the water had called the attention of some of the inen, and two or three of them ran into the water waist illeep to help him out with his little burden. I "Well done, Master Walsham! the child would have |)een drowned if you had not seed it. None of us noticed |»(r fall over. She was playing on the beach last time I |eed her." t" Is she dead?" James asked, breathless from his xertions. I "Not she," the fisherman said, "she could not have Jbeen under wator a minute. Take her into my cottage, |t's one of the nighest; my wife will put her between the |)lankets, and will soon bring her round." I The fisherman's wife met them at the door, and taking |he child from the lad carried it In, and soon had her ^rapped up in blankets. But before this was done she ^yad opened her eyes, for she had scarcely lost conscious- ness when James had seized her. The lad stood outside |he door waiting for the news when the sergeant hurried i|:p, one of the fishermen having gone to tell him what had liappened as soon as the child had been carried Into the cottage— assuring him as he did so that the little one fvould speedily come round. Just as he came up the door of the cottage opened, and one of the women who ^ad run in to assist the fisherman's wife put her head jjpijt. .11 '' I (fjff* I 24 With Wolfe in Canada " She has opened her eyes," she said. *'The little dpar will soon be all right." *• Thank God for His mercies!" the sergeant said, taking oflf his hat. ** What should I have done if 1 had lost her? and I have to thank you next to God," he said, seizing the boy's hand. " May God bless you, young gentleman ! anc reward you for having saved my darling. They tell m she must have been drowned but for you, for no one kneu she had fallen in. Had it not been for you I should come round to look for her and she would have been gone- gone for ever!" and the showman dashed the tears froir his eyes with the back of his hand. ** I was only just in time," the lad said. " I did not set her fall out of the boat. She was only a few yards awa; from it when she came up — ^just as my eyes fell on tht spot. I am very glad to have saved her for you ; but course it was nothing of a swim. She could not havt been many yards out of my depth. Now I will run hom- and change my things." James Walsham was too much accustomed to be we through to care anything about his dripping clothes, bu they served him as an excuse to get away, for he fel awkward and embarrassed at the gratitude of the ok soldier. He pushed his way through the little crow which had now gathered round, and started at a run ; fo the news had brought almost all those gathered round tli peepshow to the shore, the excitement of somebody bein; drowned being superior even to that of the peepshow t the great majority, though a few, who had no hope c obtaining the necessary pennies, had lingered behind, an^ seized the opportunity for a gratuitous look through th glasses. James ran upstairs and changed his clothes witlioi seeing his mother, and then, taking down one of Ik lesson books, set to work, shrinking from the idea ( going out again and being made a hero of. Half a :|hii ■^ [a rhe little dear it said, taking had lost herr id, seizing the ntleman ! anc They tell m? • no one kne\\ [ should come been gone- he tears froir * I did not see w yards awa; es fell on the )r you ; but o 3uld not havt will run hom led to be wt g clothes, bu ly, for he fel de of the ok little crowc 1 at a run ; fo 2red round th )mebody beiri; E peepshow t id no hope c ;d behind, im k through th othes withou /n one of In n the idea o of. Half a; A Rescue 25 lOur later there was a knock at the front door, and a few minutes after his mother called him down. He ran down 'Ito the parlour, and there found the showman. "Oh, I say," the boy broke out, "don't say anything Imore about it! I do hate being thanked, and there was ^nothing in sw mming ten yards in a calm sea. Please don't say anything more about it. I would rather you thit me ever so much." I The sergeant smiled gravely, and Mrs. Walsham ex- 'ciaimed : ). " Why didn't you come in and tell me about it, Jim? I kould not make out at first what Mr. — Mr.- *' Sergeant Wilks, madam." •'What Sergeant Wilks meant when he said that he |had called to tell me how grateful he felt to you for saving |his little grandchild's life. I am proud of you, Jim." I '* Oh, mother, don't!" the boy exclaimed. '* It is horrid 4going on so. If I had swum out with a rope through the jsurf there might be something in it; but just to jump in at §the edge of the water is not worth making a fuss about lone way or the other." fl "Not to you perhaps, young gentleman, but it is to fme," the showman said. "The child is the light of my llife, the only thing I have to care for in the world, and lyou have saved her. If it had only been by stretching out tvyour hand I should have been equally grateful. However, I will say no more about it, but I shall not think the less. But don't you believe, madam, that there was no credit in it. It was just the quickness and the promptness which saved her life. Had your son hesitated a moment it would ^ have been too late, for he would never have found her. It •?*jis not likely that your son will ever have any occasion for help of mine, but should there be an opportunity he may rely upon it that any service I can render him shall be his to the death; and unlikely as it may seem, it may yet turn out that this brave act of his in savmg the life of the 7"! I '^ 26 With Wolfe in Canada granddaughter of a travelling showman will not be with- out its reward." " Is she all right now?" Jan:es asked abruptly, anxious to change the conversation. "Yes. She soon came to herself, and wanted to tell me all about it; but I would not let her talk, and in a few minutes she dropped off to sleep, and there I left hei The women tell me she will probably sleep till morning, and will then be as well as ever. And now I must go and look after my box, or the boys will be pulling it to pieces." It was, however, untouched, for in passing the sergeant had told the little crowd that if they left it alone he would en his return let all see without payment, and during the rest of the afternoon he was fully occupied with successive audiences, being obliged to make his lectures brief in order that all might have their turn. After the sergeant had left, James took his hat and went for a long walk in the country in order to escape the con- gratulations of the other boys. The next day little Agnes was perfectly well, and appeared with her grandfather in the seat far back in the church which he always occupied on the Sundays he spent at Sidmouth. On these occa- sions she was always neatly and prettily dressed, and, indeed, some of the good women of the place, comparing; the graceful little thing with their own children, had not been backward in their criticisms on the folly of the old showman in dressing his child out in clothes fit for a lady. I , not be with- Dtly, anxious inted to tell and in a fe\v ; I left hei :ill morning, must go and it to pieces." the sergeant >ne he would d during the Lh successive res brief in lat and went ape the con- ' little Agnes andfather in lys occupied these occa- ressed, and, , comparinj^ en, had not y of the old t for a lady. CHAPTER II The showman's Grandchild HRFE months later the showman again appeared at Sid- outh, but did not set up his box as usual. Leaving it at is lodging he went at once with his grandchild to Mrs. alsham's. " I have come, madam," he said after the first enquiries bout the child had been answered, **on a particular usiness. It will seem a strange thing to you for a man ike me to ask, but things are not quite as they seem, hough I can't explain it now. But I am beating about he bush, and not getting any nearer. I have come to lisk, madam, whether you would take charge of the child for two years. Of course I am ready to pay anything that ^ou may think proper.'" " But I don't take boarders," Mrs. Walsham said, much surprised at the proposition. *' I only take girls who (Come in the morning and go away in the afternoon ; be- jiides, they are all a good many years older than your jgfrandchild. None of the girls who come to me are under twelve." ** I know, ma'am, I know; and I am sure you must think it a great liberty on my part to ask such a thing," the sergeant said apologetically. " It is not the teaching I want, but just a home for her." Mrs. Walsham felt puzzled. She did in her heart feel it to be a liberty. Surely this wandering showman would (ind no difficulty in getting his grandchild taken care of 97 ^" I r 28 With Wolfe in Canada among people of his own rank in life. It did seem most singular that he should seek to place the child with her. Mrs. Walsham was not given to thii.^king what her neigh- bours would say, but she thought of the buzz of comment and astonishment which her taking the charge of this child would excite. She had been particular in keeping her little school to some extent select, and as it was now as large as she could manage unaided, she was able to make it almost a favour to the farmer's wives to take their girls. But to do Mrs. Walsham justice this thought had less influence with her than that of the time and care which would be required by a child of that age in the house. "Certainly," she thought, as she looked at her, sitting with her eyes wide open and an expression of grave wonder in her face, *' she is a little darling, and as Jim saved her life I have a special interest in her; but this is out of the question." It was two or three minutes before she an- swered the showman's last words. "No, it cannot be done. Sergeant Wilks. No money that could be paid me would make up to me for the charge of a child of her age. I am all day in schooi, and what could a child, especially one accustomed to be out all day, do with herself? The worry and anxiety would be immense. Were it not for my school it would be different altogether. A child of that age, especially such a sweet little thing as your granddaughter seems to be, would be a pet and amusement; but as it is, I am sorry to say that it is out of ihe question. But surely you will have no difficulty in finding plenty of good wcuen who would be glad to take her, and to whom, having children of the same age, she would be no trouble whatever." "Yes," the sergeant said slowly, "I was afraid you would say that, ma'am. Besides, though you are good enough not to say it. I know that there must be other objections. I know you must be surprised at my wanting her to I ooul might buiy. M Fi sueprii a ium F6f hr be ha| h#py f'l said, I #ish eiqplHJi must pound from otber I Sidmo aaothe "Ibr I suoifom madar what were ; ■t* G( a wrei I aliall ta iisti these break, Please t'OHday you w teH y( tirink, ',■1' I seem most Id with her. t her neigh- of comment irge of this in keeping it was now was able to ves to take hi had less care which the house. sitting with e wonder in Lved her life out of the ore she an- No money r the charge i, and what out all day, 36 immense. altogether, tie thing as a pet and lat it is out difficulty in [flad to take ne age, she afraid you u are good St be other my wanting The Showman's Grandchild 29 her lo be with a lady like yourself. So far as money goes I i#r s(ia. wHpc Mrs. Walsham was some time before she recoverejoHfer from her surprise. This was, indeed, a mysterious afTai ^^ The earnestness with which the old soldier pleaded hsufjj^n cause had moved her strongly, and had almost persuade ^*^|^° her to accept the proposal which had at first seemed pr posterous. Fifty pounds a year, too, was certainly handsome sum. She could get a girl from the village k^%J^ two or three shillings a week to look after the child ac*V^^ go out with her during school hours, and a hundred pounc^* would be a very handsome addition to the sum which s^ M^ had begun, little by little, to lay by for Jim's preparatic ■ * for the medical profession. Y^/^ In the five years which would elapse before it would b*^^° time for him to enter upon his studies for it she cou hardly hope to lay by more than that sum, and this wou at a stroke double it. Certainly it was a tempting offe: She could not do justice to the child, could not give ht"' the care and attention which she ought to have, and whic* she could have for such a sum elsewhere ; but the sergeac"' knew exactly how she was placed, and if he was willlDi and anxious for her to assume the charge of the child wh should she refuse this good offer? However, her pupi. were waiting for her in the next room, and with an effor^* Mrs. Walsham put the matter aside, and went in to their When James returned home to dinner his mother relate to him the whole conversation. James was more amuse; than puzzled. '• It seems a rum idea, mother; but I don't see why yo *^* shouldn't take her. She is a sweet little thing, and will bP***^^ a great amusement. Fifty pounds a year seems a tremer'*^ dous sum for a man like that to pay; but I suppose knows his own business, and it will be a great pull for yot You will be able to have all sorts of comforts. I shouli ar in t< cc ,: 1 !ii:i, « da The Showman's Grandchild 31 5ok the child Hbi, it very much. I have often wished I had had a little g towards ttsirt^r, and she can go out walks with me, you know; it wdttid be like having a big dog with one, only much she recoverejoWitr." ^sterious affai Wes," his mother said, smiling; "and I shouldn't be er pleaded h su^pr'^^*^ *^ y°" wanted to throw sticks into the water tor nost persuade h**"**^ ^^^^^ ^^^'" '^"'» ^"*^ '° ^^ taking her out for - night's •st seemed pr'firf*lb&. ^"^ ^^ constantly bringing her home splashed as certainly ^w ^^^^ nasty red mud from head to foot. Vou would the village f(be# nice playmate for a little girl, Jim. Perhaps it is that r the child ai;*P*!^'^' advantage that the sergeant had in his mind's eye mndred pouncwhin he was so anxious to put her with me." sum which s^ ^"les laughed. n's preparatic ^* ^ would see that she didn't come to any harm anyhow, yCMI know ; and, after all, I suppose it was my picking her are it would \^^4, °^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ something to do with his first )r it she cou^WSking of putting her with you." and this wou ^^ suppose it had, Jim," she said more seriously, emptinff offe **^^ what do you think, my boy? You know there are d not eive hf*^**T^^^"^^&^^ '" '**• There will be a good deal of talk ave and whic^^N'l'^ "^y taking this showman's grandchild, and some of ut the sergeat^*^^'^'^^''^' ^^'^^^ won't like it." he was willin *lThen let them dislike it," James said indignantly. f the child wh'*ll^^ child is as good as their daughters any day. Why, i^er her ouoi^ l^ticed her in church looking like a little lady. There with an effor^*^ "^^ ^ child there to compare to her." jnt in to their *l^^^» ^ have noticed her myself," Mrs. Walsham said. mother relate **^^ '^ ^ singularly pretty and graceful child; but it will more amuse<^'"^y ^^"se remark." *fWell, mother, you can easily say, what is really the t see why vc^*^» ^^^^ y^^ naturally felt an interest in her because I ig" and will tP**"^*^^ ^^^ °"^ ^^ *^^ water. Besides, if people make sems a tremer'^**'^'^^^ ^^^^ ^'^^ ^°°" ^^ t'ned of that; and if not, I can I suppose ^^^' '"^° some scrape or other and give them something It pull for yoi«4 ^" ^^^^ ^^°"^*" rts. I shoul Accordingly when Sergeant Wilks called on Monday i V'li' . 32 With Wolfe in Canada morning for his answer Mrs. Walsham told liim that had decided to accept his offer. "You are aware how I am placed," she said, '* and t I cannot give her the care and time which I could w and which she ought to have for such a liberal payir as you propose; but you know that beforehand, and see that for two years' payments I could not sacrifice school connection, which I should have to do if I gave the time I should wish." "I understand, madam," he said, "and I am grat; to you for consenting to take her. She is getting too now to wander about with me, and since the narrow esa she had last time I was here I have felt anxious whene she was out of my sight. It would not suit me to put in a farmhouse. I want her to learn to speak nicely, c I have done my best to teach her; but if she went t farmhouse she would be picking up all sorts of coui: words, and I want her to talk like a little lady. So tha settled, ma'm. I am going on to Exeter from here, . shall get her a stock of clothes there, and will bring back next Saturday. Will it suit you to take her then; Mrs. Walsham said that would suit very well; and hour later the sergeant set out from Sidmouth with box, Aggie trotting alongside talking continuously. "But why am I to stop with that lady, grampa, not to go about with you any more? I sha'n't like I like going about, though I get so tired sometimes w you are showing the pictures, and I like being with y It isn't 'cause I have been naughty, is it? 'cause I tell of the boat into the water? I won't never get into a t again, and I didn't mean to fall out, you know." "No, Aggie, it's not that," the sergeant said. "1 are always a good girl — at least, not always, beca sometimes you get into passions, you know. Still, a gether you are a good girl. Still, you see, you always be going about the country with me." s, 10; Ui it y< lada old him that said, ** and :h I could w liberal payir rehand, and not sacrifice do if I gave d I am grat: 5 getting too le narrow esG nxious whene it me to put peak nicely, i if she went t( sorts of couD lady. So tha from here, ; d will bring ake her then; ry well ; and mouth with ntinuously. y, grampa, sha'n't like sometimes u being with y 'cause 1 tell get into a b: now." fit said. "1 ilways, beoau Dw. Still, a! see, you c^i me. The Showman's Grandchild 33 But why not, grampa?" ell, my dear, because great girls can't go about country like men; it wouldn't be right and proper should." Why shouldn't it be, grampa?" the child persisted. ^^Vell, Aggie, I can't exactly explain to you why, but Mij^ is. Men and boys have to work; they go about in sh&s, or as soldiers to fight for their country, just as I did. Gills and women have to stop at home and keep house and ntipe babies and that sort of thing. God made man to be httfti and rough and to work and go about ; He made an gentle and soft to stop at home and make things fortable." Aggie meditated for some distance in ce upon this view of the case. But 1 have seen women working in the fields, grampa, some of them didn't seem very soft and gentle." No, Aggie, things don't always go just as they ought 0; and you see when people are poor, and men can't enough wages, then their wives and daughters have elp ; and then you see they get rough, more like men, use they are not doing their proper work ; but I want to grow up soft and gentle, and so for a time I want yWi to live with that lady with the nice boy who pulled ydB out of the water, and they will make you very happy, MO^ I shall come and see you some time." ** I like him," the child said with a nod; "but I would ra|Hier be with you, you know." 'And the lady will teach you to read, Aggie; you have [rned your letters, you know." ggie shook her head, to show that this part of the gramme was not particularly to her liking. * Do you think the boy will play with me, grampa?" ' I dare say he will, Aggie, when you are very good ; you must never forget, you know, that he saved your Just think how unhappy I should be if he had not It you out of the water." (337) I 111 li I '■ i ,'!' 11 34 With Wolfe in Canada "The water was cold and nasty," Aggie said, "an^ liiN^i' seemed so warm and nice to my hands. Aggie won^onf i near the water any more. Of course if the boy is witl:'Wlfal I can go, because he won't let me tumble in. Shall I*>*''NPEi into the basket now, grampa? I is tired." f"^ "Oh, nonsense, little woman! you have not walked '''^■■' a mile yet. Anyhow, you must trot along until you g**^'' the top of this hill, then you shall have a lift for a bit 3v And so, with the child sometimes walking and sc' times riding, sometimes asleep in her basket and sc"^F^ times chatting merrily to her grandfather, the pair it'*'W" their way across the country towards Exeter. There was no little talk in Sidmouth when on the fol* ing Sunday the showman's grandchild appeared in Walsham's pew in church, and it became known that^^ had become an inmate of her house. It was gent: considered that Mrs. Walsham had let herself down gre by taking the showman's grandchild, and one or t\v the mothers of her pupils talked about taking them a One or two indeed called upon her to remonstrate „ sonally, but they gained nothing by the step. *' £V^ *' I do not understand what you mean," she said qiii'*'**'^ "by saying that the child is not fit to associate with other pupils. She is singularly gentle and taking in manner. She expresses herself better than any chil her own age in Sidmouth, so far as I know, few so neatly and prettily dressed. What is There ^„ thert^tP^ object to? Her grandfather has been a sergeant in.*^*'^^ army; he bears a good character, and is liked whert®^#"^ he goes. I do not consider that James or myself ar ^^' any way demeaned by sitting down to meals with*"^*"" child, who indeed behaves as prettily and nicely as » ^f "" could wish, and I certainly do not see that any ot^^'^ pupils can be injuriously affected by the fact that lo: ^^'^ hour or two in the day she learns her lessons in the > r? room with them. Had I thought that they would ^»"P IIIHl ada The Showman's Grandchild 35 r until you gt* lift for a bit. 'j Ikingr and s* )asket and si ir, the pair it' aid "an^WIW"'^ "°^ h^yc received her. I shall, of course, be ^ jg'^o,yio3f il any of my pupils are taken away, but as I have e ^)V is with*^"**' ^'''"'^ °"'y waiting for vacancies, it would make no in. Shall iWNe« ce to me pecuniarily." „ * And so it happened that Mrs. Walsham lost none of her t walked***^^' ''^"^ '" ^ short time the wonder died out; indeed ""■ ild herself was so pretty and taking in her ways that impossible to make any objection to her personally. alsham had been struck by the self-command which owed at parting with her grandfather. Her eyes ull of tears, her lip quivered, and she could scarcely . ^ pMli; but there was no loud wailing, no passionate out- the fol**"^ ^^^ grandfather had impressed upon her that the J • artllg was for her own good, and child though she was, \e that** ^^ '^°^ great a sacrifice he was making in parting ith^ic, and although she could not keep the tears from ing down her cheeks, or silence her sobs as she im goodbye, she tried hard to suppress her grief. , . ^ them a,""iy'" "^ parting was indeed fully as great to Sergeant trate^*^ ^^ ^° '"^ granddaughter, and it was with a very islQ^ voice that he bade her goodbye, and then putting " h 'd aui^*^° ^^^' ^ii^^ham's arms, walked hastily away. . with^^w*^ ^'^^ soon at home. She and James very quickly J 4^*1 -.r^rv ;rC«Hle allies, and the boy was ever ready to amuse her, and takmg in .. ' ^ 4...iur n^ j^j|t«iJij^ivmg up his own plans to take her for a walk to 'q.. ^^:k Ijowers in the hedgerow, or to sail a tiny boat for her pools left as the sea retired. Mrs. Walsham found It was gene rself down gre nd one or tw t • i„ o *» #"^ altogether she made the nouse brighter and ind nicely a> rx .. .^ , - ^ that any oi^' ^h^" '^ '''''^ before. f' that in°^'^^^° months the sergeant came round again. He . ^j^^^ apt bring his box with him, having left it at his last tl ev would ^""^'P'^^^' telling James, who happened to meet him as \i n I I I I 36 With Wolfe in Canada liii Iff! i I he came into Sidmouth, that he did not mean to bring k show there again. "It will be better for the child," he explained. "S: has done with the peepshow now, and I do not want b: to be any longer associated with it." Aggie was delighted to see him, and sprang into i: arms with a scream of joy as he entered. After a fe minutes' talk Mrs. Walsham suggested that she shou put on her hat and go for a walk with him, and in hij contentment the child trotted off^ holding her grandfather hand. Turning to the left the sergeant took the path. the hill, and when he reached the top, sat down oti t; short turf, with Aggie nestling up against him. " So you are quite well and happy, Aggie?" he asked. "Quite well, grampa, and very happy; but I do wish much that you were here. Oh, it would be so nice to ha you to go out with every day ! " "I am afraid that cannot be managed, Aggie. I hai been busy so long that I could not settle down quiet here; besides I must live, you know." " But wouldn't people give you money for the show you lived here, grampa? You always got money heiet same as other places." "Yes, my dear, but I could not get fresh pictures eve day, and should soon tire them by showing the old house " But you are sorry, sometimes, grampa, not to ha me with you?" "Yes, Aggie, very sorry. I miss you terribly sort times, and I am always thinking about you." "Then why don't you take me away again, grampa? " Because, as I told you, Aggie, I want you to learn read, and to grow up quite a little lady." " Does reading make one a lady, grampa?" " No, Aggie, not by itself, but with other things." "And when I am quite grown up and big, and knci how to read nicely, shall I be able to go with you again The Showman's Grandchild 37 ot want hi i '* We will see about that, Aggie, when the time comes. There is plenty of time yet to think about that." 'But I am getting on very fast, grampa, and the lady [says I am a good girl. So it won't be such a very long time before I can leave." '• It will be some time yet. You have only got to read little words yet, but there are lots of long words which ,ou will come to presently. But Mrs. Walsham tells me that you are getting on nicely, and that you are a very food girl, which pleases me very much, and when I am [walking along with my box I shall like to be able to think [of you as being quite comfortable and happy." "And I go walks with Jim, grampa, and Jim has made [me a boat, and he says some day when it is very fine ind quiet he will take me out in a big boat, like that boat, I'ou know; and he is going to ask you if he may, for the lady said I must not go out with him till he has asked you. ind he said he won't let me tumble over, and I am going to sit quite, quite still." "Yes, Aggie, I don't set ny harm in your going out nth him. I am sure he will only take you when it is ine, and he will look after you well. You like him, don't ^ou?" "Oh! I do, grampa; and you know it was him who Igot me out of the water else I should never have come )ut, and never have seen grampa again; and he has made \me a boat. Oh! yes, I do like him!" "That's right, my dear; always stick to those who are {good to you." A few days after this, as Jim was sailing the toy boat [for Aggie's amusement in a pool a boy sauntered up. He Iwas somewhat taller than James Walsham, and at least [two years older. He was well dressed, and James knew jhim as the nephew and heir of the squire It was not often that Richard Horton came down into [the village. He was accustomed to be treated with a good I 1 k jIMj W 38 With Wolfe in Canada -I '•! r I deal of deference at the Hall, and to order servants and grooms about pretty much as he chose, and the indiffer-i ence with which the fisherboys regarded him offended hini greatly. He was a spoilt boy. His uncle had a resident tutor for him, but the selection had been a bad one. The '^ library was large and good, the tutor fond of reading, and he was content to let the boy learn as little as he chose, providing that he did not trouble him. As to any instruc-l tion beyond books he never thought of giving it. The squire never interfered. He was a silent and dis- appointed man. He attended to his duties as a magis- trate and to the management of his estate, but seldom went beyond the lodge gates. He took his meals by him- self, and often did not see his nephew for a week together, and had no idea but that he was pursuing iiis studies regularly with his tutor. Thus the character of Richard Horton formed itself unchecked. At the best it was a bad I one, but under other circumstances it might have been improved. Up to the age of ten he had lived in London with his father and mother, the latter a sister of the squire, who having married beneath her, to the indignation of Mr. Linthorne, he had never seen her afterwards. Four years before the story begins she had received a letter from him saying that as her eldest son was now his heir, he wished him to come and live with him and be prepared to take his place. The Hortons, who had a numerous family, at once accepted the offer, and Richard, hearing that he was going to a grand house, and would no doubt have a pony and all sorts of nice things, left his father and mother without a tear. He was essentially selfish ; he was vain of his g\- J looks, which were certainly striking; and with his changed fortunes he became arrogant, and, as the squire's servants said, hateful, and yet the change had brought him less pleasure than he expected. It was true that he had the vants and e indiflfer- ;nded him a resident 3ne. The iding, and he chose, »y instruc- t and dis- a magi;?- ut seldom Is by him- ; together, lis studies >f Richard was a bad tiave been 1 with his uire, who n of Mr. our years from him le wished o take his , at i>nce vas going pony and r without §' his 5 changed ) servants him less ; had the The Showman's Grandchild 39 ,: pony, that he was not obliged to trouble himself with lessons, that he was an important person at the Hall; but he had no playfellows, no one to admire his grandeur, rand the days often passed heavily, and there was a look of discontent and peevishness upon his handsome face. Perhaps the reason why he so seldom came down into Sidmouth was not only because the fisherboys were not ^sufficiently impressed with his importance, but because Xthey looked so much happier and more contented than he felt in spite of his numerous advantages. On this day he |;was in a particularly bad temper. He had lamed his pony the day before by riding it furiously over a bad road after ^it had cast a shoe. The gardener had objected to his ^picking more than half a dozen peaches which had just ; come into perfection, and had threatened to appeal to the jf squire. » Altogether he was out of sorts, and had walked down ito the sea with a vague hope that something might turn |up to amuse him. He stood for some little time watching *|James sail the boat, and then strode down to the edge of ^the pool. The boat was a model of a smack, with brown fjsails. James had taken a good deal of pains with it, and s^it was an excellent model. Presently in crossing she stuck j|in a shallow some twelve feet from the edge. The inter- it vening stretch of water was a foot deep. J James picked up some small stones and threw them close |to her, that the tiny wave they made might float her off. ^Ile tried several times without success. I "What's the use of such little stones as that?" Richard |said roughly; "you will never get her off like that?" and Ipicking up one as large as his fist, he threw it with some |force. It struck the mast and broke it asunder, and *|knocked the boat on to her side. Jiimes Walsham uttered gun angry exclamation. " Vou are a bad boy," Aggie said passionately. " Yuu i! tl #1 I Ml ' ! ii! 1;. ''\' f I 1,1 ir 40 With Wolfe in Canada are a bad boy to break my boat;" and she burst int( tears. *• I didn't mean to do it, you little fooll" Richard sak angrily, vexed more at his own clumsiness than at tb damage it had caused. "What are you making such; beastly noise about?" and he gave her a push. It was not a hard one, but the ground was slippery, am the child's foot slipped, and she fell at the edge of the poo:;' her dress going partly into the water. At the same instan Richard reeled and almost fell beside her, from a hear blow between the eyes from James's fist. / "You insolent blackguard!" he exclaimed furiously, ". will pay you for this;" and he rushed at James. The combat was not a long one. Hard work at rowiii, and sailing had strengthened Jim Walsham's muscles, an: more than balanced the advantage in height and age of hb adversary. He had had, too, more than one fight in hit time, and after the first sudden burst of passion caused b;* the overthrow of Aggie, he fought coolly and steadily while Richard rained his blows wildly without attempting to guard his face. The child on regaining her feet ran crying loudly towari the beach, making for two fishermen who were engaged ii| mending a net some distance away; but before she couk reach them to beg for aid for her champion the fight wi over, terminated by a heavy right-handed hit from Jame: which landed Richard Horton on his back in the poo! James stood quietly av\^aiting a renewal of the conflic when he arose, but Richard had had enough of it: on of his eyes was already puffed and red, his nose bleeding: and his lip cut ; his clothes were soaked from head to foot and smeared with the red mud. "I will pay you out fo this, you see if I don't," Richard gasped hoarsely. " What! have you had enough of it?" James said scorr- fully. ** I thought you weren't any good; a fellow whi would bully a little girl is sure to be a coward." lam, '^'i^H a le burst int( Richard sak than at tfe aking- such; ;h. slippery, an; e of the pod same instac rom a hear furiously, " s. )rk at rowin. muscles, an: ind age of hi J fight in hi on caused b and steadily it attempting ►udly toward;, e engaged i: jre she couk the fight wi : from Jame in the poo: the confiic h of it: 01 3se bleeding head to foo: r you out fc sely. !S said scorr 1 fellow wh rard." The Showman's Grandchild 41 ichard moved as if he would renew the fight, but he ght better of it, and with a furious exclamation led away towards the Hall. mes, without paying any further heed to him, waded r the boat, and having recovered it walked off towards child, who on seeing his opponent had moved off was ning down to meet him. Here is the boat, Aggie," he said; •* there is no great done, only the mast and yard broken. I can easily you in fresh ones;" but the child paid no attention to thl boat. ^*' He is a wicked bad boy, Jim; and did he hurt yfi?" •Oh, no, he didn't hurt me, Aggie, at least nothing to ak of. 1 hurt him a deal more; I paid him out well for aking your boat and pushing you down, the cowardly te!" 'Only look, Jim," she said, holding out her frock; 'hat will she say?" ames laughed. J*'Mothei won't say anything," he said; "she is accus- ed to my coming in all muddy." f*'But she said 'Keep your frock clean', and it's not an," Aggie said in dismay. '^" Yes, but that is not your fault, little one; I will make ii all right with her, don't you fret. Come on, we had Wtter go home and change it as soon as possible." '^They passed close by the two fishermen on their way. ■ "You gave it to the young squire finely. Master Wal- Ham," one of them said, "and served him right, too. We chanced to be looking at the moment and saw it all. lie is a bad un, he is, by what they say up at the Hall. V heard one of the grooms talking last night down at the ^hip', and a nice character he gave him. This thrashing Hay do him some good ; and look you, Master Walsham, If he makes a complaint to the squire, and it's likely V HI i % 42 With Wolfe in Canada enough he will get up a fine story of how it came at^ — the groom said he could He like King Pharaoh — youi send word to me, and me and Bill will go up to the s(\\ and tell him the truth of the matter." Mrs. Walsham felt somewhat alarmed when her told her what had happened, for the squire was a g man at Sidmouth, a magistrate, and the owner of great^er part of the place as well as of the land arc 'i; u id although Mrs. Walsham did not hold the si exaggerated opinion of his powers as did the majoj of his neighbours, who would scarcely have dreamt i opposing it had the squire ordered anyone to be hunj quartered, still she felt that it was a somewhat terrl thirg the.' iier som should have thrashed the nephew i< heir of int ^ say that; m. ** I am SO' 1 have got alsham in t t and batter confidential done to hi. k upon it I blowing-i trate, I tak sn, but as uld do it r The Showman's Grandchild 43 iThank you, Hobson," Mrs. Walsham said quietly. )u can rely upon it my son shall be there punctually; las nothing to be afraid or ashamed of." ill of rage as Richard Horton had been as he started lome, he would never have brought the matter before [squire on his own account. His case was too weak, he had been thrashed by a boy younger than himself. |s he would have probably chosen some other way of ig his vengeance ; but it happened that just as he :ed home he met his tutor coming out. The latter was funded at Richard's appearance, his eyes were already id so much that he could scarcely see out of them, his [were cut and swollen, his shirt stained with blood, his les drenched and plastered with red mud. [Why, what on earth has happened, Richard?" lichard had already determined upon his version of the lA brute of a boy knocked me down into the water," laid, "and then knocked me about till he almost killed \m But what made him assault you in this outrageous ner?" his tutor asked. "Surely all the boys about must know you by sight; and how one of them would to strike you I cannot conceive." I know the fellow," Richard said angrily; "he is the of that doctor fellow who died two years ago." But what made him do it?" the tutor repeated, e was sailing his boat and it got stuck, and he threw some stones to get it off, and I helped him, and I pened to hit the mast of his beastly boat, and then he at me like a tiger, and that's all." Well, it seems to be a monstrous assault, Richard, you must speak to the squire about it." iissus, am; ^^' Oh, no, I sha'n't," Richard said hastily; "I don't uth wiih i^'ipnt any row about it, and I will pay him off some other wiy. I could lick him easy enough if it had been a fair you say; :lock nip h him, T; ill l|l I , ^ 44 With Wolfe in Canada -i, I %' ' ' i fight, only he knocked me down before I was on my guai^ No, I sha'n't say anything about it." But Richard's tutor on thinking the matter over dee mined to speak to the squire. Only the evening befi Mr. Linthorne had surprised him by asking him sevd questions as to Richard's progress and conduct, and }.] said something about examining him himself, to see k he was getting on. This had caused Mr. Robertson little alarm, for he knew that even the most superfic questioning would betray the extent of Richard's ig: ranee, and he had resolved that henceforth he wa; endeavour to assert his authority and to insist up Richard's devoting a certain portion of each day regula. to study. Should the squire meet the boy anywhere abc the house he must at once notice the condition of his fa. and even if he did not meet him he could not fail to no! it on Sunday when he sat beside him in the pew. would be better, therefore, that he should at once rept J the matter to him. Without saying a word to Richard his intentions he therefore went to the squire's study a' told him what had taken place as he had learned it frc!| Richard. The squire listened silently. ** Very well, Mr. Robertson, you were quite right tot me about it; of course I cannot suffer my nephew to treated in this manner, at the same time I am sorry tha: was Walsham's son. I don't know anything about t boy, and should not know him even by sight, but I had esteem for his father, who was a hard-working man, anc; believe clever; he used to attend here whenever any oft; servants were ill, and I had intended to do something ii the boy. I am sorry he has turned out so badly; hoi ever, I will have him up here and speak to him. Tr sort of thing cannot be permitted." And accordingly orders were given to the constab When in the evening Mr. Robertson informed Richa what he had done, the boy flew into a terrible passio on my gua- m The Showman's Grandchild 45 jd abused his tutor with a violence of language which ior'rt,ed and astonished him, and opened his eyes to his ai culpability in allowing him to go on his way un- lecked. He in vain endeavoured to silence the furious lad. le had been so long without exercising any authority that had now no authority to exercise, and after an angry jene Richard flung himself out of the room and left his Iter in a state bordering on consternation. i i L t' ' i f-y 'i:;.i \tW. II CHAPTER III The Justice-room Richard's feelings were not to be envied as he lay awake that night thinking over what had taken place in the morn- ing. It had never for a moment entered his mind that his tutor would repeat his statement to the squire, and he would have given a good deal if he had not made it ; how- ever, there was nothing for him now but to stick to the story, and he felt but little doubt of the result. He had no idea that any but the actors in it had witnessed the scene by the pool, and he felt confident that his uncle would, as a matter of course, take his word in preference to that of this boy, who would naturally tell lies to screen himself. Of course the child was there, but no one would mind what a baby like that said. Still it was a nuisance, and he gnashed his teeth with rage at the interference of his tutor in the matter. " I will get rid of him somehow before long," he said. " I will pay him out for his meddling as sure as my name's Richard Horton. I will get him out of this before three months are gone." The next morning at breakfast Richard received a message from the squire that he was to be present at ten o'clock in the justice-room, and accordingly at that hour he presented himself there with a confident air, but with an inward feeling of misgiving. The squire was sitting at his table with his clerk beside him. Mr. Robertson was in a chair a short distance off". The constable was The Justice-room 47 e lay awake n the morn- ind that his Ire, and he de it; how- stick to the He had no d the scene [icle would, nee to that jen himself, i^ould mind isance, and ence of his he said. my name's efore three received a sent at ten that hour but with .^as sitting Robertson stable was llanding by the side of James VValsham at the other end the room. Mr. Linthorne nodded to his nephew. •* I wish you to repeat the story which you told Mr. [obertson yesterday." Richard had thought over whether it would be better to )ften his story, but as it had already been told to the luire he had concluded that there would be more danger contradicting his first version than in sticking to it. :cordingly he repeated his story almost word for word as had told it to Mr. Robertson. '•What have you to say to this, James Walsham?" the [iiire asked. "This is a serious charge, that you without ly provocation assaulted and maltreated my nephew." '* I say it is all a lie, sir," James said fearlessly. The squire uttered a short exclamation of surprise and li^^er. He had been at first favourably impressed with le appearance of the young prisoner, though he had been irprised at seeing that he was younger than his nephew, \r he had expected to see a much older boy. •'That is not the way to speak, sir," he said sternly, Hiile the constable pressed a warning hand on James's foulder. ••Well, sir, it's not true then," the boy said; "it's all Iklse from beginning to end, except that I did strike him frst; but I struck him, not because he had thrown a great #one and broken my boat, but because he pushed a little ^rl who was with me down into the water." •'She slipped down; I never pushed her," Richard Iroke in. •• Hold your tongue, sir," the squire said sternly; "you Ifave given your evidence. I have now to hear what the iccused has to say. Now tell your story." James now gave his version of the affair. When he had ended Mr. Linthorne said gravely, " Have )u any witnesses to call?" •• Ves, sir, there are two fishermen outside who saw it." 1 I I 48 With Wolfe in Canadi I I'M I ' 1 ' i I " Bring them in," the magistrate said to the constabli Not a word was spoken in the justice-room unti constable returned. As James had told his story magistrate had listened with disbelief; it had not occurr to him that his nephew could have told a lie, and hi: w dered at the calmness with which this boy told his sv Why, were it true, Richard was a coward as well as a for with his superior age and height he should have bi able to thrash this boy in a fair fight, yet James's facei not a mark, while his nephew's showed how severely had been punished. But his eye fell upon Richard u James said that he had witnesses; he saw an unmistaka: look of terror come over his face, and the bitter convicu flashed across him that James's story was the true one. "There is no occasion to give him the book, HobsoM he said as the constable was about to hand the Testamt to one of the fishermen; •' this is a private investigate not a formal magisterial sitting, and there is no occaji at this stage to take any evidence on oath." ** What is your name, my man?" "John Mullens, your honour." ** Well, just tell me, Mullens, what you know about business." " I was a-mending my netf, yer honour, along Simon Harte, and young Master Walsham was a-sai his boat in a pool along with the little gal as lives at mother's." *' How far were you from the spot where he was?" squire asked. "Two hundred yards or so, I should say," the fbhi man replied; "we was working behind a boat, but could see over it well enough; presently we saw MasI Horton come down and stand alongside the others, said to Simon, ' He is a good-looking young fellow is squire's nephew, ' " and the fisherman's eye twinkled v a grim humour as he glanced at Richard's swollen fa! le ST' p.'i t t ro put ,e h( of e th hin Ma hii kn nd •. e CO It's e it Hol( lyt agi vide rfisl Hav les. Only litt I ca: It IS d qi fist you Idh tha is havii een } (i37) s ill 1:1 la The |ustice-room 49 ie constabit Dom until • his story J not occur ;, and hv w told his St' i well as a )uld have b^ mes's facefcrl DW severely Richard w i n unmistaka itter convicui he true one. )Ook, Hobso^ the Testaii /•'» e investigaii? I is no occas c> and when they returned Mrs. Walsham saw by the flushed cheeks and the swollen eyes of the child that she had been crying. James noticed it also, and saw that she seem 1 depressed and quiet. He supposed that H' H 64 With Wolfe in Canada I!! i II !;:■, f |i i; fii her grandfather had been telling her that he was going to take her away, for hitherto nothing had been said in her hearing as to the approaching termination of the stay with his mother. As they came out of churoh Mrs. Walsham had waited for a moment at the door, and had told the butler at the Hall that she wished particularly to speak to him that afternoon if he could manage to come down. They were not strangers, for the doctor had attended John's wife in her last illness, and he had sometimes called with messages from the Hall when the doctor was wanted there. John Petersham was astonished indeed when Mrs. Wal- sham informed him that the little girl he had seen in her pew in church was his master's granddaughter. " You don't say so, ma'am ; you don't say as that pretty little thing is Master Herbert's child ! But why didn't you say so afore? Why, I have caught myself looking at her, and wondering how it was that I seemed to know her face so well ; and now of course 1 sees it, she is the picture of Master Herbert when he was little." " I couldn't say so before, John, because I only knew it myself last night. Her grandfather — that is, her other grandfather, you know — p'aced her with me to educate, and, as he said, to make a little lady of, two years ago; but it was only last night he told me." "Only to think of it!" the butler ejaculated. "What will the squire say?" " Yes, that is the point, John: what will the squire say? Her grandfather thinks he will have nothing to say to her." ** Nothing to say to her, ma'am! why, he will be off his head with joy. Didn't he search for her, and advertise for her, and do all he could to find her for months. It wasn't till he tried for over a year that he gave it up and sent for Richard Horton to come to him." '* Her grandfather can only judge by what he knows, The Squire's Granddaughter 65 John ; he tells me that the son wrote to his father over and over again on his deathbed, and that he never came near him or took any notice of the letters." "That's true enough, ma'am," the butler said sadly; "and it is what has pretty nigh broken the squire's heart. He was obstinate like at first, and he took me with him when he travelled about across the sea among the foreigners, and when he was at a place they called Athens he got a fever and he was down for weeks. We came home by sea, and the winds was foul and we made a long voyage of it, and when we got home there was letters that had been lying months and months for us, and among them was those letters of Master Herbert's. The squire wasn't an hour in the house afore the carriage was round to the door, and we posted as hard as horses could take us right across England to Broadstairs, never stopping a minute except to change horses, and when we got there it was a month too late, and there was nothing to do but to go to the churchyard and to see the stone under which Master Herbert and his young wife was laid. "The house where they had died was shut up. There had been a sale, and the man who was the father of Master Herbert's wife was gone, and we learned there had been a baby born, and that had gone too. The squire was like a madman, blaming himself for his son's death, and a-raving to think what must Master Herbert have thought of him when he never answered his letters. I had a terrible time with him, and then he set to work to find the child; but, ds 1 told you, we never did find it or hear a word of it from that tim*^ to this, and the squire has never held up his head. He will be prettv well out of his mind with joy." "I am very glad to her.r what you say, John," Mrs. Walshani said. " I could hardly fancy the squire, who always has borne such a name for kindness, being so hard that he would not listen to his dying son's entreaties." (337) 5 ; w ■ 1 66 With Wolfe in Canada Li li!l ! ]>u !l W " No, ma'am. The squire was hard for a bit. Master Herbert's marriage was a sad disappointment to him ; he had made up his mind he was going to do so well and to cut such a figure in the world; but he would have come round. Lord bless you, he only meant to hold out for a bit. When he was ill at Athens he was talking all the time about forgiving his son, and I could see how hard it had been to him to keep separated from him. On the voyage home he fidgeted ever so at the delay, and I knew that the first thing he did when he got back would be to write to Master Herbert and tell him to bring his wife down to the Hall. There's not a hard corner in the squire's heart. I thank the good God fdr the news you have told me, ma'am; it's the best I ever heard in all my life." Mrs. Walsham now told him how the child had becMi brought up, and then the sergeant himself, who was wait- ing in the next room, was brought in; and to him John Petersham related the story of the squire's illness, the reason of the letters not reaching him for months after they had. been written, and his intense sorrow and self- reproach at having arrived too late, and told him of the efforts that had been made to find the child. The sergeant listened in grave silence. ** I am glad it is so," he said after a pause. " I have misjudged the squire, and I am glad of it. It will be a blow to me to lose the child; I do not pretend that it won't; but it is for her good, and I must be content. He can hardly object to my seeing her sometimes, and if I know that she is well and happy that is all I care for; and now the sooner it's over the better. Can she come up this evening?" "Surely she can," John Petersham said. "The squire dines at five; if you will bring her up at six I will take her in to him." And so it was arranged, and in his walk with Aggie afterwards the sergeant told her the history of her parents, The Squire's Granddaughter 67 and that Squire Linthorne was her other grandfather, and that she was to go up and see him that evening. Aggie had uttered her protest against fate ; she did not wish to leave her granipa who had been so good to her, and Mrs. Walsham, and James. The description of the big house and its grandeurs, and the pleasures of a pony for herself, offered no enticement to her, and weeping she flung her arms round her grandfather's neck and implored him not to give her up. " I must, my dear, it is my duty; I wish to God that it were not. You know how I love you, Aggie, and how hard it is for me to part with you ; but it is for your good, my darling. You mayn't see it now, but when you get older you will know it. It will not be so hard now on me, dear, nor on you, as it would have been had I given you up two years ago, but we have learned to do a little with- out each other." "But you will come and see me just as you have here, won't you?" Aggie said, still weeping. ** I hope so, my dear. You see the squire is your father's father, while I am only your mother's father, and somehow the law makes him nearer to you than I am, and he will have the right to say what you must do." ** I won't stay with him, I won't," Aggie said passion- ately, **if he won't let you come." *' You must not say that, dear," the sergeant said. "We must all do our duty even when that duty is hard to do, and your duty will be to obey the squire's orders and to do as he tells you. I have no doubt he will oe very kind, and that you will be very happy with him, and I hope he will let you see me sometimes." It was a long time before the child was at all reconciled. When her sobs began to cease, her grandfather told her what she was to do when she saw the squire. "You will remember, my dear, that I have been more fortunate than he has. I have had you all these years, ii' I ! 68 With Wolfe in Canada and he has had no one to love or care for him. You must remember that he was not to blame because he objected to his son marrying- my daughter. They were not in the same position of life, and it was only natural that he should not like it at first, and as I told you, he was coming home to make them both happy when he found f it was too late. You must think, dear, that while I have been happy all these years with you he has been sorrow- ing and grieving, and you must try and love him and make up to him for what he has suffered. I know you will not forget your old friends ; you will love me whether you see me often or not; and Mrs. Walsham, who has been very kind to you; and James, you know, who saved your life." ** I shall never forget anyone, grampa. I shall always love you better than anyone," the child exclaimed, throw- ing her arms round his neck with a fresh burst of tears. " There, there, my pet," the sergeant said soothingly; " you must not cry any more. I want you to look your best this evening, you know, and to do credit to us all. And now I think we have settled everything, so we will be going back to tea." That evening the squire was sitting by himself in the great dining-room, occasionally sipping the glass of port which John Petersham had poured out before he left the room ; the curtains were drawn and the candles lighted, for it was late in September and the evenings were closing in fast, and the squire was puzzling over John Petersham's behaviour at dinner. Although the squire was not apt to observe closely what was passing around him, he had been struck with the old butler's demeanour; that . mething was wrong with him was clear. Usually he was the most quiet and methodical of servants, but he had blundered several times in the service, he had handed his master dishes when his The Squire's Granddaughter 69 plate was already supplied, he had spilled the wine in pouring it out, he had started nervously when spoken to. Mr. Linthorne even thought that he had seen tears in his eyes; altogether he was strangely unlike himself. Mr. Linthorne had asked him if anything was the matter, but John had with almost unnecessary earnestness de- clared there was nothing. Altogether the squire was puzzled; with any other servant he would have thought lie had been drinking, but such a supposition in John's case was altogether out of the question. He could have had no bad news so far as the squire knew, for the only children he had had, died young, and he had no near relatives or connections. It was ridiculous to suppose that John, at his age, had fallen in love. Altogether the squire failed to suggest to himself any explanation of his old butler's conduct, and had just con- cluded philosophically by the reflection that he supposed he should know what it was sooner or later, when the door of the room quietly opened. The squire did not look up. It closed again as quietly, and then he glanced towards it. He could hardly believe his eyes. A child was standing there — a girl with soft smooth hair and large eyes and a sensitive mouth, with an expression fearless but appealing. Her hands were clasped before her, and she was standing in doubt whether to advance. There was something so strange in this ap- parition in the lonely room that the squire did not speak for a moment. It flashed across him vaguely that there was something familiar to him in the face and expression, something which sent a thrill through him ; and at the same instant, without knowing why, he felt that there was a connection between the appearance of the child and the matter he had just been thinking of — John Petersham's strange conduct. He was still looking at her when she advanced quietly towards him. ** Grandpapa," she said, " I am Aggie Linthorne " i 1 I 70 With Wolfe in Canada i A low cry of astonishment broke from the squire. He pushed his chair back. "Can it be true," he muttered, "or am I dreaming?" " Yes, grandpapa," the child said, close beside him now, " I am Aggie Linthorne, and I have come to see you. If you don't think it's me, grampa said I was to give you this and then you would know;" and she held out a miniature on ivory of a boy some fourteen years old, and a watch and chain. " I do not need them," the squire said in low tones, '* I see it in your face. You are Herbert's child, whom I looked for so long. Oh ! my child ! my child ! have you come at last?" and he drew her towards him and kissed her passionately, while the tears streamed down his cheeks. " I couldn't come before, you know," the child said, "because I didn't know about you, and grampa, that's my other grandpapa," she nodded confidentially, " did not know you wanted me; but now he knows he sent me to you. He told me I was to come because you were lonely; but you can't be more lonely than he is," she said, with a quiver in her voice. "Oh! he will be lonely now!" " But where do you come from, my dear, and how did you get here, and what have you been doing all these years?" "Grampa brought me here," the child said. "I call him grampa, you know, because I did when I was little, and I have always kept to it; but I know, of course, it ought to be grandpapa. He brought me here, and John— at least he called him John — brought me in. And I have been living for two years with Mrs. Walsham down in the town, and I used to see you in church, but I did not know that you were my grandpapa." The squire, who was holding her close to him while she spoke, got up and rang the bell, and John opened the door tones, ■ whom ! have , nr» and \ down I )W did these I call little, ; Irse, it I ohn— ' The Squire's Granddaughter 71 with a quickness that showed that he had been waiting close to it, anxiously waiting a summons. "'ohn Petersham," the squire said, "give me your hand; this is the happiest day of my life." The two men wrung each other's hands. They had been friends ever since John Petersham, who was twelve years the senior of the two, first came to the house, a young fellow of eighteen, to assist his father, who had held the same post before him. •'God be thanked, squire!" he said huskily. "God be thanked, indeed, John!" the squire rejoined reverently. "So this was the reason, old friend, why your hand shook as you poured out my wine. How could you keep the secret from me?" " I did not know how to begin to tell you, but I was pretty nigh letting it out, and only the thought that it was better the little lady should tell you herself, as we had agreed, kept it in. Only to think, squire, after all these years! but I never quite gave her up. I always thought somehow as she would come just like this." "Did you, John? I gave up hope years ago. How did it come about, John?" " Mrs. Walsham told me as I came out of church to-day as she wanted to speak to me, so I went down, and she told me all about it, and then I saw him " John hesi- tated at the name, for he knew that perhaps the only man in the world against whom his master cherished a bitter resentment was the father of his son's wife. " It seems he never saw your advertisements, never knew as you wanted to hear anything of the child, so he took her away and kept her. He has been here off and on all these years. I heard tell of him often and often when I had been down into Sidmouth, but never dreamt as it was him. He went about the country with a box on wheels with glasses — a peepshow as they calls it." The squire winced. i.»' 72 With Wolfe in Canada !':i t!. ' t m "He is well spoken of, squire," John said, "and I am bound to say as he doesn't seem the sort of man we took him for at all, not by no means. He did not know you wanted to have her, but he thought it his duty to give her the chance, and so he put her with Mrs. Walsham, and never told her till yesterday who she was. Mrs. Walsham was quite grieved at parting with her, for she says she is wonderfully quick at her lessons, and has been like a daughter with her for the last two years." The child had sat quietly down in a chair and was looking into the fire while the two men were speaking. She had done whitt she was told to do, and was waiting quietly for what was to come next. Her quick ear, how- ever, caught in the tones of John Petersham an apologetic tone when speaking of her grandfather, and she was moved to instant anger. **Why do you speak like that of my grampa?" she said, rising to her feet and standing indignantly before him. *' He is the best man in the world, and the kindest and the nicest, and if you don't like him I can go away to him again. I don't want to stay here, not one minute. You may be my grandpapa," she went on, turning to the squire, '*and you may be lonely, but he is lonely too, and you have got a great house and all sorts of nice things, and you can do better without me than he can, for he has got nothing to love but me, poor grampa!" and her eyes filled with sudden tears as she thought of him tramping on his lonely walks over the hills. "We do not mean to speak unkindly of your grand- father, my dear," the squire said gently. " I have never seen him, you know, and John has never seen him but once. 1 have thought all these years bitterly of him, but perhaps I have been mistaken. He has ever been kind and good to you, and, above all, he has given you back to me, and that will make me think differently vf him in future. We all make mistakes, you know, and ■I 3i7 '-^ H I am ; took >v you ) give sham, Mrs. or she s been d was akhig. ^aithig , hovv- logetic e was >" she before kindest ) away linute. to the y too, f nice le can, mpa ! |ght of frand- iiever I but him, been ;n you |itly of and t i'% a: "A low fRV OK ASroMSIIMI.N r HKOKK TKOM THK SOIIKK n i.. ;i ' 'ii lf\ l| !! The Squire's Granddaughter 73 I have made terrible mistakes, and have been terribly pun- ished for them. I dare say 1 have made a mistake here; but whether or no, you shall never hear a word from me against the man who has been so kind to you." "And you will let me see him sometimes, grandpapa?" the child said, taking his hand pleadingly. " He said if you said no I must do as you told me, because somehow you are nearer to me than he is, though I don't know how that can be; but you won't say that, will you? for, oh! I know he is so lonely without me, and I should never be happy thinking of him all alone, not if you were to be ever so kind to me and to give me all sorts of grand things." " No, my dear, I certainly shall not say so. You shall see him as often as you like." "Oh, thank you, grandpapa!" she exclaimed joyfully, and she held up her face to kiss him. The squire lifted her in his arms and held her closely to him. "John," he said, "you must tell Mrs. Morcombe to get a room ready for my granddaughter at once, and you had better bring the tea in here, and then we will think of other things^ I feel quite bewildered at present." When John returned with the tea Aggie was sitting on the squire's knee. She was perfectly at home now, and had been chattering to him of her life with her grand- father, and had just related the incident of her narrow escape from drowning. " Do you hear that, John?" the squire said. *' She was nearly drowned here, within sight of our home, and I might never have known anything about it. It seems that lad of Dr. Walsham's saved her life. He is a fine lad. He was her champion, you know, in that affair with my nephew. How strange that the two boys should have quarrelled over my granddaughter!" "Yes, squire, and young Walsham came well out of \. ^ yi I : i I 1 74 With Wolfe in Canada it!" John said heartily; for fo him only did the squire mention the circumstances ot the case, and he chuckled now to himself as he thought that Richard Horton had made an even greater mistake in that matter than he thought of, for John detested the boy with all his heart, and had only abstained from reporting his conduct to tht- squire from fear of giving his master pain. The squire's brow clouded a little at the allusion. •* It will make a difference to him, John," he said, "for of course now my granddaughter will take his place." " And a good thing too!" John said heartily. •• I have never said a word before, squire, because, as you had chosen him as your heir, there was no use in setting you against him, but a more hatefuller lad than Richard Horton I never comed across, and so said everyone here. You did not see much of him, squire, and natural thought well of him, for he was a good-looking boy, and could speak fair enough when he liked. I thought well of him myself when he first came, but I larned better afterwards." *' There are many excuses to be made for him, John," the squire said, "and I have had good reports of him since. Of course I shall see that, although he can no longer be regarded as my heir here, he shall be well pro- vided for. But there will be plenty of time to think of this." "Mr. Wilks asked me to say, sir," the butler said as he prepared to leave them, "that he shall be staying in Sidmouth to-morrow, and that if you wish to see him he will come up here." "Certainly I wish to see him," the squire replied. "I have many things to ask him. Let the boy go down the first thing in the morning, or — no, if you don't mind, John, would you go down yourself to-night. He will naturally be anxious to know how his grandchild is getting on. Tell him with what joy I have received her, and take any The Squire's Granddaughter 75 message she may give you. Is there anything" you would like to say to your grandfather, child?" '•Oh, yes; please tell him that I think I shall like it, and that he is to come and see me when he likes, and thai of course he is to see me when he comes in the morning, and then I can tell him all about it." " And say I shall be glad to see him the first thing after breakfast," the squire added. The housekeeper soon entered, and Aggie, very sleepy after the excitements of the day, was taken off to bed. Her sleepiness, however, disappeared in her wonder at the size of the house and at the vastness of her bedroom. •'Why, you have got a fire!" she exclaimed in astonish- ment. " I never saw a fire in a bedroom before." •• I didn't light it for the cold, miss," the hou^^ekeeper said; "but because it is a long time since the room was slept in before, and because I thought it would be cheerful for you. I shall sleep in the next room till things are settled, so that if you want anything you will only have to run in." ••Thank you," Aggie said gratefully. '* It does all seem so big; but I am sure not to want anything; thank you." •• Here is your box, miss. Would you like me to help undress you?" "Oh, no!" Aggie laughed. "Why, of course I can undress myself;" and she laughed at the idea of assistance being requ ired in such a matter. "Then, good night!" the housekeeper said. "I shall leave the door ajar between the two rooms when I come to bed." The next morning, soon after breakfast. Sergeant Wilks was ushered into the study, where the squire was expect- ing him. The two men had had hard thoughts of each other for many years. The squire regarded the sergeant as a man who had inveigled his son into marrying his 1 \ 1 i,»' h! |i !| m 76 With Wolfe in Canada daughter, while the sergeant regarded the squire as a heartless and unnatural father who had left his son to die alone among strangers. The conversation with John Petersham had taught the sergeant that he had wronged the squire by his estimate of him, and that he was to be p'tied rather than blamed in the matter. The squire, on his part, v/as jrateful to the sergeant for the care he had bestowed upon the child and for restoring her to him, and was inclined, indeed, at the moment to a universal good- will to all men. The sergeant was pale, but self-possessed and quiet; while the squire, moved by the events of the night before out of the silent reserve in which he had for years enveloped himself, was agitated and nervous. He was the first to speak. "Mr. Wilks," he said, "I have to give you my heart- felt thanks for having restored my granddaughter to me — the more so as I know, from what she has said, how great a sacrifice you must be making. John has been telling me of his conversation with you, and you have learned from him that I was not so wholly heartless and unnatural a father as yo u must have thought me, deeply as I blame myself, and shall always blame myself, in the matter." "Yes," the sergeant said; " I have learned that I have misread you. Had it not been so I should have brought the child to you long ago — should never have taken her away, Indeed. Perhaps we have both misjudged each other." " I fear that we have," the squire said, remembering the letters he wrote to his son in his anger, denouncing the sergeant in violent language. " It does not matter now," the sergeant went on quietly; "but as I do not wisi), Aggie ever to come to think -111 of me in the future it is better to set it right. When I left the army I had saved enough money to fur- nish a house, and I took one at Southampton and set up taking lodgers there. 1 had my pension, and lived well The Squire's Granddaughter 77 until my wife died — a year before your son came down from London with another gentleman and took my rooms. My daughter was seventeen when her mother died, and she took to managing the house. I was careful of her, and gave her orders that on no account was she ever to go into the lodgers' rooms. I waited on them myself. How your son first saw her and got to speak to her, 1 don't know; but I am not surprised that when he did he loved her, for there was no prettier or sweeter girl in Hampshire. They took the rooms first only for a fort- night, then the other gentleman went away and your son stayed on. **One day — it came upon me like a thunderbolt — your son told me he wanted to marry my Agnes. I was angry at first. Angry because it had been done behind my back, and because I had been deceived. I said as much; but your son assured me that he had never spoken to her in the house, but had met her when she went out for her walks. Still, it was wrong, and I told him so, and I told her so, though in my heart I did not altogether blame them, for young people will be young people, and, as he had acted honourably in coming to me at once, I let that pass. But, squire, though but a sergeant in His Majesty's service, I had my pride as you had yours, and I told him at once that I would not give my consent to my daughter's marrying him until you had given yours, and that he must leave the house at once and not see Agnes again until he carne with your written consent to show me. *' He went away at once. After a time he began to v/rite to me, urging me to change my decision, and from this, although he never said so, I was sure that you had refused to sanction his marriage. Hov/ever, ! stuck to what I had said, though it was hard for me to do so with my child growing thin and pale before my eyes, with all her bright happiness gone. So it went on for three months, and then one morning she was gone, and I found a letter ft i ' 78 With Wolfe in Canada h ! on her table for me, saying- that she had been married to him a week before, when she went out, as I thou^jht, to spend the day with a friend. She begged and prayed me to forgive her, and said how miserable she had been, and that she could not say no to her lover's pleadings. ** I wrote to the address she had given me, saying that she had wellnigh broken my heart. She knew that 1 had only refused my consent because it would have seemed a dishonourable action to allow your son to marry her with- out your consent, she knew how hard it had been for me to do my duty when I saw her pining before my eyes, but I forgave her wholly, and did not altogether blame her, seeing that it was the way of Nature that young women, when they once took to loving, should put their f. her altogether in the second place, but that until you had given way I could not see her or sanction her marriage. It was hard to me to write that letter, for I longed to see her bonny face again. But I thought it was my duty. I thought so then ; but I think now it was pride. '* From time to time she wrote to me. I learned thai you still refused to see your son, and I gathered, though she did not say much of this, that things were going badly with them. At last she wrote that her husband was ill, very ill, she feared ; he had in vain tried to get employ- ment. I don't think he was naturally strong, and the anxiety had broken him down. Then I went up to London at once and found them in a little room without the neces- saries of life. I brought them down home and nursed him for three months till he died. "A week later Aggie was born. Ten days afterwards I laid her mother by the side of her father. No answer had come to the letters he had written to you while he had been ill, though in the later ones he had told you that he was dying. So I looked upon the child as mine. Things had gone badly with me. I had been able to take no lodgers while they were with me. I had got into debt, ri: The Squire's Granddaughter 79 and even could I have cleared myself I could not well have kept the house on without a woman to look after it. I was restless, too, and longed to be moving about, so I sold off the furniture, paid my debts, and laid by the money that remained for the child's use in the future. '* I had some time before met an old comrade travelling the country with a show. I happened to meet him again just as I was leaving, and he told me the name of a man ill London who sold such things. I left the child for a year with some people I knew a few miles out of South- ampton, came up to London, bought a show, and started. It was lonely work at first ; but after a year I fetched the child away and took her round the country with me, and for four years had a happy time of it. *' I had chosen this part of the country, and after a time I became uneasy in my mind as to whether I was doing right, and whether for the child's sake I ought not to tell you that she was alive, and offer to give her up if you were willing to take her. I heard how your son's death had changed you, and thought that maybe you would like to take his daughter; but, before bringing her to you, I thought she should have 2 better education than I had time to give her, and that she should be placed with a lady, so that if you took her you need not be ashamed of her manners. "I hoped you woulri not take her. I wanted to keep her for myself; but my duty to her was clear; and now, squire, you know all about it. I have been wrong to keep her so long from you, I grant; but I can only say that 1 have done my duty as far as I could, and that, though I have made many mistakes, my conscience is clear that ' did the best as far as it seemed to me at the time." !:i. ||f •''I I ii > m M iii CHAPTER V A Quiet Time As the sergeant was telling the story the squire had sat with his face shaded by his hand, but more than one tear had dropped heavily on the table. •* I wish I could say as much," he said sadly when the other ended. " I wish that I could say that my conscience is clear, Mr. Wilks. I have misjudged you cruelly, and that without a tithe of the reason which you had for thinking me utterly heartless and cruel. You will have heard that I never got those letters my son wrote me after he was ill, and that when I returned home and received them I posted to Southampton only to find that I was too late, and that for a year I did all in my power to find the child. Still all this is no excuse. I refused to forgive him, returned his letters unanswered, and left him, as it seemed, to his fate. ** It is no excuse to say that I had made up my mind to forgive him when he was, as I thought, sufficiently punished. He did not know that. As to the poverty in which you fciuid him, I can only plead that I did not dream that he would come to that. He had, I knew, some money, for I had just sent him his half-year's allowance before he wrote to me about this business-. Then there was the furniture of his rooms in London, his horses, jewels, and other matters. I had thought he could go on very well for a year. Of course I was mistaken. Herbert was always careless about money, and no doubt he spent 90 A Quiet Time 8i id sat le tear en the science y, and ad for II have le after iceived as too nd the [forgive as it mind iciently [erty i" dream some )vvance there Ihorses, go on lerbert spent it freely after he was first married. He would naturally wish to have everything pretty and nice for his young wife, and no doubt he counted upon my forgiving him long before the money was spent. " I am not excusing myself. God knows how bitterly 1 have condemned myself all these years. I only want to show you that I had no idea of condemning him to starvation ; he was my only son, and I loved him. I felt perhaps his rebellion all the more, because he had never before given me a day's trouble. I was harsh, obstinate, and cruel. I have only the one old excuse. I never thought it would turn out as it did. What would I give if I could say, as you can, that you have a clear conscience, and that you acted always as it seemed to be your duty! And now, Mr. Wilks, now that 1 have heard your story I trust that you will forgive my past suspicions of you, and let me say, how much I honour and esteem you for your conduct. No words can tell you how 1 thank you for your goodness and kindness to my little granddaughter, our little granddaughter I should say. You have the better right a thousandfold to her than 1 have; and had I been in your place I could never have made such a sacrifice. '* We must be friends, sir, great friends. Our past has been saddened by the same blow. All our hopes in the future are centred on the same object." The two men rose to their feet together, and their hands met in a firm clasp, and tears stood in both their eyes. Then the squire put his hand on the other's shoulder, and said, ** We will talk again presently. Let us go into the next room. The little one is longing to see you, and we must not keep her." For the next hour the two men devoted themselves to the child. Now that she had her old friend with her she felt no further misgivings, and was able to enter into the full delight of her new home. The house and its wonders were explored, and much as ( 337 ) f « ' MM ! ■t^:' 82 With Wolfe in Canada she was delighted with these, the gardens and park were an even greater excitement and pleasure. Dancing, chat- tering, asking questions of one or the other, she was half- wild with pleasure, and the squire was no less delighted. A new light and joy had come into his life, and with it the ten years which sorrow and regret had laid upon him had fallen off, for although his habits of seclusion and quiet had caused him to be regarded as quite an old man by his neighbours, he was still three years short of sixty, while the sergeant was two years younger. It was a happy morning for them all three; and when John Petersham went in after lunch to the kitchen he assured his fellow servants that it was as much as he could do to keep from crying with joy at the sight of the squire's happy face, and to hear him laugh and joke as he had not done for eight years now. The sergeant had stopped to that meal, for he saw by the manner in which the squire asked him that he should give pain if he refused, and there was a simple dignity about the old soldier which would have prevented his appearing out of place at the table of the highest in the land. "Now, pussy," the squire said when they had finished, *'you must amuse yourself for a bit. You can go in the garden again, or sit with Mrs. Morcombe in her room; she will look you out some picture books from the library. I am afraid there is nothing very suited to your reading, but we will soon put all that right. Your grandfather and I want to have another quiet chat together." *' Now I want your advice," he said when they were Doth comfortably seated in the study. "You see you have been thinking and planning about the child for years, while it has all come new upon me, so I must rely upon you entirely. Of course the child must have a governess, that is the first thing, not so much for the sake of teach' ing her, though, of course, she must be taught, but as] a companion for her." way A Quiet Time «3 were chat- half- hted. it the n had quiet by his while i when len he as he of the joke as ant had 1 which refused, ;r which ; at the finished, [o in the :r room; library, [reading, Ither and ^ey were Isee you 3r years, [ely uponj 3verness, lof teach- but a! "Yes," the sergeant assented, "she must have a governess." •• It will be a troublesome matter to find one to suit," the squire said thoughtfully. " I don't wf t a harsh sort of Gorgon to repress her spirits and bo( her life out with rules and regulations; and I won't have a giddy young thing, because I should like to have the child with me at breakfast and lunch, and I don't want a fly-away young woman who will expect all sorts of attention. Now, what is your idea? I have no doubt you have pictured in your mind the exact sort of woman you would like to have over her." " I have," the sergeant answered quietly. " I don't know whether it would suit you, squire, or whether it could be managed; but it does seem to me that you have got the very woman close at hand. Aggie has been for two years with Mrs. Walsham, who is a lady in every way; she is very fond of the child, and the child is very fond of her. Everyone says she is an excellent teacher; she would be the very woman to take charge of her." "The very thing!" the squire exclaimed with great satisfaction. "But she has a school," he went on, his face falling a little, "and there is a son." "I have thought of that," the sergeant said. "The school enables them to live, but it cannot do much more, so that I should think she would feel no reluctance at giving that up." "Money would be no object." the squire said. "I am a wealthy man, Mr. Wilks, and have been laying by the best part of my income for the last eight years. I would pay any salary she chose, for the comfort of such an arrangement would be immense, to say nothing of the advantage and pleasure it would be to the child ; but how about the boy?" "We both owe a good deal to the boy, squire," the » • 84 With Wolfe in Canada II ! t:li m sergeant said gravely, "for if it had not been for him the child would have been lost to us." *' So she was telling me last night," the squire said. "And he really saved her life?" "He did," the sergeant replied. "But for his pluck and promptitude she must have been drowned. A moment's hesitation on his part and nothing could have saved her." " I made up my mind last night," the squire said, "to do something for him. I have seen him before, and was much struck with him." "Then in that case, squire, I think the thing could be managed. If the lad were sent to a good school his mother might undertake the management of Aggie; she could either go home of an evening or sleep here and shut up her house, as you might arrange with her, living, of course, at home when the boy was home for his holidays and only coming up for a portion of the day." "That would be a capital plan," the squire agreed warmly; "the very thing. I should get cu all the bother with strange women, and the child would have a lady she is already fond of, and who, I have no doubt, is thoroughly qualified for the work. Nothing could be better. I will walk down this afternoon a^d see her myself, and I have no doubt I shall be able to arrange it. And now about yourself — what are your plans?" " I shall start to-morrow morning on my tramp as usuai," the sergeant answered quietly; "but I shall take care in future that I do not come with my box within thirty miles or so of Sidmouth. I do not want Aggie's future to be in any way associated with a showman's box. I shall come here sometimes to see her, as you have kindly said I may, but I will not abuse the privilege by coming too often; perhaps you won't think a day once every three months to be too much?" "I should think it altogether wrong and monstrous!" the s the c cared is eve to her away the id( you an \vc hac nobly esteem we hav same r you ha) in her. as my sergeant ^ almost i M 1- lonely M f'le worl now Iha is a frie could en well as equal to The se ness. H posal he 1 "Vou "but eve bread as ^0. I an ^ posltior "Pooh, ten the ^ » A Quiet Time 85 tlic squire exclaimed hotly. ** You have been virlually the child's father for the last seven years. You have cared for her, and loved her, and worked for her. She is everything to you, and I feel how vast are your claims to her compared to mine; and now you talk about going away and coming to see her once every three months; the idea is unnatural, it is downright monstrous! No, you and I understand each other at last ; would to Heaven we had done so eight years back ! I feel how much more nobly you acted in that unhappy matter than I did, and I esteem and honour you. We are both getting on in life, we have one common love and interest, we stand in the same relation to the child, and I say emphatically that you have a right, and more than a right, to a half share in her. You must go away no more, but remain here as my friend and as joint g uardian of the child. "I will have no refusal, man," he went on as the sergeant shook his head. ' ' Your presence here will be almost as great a comfort to me as to the child. I am a lonely man. For years I have cut myself loose from the world; I have neither associates nor friends. But now that this great load is off my mind my first want IS a friend; and v,'ho could be so great a friend, who could enter into my plans and hopes for the future so . well as yourself, who would have an interest in them ^ equal to my own?" The sergeant was much moved by the squire's earnest- ness. He saw that the lattei had really at heart the pro- posal he made. "You are very good, squire," he said in a low voice; "but even if I could bring myself to eat another man's 'bread as long as I can work for my own, it would not do. I am neither by birth nor education fitted for such a position as that you offer to me." "Pooh, nonsense!" the squire said hotly; "you have een the world, you have travelled and mixed with men, i ' ry pi ■'WWII 86 With Wolfe in Canada I'll M you are fit to associate as an equal with anyone. Don't you deceive yourself; you certainly do not deceive me. It is pride that stands in your way. For that you are going to risk the happiness of your granddaughter, to say nothing of mine; for you don't suppose that either of us is going to feel comfortable and happy when the snow is whirling round and the wind sweeping the moors, to think of you trudging along about the country while we are sitting snugly here by a warm fire. "You are wanting to spoil everything now that it has all come right at last, by just the same obstinate pride which wrecked the lives of our children. I won't have it, man, I won't hear of it. Come, say no more; I want a friend badly, and I am sure we shall suit each other. I want a companion. Why, man, if I were a rich old lady and you were a poor old lady, and I asked you to come as my companion, you would see nothing derogatory in the oflFer. You shall come as my companion now, or If you like as joint guardian to the child. You shall have your own rooms in the house; and when you feel inclined to be grumpy and don't care to take your meals with the child and me you can take them apart. •*At any rate try it for a month, and if you are not comfortable then I will let you go, though your rooms shall always be in readiness for you whenever you are disposed to come back. Come, give me your hand on the bargain." Sergeant Wilks could resist no longer. The last two years' work without the child had indeed been heavy, and especially in winter when the wind blew strong across the uplands he began to feel that he was no longer as strong as he used to be. The prospect of having Aggie always near him was, however, a far greater temptation than that of ending his days in quiet and comfort. His hand and that of the squire met in a cordial grip, and the matter was settled. Fortunately, as the sergeant V A Quiet Time «7 t it has te pride I't have I want li other, rich old I you to rogatory now, or lall have inclined with the are not rooms you are land on last two heavy, across jnger as \g Aggie iptation kt. ^al grip, iergeant reflected, he had still his pension of ten shillings a week, which would suffice to supply clothes and other little necessaries which he might require, and would thus save him from being altogether dependent on the squire. A^^gie was wild with delight when she was called in and informed of the arrangement. The thought of her grand- father tramping the country alone had been the one draw- back to the pleasure of her life at Mrs. Walsham's, and many a time she had cried herself to sleep as she pictured to herself his loneliness. That he was to be with her always, was to give up his work to settle down in com- tori. was indeed a delight to her. Greatly pleased was she also to hear that Mrs. Walsham was to be asked to come up to be her governess. "Oh, it will be nice!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Just like the fairy stories you used to tell me, grampa, when everyone was made happy at the end by the good fairy. Grandpapa is the good fairy, and you and 1 are the prince and princess; and James — and what is to be done with James, is he to come up too?" "No, rny dear," the squire said, smiling. "James is to go to a good school, but you will see him when he comes home for his holidays ; but that part of it is not arranged yet, you know; but if you will put on your hat you can walk down with us to the town and introduce me to Mrs. Walsham." Mrs. Walsham had just dismissed her pupils when the party arrived, and was thinking how quiet and dull the house was without Aggie, when the door opened and the child rushed in and threw her arms round her neck. "Oh, I have such good news to tell you! Grandpapa is so good and kind, and grampa is going to live with us, and you are to come up too, and James is to go to school. Isn't it all splendid?" 'What are you talking about, Aggie?" Mrs. Walsham asked bewildered, as the child poured out her news. i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I |50 M 112,5 IIIIIM 1^. Ill 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 -* 6" — ► V] m A 7 s Photographic Sciences Corporation 4^ ^ \ ^^ o %^ O^ <^ -?C' <> -b 'V^ '9) 'U^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 r/^ [:'i !!r 88 With Wolfe in Canada ,1 J 1 1 i i i i 1 i 1 1 '1! "Aggie is too fast, madam," the squire said, entering the room accompanied by the sergeant. "She is taking it all for granted while it h'as yet to be arranged. I must apologize for coming in without knocking; but the child opened the door and rushed in, and the best thing to do was, we thought, to follow her. I have come, in the first place, to thank you for your great kindness to my little granddaughter, and to tell your son how deeply I feel indebted to him for having saved her life two years ago. Now, Aggie, you run away and look for your friend while I talk matters over with Mrs. Walsham." .• Aggie scampered away to find James, who was at work at his books, and to tell him the news, while the squire unfolded his plans to Mrs. Walsham. His offers were so handsome that Mrs. Walsham accepted them without an instant's hesitation. She was to have the entire charge of the child during the day, with the option of either returning home in the evening when Aggie went in to dessert after dinner or of living entirely at the Hall. The squire explained his intention of sending James to a good school at Exeter as an instalment of the debt he owed him for saving the child's life, and he pointed out that when he was at home for his holidays Aggie could have her holidays too, and Mrs. Walsham need only come up to the Hall when she felt inclined. Mrs. Walsham was delighted with the offer, even more for James's sake than her own, although the prospect for herself was most pleasant. To have only Aggie to teach and walk with would be delightful after the monotony of drilling successive batches of girls often inordinately tiresome and stupid. She said at once that she should prefer returning home at night — a decision which pleased the squire, for he had wondered what he should do with her in the evening. • > The arrangement was at once carried into effect. The school was broken up, and as the parents of the children A Quiet Time % were almost all tenants of the squire they offered no objection to the girls being suddenly left on their hands when they heard that their teacher was going to live as governess at the Hall. Indeed, the surprise of Sidmouth and the neighbourhood at learning that the little girl at Mrs. Walsham's was the squire's granddaughter, and that the showman was therefore a connection of the squire and was going also to live at the Hall, was so great that there was no room for any other emotion. Save for wrecks, or the arrival of shoals of Bsh off the coast, or of troubles between the smugglers and the revenue officers, Sidmouth had few excitements, and the present news afforded food for endless talk and conjecture. On comparing notes it appeared that there was not a woman in the place who had not been all along convinced that the little girl at Mrs. Walsham's was something more than she seemed to be, and that the showman was a man quite out v *' the ordinary way. And when on the following Sunday the s»,i--5an*-. who had in the meantime been to Exeter, walke^i .quietly into church with the squire, all agreed that the well-dressed military-looking man was a gentleman, and that he had only been masquerading under the name of Sergeant Wilks until somehow or other the quarrel between him and the squire was arranged, and the little heiress restored to her position; and Sidmouth remained in that belief to the end. The sergeant's military title was henceforth dropped. Mr. Linthorne introduced him to his acquaintances — who soon began to flock in when it was known that the squire's granddaughter had come home, and that he was willing to see his friends and join in society again — as " My friend Mr. Wilks, the father of my poor boy's wife." And the impression made was generally favourable. None had ever known the exact story of Herbert's marriage. It wp generally supposed that he had married beneath him; but the opinion now was that this must i i «■ ,^p\ »' I i With Wolfe in Canada I have been a mistake, for there was nothing in any way vulgar about the quiet military^ooking gentleman with whom the squire was evidently on terms of warm friend- ship. The only person somewhat dissatisfied with the arrange- ment was James Walsham. He loved his mother so much that he had never offered the slightest dissent to her plan that he should follow in his father's footsteps. She was so much set on the matter that he could never bring him- self to utter a word in opposition. At heart, however, he longed for a more stirring and more adventurous life, such as that of a soldier or sailor, and he had all along cherished a secret hope that something might occur to prevent his preparing for the medical profession, and so enable him to carry out his secret wishes. But the present arrangement seemed to put an end to all such hopes, and although grateful to the squire for sending him to a good school, he wished with all his heart that he had chosen some other way of manifesting his gratitude. Four vears passed quietly. James Walsham worked nard when at school, and during his holidays spent his time for the most part on board the fishermen's boats. Sometimes he went up to the Hall, generally at the invitation of Mr. Wilks. •'Why don't you come oftener, Jim?" the latter asked him one day. "Aggie was saying only yesterday that you used to be such friends with her, and now you hardly ever come near her. The squire is as pleased as I am to see you," "I don't know," Jim replied. "You see I am always comfortable with you; I can chat with you, and tell you about school, and about fishing, and so on. The squire is very kind, but I know it is only because of that picking Aggie out of the water, and I never seem to know what to talk about with him ; and then, you see, Aggie is growing a young lady, and can't go rambling about at my heels us A Quiet Time 91 she used to do when she was a little girl. I like her, you know, Mr. Wilks, just as I used to do; but I can't carry her on my shoulder now and make a playfellow of her." "I suppose that's all natural enough, Jim," Aggie's ^grandfather said; ''but I do think it is a pity you don't come up more often. You know we are all fond of you, ;iiid it will give us a pleasure to have you here." Jim was, in fact, getting to the awkward age with boys. When younger they tyrannize over their little sisters, when older they may again take pleasure in girls' society; but there is an age in every boy's life when he is inclined to think girls a nuisance, as creatures incapable of joining in games, and as being apt to get in the way. Still, Jim was very fond of his former playmate, and had she been still living down in Sidmouth with his mother they would have been as great friends as ever. At the end of the fourth year Richard Horton came back after an absence of five years. He was now nearly twenty, and had just passed as lieutenant. He was bronzed with the Eastern sun^ and had grown from a good-looking boy into a handsome young man, and was perfectly conscious of his good looks. Among his comrades he had gained the nickname of '* The Dandy" — a name which he accepted in good part, although it had not been intended as com- plimentary, for Richard Horton was by no means a popular member of his mess. Boys are quick to detect each other's failings, and several sharp thrashings when he first joined nad taught Richard that it was very inexpedient to tell a lie on board a ship if there was any chance of its being detected. As he had become one of the senior midshipmen his natural haughtiness made him disliked by the younger lads, while among those of his own standing he had not one sincere friend, for there was a general feeling among them, that although Richard Horton was a pleasant companion ■*.!• «' » ' I !??■'' ii »'■ With Wolfe in Canada liii ' u and a very agreeable fellow when he liked, he was not some- how straight, not the sort of fellow to be depended upon in all emergencies. By the captain and lieutenants, he was considered a smart young officer. He was always careful to do his duty, quiet, and gentlemanly in manner, and in point of appearance and dress a credit to the ship. Accordingly all the reports thai his captain had sent home of him had been favourable. Great as was the rage and disappointment which Richard had felt when he received the letter from his uncle telling him of the discovery of his long-lost granddaughter, he had the tact to prevent any signs of his feelings being visible in the letter in which he replied. The squire had told him that although the discovery would, of course, make a con- siderable difference in his prospects, he should still, if the reports of his conduct continued satisfactory, feel it his duty to make a handsome provision for him. "Thanks to my quiet life during the last ten years," the squire had written, *' I have plenty for both of you. The estate will, of course, go to her; but, always supposing that your conduct will be satisfactory, I shall continue during my lifetime the allowance you at present receive, and you will find yourself set down in my will for the sum of twenty thousand pounds." Richard had replied in terms which delighted the squire. **You see the boy has a good heart," he said, as he handed the letter to Mr. Wilks. "No one could express himself better." -.^ v His companion read the letter over in silence. ** Charmingly expressed," he said as he returned it. "Almost too charmingly it seems to me." "Come, come, Wilks, you are prejudiced against the young fellow for that business with Aggie and young Walsham." " I hope I am not prejudiced, squire," his friend replied; ** but when I know that a lad is a liar, and that he will bring A Quiet Time 93 false accusations to shield himself, and when I know that he was detested by all who came in contact with him — ^John Petersham, the gardener, and the grooms — I require a good deal more than a few satisfactory reports from his captain, who can know very little of his private character, and a soft- solderiuj letter like that, to reinstate him in my good opinion. I will wager that if you and I had been standin^y behind him when he opened your letter you would have heard an expression of very different sentiments from those he writes you here. Look at this: 'I regret indeed, my dear uncle, that my new cousin must have such a bad opinion of me, owing to my roughness in that unfortunate affair, which I have never ceased to regret; but I hope that when we meet I shall be able to overcome the dislike which she must feel for me.' Bah!" the old soldier said scornfully, *' I would lay all my pension to a shilling that boy has already made up his mind that some day he will marry Aggie, and so contrive to get the estates after all." The squire burst into a good-humoured laugh. "It's well I don't take up your wager. Such ideas as that might occur to you and me, but hardly to a lad not yet seventeen." " Well, we shall see," the other said, cooling down. " I hope I may be mistaken in him; we shall see when he comes home." When he did come home, the old soldier could find but little fault with the young man. He had a frank and open manner such as is common to men of his profession. He was full of life and anecdote ; his manner to the squire was admirable, affectionate, and quietly respectful, without any air of endeavouring especially to ingratiate himself with him; nor could the ex-sergeant find anything to complain of in the young man's manner towards himself. He took the first opportunity when they were alone to say how glad he had been to hear that his grandfather had met with a triend and companion in his lonely life, and to express a H ! 1 , ■ ■* V ' 1 ■^l 1 ¥ f- TP^P" ii 94 With Wolfe in Canada hope that the bad opinion which he had doubtless formed of him from his conduct when a boy would not be allowed to operate against him now. But though there was nothing he could find fault with, the old soldier's prejudices were in no way shaken, and indeed his antipathy was incf eased rather than diminished by the young officer's conduct towards Aggie. It might bC) of course, that he was only striving to overcome the prejudiced feeling against him; but every time the old soldier saw him with his granddaughter he felt angry. In point of fact Aggie was disposed to like Richard even before his arrival. Six years had eradicated every tinge of animosity for that shove on the sand. His letters had been long, bright, and amusing, and with the mementoes of travel which he picked up in the ports of India and China, and from time to time sent home to his uncle, there was always a little box with some pretty trinket ** for my cousin". She found him now a delightful companion ; he treated her as if she had been seventeen instead of eleven, was ready to ride or walk with her, or to tell her stories of the countries he had seen, as she might choose, and to humour all her whims and fancies. "Confound him and his pleasant manners!" the ex- sergeant would mutter to himself as he watched them to- gether, and saw, as he believed, in the distance, the over- throw of the scheme he had at heart. *' He is turning the child's head ; and that foolish boy James is throwing away his chances." James indeed came home from school for the last time two or three weeks after Richard Horton's return. He was now nearly eighteen, and although a broad and powerful fellow was still a boy at heart. He did not show to advantage by the side of Richard Horton. The first time he went up to the Hall after his return the latter had met him with out- stretched hand. *' I am glad to meet you again," he said; *^ I behaved like A Quiet Time 95 a blackguard last time we met, and you gave me the thrash- ing which I deserved. I hope we shall get on better in the future." Aggie and her two grandfathers were present, and James VValsham certainly did not show to advantage by the side of the easy and self-possessed young officer. He muttered something about its being all right, and then found nothing else to say, being uncomfortable and ill at ease. He made some excuse about being wanted at home, and took his leave ; nor did he again go up to call. Several times the old soldier went down to Sidmouth to see him, and on one occasion remonstrated with him for not coming up to the Hall. •'What's the use?" James said roughly. ** I have got lots of reading to do, for in two months you know I am to go up to London to walk the hospitals. No one wants me up there. Aggie has got that cousin of hers to amuse her, and I should feel only in the way if I went." Mr. Wilks was fairly out of temper at the way things were going. He was angry with James; angry with the squire, who evidently viewed with satisfaction the good understanding between his granddaughter and nephew; angry for the first time in his life with Aggie herself. " You are growing a downright little flirt, Miss Aggie," he said one day when the girl came in from the garden, where she had been laughing and chatting with her cousin. He had intended to speak playfully, but there was an earnest- ness in his tone which the girl at once detected. •'Are you really in earnest, grampa?" she asked, for she still retained the childish name for her grandfather — so dis- tinguishing him from the squire, whom she always called grandpapa. "No; I don't know that I am in earnest, Aggie," he said, trying to speak lightly; "and yet perhaps to some extent I am." "I am sure you are," the girl said. "Oh, grampa I M "TT 96 With Wolfe in Canada * w you are not really cross with me, are you?" and the tears at once sprang into her eyes. " I have not been doing any- thing wrong, have I?" " No, my dear, not in the least wrong," her grandfather said hastily; " still, you know i don't like seeing Jim, who has always been so good and kind to you, quite neglected, now this young fellow, who is not fit to hold a candle to him, has turned up." "Well, I haven't neglected him, grampa; he has neglected me. He has never been near since that first day, and you know I can't very well go round to Sidmouth and say to him, ' Please come up to the Hall.'" " No, my dear, I know you can't, and he is behaving like a young fool." "Why is he?" Aggie asked, surprised. "If he likes sailing about better than coming up here, why shouldn't he?" •• I don't think It's for that he stays away, Aggie. In fact, you see Jim has only iust left school, and he feels he can't laugh, and talk, and tell you stories about foreign countries as this young fellow can, and having been so long ac- customed to have you to himself, he naturally would not like the playing second fiddle to Richard Horton." "But he hasn't been here much," the girl said, "ever since I came here. He used to be so nice and so kind in the old days when I lived down there that I can't make out why he has changed so." " My dear, I don't think he has changed; he has been only a boy, and the fact is, he is only a boy still. He is fond of sailing and of the amusements boys take to, and he doesn't feel at home and comfortable here as he did with you when you were a little girl at his mother's. But mind, Aggie, James is true as steel ; he is an honourable and upright young fellow. He is worth fifty of this sell- satisfied, pleasant-spoken young sailor." " I know James is good and kind, grampa," the girl said 11 A Quiet Time 97 earnestly; "but you see he is not very amusing, and Richard is very nice." '•Nice! yes," the old soldier said; "a fair-weather sort of niceness, Aggie. Richard Horton is the squire's nephew, and I don't wish to say anything against him; but mark my words, and remember them, there's more goodness in James's little finger than there is in his whole body. But there, I am a fool to be talking about it. There is your cousin calling you in the garden. Go along with you." The girl went off slowly, wondering at her grandfather's earnestness. She knew she liked her old playmate far better than Richard Horton, although the latter's atten- tions pleased and flattered her. The old soldier went straight off to the squire's study. "Squire," he said, "you remember that talk we had three years ago when your nephew's answer came to your letter, telling him that Aggie was found. I told you that 1 would wager he had made up his mind to marry her. You laughed at me; but I was right. Child though she still is, he is already paving the way for the future." •• Master Richard certainly is carrying on a sort of flirta- tion with the little witch," the squire said, smiling; " but as she is such a mere child as you say, what does it matter?" " I think it matters a great deal," the old soldier said seriously. '* I see, squire, the young fellow has quite re- gained your good opinion ; and unless I am mistaken you have already thought to yourself that it would not be a bad thing if they were to come together some day. I have thought it over, and have made up my mind that, in spite of your four years' continued kindness to me and of the warm friendship between us, I must ifo away for a time. My box is still lying at Exeter, and I wouid rather tramp the country again and live on it and my pension than stay here and see my darling growing up a woman with that future before her. I am sorry to say, squire, that what you ( 837 t 7 1 • 1 ' !•; 'i !«■ ♦ ' < PPw ^* 9B With Wolfe in Canada call my prejudice is as strong as ever. I doubt that young fellow as strongly as I did before he came home. Then I only had his past conduct and his letter to go by; now I have the evidence of my own senses. You may ask me what I have against him. I tell you — nothing ; but I mis- doubt him from my heart. 1 feel that he is false, that what he was when a boy he is now. There is no true ring about him." The squire was silent for a minute or two. He had a very sincere friendship and liking for his companion, a thorough confidence in his judgment and principles. He knew his self-sacrificing nature, and that he was only speaking from his love for his grandchild. "Do not let us talk about it now, old friend," he said quietly. "You and I put before all other things Aggie's happiness. Disagreement between us there can be none on the subject. Give me to-night to think over what you have said, and we will talk about it again to-morrow." ii , -I CHAPTER VI A Storm li After breakrast next morning the squire asked his friend to go with him into his study. " I have been thinking this matter over," he said, " very seriously, and upon reflection I agree with you that it is un- desirable that Aggie should see much of Richard until she is of an age to form a fair opinion for herself, and to com- pare him with other young men. I agree with you also that we have not yet sufficient proofs that he is completely changed. I hope that he is. Vou think he is not. At any rate he must have a longer trial, and until it is proved to your satisfaction, as well as mine, that he is in every way a desirable husband for Aggie, the less they see of each other the better. I therefore propose to write at once to my friend Admiral Hewson to ask him to use his influence at the Admiralty to get the young fellow appointed to a ship. Does that meet your approval, my friend?" *' Quite so," the other said cordially ; " nothing could be better. In the meantime, as you say, should Richard turn out well, and the young people take a liking for each other, no match could be more satisfactory. What I want is that she should take no girlish fancy for him at present." " So be it then," the squire said. " I think, you know, that we are a couple of old fools to be troubling ourselves about Aggie's future at present. Still in a matter which concerns us both so nearly we cannot be too careful. If we had a woman with us we could safely leave the matter in her hands; as it is we must blunder on as best we may." 90 ¥ '}'' it I > lOO With Wolfe in Canada And so it was settled, and a week later Richard Horton received an official letter from the Admiralty ordering him to proceed at once to Portsmouth to join the Thetis, to which he was appointed as fourth lieutenant. The order gave Richard extreme satisfaction. He was beginning to find his life desperately dull, and he was heartily sick of playing the attentive nephew. He was well content with the progress he had made ; nothing had gone wrong since he returned, his uncle had clearly taken him back into his favour, and he had no doubt that Aggie quite appreciated the pains he had bestowed to gain her liking. He detested the squire's companion, for he felt that the latter disliked and distrusted him, and that his projects would meet with a warm opposition on his part. Still, with the squire and Aggie herself on his side he did not fear the result. As to James Walsham, whom he had come home prepared to regard as a possible rival from his early intimacy with the child, and the fact that his mother was her governess, he now regarded him with contempt mingled with a revengeful determination to pay off" the old score should a chance ever present itself. He therefore started next day in high spirits, assuming, however, a great reluctance to tear himself away. A few days later a letter came from him, saying that he hoped that he should be able to come back sometimes for a day or two, as the Thetis was at present to be attached to the Channel squadron, and it was not expected that she would for some time proceed on foreign service. Early in October James Walsham was to go up to London to commence his medical course. A week before he was to start Mr. Wilks went down in the morning, intending to insist on his returning with him to the Hall. As he went down towards Sidmouth the old soldier noticed how strongly the wind was blowing, the trees were sway- ing and thrashing in the wind, the clouds were flying past overhead. Everything portended a severe gale. Finding o^..• A Storm lOI at Mrs. Walshatn's that James was down on the beach he continued his course until he joined him there. James was standing with a group of fishermen who were looking seaward. Now that he was exposed to the full force of the wind Mr. Wilks felt that not only was it going to blow a gale, but that it was blowing one already. The heavy clouds on the horizon seemed to lie upon the water, the waves were breaking with great force upon the beach, and the fishermen had hauled their boats up across the road. "It's blowing hard, Jim," he said, laying his hand on the young fellow's shoulder. ** It is blowing hard, and it will blow a great deal harder before nightfall; the fishermen all think it is going to be an exceptional gale. It is blowing dead on shore. It will be bad work for any ships that happen to be coming up Channel to-day. Eight or ten of our boats are out. We thought we had made out three of them just before you came, but the cloud closed down on them. The fisher- men are just going to get lifelines ready. I am afraid we are going to have a terrible night of it." " I came down to ask you if you will come up to luach, Jim, but I suppose you will not be able to tear yourself away from here." " I shouldn't like to leave now indeed. There is no say- ing what may happen. Besides so many of the fishermen are away that I may be useful here if a vessel comes ashore, and there may be half a dozen before the morning. Every hand will be wanted to give assistance." " But you could not get a boat out through those breakers, could you, Jim?" '• Yes," Jim replied, *' we might get one of the big boats through it now; but it's going to be worse presently. When I went out last year with a boat to the brig which was driven ashore, it was worse than this. I shall be very glad to come up to-morrow if you will let me. 1 hear that fellow Horton went away last week." ¥ *» T-^ 102 With Wolte in Canada ''! i 111 " Yes, he went away, Jim. But why his being there should have kept you from going up is beyond me." "I don't like the fellow, Mr. Wilks. He may mean very well, but I don't like him. I have been in one row about him with the squire, and I don't want another; but I am quite sure if I had gone up much while he was there it would have ended in my trying to punch his head again." " In that case, perhaps," the old soldier said, smiling, "you were wise to stay away, Jim. I don't like the lad myself; still, punching his head would not have been a desirable thing." '• I am glad you don't like him," James said warmly. *' Somehow I made up my mind that you were all sure tc like him, and I don't suppose the idea made me like him any the better. He was just the free-and-easy sort of fellow to get along well, and I was quite sure that Aggie would not want me when she had him to go about with her. I saw him drive through in the pony carriage with her two or three times, and it was easy to see how thoroughly she was enjoying herself." *'Well, it was your own fault, my boy. If you choose to sulk down here and never to go up to the Hall you can't blame Aggie for letting herself be amused by some- one else." "Oh! I don't blame her," James said hastily. "Of course it is all right that she should enjoy herself with her cousin ; only somehow you know after being great friends with anyone one doesn't like to see someone else stepping into your place." " But as I have told you over and over again during the last three years, Jim, you have wilfully stepped out of your place. You know how often I have asked you to come up, and how seldom you have come. You have never shown Aggie that you have any wish to continue on the footing of friendship on which you stood towards each other when she was at your mother's, and as you have chosen to throw A Storm 103 her over I don't see why she shouldn't take to anyone else who takes pains to make himself pleasant to her." "Oh! I don't blame her a bit, Mr. Wilks; how could you think such a thing ! I was very fond of little Aggie when she was at my mother's; but of course I was not ass enough to suppose that she was going trotting about the country with me when she once went up to the Hall as the squire's granddaughter. Of course the whole thing was changed. Ah! here comes the rain." As he spoke a sudden splash of rain struck them. It might have been noticed coming across the water in a white line. With it came a gust of wind, to which that which had already been blowing was a trifle. There was no more talking, for nothing less than a shout could have been heard above the roaring of the wind. It was scarcely possible to stand against the fury of the squall, and they were driven across the road, and took shelter at the corner of some houses where the fishermen had already retired. The squall lasted but a few minutes, but was soon suc- ceeded by another almost equally furious, and this seemed to increase in strength until the wind was blowing a per- fect hurricane; but the fishermen now struggled across the road again, for between the rain squalls a glimpse had been caught of two of the fishing boats, and these were now approaching the shore ; a mere rag of sail was set on each, and yet they tore over the waves at tremendous speed. One was some two hundred yards ahead of the other, and by the course they were making they would come ashore nearly at the same spot. The news that two boats were in sight spread rapidly, and many of the fishermen's wives with shawls over their heads ran down and stood peering out from behind shelter, for it was wellnigh im- possible to stand exposed to the fury of the gale. An old fisherman stood with a coil of rope in his hand close to the water's edge. Several of the others stood close to him, ■■{; i I' '^"ffpii m 1 ! 1 ' 'iv .'■1 ' ' 1 f 1 ( * '^ 104 With Wolfe in Canada and four of them had hold of the other end of the rope. When the boat was within fifty yards of shore the sail was lowered; but she still drove straight on before the wind with scarce an abatement in her speed. A man stood in her bow, also with a coil of rope in his hand, and as lie approached threw it far ahead. The fisherman rushed waistdeep into the water and caught the end of it, which in a moment was knotted to the one in his hand. •• Run along with her," he shouted. For a moment the boat towered on the top of a wave which raced in towards the shore. The next as it came took her stern, and she was in the act of swinging round when the strain of the rope came upon her and brought her straight again. Higher and higher the wave rose and then crashed down, and the boat shot forward like an arrow in the foam. The fishermen rushed forward and caught it, those on board leapt out waistdeep; all were taken off their feet by the backward rush, but they clung to the sides of the boat, while the men at the headrope, with their heels dug deeply into the sand, withstood the strain, and kept her from being swept out again. A few seconds and the boat was left dry, and the next wave carried it high up on the beach amid a loud cheer from the fishermen and lookers-on ; but there was no time to waste, for the next boat was close at hand. Again the rope was thrown to the shore, but this time the strain came a moment too late, the following wave turned the boat round, the next struck it broadside and rolled it over and over towards the shore. The fishermen in an instant joined hands, and rushing down into the water strove to grasp the men. Several times those in front were knocked down and rolled up on the beach, but three of the crew were brought in with them. There was one still missing, and there was a shout as he was seen clinging to an oar just outside the \\r ' breakers. James Walsham had been working with A Storm 105 the fishermen in saving those already brought to shore. He now fastened the end of a line round his body. •'You can never get through those rollers — they will break you up like an egg shell," the old fisherman shouted. '• I will dive through them," Jim shouted back. " Give me plenty of slack, and don't pull till you see I have got him." The lad waited for his opportunity, and then rushing down after the sheet of white foam he stood waistdeep as a great wave, some twelve feet high, towered up like a wall towards him. It was just going to break when James plunged head foremost into it. There was a crash which shook the earth, a mass of wildly rushing foam, and then, some ten yards beyond the spot where the wave had broken, Jim's head appeared above the surface. It was but tor a moment, for he immediately dived again under the next wave and then came up within a few yards of the floating oar. A stroke or two and he was alongside; he seized the man and held up one arm as a signal. In a moment the rope tightened and they moved towards shore. When they were close to the edge of the breaking waves Jim held up his hand and the strain stopped. "Now," he said to the man, ** the moment they begin to pull leave go of the oar and throw your arms around me." He waited until a wave bigger than ordinary approached, and just as it began to pass under him gave the signal. Higher and higher they seemed to rise, then they were dashed down with a tremendous shock ; there was a moment's confusion as they were swept along in the white water, Jim felt a terrific strain and it seemed to him that the rope would cut him in sunder, then he was seized by a dozen strong arms and carried high and dry before the next wave could reach him. For a minute or two he was scarce conscious ; the breath had been almost knocked out of his body with the break of the wave, and the rushing water seemed still singing in his ears. ¥ i iH:'*i|i: io6 With Wolfe in Canada **Are you hurt, my boy? are you hurt, James?" were the first words he clearly heard. '* No, I think I am all right," he said, trying to sit up. " Is the other fellow all right?" ** He has broke his arm," one of the fishermen who had just helped the man to his feet replied; " he may be thank- ful it's no worse." . James was now helped to his feet. - ' > '•i am all right," he repeated to Mr. Wilks, *• except that I feel as if I had a hot iron round my body ; that rope has taken the skin off all round me, I fancy, and doesn't it smart just with the salt water ! " "Oh, James, how could you do it?" a girl's voice said suddenly. The fishermen drew aside, and Aggie Linthorne pressed forward. The squire had gone into her schoolroom and had said, "Mrs. Walsham, I think you had better give up your lessons for the morning and get home ; it is blowing a gale now, and we shall probably have the rain down before long. I will walk down with you; the wind is dead on the shore, and it will be a grand sight." Aggie at once set her mind on going too ; but the squire refused until Mrs. Walsham suggested that if it came on wet Aggie could stop at her house until it cleared up, or, if necessary, till morning. Whereupon the squire had given way and the three had started together for Sidmouth, leaving Mrs. Walsham at her house as they passed. The others had struggled down against the wind until they came within sight of the sea. The first boat had just been run safely on shore when they arrived, and Aggie gave a cry and put her hands over her face as the second boat was seen to capsize. • ' "Cling to me, Aggie," the squire said. " See, they are rushing in the water to save them; they will have them yet!" At the cheer which broke ou*^ from the spectators, clus- :i'i A Storm 107 tering thickly now, as the first of the shipwrecked crew was brought to shore, Aggie looked out again. It was a sight she never forgot; with the great waves crashing down on the shore, and the line of straggling figures waistdeep in the white foam, in which were scattered here and there portions of the boat, oars, sails, and nets. •' Well done, well donel" the squire exclaimed. " They have dragged up three of them. I don't know whether there are any more." "Yes, yes, look!" Aggie cried; "there, out in the waves — there, 1 can see a head. That's just about where 1 was nearly drowned. Oh, grandpapa, take me away, I can't look at it." •' There's someone going out to save him, Aggie; listen to the cheer." A^gie looked again. ** Oh, grandpapa, stop him, stop him!" she cried, '* it's James." But at the same moment the plunge was made and the figure lost to sight. Aggie threw her arms round her grandfather and hid her face. "I can't look, I can't look," she cried; "tell me about it." "There, ne is up; bravo!" the squire exclaimed, almost as excited as she was; " he has dived again, dear," — then after a pause — " there he is close to him; he has got him, Aggie ! Now he is waving his hand ; now they are tighten- ing the rope; now he is waving his hand again and the} are waiting. There ! " There was a pause which seemed to the girl to be end- less, then the squire cried : "They have got them out, both of them;" and a loud cheer broke from all standing round. "Come along, grandpapa, lee us go down to them." " Stay a moment, my dear, they may be hurt; it's better you should not go." The girl stood with her hands clasped gazing at the i i "' io8 With Wolfe in Canada ;''■• ;l I ij; fishermen grouped on the shore stooping over the prostrate figures, then one of them stood up and waved his hund, and the spectators knew that all was well. Then the girl ran down to join them. "Why, Aggie!" James exclaimed in astonishment, as she pressed forward; "why, my dear, what brings you here in this storm? Whatever will the squire say?" "The squire has brought her down himself," Mr. Lin- thorne said, following closely behind his granddaughter; "and he is glad he did, James, for she has seen a grand sight. You are a fine fellow;" and he wrung the lad's hand. "A grand fellow, Wilks, isn't he?" " I always said so, squire," the old soldier said, his face beaming with satisfaction; " but now let us get him home, and Aggie, too, the child will be blown away." But for a minute or two they could not carry James off, so closely did the men and women press round him and shake him by the hand. At last they got him away, and escorted by a crowd of cheering boys led him back to his mother's. "Your son is a hero, Mrs. Walsham!" the squire ex- claimed as they entered; "but don't talk to him now, but mix him a glass of hot grog. Wilks, you get him between the blankets directly. I will tell his mother all about it while she is mixing the grog. Hallo, Aggie! why, bless the child, she's fainted." The girl had borne up till they reached the house, to- wards which the wind had blown her along as she clung to her grandfather's arm; but the excitement had been too much for her, and the instant they entered the room she had dropped into an armchair and at once lost con- sciousness. Mrs. Walsham kept her presence of mind in spite of her bewilderment at these sudden occurrences. She at once laid the girl on the sofa, removed her dripping bonnet and cloak, and poured a few drops of brandy between her lips, A Storm 109 while she set the squire to work to chafe her hands. Ag^ie soon opened her eyes and recovered her consciousness. •' Don't try to get up, Aggie," Mrs. Walsham said. " You are faint and shaken with all this excitement. Your grandpapa and I weie two very foolish people to let you come out. Now, Mr. Wilks, the best thing you can do is to find a boy outside, and send him up to the Hall with a message that the carriage is to come down directly. 1 think, Mr. Linthorne, she had better get back home. 1 should be glad enough, as you know, to keep her here for the night; but this house is rocking with the wind now, and she would not be likely to get any sleep here. 1 will run up and see how Janies is, and if he is all right I will come up with her and stop the night. She is very much shaken, and had better not be alone." Mrs. Walsham soon came downstairs again and said that James said he never felt better in his life, and that by all means she was to go up to the Hall. She then set about and prepared a cup of tea, which greatly restored Aggie, and by the time the carriage arrived the girl was able to walk to the gate. Mr. Wilks had offered to remain with James, but the latter would not hear of it. The lad was indeed well pleased to hear that they were all going up to the Hall, as thereby he escaped hearing any more of his own praises. Besides, he was most anxious to get down to the beach again, for no one could say what might take place there before morning. As soon, therefore, as he heard the door close he jumped out of bed, and when, peeping through the blinds, he saw the carriage drive off with its four occupants he at once began to dress. He felt bruised and sore from the blows he had received, and a red wheal round his chest beneath the arms showed where the rope had almost cut into the flesh. However, he soon dressed himself and descended the stairs, went into the kitchen and told the astonished 1 i * 'I'.- :1 ► i no With Wolfe in Canada girl that he was going out; then having made a hasty meal of bread and cold meat he put on his oilskins again and started for the shore. He did not, however, wait long. So heavy was the sea now that nothing whatever could be done should any vessel drive ashore, and as for the fisher boats, the sailors shook their heads as they spoke of them. "They were farther away to the west, so the chaps as got ashore tells us ; they may have got in somewhere before it got to the worst; if not, it must have gone hard with them." Find- ing that there was nothing to be done, and that he was much more stiff and bruised than he had believed, Jim made his way back again and turned into bed, where he soon fell asleep and did not wake until the following morning. One of the grooms had come down from the Hall at six o'clock to enquire how he was, and the message given by the girl that he had been out, but that he had come bacl{ and was now sound asleep, satisfied Mrs. Walsham, and enabled her to devote her undivided attention to her charge, who needed her care more than her son. Before night, indeed, the squire had sent down to Sidmouth for Dr. Walsham's successor, who said that Aggie was very feverish and must be kept perfectly quiet for some days. He sent her up a soothing draught, and Mrs. Walsham sat up with her all night. She slept but little, and talked almost incessantly, sometimes rambling a little. The first thing in the morning the doctor was again sent for, and on his recommendation the squire at once sent off a man on horseback to Exeter for the leading physician of that town. When he arrived late in the afternoon Aggie was somewhat quieter and his report was more cheering. "Her pulse is very high," he said; "but Mr. Langford tells me that it is not so rapid as It was in the morn- ing, and that he thinks the symptoms are abating. Un- doubtedly it is a sharp feverish attack brought on by A Storm III excitement and exposure. A very little more and it would have been a case of brain fever, but I trust now that it will soon pass off. The sedatives that have been adminis- tered are taking eifect, and I trust she will soon fall asleep. As you requested, I have made my arrangements for stay- ing' here to-night, and I trust that by the morning we bhall have her convalescent." Mr. Wilks had gone down the first thing in the morning to see James, and found him up and about as usual. He was very greatly concerned at hearing that Aggie had passed a bad night, and came four times up to the Hall during the day to enquire about her ; and on his last visit, late in the evening, he was told that she was sleeping quietly, and that the doctor had every hope that she would wake in the morning free from fever. This proved to be the case J but she was ordered to keep her bed for a day or two. On the morning after the storm the wind had gone down much, although a tremendous sea was still breaking on the shore. Messages arrived in the course of the day to say that all the missing boats, with one exception, had succeeded in gaining the shore before the storm was full on. The missing boat was never heard of again. Two days later James Walsham had strolled up the hill to the east of the town, and was lying with a book before him in a favourite nook of his looking over the sea. It was one of the lovely days which sometimes come late in autumn, as if the summer were determined to show itself at its best before leaving. It could not be said that James was studying, for he was watching the vessels passing far out at sea, and inwardly moaning over the fact that he was destined for a profession for which he had no real liking, instead of being free to choose one of travel and adventure. Presently he heard voices behind him. The position iii which he was lying was a little distance down on the . ' ¥ it mmw^: !!|i !! ^H iia With Wolfe in Canada slopes on the seaward side of the path, and as a screen of bushes grew behind it he could not be seen by any- one passing along. "All the men with their pistols and cutlasses are to assemble here at ten o'clock to-night, Johnson, but do not give them orders till late, and let them come up one by one so as not to attract attention. Lipscombe's men arr tc assemble at the same hour and march to meet us. Thi«' time, 1 think, there is no mistake. The cargo is to be landed where 1 told you. It will be high tide at twelve o'clock, and they are sure to choose that hour, so that the cutter can run close in. I have sent off a man on horse- back to Weymouth for the revenue cutter to come round. If she's in time we shall catch that troublesome lugger as well as her cargo. She has been a thorn in our side for the last year. This time I do hope we shall have her." The speakers then moved on out of hearing, but James Walsham recognized the voice as Lhat of the revenue officei commanding the force at Sidmouth. Smuggling was at that time carried on on a large scale along the coast, and there were frequent collisions between those engaged in it and the revenue officers. The sym- pathies of the population were wholly with the smugglers, and the cheating of the revenue was not at all considered in the light of a crime. Many of the fishermen from time to time took a hand in smuggling cruises, and the country people were always ready to lend assistance in landing and carrying the cargoes. When out in their boats at night James had often heard the fishermen tell stories of their smuggling adventures, and more than once he had been with them when they had boarded a lugger laden with contraband, to warn them that the revenue cutter was on the cruising ground, and it would not be safe to attempt to run cargo at present. He now determined at once that he would warn the smug- g^lers of their danger. The question was. Where was the A Storm "3 cargo to be run? The officer had not mentioned the spot, but as the force from the next station to the east was to co-operate, it must be somewhere between the two. Waiting till the speakers must have gone well along the cliflF, he rose to his feet and returned to Sidmouth. He thought at first of telling some of the fishermen what be had heard, but as, in the event of an affray, it might conn- out how the smugglers had been warned of the intention of the revenue oflicers, he thought there would be less risk in giving them warning himself. He knew every path down the cliff for miles, and trusted that he should be able to make his way down and give che boats notice of their danger before the revenue men reached the shore. At nine o'clock he dressed himself in the rough sailor's suit he wore when he went out with the fishermen, and started along the cliff. For some distance he kept well inland, as the officer might have placed a man on the look- out to stop anyone going towards the scene of action. The spot he thought the most likely was a mile and a half along the shore. There was a good landing-place, and an easy path up the cliff, and he knew that cargoes had been more than once run here. Accordingly, when he reached this spot he sat down among some bushes on the edge of the cliff, and waited for some sort of signal. Half an hour later he heard the tramp of a number of men passing along behind him. "There go the revenue men," he thought to himself. " I suppose they are going to meet those coming the other way." An hour passed without further sound, and James began to get uneasy. If this was the spot fixed for the landing, some of the country people ought to be arriving by this time to help to carry off the cargo. They might, for aught he knew, be already near, waiting for the signal before they descended the path. No doubt the revenue men would be lying in wait a short distance off, and would (837) t $■ t it' 114 With Wolfe in Canada allow the friends of the smugglers to go down to the watet without letting them know of their presence. He kept his eyes fixed on the water to the east, watch- ing anxiously for the appearance of a light. Presently he started. Immediately in front of him, about a mile at sea, a bright light was shown. In a second it disappeared. Three times it flashed out, and then all was dark. The night was a very dark one. There was no moon, and the stars were obscured, and although he strained his eyes to the utmost he could not make out the vessel from which the light had been shown. *• How foolish to show such a bright light!" he said to himself. '* It would have been almost sure to attract the attention of anyone on the watch." He made his way to the path, and descended to the edge of the water, and waited, expecting momentarily to be joined by people from above. But no one came. He strained his ears listening for the fall of approaching oars; but all was silent. Half an hour passed, and then it flashed across him that the signal must have been made to deceive the revenue men and to cause them to assemble at that spot, and so leave the point really determined upon free for operations. With an exclamation of disgust at his own stupidity in having been deceived James ran up the path again at the top of his speed, and then took the road along the cliff. For two miles he ran without interruption, and then saw a dark mass in front of him. He turned off instantly to the left. Doubtless he had been heard approaching, for two or three men detached themselves from the rest, and started to cut him off". James ran straight inland, and in the darkness soon lost sight of his pursuers. Then he turned and made for the cliff again. Two or three hundred yards farther along there was another path to the shore, and this he had no doubt now was the one the smugglers were about to use. He struck the cliff within a few yards ut A Storm ns the spot. In an instant two men jumped up and seized him. "Who are you?" For an instant James thought that his assailants were revenue men, but even in the darlmess he saw that they were countrymen. "Quick!" he said. "The revenue men are close at hand. They are watching two or three hundred yards along. Listen! Here they come." A tramping of feet coming rapidly along the cliff was clearly heard, and the men with an oath released their hold and ran off, giving a loud whistle, and made for their carts, which were stationed a few hundred yards inland. James dashed down the path, shouting at the top of his voice. He had not gone many ya»-ds before he met a number of men coming up with tubs of spirits on their shoulders. "Throw them down," he cried, "and make along the shore. The revenue men are close behind." His advice was taken at once. The tubs were thrown down, and went leaping and bounding down to the shore, while the men followed James at full speed down the path. Their pursuers were close behind. There was no longer any use in concealment. Their officer shouted to them to press forward at full speed, while from the beach below a hubbub of voices suddenly broke out, and at the same moment a blue light was lit on the cliff above. " Beat them back, my lads," one of the smugglers was shouting, as James ran down to the little crowd of men stanrling near two boats; "we are five to one against them; come on." " Surrender in the king's name," the revenue officer shouted, as he rushed forward, followed by his men. The answer was a pistol-shot," and in a moment a furious m^Uv. began. The advantage in numbers was all on the side of the smugglers. Those who had landed with the |i ^ w 1 i i m ^;* fi6 With Wolfe in Canada kegs were all armed with pistol and cutlass, and the countrymen had heavy sticks and bludgeons. The ten revenue men would have been overpowered, but suddenly a shout was heard, and another party of sailors ran up along the shore ^nd joined in the fray. It was the de- tachment from the other station, which had been waiting at some little distance along the shore for the signal from above. i *'To the boats, lads," the leader of the smugglers shouted, "we are caught in a trap." The smugglers rushed to the boats, and James, who Was standing by the water's edge, leaped on board with them. Most of the country people fled at once along the shore, pursued by some of the revenue men, while the others made a rush for the boats. These had been kept afloat a few yards from the shore. Grapnels had been dropped over their sterns, and as the men in charge hauled out the moment the fight began, they were in water shoulder-deep when the smugglers scrambled on board. The revenue men dashed in after them and strove to hold the boats; but they v/ere beaten off with oars and cutlasses, and the boats were soon hauled out into deep water. The grapnels were lifted, and the men, many of whom were wounded more or less severely in the fray, got out their oars and pulled to the lugger amid a dropping fire of pistol shots from shore. i ■f I CHAPTER Vil Pressed Many and deep were the maledictions uttered as the smugglers climbed on board their vessel ; but their captain said cheerily : •'Never mind, lads, it might have been worse; it was only the first cargo of tubs, and half of those weren't ashore; the lace and silk are all right, so no great harm is done. Set to work and get up sail as soon as you can; likely enough there is a cutter in the offing; that blue light must have been a signal. They seem to have got news of our landing somehow." The crew at once set to work to get up sail. Three or four of the countrymen, who had, like James, got on board the boats, stood in a group looking on confused and helpless ; but James lent his assistance until the sails were hoisted and the craft began to move through the water. "Now, then," the captain said, "let us go below and look at the wounds; we daren't show a light here on deck." The wounds were for the most part slashes and blows with cutlasses, for in the darkness and confusion of the fight only two of the bullets had taken effect ; one of the smugglers had fallen shot through the head, while one of those on board had his arm broken by a pistol ball. Now for our passengers," the captain said after the I wounds had been bandaged. 117 * * ii8 With Wolfe in Canada *' Who are you?" and he lifted a lantern to James's face. "Why, it is young Mr. Walsham!" he exclaimed in surprise. James knew the man now, for the lugger had several times put in at Sidmouth, where, coming in as a peace- able trader, the revenue officers, although well aware of the nature of her vocation, were unable to touch her, as vessels could only be seized when they had contraband on board. " Why, what brings you into this aflFair, young master?' James related the conversation he had overheard, and his determination tc warn the smugglers of their danger. " 1 should have managed it in plenty of time if I had known the exact spot on which you were going to land; but I saw a signal light two miles down the coast, and that kept me there for half an hour. It struck me then it was a ruse to attract the officers from the real spot o( landing, but though I ran as hard as I could I was only just before them." "Thank you heartily," the smuggler said. "I expect you saved us from a much worse mess than we got into. I have no doubt they meant to capture the tubs as they were loaded without raising an alarm, and the fellows on the shore would have come up quietly and taken us by surprise as we were landing the last boatloads. Thanks to you, we have got well out of it, and have only lost one of our hands and a score or so of tubs." " You can't put me ashore, I suppose?" James said. "That I can't," the smuggler replied. "I have no doubt that cutter from Weymouth is somewhere outside us, and we must get well off the coast before morning. If we give her the slip I will send you off in a boat some- time to-morrow. I must go ashore myself to make fresh arrangements for getting my cargo landed." James went on deck again; the breeze was light, and the lugger was slipping along quietly through the water. i Pressed 119 5 face, led in several peace- krare ot her, as ;raband aster?' rd, and danger, if I had to land; last, and me then 1 spot ot was only I expect got into. as they "Uovvs on |en us by Thanks [only lost I said. have no le outside Imorning. )at some- lake fresh [ight, and le water. He could faintly see the loom of the cliflFs on his right, and knew that the lugger was running west, keeping as close inshore as she could to avoid the cutter watching for hei outside. He wondered what they would say at home when it was found that he was missing ; but consoled himself by thinking that his mother, who was still up at the Hall, would no doubt suppose that he had gone out for a night's fishing, as he had often done before, and that as she was away he had forgotten to leave word with the servant. Suddenly a blue light burned out on the top of the cliff. An angry exclamation broke from the captain, who was standing at the helm. '•Confound it!" he exclaimed; "they have caught sight of us from the cliff, and are signalling our whereabouts to the cutter." As he spoke he turned the vessel's head seaward, and for a quarter of an hour sailed straight out. ** Now," he said quietly, '* I think we must be out of sight of those fellows on shore. Get her on the other tack, lads, but be as quiet as you can about it ; there's no saying how close the cutter may be to us." The great sails were lowered as the boat's head paid off to the east. The yards were shifted to the other sides of the masts, and the sails hoisted again, and the lugger be^'an to retrace her way back along the coast. •'It's just a chance now," the captain said to James, who was standing close by him, " whether the commander of the cutter guesses or not that we shall change our course; he will know we are likely enough to do it." "What should you do if you were in his place?" James said. "I should run straight out to sea and lay to eight or ten miles off; he would be able to make us out then at daylight whichever course we take, whereas, by trying to 1 '1; I(li' 1 '■\ 1 I20 With Wolfe in Canada follow in the dark he would run the chance of missing us altogether. 1 wish the wind would get up a bit ; we are not moving through the water more than three knots an hour, and it's dying away. However, I fancy it will blow up again in the morning." "Do you know whether she is faster than you are?" James asked. "There is not much difference," the captain replied. '* If the wind is strong we have the legs of her, but in a light breeze she is the fastest. She has chased us half a dozen times already, but we have always given her the slip." "Then, even if she does run out to sea, as you say," James said, "we ought to be safe, as we should be a dozen miles or so along the coast." " Yes, but not that ahead of her," the captain answered, "for she would be so much to the seaward, still that would be far enough; but she will begin to fire long before we are in range, and will bring any other king's ship within hearing down on us. However, I dare say we shall give her the slip as we have done before." The hours passed slowly. The wind continued to drop until the vessel scarcely moved through the water, and after a while the sweeps were got out and were worked until the day broke. All eyes were on the lookout for the cutter as the daydawn began to steal over the sky. "There she is sure enough," the captain exclaimed at length, "lying to on the watch some eight miles to the west. She must have seen us, for v/e are against the light sky; but like ourselves she is becalmed," It was a quarter of an hour, however, before the position of the cutter was seen to change; then her head was suddenly turned east. "She has got the wind," the captain said; "now we only want a good breeze and you'll have a lively day of it, lads." Pressed 121 issing l; we knots it will arer' eplied. but in us half tier the X say," d be a swered, t\\\ that re long r king's say we to drop ter, and 1 worked for the luned at to the tnst the [position \ad was lOW we day of From the time when she had turned the Kigffjfer had made only about eight miles along the coast to the east, and an equal distance seaward, for the tide had set against her. ' 'f The morning was bright and clear, the sea was perfectly smooth; as yet the sails hung idly down, but there were dark lines on the water that showed that a breeze was coming. •' We shall have plenty of wind presently," the skipper said. "See how light the sky is to the south; there will be white tops on the waves in an hour or two. Here comes a flaw. Haul in your sheets, lads, now she begins to move." The puff did not last long, dying away to nothing in a few minutes, and then the lugger lay immovable again. The men whistled, stamped the deck impatiently, and cast anxious glances back at the cutter. "She is walking along fast," the skipper said, as he examined her through a glass. •* She has got the wind steady and must be slipping along at six knots an hour. This is hard luck on us. If we don't get the breeze soon it will be a close thing of it." Another quarter of an hour passed without a breath of wind ruffling the water. The cutter was fully two miles nearer to them than when she had first been seen, and was holding the wind steadily. " Here it comes, lads," the skipper said cheerfully. "Another ten minutes and we shall have our share." The time seemed long indeed before the dark line on the water reached the lugger, and there was something like a cheer from the crew as the craft heeled slightly over and then began to move through the water. It was the true breeze this time, and increased every moment in force till the lugger was lying well over with a white wave at her bow. But the cutter had first gained by the freshening breeze, K' iriBisr > 1 1 !i !22 With Wolfe in Canada and James Walsham, looking back at her, judged that there were not more than four miles of water between the boats. The breeze was nearly due west, and as the lugger was headed as close as she would lie to it the cutter had hauled in her sheets and lay up on the same course, so that they were now sailing almost parallel to each other. "If we could change places," the skipper said, "we should be safe. We can sail nearer the wind than she can. but she can edge away now, and has all the advan- tage of us." James had already perceived this, and wondered that the lugger did not pay off before the wind so as to make a stern chase of it. " I want to get a few miles farther out," the skipper said. *' Likely enough there is another cutter somewhere inshore. It is quite enough to have one of these fellows at one's heels." Another half-hour and the cutter, edging in, was little over three miles distant; then the skipper gave the word, the helm was. put down, the sheets slackened off, and in a minute the lugger was running dead before the wind with her sails boomed out one on either side. The cutter followed her example, and hoisted a large square sail. The wind was blowing fresh now, and the sea was getting up. Not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, and the sun shone brightly on the white heads which were beginning to show on the water. The lugger was tearing along, occasionally throwing a cloud of spray over her bows and leaving a track of white water behind her. " I think she still gains on us," the captain said to the mate, who had taken the helm. "Ay, she is gaining," the sailor agreed; "but the wind is freshening every minute. She can't carry that top-sail much longer. It's pressing her bows under now," %' ili that iveen 5 the t the same lei to <« vve n she idvan- lat the mke a jkipper ewhere fellows IS little e word, and in e wind ; cutter e sail, getting he sun Inning along, ws and to the )ut the iry that under Pressed 123 ti but (( kegfs I am stand '•She will go almost as fast without it," the skipper said. The commander of the cutter seemed to be of the same opinion, for just as he spoke the top-sail was seen to flutter Hnd then descended to the deck. It was a quarter of an hour before the skipper spoke again. '• I think vve just about hold our own," he said. " I didn't think the Polly could have held her running." "She couldn't in a light wind," the mate replied; with this wind it will want a fast boat to beat her." The hands were now set to work shifting the further aft. "That's better," the skipper said presently. sure we are gaining ground, and our masts will it if the cutter's will." With her stern low in the water the lugger was now tearing along at a tremendous pace. Stout as were her masts, and strong the stays, James Walsham wondered at their standing the strain of the great brown sails, as they seemed at times almost to lift her bodily out of the water. Buoyant as the craft was, the waves broke over her bows and flooded her decks and sheets of spray flew over her. The cutter with her sharper bows and all her sail for- ward was feeling it still more severely, and the spirits of all on board the lugger rose rapidly, as it was evident that they were dropping their pursuers. Suddenly the gaff of the cutter's mainsail was seen to droop, and the boom was hauled on board. '• I thought it would be too much for them," the skipper said exultantly. "They are going to reef." "We had better reef down too, I think," the mate said; "she has had as much as she could bear for some time." "I'll hold on ten minutes longer," the skipper said; "every half-mile counts." But before that time was up the sails were one after \ \ !^ ii -:'A 124 With Wolfe in Canada another reefed, for the wind continued to freshen. The sky was still cloudless, but there was a misty light in the air, and a heavy sea was beginning to run. Suddenly a gun flashed out from the cutter. The skipper uttered an oath. Their pursuer was more than three miles astern, and he knew that she could only be firing as a signal. There were several large ships in sight on their way up or down the Channel. To these little attention had been paid. The skipper shaded his eyes with a hand, and gazed earnestly at a large ship on the weather beam some four miles away. "That is a frigate, sure enough," he exclaimed. "We are fairly caught between them. Haul in the sheets, lads, we will have a try for it yet." The lugger was brought sharp up into tht wind, and was soon staggering along seaward with the lee bulwark almost under water. The cutter instantly lowered her square sail, and followed her example, continuing to fire a gun every minute. All eyes were turned towards the frigate, which was now on the port beam. "We shall cross two miles to windward of her," the skipper said. " If she keeps on her course, a quarter of an hour will do it, but she is sure to notice the guns. The wind will take them down to her." • "Ah, there she goes." ; As he spoke a puflF of smoke darted out from the frigate's bow. Her sails fluttered, and her head bore round until she was on the same tack as the lugger. The latter was now about equidistant from her two pursuers. The cutter and the lugger were nearly abreast, but the former being to windward could edge down. The frigate was three miles to leeward, but she was fully a mile ahead. "There is no way out of it," the skipper said bitterly. " In a light wind we could run away from the frigate, but with this breeze we have no chance with her. Look how she is piling on sail ! " : 1 ■n Pressed 125 The 1 the ipper miles as a their jntion hand, beam «'We i, lads, id, and ulwark ed her to fire rds the if," the irter of The [rigate's id until Iter was cutter ir being Is three )itterly. ite, but lok how The crew shared the captain's opinion; some shook their fists and cursed vainly at their pursuers, some stood sullenly scowling, while the French portion of the crew gave way to wild outbursts of rage. Rapidly the three vessels closed in towards each other, for the cutter edged in so rapidly that the lugger was obliged to bear off towards the frigate again. As a last hope the lugger's course was changed, and she again tried running, but the superior weight and power of the frigate brought het rapidly down. Presently a heavy gun boomed out, and a shot came dancing along the water a hundred yards away. •' Lower the sails," the skipper said. " It is no use going farther. The inside of a prison is better than the bottom of the sea anyhow." Down came the sails, and the lugger lay rolling heavily in the waves as the frigate bore down upon her with a white roll of water on her stem. "Get ready, lads," the skipper said. ** There is just one chance yet. She will run by us. The instant she is past, up sail again. We shall be a mile away before they can get her round into the wind again. If she doesn't cripple us with her shot we may weather her yet. We needn't mind the cutter." The frigate came foaming along, the crew busy in taking sail off her. The instant she had passed, and was pre- paring to round to, the sails of the lugger flew up like mai^ic, and she was soon tearing along almost in the eye of the wind as if to meet the cutter, which was running down towards her. "Down below, lads, every man of you," the captain shouted; "we shall have a broadside in a minute." In a moment the deck was clear of all save the skipper and his mate, who stood at the tiller. The frigate swept I slowly round, and then, as her guns came to bear, shot [after shot was fired at the lugger already three-quarters ia6 With Wolfe in Canada ill «■ of a mile to the windward. The shot hummed overhead one struck the water alongside, a yard or two away, but still she was untouched. " Some of her shots went as near the cutter as they did to us," the skipper said. " She won't fire again." They were now fast approaching the cutter, which, when she was within a quarter of a mile, changed her course and was brought up again into the wind, firing the four j,'uns she carried on her broadside as she came round. The lugger's head was paid off and this placed the cutter on her starboard quarter, both going free. The former was travelling the faster, but a gun was fired from the cutter's bow, and the shot struck splinters from the lugger's quarter. The crew were on deck again now. ** Train that gun over the stern," the skipper said. ♦• If we can knock her mast out of her we are saved ; if not, they will have us yet." He had scarcely spoken when there was a crash, a shot from the cutter had struck the mtzzen mast a few feel above the deck, and the mast and sail fell over to leeward. There was a cry of rage and dismay. *• Luck's against us," the skipper said bitterly. '* Down with the sail, lads; this time it is all up with us." The sail was lowered, and the lugger lay motionless in the water until the cutter came up and lay within fifty yards of her. A boat was at once lowered, and an officer was rowed to the lugger. "So we have caught you, my friends, at last," he said as he sprang on board. '•You wouldn't have done it if it had not been for the frigate," the skipper said. " No; I will say your craft sails like a witch," the officer replied. " I wish we could have done it without her. It will make all the difference to us ; the frigate will get the lion's share of the prize. What is the value of your cargo?" '^'i Pressed 137 irhead ay, but hey did h, when course :he four ! round. ie cutter J formei from the lugger's lid. 'Mf 1; if not, ;h, a shot few feet leeward. »' Down Is." The iS in the Ifty yards [rowed to [' he said for the 16 officer her. It |l get the I cargo i' ••Two hundred kegs of brandy," the skipper replied, "and fifteen hundred pounds' worth of lace and silks." "A good prize," the oflicer said. "Not your own, I hope, for you have made a brave chase of it." " No," the skipper answered. *• Fortunately I only took a very small share this time; it's bad enough to lose my boat; I own two-thirds of her." •' I am sorry for you," the officer said, for he was in high spirits at the success of the chase, and could afford to be pleasant. " Here comes a boat from the frigate. You played them a rare trick, and might have got olT if it hadn't been for that lucky shot of ours. I see you were just getting out a stern-chaser," and he pointed to the i;un. "It is well for you that you didn't fire it, as you can't be charged with armed resistance." •• I wish I had fired it, for all that. It might have been my luck to cripple you." •• It would have made no diff^erence it you had," the officer replied. "The frigate would have overhauled vou; with this wind she would sail five feet to your four." The boat from the frigate now came alongside. '• How are you, Cotterel?" the officer said, as he stepped onboard. "That was a lucky shot of yours; but I think it's lucky for the lugger that you hit her, for the captain was so savage at that trick they played him that I believe he would have .sunk her when he came up to her again. I heard him say to the first lieutenant, ' I won't give her a chance to play me such a trick agairi.'" " What orders have you brought?" the other asked. "We are outward bound, so you are to put a crew on board and take her into port; but as we are very short [of hands we will relieve you of the prisoners." All on board the lugger were at once ordered into the [frigate's boat and were rowed off to the ship. On gaining the deck they were drawn up in line, and the captain and »' 1 |ii«-ii *, ipif mmm j ■ ,1 r \ M ■■ * l-\i Si'h 128 With Wolfe in Canada first lieutenant came up. The good humour of the former had been restored by the capture of the lugger. "Hallo!" he said, looking at the bandaged heads and arms of some of the men, "so you have been having a fight trying to run your cargo, I suppose; that will make it all the worse for you when you get on shore. Now, I might press you all without giving you a choice, but I don't want unwilling hands, so I will leave it to you. Which is it to be — an English prison for two or three years, or a cruise on board the Thetis?" The greater part of the men at once stepped forward and announced their willingness to volunteer. "Who have we here?" the captain asked, looking at the three countrymen. "They are passengers, sir," the skipper of the lugger said with a half-smile. A few questions brought to light the facts of the surprise while the cargo w:is being landed. "Well, my lads," the captain said, "you are in the same boat with the rest. You were engaged in an unlawful enterprise, and in resisting his majesty's officers. Voo will get some months in prison anyhow, if you go back j You had better stay on board and let me make meal of you." The countrymen, however, preferred a prison to a man- o'-war. James Walsham had been turning over the matter his mind. He hud certainly taken no part in the fray, bull that would be difficult to prove, and he could not accouD! for his presence except by acknowledging that he \m there to warn them. It would certainly be a case of im- prisonment. Surely it would be better to volunteer thai this. He had been longing for the sea, and here ail opportunity opened for him for abandoning the career hisi mother intended for him without setting himself in opposJ tion to her wishes. Surely she would prefer that he shoulij Pressed 129 e former »ads and tiaving a v'xW make ;. Now, loice, but t to you, I or three d forward looking at the lugger he surprise are in t^« an unlawful cers. Vou u go back. make men| matter if. he fray, but lot accounil lat he vail case ol m ^nteer that! id here atl |e career hii f in oppos'i t he sboulil be at sea for a year or two to his being" disgraced by im- prisonment. He therefore now stepped forward. " I do not belong to the higger's crew, sir, and had nothing to do with running their cargo, though I own I was on the spot at the time. I am not a sailor, though I have spent a good deal of time on board fishing boats. Mr. Horton, whom I see there, knows me, and will tell you that I am a son of a doctor in Sidmouth. But as I have got into a scrape I would rather serve than go back and stand a trial." "Very well, my lad/' the captain said; "I like your spirit, and will keep my eye on you." The three countrymen and four of the French sailors who declined to join the Thetis were taken back to the cutter, and the Thetis at once proceeded on her way down channel. James had given a hastily scribbled line on the back of an old letter which he happened to have in his pocket, to the men who were to be taken ashore, but he had very little hope that it would ever reach his mother. Nor indeed did it ever do so. When the cutter reached Weymouth with the lugger, ii. ; men captured in her were at once sent to prison, where they remained until they were tried at assizes three months afterwards; and although all were acquitted of the charge of unlawful resistance to the king's officers, as there was no proof against any of the six men individually, they were sentenced to a year's imprisonment for smuggling. Whether Jim's hurriedly written letter was thrown overboard, or whether it was carried in the pocket of the man to whom he gave it until worn into fragments, James never knew, but it never reached his mother. The news that James was missing was brought to her upon the day after the event by Mr. Wilks. He had, as usual, gone down after breakfast to report how Aggie was "getting on, with a message from his mother that her charge was now so completely restored that it was (887) 9 % k.i I \mm 130 With Wolfe in Canada unnecessary for her to stay longer at the Hall, and that she should come home that evening at her usual time. Hearing from the girl that James had not returned since he went out at nine o'clock on the previous evening, the old soldier sauntered down to the beach to enquire of the fishermen in whose boat James had gone out. To his surprise he found that none of the boats had put to sea the evening before. The men seemed less chatty and communicative than usual; most of them were pre- paring to go out with their boats, and none seemed in- clined to enter into a conversation. Rather wondering at their unusual reticence, Mr. Wilks strolled along to where the officer of the revenue men was standing with his boatswain watching the fishermen. "A fine morning, lieutenant." "Yes," the latter assented. "There will be wind presently. Have you heard of the doings of last night?" *• No," Mr. Wilks said in surprise, "I have heard nothing. I was just speaking to the fishermen, but they don't seem in as communicative a mood as usual this morning. " "The scamps know it is safest for them to keep their mouths shut just at present," the officer said grimly. *' I have no doubt a good many of them were concerned in that affair last night. We had a fight with the smugglers, two of my men were shot and one of theirs, and there were a good many cutlass wounds on each side. We have taken a score of prisoners, but they are all country people who were assisting in the landing; the smugglers themselves all got off. We made a mess of the affair altogether, thanks to some fellow who rushed down and gave the alarm and upset all the plans we had laid. " It is too provoking. I had got news of the exact spot and hour at which the landing was to take place. I had my men all up on the cliff, and as the fellows came up with kegs they were to have been allowed to get a hundred Pressed 131 t she aring went oldier len in id put chatty e pre- led in- :ing at where ith his e wind night?" J heard ut they al this ip their •M Irned in ^gglers, there We :ountry lofslers affair m and I* Let spot 1 had itli w undied yards or so inland and would there have been seized, and any shout they made would not have been heard below. Lieutenant Fisher with his party from the next station was to be a little way along at the foot of the cliflFs, and when the boats came with the second batch he was to rush for- ward and capture them while we came down from above; then we intended to row off and take the lugger, there was not wind enough for her to get away. •* Ail was going well, and the men were just coming up the cliff with the tubs, when someone who had passed us on the cliff ran down shouting the alarm. We rushed down at once, but arrived too late. They showed fight, and kept us back till Fisher's party came up ; but by that time the boats were afloat, and the smugglers managed to get in and carry them off in spite of us. We caught, as I tell you, some of the countrymen, and Fisher has taken them off to Weymouth, but most of them got away. There are several places where the cliff can be climbed by men who know it, and I have no doubt half those fisher- men you see there were engaged in the business." "Then the smuggler got away?" Mr. Wilks asked. ** I don't know," the lieutenant said shortly. ** I had sent word to Weymouth, and I hope they will catch her in the offing. The lugger came down this way first, but we made her out and showed a blue light. She must have turned and gone back again, for this morning at day- light we made her out to the east. The cutter was giving chase, and at first ran down fast towards her. Then the smugglers got the wind, and the last we saw of them they were running up the Channel, the cutter some three miles astern. I would give a couple of months' pay to know who it was that gave the alarm. I expect it was one of those fishermen. As far as my men could make out in the darkness the fellow was dressed like a sailor. But I must say good morning, for I am just going to turn in." I im^i 132 With Wolfe in Canada Mr. Wilks had been on the point of mentioning that James was missing, but a vague idea that he might in some way be mixed up with the events of the previous night checi^ed the question on his Ups, and yet he thought, as the officer walked away, it was not probable. Had James been foolish enough to take part in such a busi- ness he would either have been taken prisoner, or would, after he escaped, have returned home. He had evidently not been taken prisoner, or the officer would have been sure to mention it. Much puzzled, he walked slowly back to the fishermen. Some of the boats had already pushed off. He went up to three of the men, whose boat, being higher up than the rest, would not be afloat for another quarter of an hour. ** Look here, lads," he said. " My young friend Jim Walsham is missing this morning, and hasn't been at home all night. As none of the fishing boats put out in the evening he cannot have gone to sea. Can any of you tell me anything about him?" The men gave no answer. " You need not be afraid of speaking to me, you know," he went on, " and it's no business of mine whether any of the men on the shore were concerned in that affair the lieutenant has just been telling me of last night ; but hear- ing of that, and finding Jim is missing, I can't help think- ing there is some connection between the two things. Nothing you say to me will go further, that I can promise you ; but the lad's mother will be in a terrible way. I can't make it out, for I know that if he had anything lo do with this smuggling business he would have told me. Again, if he was there and got away, he would naturally have come straight home, for his absence would only throw suspicion upon him." "Well, Mr. Wilks," the youngest of the sailors said, *' I don't know nothing about it myself. No one does, so far as 1 know, but 1 have heard say this morning as A- Pressed '33 that ht in ivious lught, Had busi- vould, dently B been y back pushed , being mother nd Jim been at t out in ^ of you know," |r any of "air the lut hear- |p think- things. 1 promise [way. I :hing io ;old me. laturally [y throw ^rs said, le does, rning as how he was there or thereabouts; but don't you let out as I told you, 'cause they would want to know who I heard it from." '•You can rely upon my silence, my lad, and here's half a guinea to drink my health between you. But can't you tell me a little more?" "Well, sir, they do say as how it war Mr. Jim as came running down into the middle of them on the beach, shouting" the alarm, with the revenue men close at his heels. I don't say as it were he — likely enough it weren't —but that's the talk, and that's all I have beared about the matter. How he came for to know of it or how he gut there no one knows, for sartin he has had nought to do with any landings afore. He was a lot among us, but I know as he never was told about it; for, though everyone would have trusted Jim, still, seeing how he was placed with his mother up at the Hall, and the squire a magistrate, it was thought better as he shouldn't be let into it. Everyone on the shore here likes Jim." ** But if he was there, and he hasn't been taken prisoner and I am sure the lieutenant would have told me if he was— why shouldn't he have got home?" •*We didn't know as he hadn't got home, did us, Bill?" the fisherman appealed to one of his comrades. "No," the other said. "We thought likely he had got safely away with the rest. It war a dark night, and I expect as everyone was too busy looking after himself to notice about others." "He may have been wounded," the old soldier said anxiously, "and may be in hiding in some house near the place." The fisherman was silent. Such a thing was of course possible, "He might that," one of the sailors said doubtfully, "and yet I don't think it. The chase was a hot one, and I don't think anyone wounded so bad as he couldn't i. tJ' It, ¥M '34 With Wolfe in Canada make his way home would have got away. I should say as it wur more likely as he got on board one of the boats. It seems to me as though he might have come to warn us — that is to say, to warn them, I mean — just to do em a good turn, as he was always ready to do if he had the chance. But he wouldn't have had anything to do with the scrimmage, and might have been standing quiet like near the boats when the other lot came along the shore, and then, s«^''ng as the game was up, he might likely enough have jumped on board and gone off to the lugger." **That is possible," Mr. Wilks said. "Anyhow, I will go off at once and make enquiries at all the houses within a mile or so of the landing-place." M: CHAPTER VI I r Discharged Contrary to his usual u^w. . ™. return to lun^ront ^'ir'"!;'''^' "^- '^■'»- did ater before he came in.tokini^? ' ^"J* " "'^^ '"'o hou s had been to all the farmhouses lith^^'" ""'' «"'='°«- He of the fight, and had ascer ain^"'/" *^° ">"" of the scene "otlyng wounded at a,^; o?7he„ ^ «"'" ""'J'™ ^^^ felr"^"''"" been coldly eceived T. "' ^'" ^"1"'"^- farmhouse near the coast but thj '" "*^ «'=a'-ce a i""!!! the smue^lers w .■ * occupants had relaf!^ .he landings, 'o'Z^^'tZ:^!' '"''^ ^^^''^ - "-- t be stowed away. At first h!:'^^" ""''™ ff°ods could 'Snorance of the events of' the „'' ^" P™''«»«<1 «« e persuaded by the earnestness of t^'^M "■■^'" • ""' ^hen at h,s mission was a ?rie„d°v n *t """^'^^'^ "«»"ner commun cative anH .. "™'"y one they becam» », had been taken ^5 '" °"'°"'' '^at some of Z^ V.U.1J idKen prisoners ^^ni^ ^ . °' their men but none of them had heard of . '""" '° WeymouT m h,d,„g. "^^fd of any wounded man beino: l-onvinced at last th„t t " ;'::j"f- ^r. wi,i.fretird trs-d'^^K^""^ °^ "> great anxiety. Everv h;« !, ^'Omouth a nrev f« ;^ j".ger w^as caS"^,/r"r ""^ '"' 'J^-" ^ "•"Id h,s trial for bein^ .„ ' •''""*'' ""ould have to J^«h, and as two of "he re?""'" '" "'^ "^"t o„ th^ h';-'e„ce might be XZTZ'"'" """ '^-" ''"'ed 'f^he got away all would be weT Tl, 135 ■ ^''^y would do„bt. i i' f ' 1 ■J • V ^ l^- - 1 1 r 11, 1 136 With Wolfe in Canada !»' less hear by letter from Jim, and it would be better that he should not return at present to Sidmouth, but should at once take up his residence in London and commence his studies there. He met the squire just as the latter was starting for Sidmouth. "Well, Wilks, we began to think that you were lost," he said cheerfully. "Aggie was downstairs to lunch, and was mightily offended that you should not be there at lier first appearance. But you look tired and fagged. Has anything gone wrong?" "Things have gone very wrong, squire." And he related to his friend all the news that he had gathered, and his conviction that James Walsham was on board the lugger. "This is a pretty kettle of fish," the squire said irritably. " What on earth did the boy mean by getting himself mixed up with such an affair as that?" " It is a foolish business, squire," the old soldier agreed, "But we can't expect wise heads on young shoulders, 1 suppose. He somehow or other learnt the surprise which the revenue men intended, and as most of his friends, the fishermen, would probably be concerned in it, he went to give them notice, intending, no doubt, to go quietly back again before the revenue men arrived. I don't know that he's altogether to be blamed in the matter. Most young fellows would do the same." "Well, I suppose they would," the squire agreed re- luctantly; "but it is a most awkward business. If the lad gets caught and gets two or three years' imprison- ment it will ruin his prospects in life. His mother will be broken-hearted over the business, and I am sure Aggie will take it terribly to heart. They were great friends of old, though she hasn't seen much of him for the last two or three years, and of course that affair of the other day has made quite a hero of him." "We must hope the lugger will get safely over to Discharged 137 France," his companion said; "then no great harm will have been done." *'We must hope so," the squire assented moodily. "Confound the young Jackanapes, turning everything upside down and upsetting us all with his mad-brain freaks." Mrs. Walsham was greatly distressed when the news was broken to her by Mr. Wilks, and Aggie cried so that the squire at last said she must go straight up to bed unless she stopped, for she would be making herself ill again. When she was somewhat pacified the matter was discussed in every light, but the only conclusion to be arrived at was that their sole hope rested in the lugger getting safely off. '• Of course, my dear madam," the squire said, '* if they are taken I will do my best to get a pardon for your son. 1 am afraid he will have to stand his trial with the rest ; but I think that, with the representations I will make as to his good character, I may get a mitigation anyhow of a sentence. If they find out that it was he who gave the alarm there will be no hope of a pardon ; but if that doesn't come out one would represent his being there as a mere boyish freak of adventure, and in that case I might get him a free pardon. You must not take the matter too seriously to heart; it was a foolish business, and that is the worst that can be said of it." '• I think it was a grand thing," Aggie said indignantly, " for him to risk being shot, and imprisoned, and all sorts of dreadful things, just to save other people." '•And I think you are a goose, Aggie," the squire said. "If everyone were to go and mix themselves up in other people's business there would be no end of trouble. I suppose next you will say that if you heard me arranging with the constable to make a capture of some burglars, you would think it a grand thing to put on your hat to run off to warn them," 'II: i-. 38 With Wolfe in Canada N ' *i Itsiiii' "Oh, grandpapa, how can you say such a thing?" the girl said; "burglars and smugglers are quite different. Burglars are wicked men, and thieves and robbers; smug- glers are not, they are only trying to get goods in without paying duty." "They try to rob the king, my dear, and in the eyes of the law are just as criminal as burglars ; both of them are leagued to break the law, and both will resist and take life if they are interfered with. I allow that in general estimation the smugglers are looked upon in a more favourable light, and that a great many people who ought to know better are in league with them, but that does not alter the facts of the case." The girl did not argue the question, but the squire was perfectly aware that he had in no way convinced her, and that her feeling that James Walsham's action was a highly meritorious one was in no way shaken. It was agreed that nothing was to be said about James's absence, and after taking some refrojjhment Mr. Wilks went down into Sidmouth again to tell the girl at Mrs. Walsham's that she was not to gossip about James being away. Three days later a letter was received by the squire from Richard Horton. "I am taking the opportunity of writing a few lines to you, my dear uncle, as I have a chance of sending it ashore by the revenue cutter Thistle^ which is lying along- side of us. Between us we have just captured a rascally smuggling lugger, with a cargo of lace, silk, and spirits. You will, I am sure, be surprised and grieved to hear that among the crew of the lugger was James Walsham. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw him in such disreputable company; it will be a sad blow for his poor mother. As we were short of hands our captain offered the crew of the lugger the choice of shipping with us, or being sent on shore for trial. Most c <" them chose the former alternative, among them James VValsham, of Discharged 139 "the irent. mug- thout ; eyes them ;t and lat in 1 In a people m, but re was er, and highly agreed ce, and ivn into I's that Ire from lines jding it along- i-ascally [spirits, lar that lam. 1 In such lis poor ] offered lith us, chose lum, of which I was glad, as his mother will be spared the dis- grace of his being placed in the dock with his associates. I need not say that if I could have obtained his release 1 should have done so, knowing that you had a high opinion of him ; but it was, of course, out of my power to interfere." The squire was alone in his study when he received the letter, for it was midday before the post arrived at Sid- mouth, when a man from the Hall went down each day with a bag to fetch the letters. He rang the bell and ordered the servant to tell Mr. Wilks he should be g'lad if he would step in to him. When his friend came he handed him the letter without a word. "That settles the matter," he said, as he threw the letter angrily down upon the table. "A malicious young viper! I wish I had him here." "It is not nicely worded," the squire said gravely; "but it was an unpleasant story to have to tell." " It was not an unpleasant story for him to tell," the old soldier said hotly. "There is malice in every line of it. He speaks of the men as James's associates, talks about the disgrace he would bring on his mother. There's malice, squire, in every line of it." "I'm afraid it's a bad letter," the squire assented gravely. " It's a natural letter," Mr. Wilks said savagely. " It is written in a hurry, and he's had no time to pick and choose his words and round off his sentences as he generally does in his letters to you. He was so full of malicious exultation that he did not think how much he was showing his feeling as he wrote." " It's a bad letter and a nasty letter," the squire assented; "but let that pass now. The first question is — How are we to tell Jim's mother? Do you think it will be a relief to her or otherways?" " It will be a blow to know that the lugger has been captured," Mr. Wilks said — "a severe blow, no doubt, 1 • I f ii- 140 With Wolie in Canada SPI^!;;; '\ i for her escape is wliat we have been building our hopes upon. It will be a heavy blow, too, for her to know that James is a seaman before the mast, that it will be years before she will see him again, and that all her plans for his future are upset. But 1 think this will be much better for her than if she knew he was a prisoner, and would have to stand a trial. •' Between ourselves, squire, as far as the lad himself is concerned I am not sure that he will be altogether sorry that events have turned out as they have. In our talks together he has often confided to me that his own inclina- tions were altogether for a life of activity and adventure; but that, as his mother's heart was so set upon his follow- ing his father's profession, he had resolved upon never saying a word to her which would lead her to suppose that his own wishes lay in any other direction. This business will give him the opportunity he has longed for, to see the world without his appearing in any way to thwart his mother's plans." *' At any rate," the squire said, ♦' I am heartily glad he has got off being tried. Even if I had got a free pardon for him, it would have been a serious slur upon him that he had been imprisoned, and would have been awkward for us all in the future. I think, Wilks, I will leave it to you to break it to his mother." ''Very well," the other agreed. "It is an unpleasant business, squire; but perhaps I had better do it. It may console her if I tell her that at heart he always wanted to go to sea, and that, accustomed as he is to knock about in the fishermen's boats, he will find it no hardship on board a man-o'-war, and will come back in the course of two or three years none the worse for his cruise. She may think he will take up doctoring again after that, though I have my doubts whether he will do that; how- ever, there is no use in telling her so. Shall 1 show her that letter, squire?" Discharged 141 "No," tlie squire replied, ••of course you can tell her what's in it ; but I will keep the letter myself. I vould jjive a good deal if he had not written it. It is certainly biidly worded, thoug^h why he should feel any malice towards the other is more than 1 can tell." His companion was about to speak, but thought better ol it, and without another word went to break the news to Mrs. Walsham. Mrs. Walsham was terribly upset. After suffering her to cry for some time in silence, Mr. Wilks said: " My dear madam, I know that this news must distress you terribly; but it may be that in this, as in all things, a providence has overruled your plans for your son for his own good. I will teli you now what you would never have known had this affair never occurred. Jim at heart hates his father's profession. He is a dutiful son, and rather than give you pain he was prepared to sacrifice all his own feelings and wishes. But the lad is full of life and energy; the dull existence of a country surgeon in a little town like this is the last he would adopt as his own choice; and I own that I am not surprised that a lad of spirit hould long for a more adventurous life. I should have .old you this long ago, and advised you th it it would be well for you both to put it frankly to him, that although you would naturally like to see him following his father's profession, still that you felt that he should choose foi himself; and that should he select any other mode of life you would not set your wishes against his. But the lad would not hear of my doing so; he said that, rather than upset your cherished plans, he would gladly consent to settle down in Sidmouth for life. I honoured him for his filial spirit; but frankly I think he was wrong. An eagle is not made to live in a hencoop, nor a spirited lad to settle down in a humdrum village; and I own that although I regret the manner of his going, I cannot look upon it Hs an unmixed evil that the force of circumstances has f r i> i> 142 With Wolfe in Canada |i ill taken him out of the course marked out for him, and that he will have an opportunity of seeing life and adventure." Mrs. Walsham had listened with a surprise too great to admit of her interrupting the old soldier's remarks. " I never dreamed of this," she said at last when he ceased. ** I cannot remember now that I ever asked him, but I took it for granted that he would like nothing better than to follow in his father's steps. Had I known that he objected to it I would not for a moment have forced him against his inclinations. Of course it is natural that, being alone in the world, I should like to have him with me still, but I would never have been so selfish as to have sacrificed his life to mine. Still, though it would be hard to have parted from him in any way, it is harder still to part like this. If he was to go he need not have gone as a common sailor. The squire, who has done so much for him, would no doubt, instead of sending him to school, have obtain ,d a midshipman's berth for him or a commis- sion in the army; but it is dreadful to think of him as a common sailor, liable to be flogged." "Well, Mrs. Walsham, perhaps we may set the matter partly to rights. I will speak to the squire, and I am sure he will write to his friend at the Admiralty, and have an order sent out at once for Jim's discharge. At the same time it would be better that he should not return here just at present. His name may come out at the trial of the smugglers as being concerned in the affair, and it would be better that he should stay away till thai matter blows over. At any rate, if I were you I should write to him, telling him that you know now that he has no taste for the medical prcfession, and that should he see anything thai he thinks will suit him in America, you would not wish Iiim to come home immediately if he has a fancy for stay- ing out there; but that, if he chooses to return, you are sure that the squire will exert himself to give him a start in any other profession he may choose." 'i Discharged 143 hen he ed him, y better that he ced him ■al that, lim with ; to have i be hard sr still to ; gone as much for :o school, I commis- him as a Mrs. Walsham agreed to carry out the suggestion, and that afternoon the squire sent oflf a letter to his friend at the Admiralty, and three letters were also posted to James himself. The voyage of the Thetis was uneventful. Her destina- tion was Hampton at the opening of Chesapeake Bay, where the troops on board would join the expedition under General Braddock, which was advancing up the Potomac. When she arrived there they found several ships of war under Commodore Keppel. Braddock's force had marched to Wills Creek, where a military post named Fort Cum- berland had been formed. The soldiers on board were at once disembarked, and marched up the banks of the Potomac to join the force at Fort Cumberland. The sailors were employed in taking stores up the river in boats. James Walsham had done his best during the voyage to acquire a knowledge of his duties. His experience in the fishing boats was useful to him now, and he was soon able to do his work as an able-bodied seaman. His good spirits and v/illingnep.s rendered him a general favourite. He was glad that he was not put in the same watch with Richard Horton, as, after their first meeting, the young lieutenant showed no signs of recognition. He was not, James found, popular among the men. He was exacting and overbearing with them, and some on board who had served with him on his previous voyage had many tales to his disadvantage. A fortnight after the arrival of the Thetis at Hampton orders were issued among the ships of war for thirty volunteers for Braddock's expedition, of which the Thetis was to furnish ten. So many sent in their names that the first lieutenant had difficulty in choosing ten, who were looked upon with envy by the rest of the ship's company, lor there seemed little chance at present of fighting at sea, land the excitement of a march on shore, with adventures T , \ k.l ■:^ ^ ^! „ ffii it ■I !^i \ii-: 144 With Wolfe in Canada of all sorts, and encounters with the French and their Indian allies, seemed delightful to the tars. Upon the following- day a ship arrived from England, and an hour afterwards an order was passed forward that the first lieutenant wanted James Walsham upon the quarterdeck. *• Walsham," he said, " an order has just come from the Admiralty for your discharge, and you are to have a pas- sage in the first ship returning, if you choose o take it. I am sorry you are leaving the ship, for I have noticed that you show great willingness and activity, and will make a first-rate sailor. Still, I suppose, your friends in England did not care about your remaining before the mast." James touched his hat and walked forward. He was scarcely surprised, for he had thought that his mother would probably ask the squire to use his influence to obtain his discharge. He scarcely knew whether he was glad or sorry. He was in a false position, and could not hope for promotion except by some lucky chance, such as was not likely to occur, of distinguishing himself. At the same time he sighed as he thought that he must now return and take up the profession for which his mother had intended him. A quarter of an hour later, however, the ship's corporal came round and distributed the mails, and James to his delight found there were three letters for him. He tore open that from his mother. It began by gently upbraiding him for getting himself mixed up in the fight between the smugglers and the revenue men. " In the next place, my dear boy," she said, ** I must scold you even more for not confiding in your mother as to your wishes about your future profession. Mr. Wilks has opened my eyes to the fact that, while I have all along been taking it for granted that your wishes agreed with mine as to your profession, you have really been sacrificing all your own inclinations in order to avoid giving me pain. 1 am very thankful to him for having opened my eyes, for d their )on the in hour he first jrdeck. from the e a pas- take it, ! noticed and will riends in ^fore the He was s mother luence to jr he was could not e, such as ^t he must lis mother however, ;he mails, letters for [began by up in the « ' 1 must Ither as to Vilks has [all along reed with [acrificing me pain, eyes, for Discharged 145 r should have been grieved indeed had I found when too late that I had chained you down to a profession you dislike. "Of course I should have liked to have had you with me, but in no case would have had you sacrifice yourself; still less now, when I have met with such kind friends and am happy and comfortable in my life. Therefore, my boy, let us set aside at once all idea of your becoming a doctor. There is no occasion for you to choose immediately what you will do. You are too old now to enter the royal navy, and it is well that before you finally decide on a profes- sion you have the opportunity of seeing something of the world. •• 1 enclose bank notes for a hundred pounds, so that if you like you can stay lor a few weeks or months in the colonies, and then take your passage home from New York or Boston. By that time too all talk about this affair with the smugglers will have ceased; but as your name is likely to come out at the trial of the men who were taken, so the squire thinks it will be better for you to keep away for a time." The rest of the letter was filled up with an account of the excitement and alarm which had been felt when he was first missed. "We were glad, indeed," she said, "when a letter was received from Richard Hoiton saying that you were on board the Thetis. Mr. Wilks tells me it was an abomin- ably spiteful letter, and I am sure the squire thinks so too from the tone in which he spoke this afternoon about his nephew; but I can quite forgive him, for if it had not been for his letter we should not have known what had become of you, and many months might have passed before we might have heard from you in America. As it is, only tour or five days have been lost, and the squire is writing to-night to obtain your discharge, which he assures me there will be no difficulty whatever about." (387) to V\ M ^p^"-" 146 With Wolfe in Canada 3.. V ipv iMf M The squire's was a very cordial letter, and he too en- closed notes for a hundred pounds. "Mr. Wilks tells me," he said, "that you do not like the thought of doctoring. I am not surprised, and I think that a young fellow of such spirit and courage as you have shown ought to be fitted for something better than administering pills and draughts to the old women of Sidmouth. Tell me frankly when you write what you would like. You are, of course, too old for the royal navy. If you like to enter the merchant service I have no doubt I could arrange with some shipping firm in Bristol, and would take care that by the time you get to be captain you should also be part owner of the ship. If, on the other hand, you would like to enter the army — and it seems to me that there are stirring times approaching— I think that through one or other of my friends in London I could obtain a commission for you. If there is anything else you would like better than this you may command my best services. I never forget how much I am indebted to you for my present happiness, and whatever I cdn do for you still shall feel myself deeply your debtor." The old soldier wrote a characteristic letter. In the first place he told James that he regarded him as a fool for mix- ing up in an affair in which he had no concern whatever. Then he congratulated him on the fact that circumstances had broken the chain from which he would never otherwise have freed himself. *' You must not be angry with me," he said, " for havino; betrayed your confidence and told the truth to your mother, I did it in order to console her, by showing her that things were after all for the best; and I must say that madam took my news in the very best spirit, and I am sure you will see this by her letter to you. There is no one I honour and esteem more than I do her, and I was sure all along that you were making a mistake in not telling her frankly what your wishes were. Now you have got a roving w. Discharged 30 en- ot like 1 think as you er than men of lat you le royal have no Bristol, ; captain , on the — and it aching— 1 London anything mand my debted to .n do for the first \\ for mix- whatever. imstances [otherwise lor having \r mother. fat things it matl.'im sure you 1 honour [all along jr frankly la roving '47 commission for a time, and it will be your own fault if you don't make the best of it. There is likely to be an exciting time in the colonies, and you are not the lad I take you for if you dawdle away your time in the towns instead of seeing what is going on in the forest." These letters filled James with delight, and without an hour's delay he sat down to answer them. In his letter to the squire he thanktd him most warmly for his kind- ness, and said that above all things he should like a commission in the army. He wrote a very tender and affectionate letter to his mother, telling her how much he felt her goodness in so promptly relinquishing her own plans and in allowing him to choose the life he liked. "Thank Aggie," he concluded, "for the message she sent by you. Give her my love, and don't let her forget me." To the old soldier he wrote a gossiping account of his voyage. "It was impossible," he said, "for the news of my discharge to have come at a better moment. Thirty sailors from the fleet are going with General Brad- dock's force, and everyone else is envying their good luck -I among them. Now I shall go up at once and join the Virginian regiment which is accompanying them. I shall join that instead of either of the line regiments, as I can leave when I like. Besides, if the squire is able to get me a commission, it would have been pleasanter for me to have been fighting here as a volunteer than as a private in the line. "By the way, nobody thinks there will be much fighting, so don't let my mother worry herself about me; but at any rate a march through the great forests of this country, with a chance of a brush with the redskins, will be great un. Perhaps by the time it is over I may get a letter from you saying that I have got my commission. As I hear there is a chance of a regular war between the French and us out here, the commission may be for a regiment on this side." i <■ f:. u .5 ■■ 148 With Wolfe in Canada After finishing his letters and giving: them to the ship's corporal to place in the next postbag, James said good- bye to his messmates and prepared to go on shore. The ten men chosen for the expedition were also on the point of starting. Richard Horton was standing near, in a state of great discontent that he had not been chosen to accompany them in their expedition. James Walshani stepped up to him and touched his hat respectfully. •' I wish to thank you, Lieutenant Horton, for your extremely kind letter telling my friends that I was on board this ship. It has been the means of my obtaining my discharge at once, instead of having to serve for many months before I could send the news home and obtain an answer in return." Without another word he turned, and walking to the gangway took his place in a boat about starting with some sailors for the shore, leaving Richard Horton in a state of fury with himself for having been the means of obtaining James's discharge. He had already more than once felt uncomfortable as he thought of the word- ing of the letter, and that this indulgence of his spite had had the effect of restoring James's liberty rendered him wellnigh mad with rage. On landing, James Walsham at once disposed of his sailor's clothes and purchased a suit similar to those worn by the colonists ; then he obtained a passage up the river to Alexandria, where the transports which had brougiit the troops were still lying. Here one of the companies | of the Virginia corps was stationed, and James, finding that they were expecting every day to be ordered up to Wills Creek, determined to join them at once. The scene was a busy one. Stores were being landed from the transports, teamsters were loading up their waggons, oflicers were superintending the operations ; the men of the Virginia corps, who wore no uniform, but were attired in the costume used by hunters and backwoodsmen Discharged ship's good- ;. The e point r, in a osen to ralsham lly. or your was on btaining :or many (btain an ig to the ;ing with lorton in he means ady more he word- spite had ered him led of hii' lose worn the river brougbi [ompanies 5, finding red up to y Umded up their lions; the but were )odsmen 149 namely, a loose hunting shirt, short trousers or breeches and gaiters, were moving about unconcernedly, while a few of them, musket on shoulder, were on guard over the piles of stores. Presently a tall, slightly built young man, with a pleasant but resolute face, came riding along and checked his horse close to where James was standing. James noticed that the men on sentry, who had for the most part been sitting down on fallen logs of wood, bales, or anything else which came handy, with their muskets across their knees or leaning beside them, got up and began pacing to and fro with some semblance of military position. "Who is that young man?" he asked a teamster standing by. "That is Colonel Washington," the man replied, "one of the smartest of the colonial officers." "Why, he only looks two or three and twenty," lames said in surprise. "He is not mere than that," the man said, "but acre don't go for much here, and Colonel Washington is ad- jutant-general of the Virginian militia. Only a few months back he made a journey with despatches right through the forests to the French station at Port de Boeuf, and since then he has been in command of the party which went out to build a fort at the forks of the Ohio, and had some sharp fighting with the French. A wonderful smart young officer they say he is, just as cool when the bullets are flying as if sitting on horseback." James resolved at once that he would speak to Colonel Washington and ask him if he could join the Viro-inian militia. He accordingly went up to him and touched his hat. " If you please, sir, I am anxious to join the Virginian mihtia, and as they tell me that you are adjutant-general 1 have come to ask you if I can do so." "I see no difficulty in it, my lad," the colonel said; 4 .-. k I iliJHi Ji I 111 ll i|ii!' 150 With Wolfe in Canada *'but if you have run away from home in search of ad- venture I should advise you to go back again, for we are likely to have heavy work." *' I don't mind that, sir, and I have not run away. I am English. I was pressed on board a frigate and was brought over here, but my friends in England procured my discharge, which came for me here a fortnight after my arrival. They are, I believe, about to obtain for me a commission in a king's regiment; but as I was here I thought that I should like to see some service, as it may be some months before I hear that I have got my com- mission. I would rather if I could join as a volunteer, as I do not want pay, my friends having supplied me amply with money." "You seem to be a lad of spirit," Colonel Washington said, "and I will at once put you in the way of doing what you desire. You shall join the Virginian corps as a volunteer. Have you money enough to buy a horse?" "Yes, plenty," Jim said. "I have two hundred pounds." '• Then you had better leave a hundred and fifty at least behind you," the colonel said. " I will direct you to a trader here with whom you can bank it. You can get an excellent horse for twenty pounds. I asked you be- cause, if you like, I can attach you to myself. I often wpnt a mounted messenger; and of course, as a volunteer, you would mess with me." " I should like it above all things," James said thank- fully. " Then we will at once go to the tent of the officer com- manding this company," Washington said, "and enroll you as a volunteer." On reaching the tent Washington dismounted and led the way in. "Captain Hall," he said, "this is a young English gentleman who will shortly have a commission in the king's army, but in the meantime he wishes to see Discharged 151 a little brisk fighting, so he is to be enrolled as a volunteer in your company; but he is going to obtain a horse and will act as a sort of aide-de-camp to me." Captain Hall at once enteied James's name as a volun- teer on the roll of his company, "Do you know of anyone who has a good horse for sale?" Washington asked. ••Yes," the captain replied, "at least there was a farmer here half an hour ago with a good-looking horse which he wants to sell. I have no doubt he is in the camp still." Captain Hall went to the door of the tent and told two of the men there to find the farmer and tell him he had a purchaser for his horse. Ten minutes later the farmer came up and James bought the horse, Captain Hall doing the bargaining for him. "Now," Washington said, "we will go round to the storekeeper I spoke of and deposit the best part of your money with him. I shouid only take a pound or two, if I were you, for you will find no means of spending money when you once set forward, and should anything happen to you the Indians would not appreciate the value of those English notes of yours. You will want a brace of pistols and a sword, a blanket, and cooking pot— that is about the extent of your camp equipment." n ; f ri f >!' CHAPTER IX The Defeat of Braddock HIngland and France were at this time at peace in Europe, although the troops of both nations were about to engage in conflict in the forests of America. Their position there was an anomalous one. England owned the belt of colonies on the east coast. France was mistress of Canada in the north, of Louisiana in the south, and moreover claimed the whole of the vast country lying behind the British colonies, which were thus cooped up on the seaboard. Her hold, however, of this great terri- tory was extremely slight. She had strong posts along the chain of lakes from the St. Lawrence to Lake Superior, but between these and Louisiana her supremacy was little more than nominal. The Canadian population were frugal and hardy, but they were deficient in enterprise; and the priests, who ruled them with a rod of iron, for Canada was intensely Catholic, discouraged any movements which would take their flocks from under their charge. Upon the other hand, the colonists of New England, Pennsylvania, and Virginia were men of enterprise and energy, and their traders, pushing in large numbers across the Alleghanies, carried on an extensive trade with the Indians in the valley of the Ohio, thereby greatly exciting the jealousy of the French, who feared that the Indians would ally themselves with the British colonists, and that the connection between Canada and Louisiana would be thereby cut, 162 4 The Defeat of Braddock 153 irope, ngage I there >eU of ess of 1, and J lying ped up .t terri- along perior, s little The English colonists were greatly superior to the French in number; but they laboured under the disad- vantage that the colonies were wholly independent of each other, with strong mutual jealousies, which paralysed their action and prevented their embarking upon any con- certed operations. Upon the other hand, Canada was governed by the French as a military colony. The governor was practically absolute, and every man capable of bearing arms could, if necessary, be called by him into the field. He had at his disposal not only the wealth of the colony but large assistance from France, and the French agents were therefore able to outbid the agents of the British colonies with the Indians. For years there had been occasional troubles between the New England States and the French, the latter em- ploying the Indians in harassing the border; but until the middle of the eighteenth century there had been nothing like a general trouble. In 1749 the Marquis of Galis- soni^re was governor- general of Canada; the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle had been signed; but this had done no- thing to settle the vexed question of the boundaries oetween the English and French colonies. Meanwhile the English traders from Pennsylvania and Virginia were poaching on the domain which France claimed as hers, ruining the French fur trade, and making friends with the Indian allies of Canada. Worse still, farmers were pushing westward and settling in the valley of the Ohio. In order to drive these back, to impress the natives with the power of France, and to bring them back to their allegiance, the governor of Canada in the summer of 1749 sent C61onon de Bienville. He had with him fourteen officers, twenty French soldiers, a hundred and eighty Canadians, and a band of Indians. They embarked in twenty-three birch-bark canoes, and pushing up the St. Lawrence, reached Lake Ontario, stopping for a time at ^ I'P ,r I tit' ' I. ] 154 With Wolfe in Canada the French fort of Frontenac, and avoiding the rival Eng- lish port of Oswego on the southern shore, where a trade in beaver skins disastrous to French interests was being carried on, for the English traders sold their goods at vastly lower prices than those which the French had charged. On the 6th of July the party reached Niagara, where there was a small French fort, and thence, carrying their canoes round the cataract, launched them upon Lake Erie. Landing again on the southern shore of the lake, they carried their canoes nine miles through the forest to Chautauqua Lake, and then dropped down the stream running out of it until they reached the Ohio. The fertile country he'e was inhabited by the Delawares, Shawanoes, Wyandots, and Iroquois, or Indians of the Five Nations, who had migrated thither from their original territories in the colony of New York. Further west, on the banks of the Miami, the Wabash, and other streams, was a con- federacy of the Miami and their kindred tribes ; still further west in the country of the Illinois, near the Mississippi, the French had a strong stone fort called Fort Chartres, which formed one of the chief links of the chain of posts that connected Quebec with New Orleans. The French missionaries and the French political agents had for seventy years laboured hard to bring these Indian tribes into close connection with France. The missionaries had failed signally; but the presents so lavishly bestowed had inclined the tribes to the side of their donors, until the English traders with their cheap goods came pushing west over the Alleghanies. They carried their goodb on the backs of horses, and journeyed from village to village, selling powder, rum, calicoes, beads, and trinkets. No less than three hundred men were engaged in these en- terprises, and some of them pushed as far west Mississippi. As the party of C^loron proceeded they nailed , lates where ig their ie Erie. LC, they )rest to stream le fertile wanoes, Nations, irritories le banks IS a con- 11 further isissippi, hartres, of posts il agents te Indian Isionaries )estowed frs, until pushing Ifoodb M village, its. No lese cs\' The Defeat of Braddock 155 of tin stamped with the arms of France to trees, and buried plates of lead near them with inscriptions, saying that they took possession of the land in the name of Louis XV, King of France. Many of the villages were found to be deserted by the natives, who fled at their approach. At some, however, they found Knglish traders, who were warned at once to leave the country, and by some of them letters were sent to the governor of Penn- sylvania, in which Cdloron declared that he was greatly surprised to find Englishmen trespassing in the domain of France, and that his orders were precise, to leave no foreign traders within the limits of the government of Canada. At Chiningu6, called Logstown by the English, a large number of natives were gathered, most of the inhabitants of the deserted villages having sought refuge there. The French were received with a volley of balls from the shore; but they landed without replying to the fire, and hostilities were avoided. The French kept guard all night, and in the morning C^loron invited the chiefs to a council, when he told them he had come by the order of the governor to open their eyes to the designs of the English against their lands, and that they must be driven away at once. The reply of the chiefs was humble ; but they begged that the English traders, of whom there were at that moment ten in the town, might stay a little longer, since the goods they brought were necessary to them. After making presents to the chiefs the party proceeded on their way, putting up the coats of arms and burying the lead inscriptions. At Scioto a large number of Indians were assembled, and the French were very apprehensive ack, which would doubtless have been disastrous , as the Canadians of the party were altogether ms to war. A council was held, however, at which -^loi 11 could obtain no satisfaction whatever, for the interests of the Indians were bound up with the English. i ■$^ i\ 1^ I e ; ti i 156 With Wolfe in Canada There can be no doubt that had they been able to look into the future every Indian on the continent would have joined the French in their effort to crush the English colonies. Had France remained master of America the Indians might even now be roaming free and unmolested on the lands of their forefathers. France is not a colo- nizing nation; she would have traded with the Indians, would have endeavoured to Christianize them, and would have left them their land and freedom, well satisfied with the fact that the flag of France should wave over so vast an extent of country; but on England conquering the soil, her armies of emigrants pressed west, and the red man is fast becoming extinct on the continent of which he was once the lord. C^loron's expedition sailed down the Ohio until it reached the mouth of the Miami, and toiled for thirteen days against its shallow current until they reached a village of the Miami Indians, ruled over by a chief called by the French La Demoiselle, but whom the English, whose fast friend he was, called Old Britain. He was the great chief of the Miami confederation The English traders there withdrew at the approach of the French. The usual council was held, and C^loron urged the chief to remove from this location, which he had but newly adopted, and to take up his abode with his band near the French fort on the Maumee. The chief accepted the Frenchman's gifts, thanked him for his good advice, and promised to follow it at a more convenient time; but neither promises nor threats could induce him to stir at once. No sooner, indeed, had the French departed than the chief fc^athered the greater part of the members of the con- federation on that spot, until, in less than two years after the visit of C^loron, its population had increased eightfold, and it became one of the greatest Indian towns of the west, and the centre of English trade and influence. C^loron reached Miami, and then returned northward to to look d have English ica the »olested a colo- [ndians, i would ,ed with so vast the soil, red man 1 he was ; reached ;en days a village sd by the hose fast :eat chief jrs there he usual ) remove (ted, and h fort on I's gifts, follow ises nor than the 1 the con- irs after fghtfold, of the ifluence. Iward to The Defeat of Braddock 157 Lake Erie, and thence back to Montreal, when he re- ported to the governor that English influence was supreme in the valley of the Ohio. In the following year a company was formed in Virginia for effecting a settlement in Ohio, and a party proceeded west to the village of the chief called Old Britain, by whom they were received with great friendship, and a treaty of peace was solemnly made between the English and the Indians. While the festivities consequent on the affair were going on, four Ottawa Indians arrived from the French with the French flag and gifts, but they were dis- missed with an answer of defiance. If at this time the colonists could have cemented their alliance with the Indians with gifts similar to those with which the French endeavoured to purchase their friendship, a permanent peace with the Indians might have been established, but the mutual jealousies of the colonies and the nature of the various colonial assemblies rendered any common action impossible. Pennsylvania was jealous of the west- ward advance of Virginia, and desired to thwart rather than to assist her. The governors of New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia were fully conscious of the importance of the Indian alliance, but they could do nothing without their assem- blies. Those of New York and Pennsylvania were largely composed of tradesmen and farmers absorbed in local interests, and animated but by two motives, the cutting down of all expenditure and bitter and continuous opposi- tion to the governor who represented the royal authority. Virginia and Pennsylvania quarrelled about their respec- tive rights over the valley of the Ohio. The assembly of New York refused to join in any common action, saying, "We will take care of our Indians, and they may take care of theirs." The states further removed from the fear of any danger from the action of the Indians and French were altogether lukewarm. I f' 158 With Wolfe in Canada Thus neither in the valley of the Ohio nor on the boun- daries of the New England states did the Indians receive their promised gifts, and as the French agents were liberal both in presents and promises, the Indians became dis- contented with their new friends and again turned their eyes towards France. Old Britain, however, remained firm in his alliance, and the English traders by constant presents, and by selling their goods at the lowest possible rates, kept him and his warriors highly satisfied and contented. The French in vain tried to stir up the friendly tribes to attack Oswego on Lake Ontario and the village of Old Britain, which were the two centres to which the Indians went to trade with the English, but they were unsuccessful until, in June, 1752, Charles Langlade, a young French trader, married to a squaw at Green Bay, and strong in influence with the tribes of that region, came down the lakes with a fleet of canoes manned by two hundred and fifty Ottawa and Ojibwa warriors. They stopped awhile at the fort at Detroit, then paddled up the Maumee to the next fort, and thence marched through the forests against the Miamis. They approached Old Britain's village in the morning. Most of the Indians were away on their summer hunt, and there were but eight English traders in the place. Three of these were caught outside the village, the remaining five took refuge in the fortified warehouse they had built, and there defended themselves. Old Britain and the little band with him fought bravely, but against such overwhelming numbers could do nothing, and fourteen of them, including their chief, were killed. The five white men defended themselves till the afternoon, when two of them managed to make their escape, and the other three surrendered. One of them was already wounded, and was at once killed by the French Indians. Seventy years of the teaching of the French missionaries had not boun- eceive liberal le dis- i their nained mstant ossible :d and ■ibes to of Old Indians ccessful French rong in )wn the red and I awhile [C to the against orning. int, and Three laining built, gravely, )thing, killed, fcrnoon, md the lunded, [eventy id not The Defeat of Braddock 159 weaned the latter from cannibalism, and Old Britain was boiled and eaten. The Marquis of Duquesne, who had succeeded Galis- soniere as governor, highly praised Langlade for the enter- prise, and recommended him to the minister at home for reward. This bold enterprise further shook the alliance of the Indians with the English, for it seemed to them that the French were enterprising and energetic, while the English were slothful and cowardly, and neglected to keep their agreements. The French continued to build forts, and Dinwiddle, governor of Virginia, sent George Washington to protest in his name against their build- ing forts on land notoriously belonging to the English crown. Washington performed the long and toilsome journey through the forests at no slight risks, and delivered his message at the forts, but nothing came of it. The gover- nor of Virginia, seeing the approaching Hanger, made the greatest efforts to induce the other colonies to join in common action; but North Carolina alone answered the appeal, and gave money enough to raise three or four hundred men. Two independent companies maintained by England in New York, and one in South Carolina, leceived orders to march to Virginia. The governor had raised with great difficulty three hundred men. They were called the Virginia Regiment. An English gentleman named Joshua Fry was appointed the colonel, and Wash- ington their major. Fry was at Alexandria on the Potomac with half the legiment. Washington with the other half had pushed Ibrward to the storehouse at Wills Creek, which was to lorm the base of operations. Besides these Captain Trent with a band of backwoodsmen had crossed the mountain to build a fort at the forks of the Ohio, where Pittsburg now stands. Trent had gone back to Wills Creek, leaving ''.nsign Ward with forty men at work upon the fort, when, ?:!: I "' Ni ill; i W: |!)^i '! , , 1 60 With Wolfe in Canada on the 17th April, a swarm of canoes came down the Alle- ghany with over five hundred Frenchmen, who planted cannon against the unfinished stockade, and summoned the ensign to surrender; he had no recourse but to sub- mit, and was allowed to depart with his men across the mountains. * The French at once set to to build a strong fort, which they named Fort Duquesne. While the governor of Vir- ginia had been toiling in vain to get the colonists to move, the French had acted promptly, and the erection of their new fort at once covered their line of communication to the west, barred the advance of the English down the Ohio valley, and secured the allegiance of all the wavering Indian tribes. Although war had not yet been declared between Eng land and France, the colonists, after this seizure by French soldiers of a fort over which the English flag was flying, henceforth acted as if the two powers were at war. Wash- ington moved forward from Wills Creek with his hundred and fifty men, and surprised a French force which had gone out scouting. : Several of the French were killed, and the commander of Fort Duquesne sent despatches to France to say that he had sent this party out with a communication to Wash- ington, and that they had been treacherously assassinated. This obscure skirmish was the commencement of a war which set two continents on fire. Colonel Fry died a few days after this fight, and Washington succeeded to the command of the regiment, and collected his three hundred men at Green Meadow, where he was joined by a few Indians, and by a company from South Carolina. The French at Duquesne were quickly reinforced, and the command was given to Coulon de Villiers, the brother of an officer who had been killef* in the skirmish with Washington. He at once advance,, against the English, who had fallen back to a rough breastwork which they ■1, ,1 11 h ML , The Defeat of Braddock i6i called Fort Necessity, Washington having but four hun- dred men against five hundred French and as many Indians. For nine hours the French kept up a hot fire on the entrenchment but without success, and at nightfall Villiers proposed a parley. The French ammunition was run- ning short, the men were fatigued by their marches, and drenched by the rain which had been falling the whole day. The English were in a still worse plight; their powder was nearly spent, their guns were foul, and among them they had but two cleaning rods. -';{ . .w After a parley it was agreed that the English should march off with drums beating and the honours of war, carrying with them all their property, that the prisoners taken in the previous affair should be set free, two officers remaining with the French as hostages until they were handed over. Washington and his men arrived utterly worn out with fatigue and famine at Wills Creek. This action left the French masters of the whole country be- yond the Alleghanies. The two mother nations were now preparing for war, and in the middle of January, 1755, Major-general Braddock with the 44th and 48th Regi- ments, each five hundred strong, sailed from Cork for Virginia, while the French sent eighteen ships of war and six battalions to Canada. Admiral Boscawen with eleven ships of the line and one frigate set out to intercept the French expedition. The greater part of the fleet evaded him, but he came up with three of the French men-of- war, opened fire upon them, and captured them. Up to this time a pretence of negotiations had been main- tained between England and France, but the capture of the French ships brought the negotiations to a sudden end, and the war began. A worse selection than that of Major-general Braddock could hardly have been made ; he was a brave officer and a good soldier, but he was rough, coarse, and obstinate ; (337) ,, '» \f> \^ 1 62 With Wolfe in Canada :,t he utterly despised the colonial troops, and regarded all methods of fighting save those pursued by regular armies in the field with absolute contempt. To send such a man to command troops destined to fight in thick forests against an enemy skilled in warfare of that kind was to court defeat. As might be expected Braddock was very soon on the worst possible terms with the whole of the colonial author- ities, and the delays caused by the indecision or obstinacy of the colonial assemblies chafed him to madness. At last, however, his force was assembled at Wills Creek. The two English regiments had been raised by enlistment in Virginia to 700 men each. There were nine Virginian companies of fifty men and the thirty sailors lent by Com- modore Keppel. General Braddock had three aides-de- camp — Captain Robert Orme, Captain Roger Morris, and Colonel George Washington. ■'■■> '■ It was the ist of June when James Walsham rode with Colonel Washington into the camp, and three days later the last companies of the Virginian corps marched in. During the next week some of the English officers at- tempted to drill the Virginians in the manner of English troops. Ji'* 1 i> If^; •'.uy^lii %.m;j-:-:'}i\ i'j'i! li.i • It is a waste of time," Colonel Washington said to James one day when he was watching them, **and worse. These men can fight their own way, most of them are good shots and have a fair idea of forest fighting; let them go their own way and they can be trusted to hold their own against at least an equal number of French and Indians, but they would be hopelessly at sea if they were called upon to fight like English regulars. Most likely the enemy will attack us in the forest, and what good will forming in line, or wheeling on a flank, or any of the things which the general is trying to drum into their heads do to them. If the French are foolish enough to wait at ti'ort Duqiiesne until we £^rrive, I have no doubt we shall I'he Defeat of Braddock 163 beat them, but if they attack us in the woods it will go hard with us." w«u. . .i' •- During the ten days which elapsed between his arrival and the start James was kept hard at work, being for the most part employed galloping up and down the road urging up the waggoners, and bringing back reports as to their position and progress. On the loth of June the army started ; 300 axemen led the way, cutting and clearing the road, the long train of pack horses, waggons, and cannon followed; the troops marched in the forest on either side, while men were thrown out on the flanks and scouts ranged the woods to guard against surprise. The road was cut but twelve feet wide, and the line of march often extended four miles. Thus day by day they toiled on, crossing the Alleghany Mountains, range after range, now plunging down into a ravine, now ascending a ridge, but always in the deep shadow of the forest. A few of the enemy hovered round them, occasionally killing a straggler who fell behind. On the i8th of June the army reached a place called the Little Meadows. So weak were the horses from want of forage that the last marches had been but three miles a day, and upon Washington's advice Braddock determined to leave the heavy baggage here with the sick men and a strong guard under Colonel Dunbar while he advanced with 1200 men, besides officers and drivers. But the progress was still no more than three miles a day, and it was not until the 7th of July that they arrived within eight miles of the French fort. Between them lay, however, an extremely difficult coun- try with a narrow defile, and Braddock determined to ford the Monongahela and then cross it again lower down. The garrison of Fort Duquesne consisted of a few companies of regular troops, some hundreds of Canadians, and 800 Indian warriors. They were kept informed by the scouts of the progress of the English, and when the latter ap- proached the Monongahela a party under Captain Beaujeu ^ y* 9«^ If N h In: I till m !■; 164 With Wolfe in Canada set out to meet them. His force consisted of 637 Indians, 100 French officers and soldiers, and 146 Canadians, in all about 900 men. At one o'clock in the day Braddock crossed the Monongahela for the second time; the troops had all tho day been expecting the attack and had prepared for it. At the second ford the army marched in martial order with music playing and flags flying. Once across the river they halted for a short time and then again continued their advance. - .. » .^^.. ■■,.:.-!. ,,1; j, .;., , ,.;('; ..;..,.• .; Braddock made every disposition for preventing a sur- prise. Several guides with six Virginian light horsemen led the way, then came the advanced column consisting of 300 soldiers under Gage, and a large body of axemen under Sir John Sinclair with two cannon. The main body fol- lowed close behind. The artillery and waggons moved along the road, the troops marched through the woods on either hand, numerous flanking parties were thrown out a hundred yards or more right and left, and in the space be- tween them and the line of troops the pack horses and cattle made their way as they best could among the trees. Beaujeu had intended to plaice his men in ambuscade at the ford, but owing to various delays caused by the Indians he was still a mile away from the ford when the British crossed. He was marching forward when he came suddenly upon the little party of guides and Virginian light horsemen. These at once fell back, the Indians raised their warwhoop, and spreading right and left among the trees opened a sharp Are upon the British. Gage's column wheeled deliberately into line and fired volley after volley with great steadiness at the invisible opponents. The greater part of the Canadians bolted at once, but the Indians kept up their fire from behind the shelter of the trees. Gage brought up his two cannon and opened fire, and the Indians, who had a horror of artilleiy, began also to fall back. The English advanced in regular lines cheering loudly. Beaujeu fell dead; but Captain The Defeat of Brad dock 165 lans, n all )ssed id all or it. with ' they their a sur- semen :ing of under dy fol- movcd ods on [\ out a ace be- jes and trees, at the [ians he trossed. y Upon semen, hoop, fened a fired ivisible ^Ited at Ind the Ion and rtilleiy, regular 'aptain Dumas, who succeeded him in command, advanced at the head of his small party of French soldiers and opened a heavy fire. The Indians, encouraged by the example, rallied and again came forward, and while the French regulars and the few Canadians who had not fled held the ground in front of the column, the Indians swarmed through the fore.sts along both flanks of the English, and from behind trees, bushes, and rocks opened a withering fire upon them. The troops, bewildered and amazed by the fire poured into them by an invisible foe, and by the wild war- whoops of the Indians, ceased to advance, and standing close together poured fruitlessly volley after volley into the surrounding forest. » i- ' On hearing the firing, Braddock, leaving 400 men in the rear under Sir Peter Halket to guard the baggage, advanced with the main body to support Gage ; but just as he came up the soldiers, appalled by the fire which was mowing them down in scores, abandoned their cannon and fell back in confusion. This threw the advancing force into disorder, and the two regiments became mixed together, massed in several dense bodies within a small space of ground, facing some one way and some another, all alike exposed without shelter to the hail of bullets. Men and ofiicers were alike new to warfare like this ; they had been taught to fight in line against solid masses of the enemy, and against an in- visible foe like the present they were helpless. The Virginians alone were equal to the emergency. They at once adopted their familiar forest tactics, and taking their post behind trees began to fight the Indians in their own way. • , .'« Had Braddock been a man of judgment and temper the fortunes of the day might yet have been retrieved, for the Virginians could have checked the Indians until the English troops were rallied and prepared to meet the difficulty; but to Braddock the idea of men fighting behind trees was at \. I i!l llili i66 With Wolfe in Canada once cowardly and opposed to all military discipline, and he dashed forward on his horse and with fierce oaths ordered the Virginians to form line. A body of them, how- ever, under Captain Waggoner, made a dash for a huge fallen tree far out towards the lurking-places of the Indians, and crouching behind it opened fire upon them; but the regulars seeing the smoke among the bushes took them for the enemy, and firing killed many and forced the rest to return. A few of the soldiers tried to imitate the Indians and fight behind the trees, but Braddock beat them back with the flat of his sword and forced them to stand with the others, who were now huddled in a mass forming a target for the enemy's bullets. Lieutenant-colonel Burton led loo of them towards a knoll from which the puffs came thickest, but he fell wounded, and his men, on whom the enemy instantly concentrated their fire, fell back. The soldiers, powerless against the unseen foe, for afterwards some of the officers and men who escaped declared that throughout the whole fight they had not seen a single Indian, discharged their guns aimlessly among the trees. They were half stupefied now with the terror and con- fusion of the scene, the rain of bullets, the wild yells which burst ceaselessly from their 600 savage foemen ; while the horses, wild with terror and wounds, added to the confusion by dashing madly hither and thither. Braddock behaved with furious intrepidity; he dashed hither and thither shout- ing and storming at the men, and striving to get them in order and to lead them to attack the enemy. Four horses were one after the other shot under him; his officers be- haved with equal courage and self-devotion, and in vain attempted to lead on the men, sometimes advancing in parties towards the Indians in hopes that the soldiers would follow them. Sir Peter Halket was killed. Home and Morris the two aides-de-camp, Sinclair the quarter- master-general, Gates, Gage, and Gladwin were wounded. The Defeat of Braddock 167 Of 86 officers 63 were killed or disabled, while of 1373 "on- commissioned officers and privates only 459 came off un- harmed. James Walsham had been riding by the side of Washing- ton when the fight began, and followed him closely as he j,'alloped among the troops trying to rally and lead them lorvvard. Washington's horse was pierced by a ball and, staggering, fell. James leaped from his horse and gave it to the colonel, and then seeing that there was nothing for him to do withdrew a short distance from the crowd of soldiers and crouched down between the trunks of two ^reat trees growing close to each other, one of which pro- tected him for the most part from the fire of the Indians and the other from the not less dangerous fire of the English. Presently, seeing a soldier fall at a short distance from him, he ran out and picked up his musket and cartridge box and began to fire at the bushes where the puflfs of smoke showed that men were in hiding. After three hours' passive endurance of this terrible fire, Braddock, seeing that all was lost, commanded a retreat, and he and such officers as were left strove to draw off the soldiers in some semblance of order; but at this moment a bullet struck him, and passing through his arm penetrated his lungs and he fell from his horse. He demanded to be left where he lay, but Captain Stewart of the Virginians and one of his men bore him between them to the rear. The soldiers had now spent all their ammunition, and, no longer kept in their places by their general, broke away in a wild panic. Washington's second horse had now been shot, and as, trying to check the men, he passed the trees where James had taken up his position the latter joined him. In vain Washington and his other officers tried to rally the men at the ford. They dashed across it, wild with fear, leaving their wounded comrades, cannon, bag- gage, and military chest a prey to the Indians. Fortunately only about fifty of the Indians followed a& ^. I i68 With Wolfe in Canada far as the ford, the rest being occupied in killing the wounded and scalping the dead. Dumas, who had now but twenty Frenchmen left, fell back to the fort, and the remnants of Braddock's force coDtinued the flight uq. molested. m' i . 1H THE SOLDIliRS WKIU: HALF-STlPEFIF.l) \\ 1111 TERROR AND CONFUSION " f I I I CHAPTER X The Fight at Lake George Fortunate was it fnr f k -be Indians were too mu^VrZlL" i„''"'^'=-''''' ^"-^ "'^' dan harvest of scalps, too aSs . ^"'^"•"S the abun- e>:'..u.t these trophies of the^h '■''"™ *° "'^ f"" to P"«mt; for had they done so IZ""^.' '° P™'^ "^ ■" stncken fugitives would ever have ir h""''" "^ "'^ P^nic- "■ght these continued the.r flith, ^ '° '"' "" '^'^ All "> hear the dreaded wa who '' !""'"'"«■ ^"^'y -"oment wood,- round them. "^'^''°°P b"rst out again in the C;olonel Washington haH k fereral to press on on horsebar. "'f""" ^^ '"e dying ''« ">. tell him to forward ' "'" '^"'"P °f ^unbarf am^ munition; bu, the panfc whid'h^!,""'' P™^'»'°'"'. anj f ">eady been spread by q'n.f '"''" ""= ■"""> f"'" '•■anip; many soldiers and Lj'"^ teamsters to Dunbar's -d the panic was heigh"ten:^X,rtL'l°"" '°'"' '"■^'■'' ™"ld nd Coione, Dunbar wa7Z^,''lr'T' '"' ""= '""ians. "=olt. S-reatly blamed lor the cour,e he 100 "d 170 With Wolfe in Canada I ! ;i ■■; A hundred waggons were buuned, the cannon and shells burst, and the barrels of powder emptied into the stream, the stores of provisions scattered through the woods, and then the force began its retreat over the mountains to Fort Cumberland, sixty miles away. General Braddock died the day that the retreat began; his last words were, *' We shall know better how to deal with them next time." The news of the disaster came like a thunderbolt upon the colonists; success had been regarded as certain, and the news that some fourteen hundred English troops had been utterly routed by a body of French and Indians of half their strength seemed almost incredible. The only conso- lation was that the hundred and fifty Virginians who had accompanied the regulars had all, as was acknowle'i'yed by the English officers themselves, fought with the greatest bravery, and had kept their coolness and presence of mind till the last, and that on them no shadow of the discredit of the affair rested. Indeed it was said that the greater part were killed not by the fire of the Indians, but by that of the troops, who, standing in masses, fired in all direc- tions, regardless of what was in front of them. , But Colonel Dunbar, not satisfied with retreating to the safe shelter of P'ort Cumberland, to the amazement of the colonists, insisted upon withdrawing with his own force to Philadelphia, leaving the whole of the frontier open to the assaults of the hostile Indians. After waiting a short time at Philadelphia he marched slowly on to join a force operat- ing against the French in the region of Lake George, more than two hundred miles to the north. He took with him only the regulars, the provincial regiments being under the control of the governors of their own states. Washington therefore remained behind in Virginia with the regiment ol that colony. The blanks made in Braddock's fight were filled up, and the force raised to a thousand strong. With these he was to protect a frontier of three hundred and fifty miles long against an ;ictive and enterprising foe mon The Fight at Lake George 171 numerous than himself, and who, acting- on the other side of the mountain, and in the shade of the deep forests, could choose their own time of attack, and launch themselves suddenly upon any village throughout the whole length of the frontier. Nor were the troops at his disposal the material which a commander would wish to have in his hand. Individually they were brave, but being recruited among the poor whites, the most turbulent and troublesome part of the population, they were wholly unamenable to discipline, and Washington had no means whatever for enforcing it. He applied to the House of Assembly to pass a law enabling him to punish disobedience, but for months they hesitated to pass any such ordinance on the excuse that it would trench on the liberty of free white men. The service, indeed, was most unpopular, and Washing- ton, whose headquarters were at Winchester, could do nothing whatever to assist the settlements on the border. His officers were as unruly as the men, and he was further hampered by having to comply with the orders of Gover- nor Dinwiddle at Williamsburg, two hundred miles away. "What do you mean to do?" he had asked James Walsham the day that the beaten army arrived at Fort Cumberland. " 1 dc not know," James said. ** I certainly will not continue with Di'nhar, who seems to me to be acting like a coward ; nor do I wish to go into action with regulars Hi^ain, not, at least, until they have been taught that if they are to fight Indians successfully in the forests they must abandon all their traditions of drill, and must fight in Indian fashion. I should like to stay with you if you will allow me." " I should be very glad to have you with me," Washing- ton s?id; "but I do not think that you will see much action liere; it will be a war of forays. The Indians will pounce upon a village or solitary farmhouse, murder and HfU< !1 172 With Wolfe in Canada m i i scalp the inhabitants, burn the buildings to the ground, and in an hour be far away beyond reach of pursuit. All that I can do is to occupy the chief roads, by which they can advance into the heart of the colony, and the people of the settlements lying west of that must, perforce, aban- don their homesteads, and fly east until we are strong enough to again take up the offensive. Were I in your place 1 would at once take horse and ride north. You will then be in plenty of time, if inclined, to join in the expedition against the French on Fort George, or in that which is going to march on Niagara. I fancy the former will be ready first. You will find things better managed there than here. The colonists in that part have for many years been accustomed to Indian fighting, and they will not be hampered by having regular troops with them, whose officers' only idea of warfare is to keep their men standing in line as targets for the enemy. " There are many bodies of experienced scouts, to which you can attach yourself, and you will see that white men can beat the Indians at their own game." Although sorry to leave the young Virginian officer, James Walsh".m thought that he could not do better than follow his advice; and accordingly the next day, having procured another horse, he set off to join the column destined to operate on the lakes. The prevision of Washington was shortly realized, and a cloud of red warriors descended on the border settle- ments, carrying murder, rapine, and ruin before them. Scores of quiet settlements were destroyed, hundreds of men, wonien, and children massacred, and in a short time the whole of thi^ outlying farms were deserted, and crowds of weeping fugitives flocked eastward behind the line held by Washington's regiment. But bad as affairs were in Virginia those in Pennsylvania were infinitely worse. They had for many years been on such friendly terms with the Indians that many of the ■% , and ettle- them. ;ds of short , and d the Ivania ;n on If the The Fight at Lake George 173 se- tiers had no arms, nor had they the protection in thr way of troops which the government of Virginia put upon the frontier. 1 he government of the colony was at Phila- delphia, far to the east, and sheltered from danger and the Quaker Assembly there refused to vote money for a smg e soldier to protect the unhappy colonists on the rT'\u , J ^'^"^ " ^ ''" *° ^^^'^ ^"d «bove all to fiirhl with ndians, and as long as they themselves were Irce from the danger they turned a deaf ear to the tales ot massacre and to the pitiful cries for aid which came horn the frontier. But even greater than their objection to war was their passion of resistance to the representa- tive ot royalty, the governor. Petition after petition came from the border for arms and ammunition, and for a m'litia law to enable the peoole to organize and defend themselves; but the Quakers re- sisted, declaring that Braddock's defeat was a just judir- ment upon him and his soldiers for molesting the French ... the.r settlement in Ohio. They passed, indeed, a'bill lor raising fifty thousand pounds for the king's use, but affixed to It a condition, to which they knew well the Rcvernor could not assent, viz. that the proprietary lands were to pay their share of the tax. To this condition the governor was unable to assent or according to the constitution of the colony, to which he was bound, the lands of William Penn and his dr. scendants were free of all taxation. For weeks the dead- ock continued; every day brought news of massacres ot tens fifties, and even hundreds of persons, but the assembly remained obstinate until the mayor, aldermen, iind principal citizens clamoured against them, and four thousand frontiersmen started on their march to Phila- delphia to compel them to take measures for defence iiodies of massacred men were brought from the frontier villages and paraded through the town, and so threatening oecamc the aspect of the population that the Assembly of I ^ I m\i \m ', ?! ■ I ■■vi h >74 With Wolfe in Canada Ii,' ■n Quakers were at last obliged to pass a militia law. It was, however, an absolutely useless one; it specially ex- cepted the Quakers from service, and constrained nobody, but declared it lawful for such as chose to form themselves into companies, and to elect officers by ballot. The com- pany officers might, if they saw fit, elect, also by ballot, colonels, lieutenant-colonels, and majors. These last might then, in conjunction with the governor, frame articles of war, to which, however, no officer or man was to be sub- jected, unless, after three days' consideration, he subscribed them in presence of a justice of the peace, and declared his willingness to be bound by them. , ' ' This mockery of a bill, drawn by Benjamin Franklin while the savages were raging in the colony and the smoke of a hundred villages was ascending to the skies, was received with indignation by the people, and this rose to such a height that the Assembly must have yielded un- conditionally had not a circumstance occurred which gave them a decent pretext for retreat. The governor informed them that he had just received a letter from the proprietors, as Penn's heirs were called, giving to the province five thousand pounds to aid in its defence, on condition that the money should be accepted as a free gift and not as their proportion of any tax that was or might be laid by the Assembly. Thereupon the Assembly struck out the clause taxing the proprietary estates, and the governor signed the bill. A small force was then raised which enabled the Indians to be to some extent kept in check ; but there was no safety for the unhappy settlers in the west of Pennsyl- vania during the next three years, while the French from Montreal were hounding on their savage allies by gifts and rewards to deeds of massacre and bloodshed. The northern colonies had shown a better spirit. Massa- chusetts, which had always been the foremost of the northern colonies in resisting French and Indian aggres- The Fight at I>ake George 1/5 vv. It illy ex- obody, nselves le com- ballot, it might [icles of be sub- bscribed iared his Franklin le smoke :ies, was s rose, to ilded Ull- rich gave informed oprietors, ince five [ition that ,d not as le laid by Ise taxing the bill. [e Indians le was no Pennsyl- ;nch from by gifts led. The Massa- Ist of the In aggres- sion, had at once taken the lead in preparation for war. No less than 4500 men, being one in eight of her adult males, volunteered to fight the P'rench, and enlisted for the various expeditions, some in the pay of the province, some in that of the king. Shirley, the governor of Massachusetts, himself a colonist, was requested by his Assem^^'v to nominate the commander. He did not choose an officer of that province, as this would have excited the jealousy of the others, but nominated WiMiam Johnson of New York — a choice which not only pleased that important province, but had great influence in securing the alliance of the Indians of the Five Nations, among whom Johnson, who had held the post of Indian commissioner, was extremely popular. Connecticut voted 1200 men, New Hampshire 500, Rhode Island 400, and New York 800, all at their own charge. Johnson, before assuming the command, invited the warriors of the Five Nations to assemble in council. Eleven hundred Indian warriors answered the invitation, and after four days' speechmaking agreed to join. Only 300 of them, however, took the field, for so many of thew friends and relatives were fighting for the French, tliat the rest, when they sobered down after the excitement of the council, returned to their homes. :•*• The object of the expedition was the attack of Crown Point — an important military post on Lake Champlain — ind the colonists assembled near Albany; but there were g^reat delays. The five colonial assemblies controlled their own troops and supplies. Connecticut had refused to send her men until Shirle^ promised that her command- ing officer should rank next to Johnson, and the whole movement was for some time at a deadlock because the five governments could not agree about their contributions of artillery and stores. The troops were a rough-looking body. Only one of 'he corps had a blue uniform, faced with red; the rest I ' !i: 176 With Wolfe in Canada wore their ordinary farm clothing-. All had brought tlieir own guns of every description and fashion. They had no bayonets, but carried hatchets in their belts as a sort of substitute. In point of morals the army, composed almost entirely of farmers and farmers' sons, was exemplary, it is recorded that not a chicken was stolen. In the camps of the Puritan soldiers of New England sermons were preached twice a week, and there were daily prayers and much singing of psalms; but these good people were much shocked by the profane language of the troops from New York and Rhode Island, and some prophesied that disaster would be sure to fall upon the army from this cause. '. Months were consumed in various delays; and on the 21st of August, just as they were moving forward, four Mohawks, whom Johnson had sent into Canada, returned with the news that the French were making great prepara- tions, and that 8000 men were marching to defend Crown Point. The papers of General Braddock, which fell with all the baggage of the army into the hands of the French, had informed them of the object of the gathering at Albany, and now that they had no fear of any further attempt against their posts in Ohio they were able to concentrate all their force for the defence of r.?ir posts on Lake Champlain. On the receipt of this alarming news a council of war was held at Albany, and messages were sent to the colonies asking for reinforcements. In the meantime the army moved up the Hudson to the spot called the Great Carrying- place, where Colonel Lyman, who was second in command, had gone forward and erected a fort, which his men called after him, but was afterwards named Fort Edward. James Walsham joined the army a few days before it moved forward. He was received with great heartiness by General Johnson, to whom he brought a letter of intro- duction from Colonel Washington, and who at once offered The Fight at Lake George / / it their had no sort of almost ^ry. It ; camps iis were 'ers and »le were )ps from lied that roni this d on the ard, four returned : prepara- id Crown fell with French, ering at y further able to ?ir posts 111 of war colonies Ihe army :arrying- )mtnand, len called LI • [before il leartiness [of intro- e offered him a position as one of his aides-de-camp. This he found txceedingly pleasant, for Johnson was one of the most jOvial and openhearted of commanders. His hospitality was profuse, and his private means being large he was able to keep a capital table, which, on the line of march, all officers who happened to pass by were invited to share. This was a contrast, indeed, to the discipline which had prevailed in Braddock's columns, and James felt as if he were starting upon a great picnic rather than upon an arduous march against a superior force. After some hesitation as to the course the army should take, it was resolved to march for Lake George. Gangs of axemen were sent to hew a way, and on the 26th 2000 men marched for the lake, while Colonel Blanchard of New Hampshire remained with 500 to finish and defend Fort Lyman. The march was made in a leisurely manner, and the force took two days to traverse the fourteen miles between Fort Lyman and the lake. They were now in a country hitherto untrodden by white men save by soli- tary hunters. They reached the southern end of the beautiful lake, wh'ch hitherto had received no English name, and was now first called Lake George in honour of the king. The men set to v/ork and felled trees until they had cleared a sufficient extent of ground for their camp by the edge of the water, and posted themselves with their back to the lake. In their front was a forest of pitch-pine, on their right a marsh covered with thick brushwood, on their left a low hill. Things went on in the same leisurely way which had marked the progress of the expedition. No attempt was made to clear away the forest in front, although it would afford excellent cover for any enemy who might attack them, nor were any efforts made to discover the whereabouts or intention of the enemy. Every day waggons came up with provisions and boats. On September 7th an Indian scout arrived about sunset (337) IS 'I: », ! ' Ifti'^ M¥ r r i\ i' 178 With Wolfe in Canada and reported that he had found the trail of a body of men moving from South Bay, the southern extremity of Lake Champhiin, towards Fort Lyman. Johnson called for a volunteer to carry a letter of warning to Colonel Blan- chard. A waggoner nimed Adams offered to undertake the perilous service and rode off with the letter. Sentries were posted, and the camp fell asleep. While Johnson had been taking his leis.ire on Lake (ieorge, the commander of the French force, a German baron named Dieskau, was preparing a surprise for iiim; he had reached Crown Foint at the head of 3573 men- regulars, Canadians, and Indians — and he at once moved forward with the greater portion of his command on Cariolon, or, as it was afterwards called, Ticonderoga, a promontory at the junction of Lake George with Lake Champlain, where he would bar the advance of the English whichever road they might take. The Indians with the French caused great trouble to their commander, doing nothing but feast and sleep, but on September 4th a party of them came in bringing a scalp and an English prisoner caught near Fort Lyman. He was questioned under the threat of being given over to the Indians to torture if he did not tell the truth, but the brave fellow, thinking he should lead the enemy into a trap, told them that the English army had fallen back to Albany leaving 500 men at Fort Lyman, which he repre- sented as being entirely indefensible. Dieskau at once determined to attack that place, and with 216 regulars of the battalions of Languedoc and La Reine, 684 Canadians, and about 600 Indians started in canoes and advanced up Lake Champlain till they came to the end of South Bay. Each officer and man carried provisions for eight days in his knapsack. Two days' march brought them to within three miles of Fort Lyman, and they encamped close to the road which led to Lake George, just after they had encamped a man rode by on The Fight at Lake George 179 horseback It Nv-as Adams, Johnson's messenger. He was shot by the Indians and the letter found upon him. boon afterwards ten or twelve wag^^ons appeared in charge oIitTrders "" '^^"^ ^""^ '^^' '''" ^"^''^^ ^^"^P ^'^h- Some of the drivers were shot, two taken prisoners, and he rest ran away. The two prisoners declared that/con- rary to the assertion of the prisoner at Ticonderoga, a large force lay encamped by the lake. The Indians hdd a councl and presently informed Dieskau that they would not attack the fort, which they believed to be provided w.th cannon, but would join in an attempt on the camp by the lake. D.eskau judged from the report of the prisoners that the colonists considerably outnumbered him. slength the French column numbering 1500 and the colomal force 22CX), besides 300 Mohawk Indians. But Jjeskau. emulous of repeating the defeat of Braddock. and behevrng the assertions of the Canadians that the oion.al mihtia was contemptible, determined to attack and early ,n the morning the column moved along the road towards the lake. '^ When within four miles of Johnson's camp they entered bushes, beyond which rose the rocky height of French Mountam. On their left rose gradually the slopes of V St Mountam. The ground was thickly covered with cket and forest The regulars marched along the road, he Canadians and Indians pushed their way through the lt".K ''' they could. When within three mUes of 1 1' l^^';.^^;;°"\brought in a prisoner, who told them vere h"l. H^ 1 ''°^"?" ""^^ approaching; the regulars n ahe'n h\ .' r'' '^' Canadians and Indians moved ahead and hid themselves in ambush among the trees and bushes on either side of the road. The waggoners who had escaped the evening before had * r «• ¥ . \ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) :/j 1.0 I.I ,v. |32 440 m m 1.8 1.25 1.4 = — ^ 6" ~ ► i v] <^ /}. ^l ^ '^#' " <> * ^ <» o"^ % ^^ :^ V 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 A : i8o With Wolfe in Canada reached Johnson's camp about midnight and reported thav there was a war party on the road near Fort Lyman. A council of war was held, and under an entire mis- conception of the force of the enemy and the belief that they would speedily fall back from Fort Lyman, it was determined to send out two detachments, each 500 strong, one towards Fort Lyman, the other to catch the enemy in their retreat. Hendrick, the chief of the Mohawks, ex- pressed his strong disapproval of this plan, and accordingly it was resolved that the thousand men should go as one body. Hendrick still disapproved of the plan, but never- theless resolved to accompany the column, and mounting on a gun carriage he harangued his warriors with pas- sionate eloquence, and they at once prepared to accompany them. He was too old and fat to gu on foot, and the general lent him a horse, which he m )unted and ^ook his place at the head of the column. Colonel Williams was in command, v^ii. Lieutenant- colonel Whiting as second. They had no idea oi' meeting the enemy near the camp, and moved forward so care- lessly that not a single scout was thrown out in front or flank. The sharp eye of the old Indian chief was the first to detect a sign of the enemy, and almost at the same moment a gun was flred from the bushes. It is said that the Iroquois seeing the Mohawks, who were an allied tribe, in the van, wished to warn them of danger; the warning came too late to save the column from disaster, but it saved it from destruction. From the thicket on the left a deadly fire blazed out, and the head of the column was almost swept away. Hendrick's horse was shot, and the chief killed with a bayonet as he tried to gain his feet. Colonel Williams seeing rising ground on his right made for it, calling his men to follow; but as ._ climbed the slope the enemy's fire flashed out from behind every tree, and he fell dead. The men in the rear pressed forward to I I tha\ ! mis- f that it was trong, amy in ts, ex- rdingly as one never- )unting th pas- ompany iind the LOok his jtenant- meeting so care- front or the first e same iaid that ,n allied er; the iisaster, icket on of the irse was tried to ^ht made ibed the |ery tree, ;ard to The Fight at Lake George 18 1 kupport their comrades, when the enemy in the bushes on the right flank also opened fire. Then a panic began; some fled at once for the camp, and the whole column recoiled in confusion, as from all sides the enemy burst out, shouting and yelling. Colonel Whiting, however, bravely rallied a portion of Williams' regiment, and aided by some of the Mohawks and by a detachment which Johnson sent out to his aid, covered the retreat, fighting behind the trees like the Indians, and falling back in good order with their faces to the enemy. So stern and obstinate was their resistance that the French halted three-quarters of a mile from the camp. They had inflicted a heavy blow, but had altogether failed in obtaining the complete success they looked for. The obstinate defence of Whiting and his men had surprised and dispirited them, and Dieskau, when he collected his men, found the Indians sullen and unmanageable and the Canadians unwilling to advance further, for they were greatly depressed by the loss of a veteran ofiicer, Saint- Pierre, who commanded them, and who had been killed in the fight. At length, however, he persuaded all to move forward, the regulars leading the way. James Walsham had not accompanied the column, and was sitting at breakfast with General Johnson on the stump of a tree in front of his tent when on the still air a rattling sound broke out. " Musketry!" was the general exclamation. An instan- taneous change came over the camp, the sound of laughing and talking was hushed, and every man stopped at his work; louder and louder swelled the distant sound, until the shots could no longer be distinguished apart, the rattle had become a steady roll. i! ;•• "It is a regular engagement!" the general exclaimed; "the enemy must be in force, and must have attacked Williams' column." General Johnson ordered one of his orderlies to mount » b 1 r K w T- ill iii.'i Ml, t'' 182 With Wolfe in Canada and ride out at full speed and see what was going on. A quarter of an hour passed, no one returned to his work, the men stood in groups talking in low voices and listening to the distant roar. "It is clearer than it was," the general exclaimed. Several of the officers standing round agreed that the sound was approaching. "To work, lads!" the general said; "there is no time to be lost. Let all the axemen fell trees and lay them end to end to make a breastwork; the rest of you range the waggons in a line behind and lay the boats up in the inter- vals. Carry the line from the swamp on the right there to the slope of the hill." In an instant the camp was a scene of animation, and the forest resounded with the strokes of the axe and the shouts of the men as they dragged the waggons to their position. " I was a fool," Johnson exclaimed, "not to fortify the camp before; but who could have supposed that the French would have come down from Crown Point to attack us here!" In a few minutes terror-stricken men, whites and Indians, arrived at a run through the forest and reported that they had been attacked and surprised by a great force in the forest^ that Hendrick and Colonel Williams were killed, and numbers of the men shot down. They re- ported that all was lost; but the heavy roll of fire in the distance contradicted their words and showed that a por- tion of the column at least was fighting sternly and steadily, though the sound indicated that they were falling back. Two hundred men had already been despatched to their assistance, and the only effect of the news was to redouble the efforts of the rest. Soon parties arrived carrying wounded; but it was not until an hour and a half after the engagement began that the main body of the column were seen marching in good order back through the forest. The Fight at Lake George 183 By this time the hasty defences were wellnigh completed and all the men were employed in cutting down the thick brushwood outside so as to clear the ground as far as possible, and so prevent the enemy from stealing up under shelter to the felled trees. Three cannon were planted to sweep the road that de- scended through the pines, another was dragged up to the ridge of the hill. Two hundred and fifty men were now placed on each flank of the camp, the main body stood behind the waggons or lay flat behind the logs and boats, the Massachusetts men on the right, the Con- necticut men on the left. "Now, my lads," Johnson shouted in his cheery voice, "you have got to fight. Remember, if they get inside not one of you will ever go back to your families to tell the tale, while if you flght bravely you will beat them back sure enough." In a few minutes ranks of white-coated soldiers could be seen moving down the roads with their bayonets show- ing between the boughs; at the same time Indian war- whoops rose loud in the forest, and then dark forms could be seen bounding down the slope through the trees towards the camp in a throng. , . There was a movement of uneasiness among the young rustics, few of whom ever heard a shot fired in anger before that morning; but the oflicers, standing pistol in hand, threatened to shoot any man who moved from his position. Could Dieskau have launched his whole force at once upon the camp at that moment he would probably have carried it, but this he was powerless to do. His regular troops were well in hand ; but the mob of Cana- dians and Indians were scattered through the forest, shouting, yelling, and firing from behind trees. He thought, however, that if he led the regulars to the attack the others would come forward, and he therefore gave the word for the advance. The Trench soldiers I M ■^ f 184 With Wolfe in Canada #1' "^ 3 '( advanced steadily until the trees grew thinner. They were deployed into line, and opened fire in regtilar volleys. Scarcely had they done so, however, when Captain Eyre who commanded the artillery, opened upon them with grape from his three g^uns, while from waggon, and boat, and fallen log the musketry fire flashed out hot and bitter, and, reeling under the shower of iron and lead, the French line broke up, the soldiers took shelter behind trees, and thence returned the fire of the defenders. Johnson received a flesh. wound in the thigh, and retired to his tent, where he spent the rest of the day; Lyman took the command, and to him the credit of the victory is entirely due. For four hours the combat raged. The young soldiers had soon got over their first uneasiness, and fought as steadily and coolly as veterans, the musketry fire was unbroken, from every tree, bush, and rock the rifles flashed out, atid the leaden hail flew in a storm ovei the camp, and cut the leaves in a shower from the forest Through this Lyman moved to and fro among the men, directing, encouraging, cheering them on, escaping as by a miracle the balls which whistled round him. Save the Indians on the English side not a man but was engaged, the waggoners taking their guns and joining in the fight. The Mohawks, however, held aloof, saying that they had come to see their English brothers fight, but animated no doubt with the idea that if they abstained from taking part in the fray, and the day went against the English, their friends the Iroquois would not harm them. The French Indians worked round on to high ground beyond the swamp on the left, and their fire thence took the defenders in the flank. Captain Eyre speedily turned his guns in that direction, and a few well-directed shells soon drove the Indians from their vantage ground. Dieskau directed his first attack against the left and centre; but the Connecticut men fought so stoutly that he next tried to force the right, round took The Fight at Lake George 185 where the Massachusetts reg-iments of Titcomb, Ruggles, and Williams held the line. For an hour he strove hard to break his way through the entrenchments, hut the Massachusetts men stood firm, although Titcomb was killed and their loss was heavy. At length Dieskau, ex- posing himself within short range of the English lines, was hit in the leg. While his adjutant Montreuil was dressing the wound the general was again hit in the knee and thigh. He had himself placed behind a tree and ordered Montreuil to lead the regulars in a last effort against the camp. But it was too late, the blood of the colonists was now up, and singly or in small bodies they were crossing their lines of barricade and working up among the trees towards their assailants. The move- ment became general, and Lyman, seeing the spirit of his men, gave the word, and the whole of the troops with a shout leaped up and dashed through the wood against the enemy, failing upon them with their hatchets and the butts of their guns. The French and their allies instantly fled. As the colonists passed the spot where Dieskau was sitting on the ground one of them, singularly enough himself a Frenchman, who had ten years before left Canada, fired at him and shot him through both legs. Others came up and stripped him of his clothes, but on learning who he was they carried him to Johnson, who received him with the greatest kindness, and had every attention paid to him> \ Vf i «J \ ction, from ittack men irii ight. •« w ?'!• .'. ) ;<■? ■ » '•■ XO M ao 4i' 40 IKETCH MAP OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN AND LAKE GEORGf TO ILLUSTRATE OPkRATIONI I759-I7S9 < • I CHAPTER XI Scouting It was near five o'clock before the final rout of the French took place; but before that time several hundreds of the Canadians and Indians had left the scene of action, and had returned to the scene of the fight in the wood to plunder and scalp the dead. They were resting after their bloody work by a pool in the forest, when a scouting party from Fort Lyman under Captains M'Ginnis and Folsom came upon them and opened fire. The Canadians and Indians, outnumbering their assailants greatly, fought for some time, but were finally defeated and fled. M*Ginnis was mortally wounded, but continued to give orders till the fight was over. The bodies of the slain were thrown into the pool which to this day bears the name, *' the bloody pool ". The various bands of French fugitives reunited in the forest, and made their way back to their canoes in South Bay, and reached Ticonderoga utterly exhausted and famished, for they had thrown away their knapsacks in their flight, and had nothing to eat from the morning of the fight until they rejoined their comrades. Johnson had the greatest diflliculty in protecting the wounded French general from the Mohawks, who, although they had done no fighting in defence of the camp, wanted to torture and burn Dieskau in revenge for the death ot Hendrick and their warriors who had fallen in the ambush. He, however, succeeded in doing so, and sent him in a 187 4 I pj ■*;iw ' 1* I i "1 !^l ^ Wl. i !« if J 188 With Wolfe in Canada litter under a strong escort to Albany. Dieskau was aftci wards taken to England, and remained for some years at Bath, after which he returned to Paris. He never, how- ever, recovered from his numerous wounds, and died a few years later. He always spoke in the highest terms of the kindness he had received from the colonial officers. Of the provincial soldiers he said that in the morning they fought like boys, about noon like men, and in the afternoon like devils. The English loss in killed, wounded, and missing was two hundred and sixty-two, for the most part killed in the ambush in the morning. The French, according to their own account, lost two hundred and twenty-eight, but it probably exceeded four hundred, the principal portion of whom were regulars, for the Indians and Canadians kept themselves so well under cover that they and the pro- vincials behind their logs were able to inflict but little loss on each other. Had Johnson followed up his success he might have reached South Bay before the French, in which case the whole of Dieskau's column must have fallen into his hands; nor did he press forward against Ticonderoga, which he might easily have captured. For ten days nothing was done except to fortify the camp, and when at the end of that time he thought of advancing against Ticonderoga the French had already fortified the place so strongly that they were able to defy attack. The colonists sent him large reinforcements, but the season was getting late, and after keeping the army stationary until the end of November, the troops, having suffered terribly from the cold and exposure, became almost mutinous, and were finally marched back to Albany, a small detachment being left to hold the fort by the lake. This was now christened Fort William Henry. The victory was due principally to the gallantr}^ and cool- ness of Lyman; but Johnson in his report of the battle Scouting .'■J 189 maae no mention of that officer's name, and took all the credit to himself. He was rewarded by being made n baronet, and by being voted a pension by parliament of five thousand a year. James Walsham, having no duties during the fight at the camp, had taken a musket and lain down behind the logs with the soldiers, and had all the afternoon kept up a lire at the trees and bushes behind which the enemy were hiding. After the battle he had volunteered to assist the over-worked surgeons, whose labours lasted through the night. When he found that no forward movement was likely to take place he determined to leave the camp. He therefore asked Captain Rogers, who was the leader of a band of scouts and a man of extraordinary energy and enterprise, to allow him to accompany him on a scouting expedition towards Ticonderoga. " I shall be glad to have you with me,'' Rogers replied; ** but you know it is a service of danger ; it is not like work with regular troops, where all march, fight, stand, or fall together. Here each man fights for himself. Mind there is not a man among my band who would not risk his life for the rest; but scattered through the woods as each man is, each must perforce rely principally on himself. The woods near Ticonderoga will be full of lurking redskins, and a man may be brained and scalped without his fellow a few yards away hearing a sound. I only say this that you may feel that you must take your chances. The men under me are every one old hunters and Indian fighters, and are a match for the redskin in every move of forest war. They are true grit to the backbone, but they are rough out- spoken men, and on a service when a foot carelessly placed on a dried twig or a word spoken above a whisper may bring a crowd of yelping redskins upon us, and cost every man his scalp, they would speak sharply to the king him- self if he were on the scout with them, and you must not take offence at any rough word that may be said." > f> M- 't I'! i' ♦■■ * I • l! ,21 190 With Wolfe in Canada James laughed and said that he should not care how much he was blown up, and that he should thankfully receive any lessons from such masters of forest craft. " Very well," Captain Rogers said. " In that case it is settled. I will let you have a pair of moccasins. You can- not go walking about in the woods in those boots. You had better get a rifle. Your sword you had best leave behind. It will be of no use to you, and will only be in your way." James had no difficulty in providing himself with a gun, for numbers of weapons picked up in the woods after the rout of the enemy were stored in camp. The rifles had, however, been all taken by the troops, who had exchanged their own firelocks for them. Captain Rogers went with him among the men, and selected a well-flnished rifle of which one of them had possessed himself. Its owner readily agreed to accept Ave pounds for it, taking in its stead one of the guns in the store. Before choosing it Captain Rogers placed a bit of paper against a tree, and Bred several shots at various distances at it. " It is a beautiful rifle," he said. "Its only fault is that it is rather heavy, but it shoots all the better for it. It is evidently a French gun, I should say by a flrst-rate maker, built probably for some French officer who knew what he was about. It is a good workmanlike piece, and when you learn to hold it straight you can trust it to shoot." That evening James, having made all his preparations, said goodbye to the general and to his other friends, and joined the scouts who were gathering by the shore of the lake. Ten canoes, each of which would carry three men, V ere lying by the shore. " Nat, you and Jonathan will take this young fellow with you. He is a lad, and it is his first scout. You will find him of the right sort. He was with Braddock, and after that affair hurried up here to see fighting on the lakes. He can't have two better nurses than you are. He is going Scouting 191 to be an officer in the king's army, and wants to learn as much as he can, so that if he ever gets with his men into such a mess as Braddock tumbled into he will know what to do with them." "All right, captain! we will do our best for him. It's risky sort of business ours for a greenhorn, but if he is any- ways teachable we will soon make a man of him." The speaker was a wiry active man of some forty years old, with a weather-beaten face and a keen grey eye. Jonathan, his comrade, was u head taller, with broad shoulders, powerful limbs, and a quiet but good-tempered face. "That's so, isn't it, Jonathan?" Nat asked. Jonathan nodded. He was not a man of many words. " Have you ever been in a canoe before?" Nat enquired. «• Never," James said; "but I am accustomed to boats of all sorts, and can handle an oar fairly." "Oars ain't no good here," the scout said. "You will have to learn to paddle ; but first of all you have got to learn to sit still. These here canoes are awkward things fur a beginner. Now you hand in your traps and I will stow them away, then you take your place in the middle ot the boat. Here's a paddle for you, and when you begin to feel yourself comfortable you can start to try with it, easy and gentle to begin with, but you must lay it in when we get near where we may expect that redskins may be in the woods, for the splash of a paddle might cost us all our scalps." James took his seat in the middle of the boat. Jonathan was behind him, Nat handled the paddle in the bow. There was but a brief delay in starting, and the ten boats darted noiselessly out on to the lake. For a time James did not attempt to use his paddle. The canoe was of birch bark, so thin that it seemed to him that an incautious movement would instantly knock a hole through her. Once under weigh she was steadier than he had expected. i «• ■^> Ml . i ■< if ii f-' ' i * ' ¥i 192 With Wolfe in Canada and James could teel her bound forward with each stroke of the paddles. When he became accustomed to the motion of the boat he raised himself from a sitting position in tht bottom, and kneeling as the others were doing, he began to dip his paddle quietly in the water in time with theit stroke. His familiarity with rowing rendered it easy for him to keep time and swing, and ere long he found himself putting a considerable amount of force into each stroke. Nat looked back over his shoulder. i, «« Well done, young 'un. That's first rate for a beginner, and it makes a deal of difference on our arms. The others are all paddling three, and though Jonathan and I have beaten three before now, when our scalps depended on our doing so, it makes all the difference in the work whether you have a sitter to take along or an extra paddle going." It was falling dusk when the boat started, and was by this time quite dark. Scarce a word was heard in the ten canoes as, keeping near the right-hand shore of the lake, they glided rapidly along in a close body. So noiselessly were the paddles dipped into the water that the drip from them as they were lifted was the only sound heard. Four hours' steady paddling took them to the narrows about five-and-twenty miles from their starting-point. Here on the whispered order of Nat, James laid in his paddle; for, careful as he was, he occasionally made a slight splash as he put it in the water. The canoes now kept in single file almost under the trees on the right bank, for the lake was here scarce a mile across, and watchful eyes might be on the lookout on the shore to the left. Another ten miles was passed, and then the canoes were steered in to the shore. The guns, blankets, and bundles were lifted out; the canoes raised on the shoulders of the men, and carried a couple of hundred yards among the trees; then, with scarcely a word spoken, each man rolled himself in his blanket and lay down to sleep, four being sent out as scouts Scouting 193 in various directions. Soon after daybreak all were on foot again, although it had been arranged that no move should be made till night set in. No fires were lighted, for they had brought with them a supply of biscuit and dry deers' flesh sufficient for a week. " How did you get on yesterday? ' Captain Rogers asked as he came up to the spot where James had just risen to his feet. " First rate, captain !" Nat answered for him. ** I hardly believed that a young fellow could have handled a paddle. su well at the first attempt. He rowed all the way, except just the narrows, and though I don't say as he was noise- less, he did wonderfully well, and we came along with the rest as easy as may be." "I thought I heard a little splash now and then," the captain said, smiling; " but it was very slight, and could do no harm where the lake is two or three miles wide, as it is here ; but you will have to lay in your paddle when we get near the other end, for the sides narrow in there, and the redskins would hear a fish jump half a mile away." During the day the men passed their time in sleep, in mending their clothes, or in talking quietly together. The use of tea had not yet become general in America, and the meals were washed down with water drawn from the lake, where an overhanging bush shaded the shore from the sight of anyone on the opposite bank, mixed with rum from the gourds which all the scouts carried. Nat spent some time in pointing out to James the signs by which the hunters found their way through the forest ; by the moss and lichens growing more thickly on the side of the trunks of the trees opposed to the course of the pre- vailing winds, or by a slight inclination of the upper boughs of the trees in the same direction. " An old woodsman can tell," he said, "on the darkest night, on running his hand round the trunk of a tree, by the feel of the bark, which is north and. south ; but it would be long before you can get (887) 19 ■M- I 4 k I 194 With Wolfe in Canada to such niceties as that ; but if you keep your eyes open as you go along, and look at the signs on the trunks, which are just as plain when you once know them as the marks on a man's face, you will be able to make your way through the woods in the daytime. Of course when the sun is shining you get its help, for although it is not often a gleam comes down through the leaves, sometimes you come upon a little patch, and you are sure, now and then, to strike on a gap where a tree has fallen, and that gives you a line again. A great help to a young beginner is the sun, for a young hand in the woods gets confused and doubts the signs of the trees ; but in course when he comes on a patch of sunlight he can't make a mistake nohow as to the direc tion." James indulged in a silent hope that if he were ever lost in the woods the sun would be shining, for look as earnestly as he would he could not perceive the signs which appeared so plain and distinct to the scout. Occasionally, indeed, he fancied that there was some slight difference between one side of the trunk and the other; but he was by no means sure that even in these cases he should have noticed it unless it had been pointed out to him, while in the greater part of the trees he could discern no difference whatever. " It's just habit, my lad," Nat said encouragingly to him; "there's just as much difference between one side of the tree and the other as there is between two men's faces. It comes of practice. Now just look at the roots of this tree; don't you see on one side they run pretty nigh straight out from the trunk, while from the other they go down deep into the ground. That speaks for itself; the tree has thrown out its roots to claw into the ground and get a hold on the side from which the wind comes, while on the other side, having no such occasion, it has dipped its root down to look for moisture and food." " Yes, I do see that," James said, *'that is easy enough to make out ; but the next tree, and the next, and as far as Scouting 195 open as , which i marks through : sun is a gleam Tie upon itrike on )U a line an, for a ubts the 1 a patch he direc ever lost earnestly appeared r, indeed, between as by no e noticed e greater atever. y to him; le of the 'aces. It his tree; ight out iwn deep ,s thrown lid on the Iher side, down to enough las far as I see all the others don't seem to have any diflference in their roots one side or the other." "That is so," the scout replied. *'You see those are younger trees than this, and it is like enough they did not grow under the same circumstances. When a few trees fall, or a small clearing is made by a gale, the young trees that grow up are well sheltered from the wind by the forest, and don't want to throw out roots to hold them up ; but when a great clearing has been made by a fire or other causes the trees, as they grow up together, have no shelter, and must stretch out their roots to steady them. " Sometimes you will find all the trees for a long distance with their roots like this, sometimes only one tree among a number. Perhaps when they started that tree had more room, or a deeper soil, and grew faster than the rest, and got his head above them, so he felt the wind more, and had to throw out his roots to steady himself, while the others, all growing the same height, did not need to do so." "Thank you," James said. "I understand now, and will bear it in mind. It is very interesting, and I should like above all things to be able to read the signs of the woods as you do." '* It will come, lad; it's a sort of second nature. These things are gifts. The redskin thinks it just as wonderful that the white man should be able to take up a piece of paper covered with black marks and to read off sense out of them, as you do that he should be able to read every mark and sign of the wood. He can see as plain as if the man was still standing on it, the mark of a footprint, and can tell you if it was made by a warrior or a squaw, and how long they have passed by, and whether they were walking fast or slow, while the ordinary white man might go down on his hands and knees, and stare at the ground, and wouldn't be able to see the slightest sign or mark. For a white man my eyes are good, but they are not a patch on a redskin's. I have lived among the woods since I was ¥ 196 With Wolfe in Canada a boy ; but even now a redskin lad can pick up a trail and follow it when, look as I will, I can't see as a blade of grass has been bruised. No; these things is partly natur and partly practice. Practice will do a lot for a white man; but it won't take him up to redskin natur." Not until night had fallen did the party again launch their canoes on the lake. Then they paddled for several hours until, as James imagined, they had traversed a greater dis- tance by some miles than that which they had made on the previous evening. He knew from what he had learned during the day that they were to land some six miles below the point where Lake George joins Lake Champlain, and where, on the opposite side, on a promontory stretching into the lake, the French were constructing their new fort. The canoes were to be carried some seven or eight miles through the wood across the neck of land between the two lakes, and were then to be launched again on Lake Cham- plain, so that, by following the east shore of that lake, they would pass Ticonderoga at a safe distance. The halt was made as noiselessly as before, and, having hauled up the canoes, the men slept till daybreak, and then, lifting the light craft on their shoulders, started for their journey through the woods. It was toilsome work, for the ground was rough and broken, often thickly covered with under- wood. Ridges had to be crossed and deep ravines passed, and although the canoes were not heavy the greatest care had to be exercised, for a graze against a projecting bough or the edge of a rock would suffice to tear a hole in the thin bark. It was not until late in the afternoon that they arrived on the shores of Lake Champlain. A fire was lighted now, the greatest care being taken to select perfectly dry sticks, for the Iroquois were likely to be scattered far and wide among the woods; the risk, however, was far less than when in sight of the French side of Lake George. •^fter darkness fell the canoes were again placed in the Scouting "97 4, •. trail and ; of grass latur and lite man; unch their jral hours reater dis- ide on the id learned liles below iplain, and stretching r new fort, eight miles ;en the two .ake Cham- t lake, they le halt was lied up the lifting the [eir journey the ground ith under- ics passed, •eatest care iting bough in the thin ley arrived las lighted Irfectly dry l-ed far and IS far less ^e George. :ed in the water, and striking across the lake they followed the right- hand shore. After paddling for about an hour and a half the work suddenly ceased. The lake seemed to widen on their left, for they had just passed the tongue of land between the two lakes, and on the opposite shore a number of fires were seen burning brightly on the hillside. It was Ticonderog-a they were now abreast of, the advanced post of the French. They lingered for some time before the paddles were again dipped in water, counting the fires and making a careful note of the position; they paddled on again until some twelve miles beyond the fort, and then crossed the lake and landed on the French shore. But the canoes did not all approach the shore together as they had done on the previous nights. They halted half a mile out, and Captain Rogers went forward with his own and another canoe and landed, and it was not for half an hour that the signal was given, by an imitation of the croaking of a frog, that a careful search had ascertained the forest to be un- tenanted and the landing safe. No sooner was the signal given than the canoes were set in motion and were soon safely hauled up on shore. Five men went out as usual as scouts, and the rest, fa- tigued by their paddle and the hard day's work, were soon asleep. In the morning they were about to start and Rogers ordered the canoes to be hauled up and hidden among the bushes, where, having done their work, they would for the present be abandoned, to be recovered and made useful on some future occasion. The men charged with the work gave a sudden exclamation when they reached the canoes. "What is that?" Rogers said angrily. " Do you want to bring all the redskins in the forest upon us?" "The canoes are all damaged," one of the scouts said, coming up to him. There was a general movement to the canoes, which $ ;.»' ! il l! 't:.|l; 198 With Wolfe in Canada were lying on the bank a few yards' distani n from the water's edge. Every one of them had been rendered useless, the thin birch bark had been gashed and slit, pieces had been cut out, and not one of them had escaped injury or was fit to take the water. Beyond a few low words, and exclamations of dismay, not a word was spoken as the band gathered round the canoes. '* Who were on the watch on this side?" Rogers asked. " Nat and Jonathan took the first half of the night," one of the scouts said, " Williams and myself relieved them." As all four were men of the greatest skill and experience Rogers felt sure that no neglect or careless- ness on their part could have led to the disaster. "Did any of you see any passing boats or hear any sound on the lake?" The four men who had been on guard replied in the negative. " I will swear no one landed near the canoes," Nat said. "There was a glimmer on the water all night; a canoe could not have possibly come near the bank anywheres here without our seeing it." "Then he must have come from the land side," Rogers said. " Some skulking Indian must have seen us out on the lake and have hidden up when we landed. He may have been in a tree overhead all the time, and directly the canoes were hauled up he may have damaged them and made off. There is nO time to be lost, lads; it is five hours since we landed; if he started at once the redskins may be all round us now. It is no question now of our scouting round the French port, it is one of saving our scalps." " How could it have beer, done?" James Walsham asked Nat in a low tone. "We were all sleeping within a few yards of the canoes and some of the men were close to them. I should have thought we must have heard it." "Heard it!" the hunter said contemptuously; "why. I Scouting A redskin would make «« '^ deer's flesh ^^^''^^''dTnnr T" '" ^"4 "'ILtTf f... . standing- theer nn fk ''" we lav feet away from that canoe r "a'"'* '^ge not six and quiet as a redsWn ^ L ^T """'^ '°' '-» "o" " to do that damaee so «T 7 ** ""■«* have talcen tim- as the falling of fie:?. "V,,"-- "eard a sound as ltd very least two hours over th« • k""'°" »* "'« *«« at the |one four hours or a bTover C "/ ""^ "'"'«' "een dont give us much of a sLrt i\ """'' ''« that hour and a half to get to /h. r " *°"''' 'ake him an '0 report to the Frenfh chaot '*' "'*'' ""^ '^ouwXve •n«ht be some talk before h, •=°'"'"«"'d. and then thtre '--f the French to tllow.l ''' "" *"" '"« ™0s«„" JaJs'asTer *'""'''--°^-^....the canoes, , suppose " "a would "T'""'""'"'- " ' a"ta7?''-*'^''''^°'^^"°hetw''rii° ^"k^™^" "--^ as many mmutes to soari. ti. ° "« haven't ent While they had been'IeakiJ^r' °°*' "* »'« off.'? ' folLT""""°° '^"O '*o oT^^rfe o?^h" ''"'' ''«*° folding ' lonol^!"' '"^ ^^'y had arrived at Lt« '"'"' ^^Perienced half an hou"r! " '"' '^°<'"-» -uld be up L'th'e cou'^ of Ro.e« ,:S^ "dXeaveVf^ t ™^' °" "'•^ "ack " "■ere's not a minute t„T f '"^P hehind. Quick l!w ' to be lost, it's a case of S' iow! I-J S^ I' I 200 With Wolfe in Canada IM' '' m^ i' There's no hiding* the trail of thirty men from redskin eyes." In a couple of minutes all were ready for the start, and Rogers at once led the way at a long slinging trot straight back from the lake, first saying : " Pick your way, lads, and don't tread on a fallen stick. There is just one chance of saving our scalps, and only one, and that depends upon silence." As James ran along at the heels of Nat he was struck with the strangeness of the scene and the noiselessness with which the band of moccasin-footed men flitted among the trees. Not a word was spoken. All had implicit confidence in their leader, the most experienced bush fighter on the frontier, and knew that if anyone could lead them safe from the perils that surrounded them it was Rogers. James wondered what his plan could be; it seemed certain to him that the Indians must sooner or later overtake them. They would be aware of the strength of the band, and confiding in their superior numbers would be able to push forward in pursuit without pausing for many precautions. Once overtaken the band must stand at bay, and even could they hold the Indians in check the sound of the firing would soon bring the French soldiers to the spot. They had been gone some twenty minutes only when a distant warwhoop rose in the forest behind them. "They have come down on the camp," Nat said, glanc- ing round over his shoulder, "and find we have left it. I expect they hung about a little before they ventured in, knowing as we should be expecting them when we found the canoes was useless. That warwhoop tells 'em all as we have gone. They will gather there and then be after us like a pack of hounds. Ah ! that is what I thought the captain was up to." Rogers had turned sharp to the left, the direction in which Ticonderoga stood. He slacked down his speed Scouting 301 somewhat, for the perspiration was streaming down the faces even of his trained and hardy followers. From time to time he looked round to see that all were keeping well together. Although in such an emergency as this none thought of questioning the judgment of their leader, many of them were wondering at the unusual speed at which he was leading them along. They had some two miles start of their pursuers, and had evening been at hand they would have understood the importance of keeping ahead until darkness came on to cover their trail; but with the whole day before them they felt that they must be overtaken sooner or later, and they could not see the object of exhausting their strength before the struggle began. As they ran on, at a somewhat slower pace now, an idea as to their leader's intention dawned upon most of the scouts, who saw by the direction they were taking that they would again strike the lake shore near the French fort. Nat, who, light and wiry, was running easily, while many of his comrades were panting with their exertions, was now by the side of James Walsham. "Give me your rifle, lad, for a bit. You are new to this work and the weight of the gun takes it out of you. We have got another nine or ten miles before us yet." ** I can hold on for a bit," James replied; " I am getting my wind better now; but why only ten miles? We must be seventy away from the fort." •'We should never get there," Nat said; *'a few of us might do it, but the redskins would be on us in an hour or two. I thought when we started as the captain would have told us to scatter, so as to give each of us some chance of getting off; but I see his plan now, and it's the only one as there is which gives us a real chance. He is making straight for the French fort. He reckons, no doubt, as the best part of the French troops will have marched out after the redskins." f i- '■ IS i I ■( ' :■ 202 With Wolfe in Canada " But there would surely be enough left," James said, " to hold the fort against as; and even if we could take it we could not hold it an hour when they all came up." " He ain't thinking of the fort, boy, he's thinking of the boats. We know as they have lots of 'em there, and if we can get there a few minutes before the redskins overtake us we may get off safe. It's a chance, but I think it's a good one." Others had caught their leader's idea and repeated it to their comrades, and the animating effect soon showed itself in the increased speed with which the party hurried through the forest. Before, almost every man had thought their case hopeless, had deemed that they had only to con- tinue their flight until overtaken by the redskins, and that they must sooner or later succumb to the rifles of the Iro- quois and their French allies. But the prospect that after an hour's run a means of escape might be found animated each man to renewed efforts. After running for some distance longer Rogers suddenly halted and held up his hand, and the band simultaneously came to a halt. At flrst nothing could be heard save their own quick breathing, then a confused noise was heard to their left front, a deep trampling and the sound of voices, and an occasional clash of arms. ** It is the French column coming out," Nat whispered, as Rogers, swerving somewhat to the right and making a sign that all should run as silently as possible, continued his course. < . /; «. •/:i I.. CHAPTER XII A Commission Presently the noise made by the column of French troops was heard abreast of the fugitives, then it died away be- hind them, and they again directed their course to the left. Ten minutes later they heard a loud succession of Indian whoops and knew that the redskins pursuing them had also heard the French column on its march, and would be warning them of the course which the band were taking. The scouts were now but four miles from Ticonderoga, and each man knew that it was a mere question of speed. "Throw away your meat," Rogers ordered, "you will not want it now, and every pound tells." The men had already got rid of their blankets, and were now burdened only with their rifles and ammunition. The ground was rough and broken, for they were nearing the steep promon- tory on which the French fort had been erected. They were still a mile ahead of their pursuers, and although the latter had gained that distance upon them since the first start, the scouts knew that now they were exerting them- selves to the utmost the redskins could be gaining but little upon them, for the trained white man is, in point of speed and endurance, fairly a match for the average Indian. They had now descended to within a short dis- tance of the edge of the lake in order to avoid the valleys and ravines running down from the hills. The warwhoops rose frequently in the forest behind them, the Indians yelling to give those at the fort notice that the chase was approaching. , SOS w f ^' '' 1 mi ij ao4 With Wolfe in Canada "If there war any redskins left at the fort," Nat said to James, "they would guess what our game was; but I expect every redskin started out on the hunt, and the French soldiers when they hear the yelling won't know what to make of it, and if they do anything they will shut themselves up in their fort." Great as were the exertions which the scouts were making they could tell by the sound of the warwhoops that sonic at least of the Indians were gaining upon them. Accustomed as every man of the party was to the fatigues of the forest the strain was telling upon them all now. For twelve miles they had run almost at the top of their speed, and the short panting breath, the set faces, and the reeling steps showed that they were nearly at the end of their powers. Still they held on with scarcely nny diminishing of speed. Each man knew that if he fell he must die, for his comrades could do nothing for him, and no pause was possible until the boats were gained. They were passing now under the French works, for they could hear shouting on the high ground to the righl and knew that the troops left in the fort had taken the alarm ; but they wete still invisible, for it was only at the point of the promontory that the clearing had been carried down to the water's edge. A low cry of relief burst from the men as they saw the forest open before them, and a minute later they were running along in the open near the shore of the lake at the extremity of the promontory, where, hauled up upon the shore, lay a number of canoes and flat-bottomed boats used for the conveyance of troops. A number of boatmen were standing near, evidently alarmed by the war-cries in the woods. When they saw the party approaching they at once made for the fort a quarter of a mile away on the high ground, and almost at the same moment a dropping fire of musketry opened from the entrenchments. A Commission ^ ao5 "Smash the canoes," Rogers said, settinf^^ thr example by administering a vigorous kici< to one of them. The others followed his example, and in a few seconds every one of the frail barks was stove in. •'Two of the boats will hold us well," Rogers said; *' quick into the water with them and out with the oars. Ten row in each boat, let the other five handle their rifles and keep back the Indians as they come up. Never ni'nd the soldiers." For the white-coated troops, perceivmg the scouts' intention, were now pouring out from the entrenchments. A couple of minutes sufficed for the men to launch the boats and take their seats, and the oars dipped in the water just as three or four Indians dashed out from the edge of the forest. •' We have won the race by three minutes," Rogers said exultantly; ''stretch to your oars, lads, and get out of range as soon as you can." The Indians began to fire as soon as they perceived the boats. They were scarcely two hundred yards away, but they, like the white men, were panting with fatigue, and their bullets flew harm- lessly by. "Don't answer yet," Rogers ordered, as some of the scouts were preparing to fire. ** Wait till your hands get steady and then fire at the French ; there won't be many of the redskins up yet." The boats were not two hundred yards from shore when the French soldiers reached the edge of the water and opened fire, but at this distance their weapons were of little avail, and though the bullets splashed thickly around the boats no one was injured, while several of the French were seen to drop from the fire of the scouts. Another hundred yards and the boats were beyond any danger save from a chance shot. The Indians still continued firing and several of their shots struck the boats, one of the rowers being hit on the shoulder. ^ I •i |.;, i !■' hi 5!?'*i 206 With Wolfe in Canada *' Lay in your rifles and man the other two oars in each boat," Rogers said; "the French are launching some of their bateaux, but we have got a fair start and they won't overtake us before we reach the opposite point. They are fresher than we are, but soldiers are no good rowing; besides they are sure to crowd the boats so that they won't have a chance." Five or six boats, each crowded with men, started in pursuit, but they were fully half a mile behind when the two English boats reached the shore. "Now it is our turn," Rogers said as the men, leaping ashore, took their places behind trees. As soon as the French boats came within range a steady fire was opened upon them. Confusion was at once apparent among them, oars were seen to drop, and as the fire continued the row- ing ceased; another minute and the boats were turned, and were soon rowing out again into the lake. "There's the end of that," Rogers said, "and a close shave it has been. Well, youngster, what do you think of your first scout in the woods?" " It has been sharper than I bargained for," James said, laughing, "and was pretty near being the last as well as the first. If it hadn't been for your taking us to the boats I don't think many of us would have got back to Fort Henry to tell the tale." "There is generally some way out of a mess," Rogers said, " if one does but think of it. If I had not thought of the French boats we should have scattered, and a few of us would have been overtaken, no doubt; but even an Indian cannot follow a single trail as fast as a man can run, and I reckon most of us would have carried our scalps back to camp. Still with the woods full of Iroquois they must have had some of us, and I hate losing a man if it can be helped. We are well out of it. Now, lads, we had better be tramping. There are a lot more bateaux coming out, and I expect by the rowing they are manned A Commission 207 in each ome of yr won't They owing; y won't irted in ben the leaping as the opened g them, he row- turned, [ a close think of les said, well as e boats to Fort Rogers ^ught of few of tven an lan can led our jroquois a man r, lads, gateaux lanned by Indians. The redskin is a first-rate hand with the paddle, but is no good with an oar." The man who had been hit in the shoulder had already had his wound bandaged. There was a minute's consulta- tion as to whether they should continue their journey in the boats, some of the men pointing out that ;hey h94 proved themselves faster than their pursuers. •'That may be," Rogers said; "but the Indians will land and follow along the shore and will soon get ahead of us, for they can travel quicker than we can row, and for aught we know there may be a whole fleet of canoes higher up Lake George which would cut us off. No, lads, the safest way is to keep on through the woods." The decision was received without question, and the party at once started at a swinging trot, which was kept up with occasional intervals of walking throughout the day. At nightfall their course was changed, and after journeying another two or three miles a halt was called, for Rogers was sure that the Indians would abandon pur- suit when night came on without their having overtaken the fugitives. Before daybreak the march was continued, and in the afternoon the party arrived at Fort William Henry. James now determined to leave the force and return at once to New York, where his letters were to be addressed to him. He took with him a letter from General Johnson speaking in the warmest tones of his conduct. On arriv- ing at New York he found at the post office there a great pile of letters awaiting him. They had been vi^ritten after the receipt of his letter at the end of July, telling those at home of his share in Braddock's disaster. •* I little thought, my boy," his mother wrote, " when we received your letter saying that you had got your dis- charge from the ship and were going with an expedition against the French, that you were going to run into such terrible danger. Fortunately the same vessel which i: «^ 9o8 With Wolfe in Canada "11 f I'' brought the news of General Braddock's defeat also brought your letter, and we learned the news only a few hours before your letter reached us. It was, as you may imagine, a time of terrible anxiety to us, and the squire and Aggie were almost as anxious as I was. Mr. Wilks did his best to cheer us all, but I could see th..i. he too felt it very greatly. However, when your letter came we were all made happy again, though of course we cannot be but anxious, as you say you are just going to join another expedition ; still we must hope that that will do better, as it won't be managed by regular soldiers. Mr. Wilks was quite angry at what you said about the folly of making men stand iii a line to be shot at, he thinks so much of drill and discipline. The squire and he have been arguing quite fiercely about it; but the squire gets the best of the argument, for the dreadful way in which the soldiers were slaughtered shows that though that sort ot fighting may be good in other places it is not suited for fighting these wicked Indians in the woods. The squire has himself been up to London about your commission, and has arranged it all. He has, as he will tell you in his letter, got you a commission in the regiment commanded by Colonel Otway, which is to go out next spring. He was introduced to the commander-in-chief by his friend, and told him that you had been acting as Colonel Washington's aide-de-camp with General Braddock, and that you have now gone to join General Johnson's army; so the duke said that though you would be gazetted at once and would belong to the regiment, you might as well stay out there and see service until it arrived, and that it would be a great advantage to the regiment to have an officer with experience in Indian fighting with it. I cried when he brought me back the news, foi I had hoped to have you back again with us for a bit before you went soldiering for good. However, the squire seems to think it is a capital thing for you. Mr. Wilks thinks so too, so I suppose I f7»Hlf"' A Commission must put up with it • hnf a • ^^ ;s too bad .hat she ^hou d nfl^^f ^"^ ^'^^ me and ,ays it he fme when she sa,v you i!Tu . ™ "'^" >'°" °nce from '■"'e girl, and is groTvi^e fc« '1°™- ^he is a d^a^ grown quite an infh „ The fiv. "'T'' ^''^ "">" have a«ay. She sends her love to vou "'T'" ''°" ''-^<= been care of yourself for her slke° ^ ' """ ^^^^^ y°" '"ust take ,^es.^u.re in his letter repeated thenewsMrs.Walshan, ^ou are now an ensie-n " h^ -^ fif tasaking.s'o^ffioe,Ts:'nd""°™ ""«"^ f-youT^d C ^^ilS rr- ~' '°" ^ '"'' "'^"^ ^^-^- »»uKss letter wa« a i^ bI^H^' ^f''^ J™'" be s^id '°"i,r". "' «" horribly Braddock's dreadful defeat I ?„ m u' """"^ <=«".* of dear mother in the face Zh ,u u '"^ ''^"•'"y 'ook your not, I know, say a word t^h,. ^"^'', "'<' '''"'^ 'ady would yet I could see that she reearlr '""'"'^' '°' "'e'^wori^ was on my advice that, instfad 'f "" •'*' " "'°'""«r, for i got your discharge vou r»i • 1 """"""B home when vol ■n this unfortunaf;;^; S:'"1 ""'ih""^ '""' '-"p^r? ^ame. and though I dfd m^st t„ t '^'^ ^^^'^ ^^'t the had a terrible time of it Lh, ° ''^P "P 'heir spirits I you were safe. If Tt hL /°" ''^«'=r arrived saWni should have gone quietly off to p*""' ' <'° »<='--« that f aga.n, and hired a bov to n u"-^'"' ''"""'d "P my box ^° strong as I was But T''' ll '°' '"'• ^r I am not about for the rest of my lie 'thl°t "''■''"u "^^"^ *-mped mother's reproachful eye H„, ^^"' "'«■■« ""der your rough it all right, aTd after Ch'i J'""' '1'^ ^"^ ^^me that we shall never have repet tTo„ ^'°? ' ^''°"'d hope I # i ■It 'I I ilMi n a m m !•«:■ 43 m'¥\ 210 With Wolfe in Canada and to obey orders promptly and quickly, and I cannot but think that if the troops had gone forward at a brisk double thev would have driven the Indians before them. As to the whooping and yells you talk so much about, I should think nothing of them; they are no more to be regarded than the shrieks of women or the braying of donkeys." James smiled as he read this, and thought that if the old soldier had heard that chaos of blood-curdling cries break out in the still depth of the forest he would not write of them with such equanimity. "You will have heard from the squire that you are gazetted to Otway's regiment, which with others is to cross the Atlantic in a few weeks, when it is generally supposed war will be formally declared. Your experience will be of great use to you, and ought to get you a good staff appointment. I expect that in the course of a year there will be fighting on a large scale on your sid** of the water, and the English ought to get the best of it, for France seems at present to be thinking a great deal more of her affairs in Europe than of her colonies in America. So much the better, for if we can take Canada we shall strike a heavy blow to her trade, and some day North America is going to be an important place in the world." The letters had been lying there several weeks, and James knew that Otway's regiment had with the others arrived a few days before, and had already marched for Albany. Thinking himself entitled to a little rest after his labours, he remained for another week in New York while his uniform was being made, and then took a passage in a trading boat up to Albany. Scarcely had he landed when a young officer in the same uniform met him. He looked surprised, hesitated, and then stopped. "I see you belong to our regiment," he said; "have you just arrived from England? What ship did you come in?" A Commission "i' -e -rwr^r/rf- '--•• ■'-- ^ep," your reg-imeui some m^n'.u ''^''^*'« ' "as gazettid t -- °n my a.nvTrarNew ^r.' .t"! ' '^"^'^^^■^ ill Oh, you are Walsham f" fu ^"^ ^^^J^-" name is Edwards. I f ^ ' , 'if ^^""g' o^cer said - Lf been wondering wh. ^'^"^ ^° '"eet you W u ^ your luck in 5 ^" >^°" ^ould join us ^' a ^ '^^^^ ^7 to our fe„ows." '" ^° ""^"^ ^''^^ you and i„"oduce James thanked him ,„m .u fs-r.^ S;^^n --^^t:t «£ EdwardsTald "f „?" '"' "'' '"« Lionel first " ». f li I* »1 212 With Wolfe in Canada 1 ill ffllll! I iiij \u ikt . - > I* I III i I Hi the frontiersmen can thrash the Indians even if they are two or three to one against them." " Vcu have been in this last aflfair on the lake, have you not, Mr. Walsham? I heard you were with Johnson." " Yes, sir, I was, and at the beginning it was very nearly a repetition of Braddock's disaster; but after being sur- prised and ar first beaten, the column that went out made such a stout fight of it that it gave us time to put the camp in a state of defence. Had the Indians made a rush, I think they would have carried it; but as they contented themselves with keeping up a distant fire, the provincials, who were all young troops quite unaccustomed to fighting, and wholly without drill or discipline, gradually got steady, and at length sallied out and beat them decisively." " I will not detain you now," the colonel said; "but I hope ere long you will give us a full and detailed account of the fighting you have been in, with your idea of the best way of training regular troops for the sort of work we have before us, Mr Edwards will take you over to the mess and introduce you to your brother officers." James was well received by the officers of his regiment, and soon found himself perfectly at home with them. He had to devote some hours every day to acquiring the mysteries of drill. It was to him somewhat funny to see the pains expended in assuring that each movement should be performed with mechanical accuracy ; but he understood that, although useless for such warfare as that which they had before them, great accuracy in details was necessary for ensuring uniformity of movement among large masses of men in an open country. Otherwise the time passed very pleasantly. James soon became a favourite in the regiment, and the young officers were never tired of questioning him concerning the redskins and their manner of fighting. There were plenty of amusements ; the snow was deep on the ground now, and the officers skated, practised with snowshoes, and drove in sleighs. Occasion- A Commission 213 ally they got up a dance, and the people of Albany and the settlers round vied with each other in their hospitality to the officers. One day in February an orderly brought a message to James Walsham that the colonel wished to speak to him. "Walsham," he said, " I may tell you privately that the regiment is likely to form part of the expedition which is being fitted out in England against Louisbourg in Cape Breton, the key of Canada ; a considerable number of the troops from the province will accompany it." " But that will leave the frontier here altogether open to the enemy," James said in surprise. "That is my own opinion, Walsham. Louisbourg is altogether outside the range of the present struggle, and it seems to me that the British force should be employed at striking at a vital point. However, that is not to the purpose. It is the Earl of Loudon's plan. However, it is manifest, as you say, that the frontier will be left terribly open, and therefore two companies of each of the regiments going will be left. Naturally as you are the only officer in the regiment who has had any experience in this forest war- fare you would be one of those left here ; but as an ensign you would not have much influence, and I think that it would be at once more useful to the service and more plea- sant for yourself if I can obtain for you something like a roving commission. What do you think of that?" '* I should greatly prefer that, sir," James said grate- fully. "The general js a little vexed, I know," the colonel went on, "at the numerous successes and daring feats gained by Rogers and the other leaders of the companies of scouts, while the regulars have not had an opportunity to fire a shot, and I think that he would at once accept the proposal were I to make it to him, that a company to be called the Royal Scouts should be formed of volunteers M !| , * 214 With Wolfe in Canada taken from the various regiments, and that you should have the command." "Thank you, sir," James said, ''and I should like it above all things; but I fear that we should have no chance whatever of rivalling the work of Rogers and the other partisan leaders. These men are all trained to the work of the woods, accustomed to fight Indians, equally at home in a canoe or in the forest. I have had, as you are good enough to say, some experience in the work, but I am a mere child by their side, and were I to lead fifty English soldiers in the forest I fear that none of us would ever return." " Yes, but I should not propose that you should engage in enterprises of that sort, Walsham. My idea is, that although you would have an independent command with very considerable freedom of action, you would act in con- nection with the regular troops; the scouts are often far away when wanted, leaving the posts open to surprise. They are so impatient of any discipline that they are adverse to going near the forts, except to obtain fresh supplies. You, on the contrary, would act as the eyes of any post which you might think threatened by the enemy. At pre- sent, for instance, Fort William Henry is the most exposed to attack. " You would take your command there, and would report yourself to Major Eyre, who is in command. As for service there, your letter of appointment would state that you are authorized to act independently, but that, while it would be your duty to obey the orders of the commanding officer, you will be authorized to offer such suggestions tc him as your experience in Indian warfare would lead you to make. You would train your men as scouts. It would be their special duty to guard the fort against surprise, and of course in case of attack to take part in its defence. In the event of the provincial scouts making any concerted movement against a French post, you would be authorized A Commission 215 to join them. You would then have the bent^fit of their skill and experience, and in case of success the army would get a share of the credit. What do you think of my plan?" '* I should like it above all things, "James replied. "That would be precisely the duty which I should select had I the choice." "I thought so," the colonel said. "I have forced a very high opinion of your judgment and discretion from the talks which we have had together, and I have spoken strongly in your favour to the general, who had promised me that in the event of the army moving forward you should have an appointment on the quartermaster-general's staff as an intelligence officer. "Since I heard that the main portion of the army is to sail to Louisbourg I have been thinking this plan over, and it certainly seems to me that a corps such as that that I have suggested would be of great service. I should think that its strength should be fifty men. You will, of course, have another officer with you. Is there anyone you would like to choose, as I may as well take the whole scheme cut and dried to the general?" "I should like Mr. Edwards, sir; he is junior to me in the regiment, and is very active and zealous in the ser- vice, and I should greatly like to be allowed to enlist temporarily two of the scouts I have served with in the force, with power for them to take their discharge when they wished. They would be of immense utility to me in instructing the men in their new duties, and would add greatly to our efficiency." "So be it," the colonel said. "I will draw out the scheme on paper and lay it before the general to-day." In the afternoon James was again sent for. "The earl has approved of my scheme. You will have temporary rank as captain given you in order to place your corps on an equal footing with the provincial corps of scouts. Mr. Edwards will also have temporary rank as ^. It'' ► I (. ( Pll ! ^ 11 M I 2t6 With Wolfe in Canada lieuttnant. The men of the six companies of the three regiments will be paraded to-morrow and asked for volun- teers for the special service. If there are more than fifty offer you can select your own men." Accordingly the next morning the troops to be left behind were paraded, and an order was read out saying that a corps of scouts for special service was to be raised, and that volunteers were requested. Upwards of a hundred men stepped forward, and being formed in line James selected from them fifty who appeared to him the most hardy, active, and intelligent looking. He himself had that morning been put in orders as captain of the new corps, and had assumed the insignia of his temporary rank. The colonel had placed at his disposal two intelligent young non-commissioned officers. The next morning he marched with his command for Fort William Henry. No sooner had he left the open country and entered the woods than he began to instruct the men in their new duties. The whole of them were thrown out as skirmishers and taught to advance in Indian fashion, each man sheltering himself behind a tree, scanning the woods carefully ahead, and then, fixing his eyes on another tree ahead, to advance to it at a sharp run and shelter there. All this was new to the soldiers, hitherto drilled only in solid formation or in skirmishing in the open, and when, at the end of ten miles skirmishing through the wood, they were halted and ordered to bivouac for the night, James felt that his men were beginning to have some idea of forest fighting. The men themselves were greatly pleased with their d&y's work. It was a welcome change after the long monotony of life in a standing camp, and the day's work had given them a high opinion of the fitness of their young officer for command. But the work and instruction was not over for the day. Hitherto none of the men had had any experience in camp- A Commission 217 ing in the open. James now showed them how to make comfortable shelters against the cold with two forked sticks and one laid across them, and with a few boughs and a blanket laid over them, with dead leaves heaped round the bottom and ends ; and how best to arrange their fires and cook their food. During the following days the same work was repeated and when, after a week's marching, the force issued from the forest into the clearing around Fort William Henry, James felt confident that his men would be able to hold their own in a brush with the Indians. Major Eyre, to whom James reported himself and showed his appointment defining his authority and duties, expressed much satisfac- tion at the arrival of the reinforcement. " There are rumours brought here by the scouts," he said, "that a strong fofce will ere long come down from Crown Point to Ticonderoga, and that we shall be attacked. Now that the lake is frozen regular troops could march without difficulty, and my force here is very inadequate considering the strength with which the French will attack. None of my officers or men have any experience of the Indian methods of attack, and your experience will be very valuable. It is a pity that they do not give me one of these companies of scouts permanently. Sometimes one or other of them is here, but often I am without any of the pro- vincials, and although I have every confidence in my officers and men, one cannot but feel that it is a great disadvantage to be exposed to the attack of an enemy of whose tactics one is altogether ignorant. You will, of course, encamp your men inside the fort. I see you have brought no bag- gage with you, but I have some spare tents here which are at your service." "Thank you, sir," James replied; "I shall be glad to put the men under cover while they are here, but I intend to practise them as much as possible in scouting and camp- ing in the woods, and although 1 shall always be in the i 2l8 With Wolfe in Canada neighbourhood of the fort, I do not propose always to return here at night. Are any of Captain Rogers's corps at present at the fort?" " Some of them came in last night," Major Eyre replied. " I have authority," James said, ** to enlist two of them in my corps." Major Eyre smiled. *• I do not think you will find any of them ready to submit to military discipline or to put on a red coat." •' They are all accustomed to obey orders promptly enough when at work," James said, "though there is no attempt at discipline when oflf duty. You see them at their worst here. There is, of course, nothing like military order in the woods, but obedience is just as prompt as among our troops. As to the uniform, I agree with you, but on that head I should not be particular. I can hardly fancy any of the scouts buttoned tightly up with stiff collars; but as, after all, although they are to be enlisted, they will be attached to the corps rather than be regular members of it, I do not think I need insist upon the uni- form." After leaving" the major, James saw to the pitching of the tents and the comforts of his men, and when he had done so strolled off towards a group of scouts who were watch- ing his proceedings, and among whom he recognized the two men for whom he was looking. He received a cordial greeting from all who had taken part in his previous adven- tures with Captain Rogers's band. " And so you are in command of this party?" Nat said. *' 1 asked one of the men just now, and he said you were the captain. Vou are young to be a captain, but at any rate it's a good thing to have a king's officer here who knows something about the woods. The rest ain't no more idea of them than nothing." '* I want to chat to you, Nat, and also to Jonathan, if you will come across with me to my tent," A Commission aiQ •' Pm agreeable," Nat said; and the two scouts walked across to the tent with James. Lieutenant Kd wards, who shared the tent with him, was inside arranging a few things which Major Eyre had sent down for their use. •• Edwards, these are the two scouts, Nat and Jonathan, of whom you have often heard me speak. Now let us sit down and have a chat. There is some first-rate rum in that bottle, Nat, there are two tin pannikins, and there is water in that keg. '* Now, Nat," he went on when the party were seated on blankets laid on the ground, •* this corps of mine has been raised specially to act as scouts round this or any other fort which may be threatened, or to act as the advanced ^^uard of a column of troops." •* But what do they know of scouting?" Nat said "^• temptuously. "They don't know no more than children." "They don't know much, but they are active fellows and ready to learn. I think you will find that already they have a pretty fair idea of fighting in Indian fashion in the woods, and as I have authority to draw extra supplies of ball cart- ridge, I hope in a few weeks to make fair shots of them. You have taught me something of forest ways, and I shall teach them all I know; but we want better teachers, and I want to propose to you and Jonathan to join the corps." "What, and put on a red coat, and choke ourselves up with a stiff collar!" Nat laughed ; " nice figures we should look! No, no, captain, that would never do." "No, I don't propose that you should wear uniform, Nat. I have got a special authority to enlist you and Jonathan, with the understanding that you can take your discharge whenever you like. There will be no drilling in line, or anything of that sort. It will be Just scouting work, the same as with Captain Rogers, except that we shall not make long expeditions as he does, but keep in the neighbourhood of the fort. I should want you to act both as scouts and instructors, to teach the men, as you I, I' ; t •ti 220 With Wolfe in Canada l^r' ■•, 1': 11 i-ii , 1 iii 1 h J. ; have taught me, something of woodcraft, how to find their way in a forest, and how to fight the Indians in their own way, and to be up to Indian devices. You will be guides on the line of march, will warn me of danger, and suggest the best plan of meeting it. You will, in fact, be scouts attached to the corps, only nominally you will be members of it. I know your ways, and should not exact any obser- vance of discipline more than that which you have with Rogers, and should treat you in the light of non-com- missioned officers." "Well, and what do you say, Jonathan?" Nat said, turning to his tall companion. "You and I have both taken a fancy to the captain here, and though he has picked up a lot for a young 'un, and will in time make a first-rate hand in the woods, I guess he won't make much hand of it yet if he hadn't got someone as knows the woods by his side. We have had a spell of hard work of it with Rogers lately, and I don't mind if I have a change for a bit with the redcoats." ' I will go, of course," Jonathan said briefly. " Very well, then, that's settled, captain," Nat said. *• Rogers will be in to-night, and I will tell him we are going to transfer ourselves over to you." *' He won't mind, I hope," James said. , ? ■■., "He won't mind," Nat replied. "We ain't very p^ir- ticular about times of service in our corps. We just comes and goes pretty well as the fancy takes us. They would never get us to join if they wanted to get us to bind down hard and fast. Sometimes they start on an expedition fifty strong, next time perhaps not more than thirty turns up. Is there anything to do to join the corps?" "Not much, Nat. I give you each a shilling and attest you, that is to say, swear you in to serve the king, and in your case give you a paper saying that you are authorized to take your discharge whensoever it pleases you." ^.*,|Very well, captain; then on those terms we join, V. i. :i':i A Commission 221 always understood as we don't have to put on red coats." The two men were sworn in, and then Nat standing up said: "And now, captain, discipline is discipline; what's your orders?" James went to the door of the tent and called the sergeant. "Sergeant, these two men are enlisted as scouts in the corps, they will draw rations and be a regular part of the company like the rest, but they will not wear uniform, acting only as scouts. They will have the rank and posi- tion of corporals, and will specially instruct the men in woodcraft and in the ways of the Indians. They will, of course, occupy the tent with the non-commissioned officers and will mess with them. Being engaged as scouts only they will in other respects be free from anything like strict- ness. I trust that you will do what you can to make them comfortable." The sergeant saluted and led the two scouts over to the tent occupied by himself and the other non-commissioned officers, and the roars of laughter that issued from it in the course of the evening at the anecdotes of the scouts showed that the newcomers were likely to be highly popu- lar characters in their mess. *' I Will ., • ,., ,\ CHAPTER XIII An Abortive Attack Three weeks passed. James kept his men steadily at work, and even the scouts allowed that they made great progress. Sometimes they went out in two parties with an officer and a scout to each, and their pouches filled with blank cartridge. Each would do its best to surprise the other ; and when they met a mimic fight would take place, the men sheltering behind trees and firing only when they obtained a glimpse of an adversary. " I did not think that these pipeclayed soldiers could have been so spry," Nat said to James. "They have picked up wonderfully, and I wouldn't mind going into an Indian fight with them. They are improving with their muskets. Their shooting yesterday wasn't bad by no means. In three months* time they will be as good a lot to handle as any of the companies of scouts." Besides the daily exercises the company did scouting work at night, ten men being out by turns in the woods bordering the lake. At one o'clock in the morning on the 19th of March Nat came into the officers' tent. "Captain," he said, "get up. There's something afoot." "What is it, Nat?' ^ames asked as he threw off his rugs. "It's the French, at least I don't see who else it can be. It was my turn to-night to go round and look after our sentries. When I came to Jim Bryan, who was stationed S8S St M An Abortive Attack 223 just at the edge of the lake, I said to him, ' Anything new, Jim?' and he says, 'Yes; seems to me as I can hear a hammering in the woods.' I listens, and sure enough axes were going. It may be some three miles down ; the night is still, and the ice brought the sound. 'That's one for you, Jim,' says I. 'Them's axes sure enough.' I stands and looks, and then a long way down the lake on the left I sees a faint glare. They had had the sense to light the fires where we couldn't see them; but there were the lights sure enough. It's the French, captain, the redskins would never have made fires like that, and if it had been a party of our scouts they would have come on here, and not halted an hour's tramp away. "You had best get the troops under arms, captain. Who would have thought they would have been such fools as to light their fires within sight of the fort!" James at once went to Major Eyre's^uarters and aroused him, and in a few minutes the garrison were all under arms. Their strength, including James Walsham's corps and some scouts of the company of John Stark, numbered three hundred and forty-six men, besides which there were a hundred and twenty-eight invalids in hospital. Two hours passed, and then a confused sound as of a great body of men moving on the ice was heard. The ice was bare of snow, and nothing could be seen, but the cannon on the side facing the lake at once opened Bre with grape and round shot in the direction of the sound. After firing for a few minutes they were silent. The sound on the ice could no longer be heard. "They have taken to the woods," Nat, who had taken up his station next to James Walsham, said; "it ain't likely they would stop on the ice with the balls pounding it up." "Do you think they will attack before morning?" James asked. i I p El ■■i i%i ^i;i!i' 'W 214 With Wolfe in Canada " It ain't likely," Nat replied. "They won't know thi positions, and such a dark night as this they wouldn't be able to make out anything about them. If they could have come straigth along the ice to the head of the lake here they would have made a dash, no doubt; but now they find we ain't to be caught asleep I expect they will wait till morning." Again the sound of axes was heard in the wood, and the glare of light appeared above the trees. " There must be a tidy lot of 'em," Nat said. " Do you think it will be any use to go out and try to Surprise them?" " Not a bit, captain; they are sure to have a lot of red- skins with them, and they will be lurking in the woods in hopes that we may try such a move. No ; we have got a strong position here, and can lick them three to one ; but in the woods, except Stark's men and perhaps yours, none of the others wouldn't be no good at all." Major Eyre shortly afterwards sent for James, who gave him the opinion of the scout, and the major then ordered the troops to get under shelter again, leaving Stark's men to act as sentries, for the night was bitterly cold. It was not until ten o'clock next day that the French appeared, and, surrounding the fort on all sides except on that of the lake, opened heavy musketry fire upon it. They were a formidable body. Vaudreuil, the governor of Canada, had spared no pains to make the blow a successful one. The force had been assembled at Crown Point, and numbered sixteen hundred regulars, Canadians, and Indians. Everything needful for their comfort had been provided — overcoats, blankets, bearskins to sleep on, and tarpaulins to cover them. They had been pro- vided with twelve days' provisions, which were placed on hand sledges and drawn by the troops. They marched over the ice of Lake Champlain down An Abortive Attack 225 enow the tuldn't be ley could ' the lake but now they will i, and the and try to lot of red- e woods in have got a one; but rours, none iimes, who major then in, leaving as bitterly the French Ides except ]re upon it. governot le blow a at Crown 'anadians, tmfort had to sleep been pro- placed on llain down to Ticonderoga, where they rested a week, and constructed three hundred scaling-ladders. Three days' further march up Lake George brought them to the English fort. The weak point of the expedition was its leader, for Vaudreuil, who was himself a Canadian, had the greatest jealousy of the PVench officers, and had entrusted the command of the expedition to his brother Rigaud. The fire did no damage, as the garrison lay sheltered behind their entrenchments, replying occasionally when- ever the enemy mustered in force as if with an intention of attacking. "I don't think they mean business this time, captain," Nat said in a tone of disgust. "Why, there are enough of them to eat us if they could but make up their minds to come on. They don't suppose they are going to take William Henry by blazing away at it half a mile off!" " Perhaps they are going to make a night attack," James said. "They will have learned all about the posi- tion of our works." "May be so," Nat replied; "but I don't think so. When chaps don't attack at once, when there are four or five to one, I reckon that they ain't likely to attack at all. They meant to surprise us, and they haven't, and it seems to me as it has taken all the heart out of them." As evening approached the fire ceased. At nightfall strong guards were placed round the entrenchments, and the troops retired to their quarters ready to turn out at a minute's notice. About midnight they were called out ; there was again a sound on the lake. The cannon at once opened, and as before all was silent again. , " Look, Walsham, look!" Edwards exclaimed. "They have set fire to the sloops." As he spoke a tongue of flame started up from one ot tlie two vessels lying in the ice close to the shore, and (337) ti (4 I. I * 226 With Wolfe in Canada i"'\ k^ i' ' iMi! '1' i '3 4 ■ f i! !:f' ;!-,:: ijili almost simultaneously flames shot up from among the boats drawn up on the beach. "That's redskin work," Nat exclaimed. •'Come, lads," James cried, leaping down from the low earthwork into the ditch. '* Let us save the boats if we can." The scouts followed him and ran down to the shore; but the Indians had done their work well. The two sloops and many of the boats were well alight, and it was evident at once that long before a hole could be broken through the ice, and buckets brought down from the fort, they would be beyond all hopes of saving them. The French, too, opened fire from the woods bordering the lake, and as the light of the flames exposed his men to the enemy's marksmen James at once called them back to the fort, and the sloops and boats burned themselves out. At noon next day the French filed out from the woods on to the ice at a distance of over a mile. "What now?" Edwards exclaimed. "They surely don't n.ean to be fools enough to march across the ice to attack us in broad daylight." •' It looks to me," James replied, " as if they wanted to make a full show of their force. See, there is a v^^hite flag, and a party are coming forward." An officer and several men advanced towards the fort, and Major Eyre sent out one of his officers with an equal number of men to meet them. There was a short parley when the parties came together, and then the French officer advanced towards the fort with the English, his followers remaining on the ice. On nearing the fort the French officer, Le Mercier, chief of the Canadian artillery, was blindfolded and led to the room where Major Eyre, with all the British officers, was awaiting him. The handkerchief was then removed from his eyes, and he announced to the commandant that he was the bearer of a message from the officer commanding the French force, who, being desirous of avoiding an An Abortive Attack 227 long the 1 the low ats if we rn to the rell. The light, and could be own from ing them, bordering d his men them back hemselves from the nile. urely don't to attack wanted to Afhite flag, the fort, an equal )rt parley le French Iglish, his :ier, chief ;d to the :ers, was Ived from that he Imanding )ding an effusion of blood, begged the English commander to ab- stain from resistance, which, against a force so superior to his own, could but be useless. He offered the most favourable terms if he would surrender the place peace- ably, but said that if he were driven to make an assault his Indian allies would unquestionably massacre the whole garrison. Major Eyre quietly replied that he intended to defend himself to the utmost. The envoy was again blindfolded. When he rejoined the French force the latter at once advanced as if to attack the place, but soon halted, and leaving the ice, opened a fusillade from the border of the woods, which they kept up for some hours, the garrison contemptuously abstaining from any reply. At night the French were heard advancing again, the sound coming from all sides. The garrison stood to their arms, believing that this time the real attack was about to be made. Nearer and nearer came the sound, and the garrison, who could see nothing in the pitchy darkness, fired wher- ever they could hear a sound. Presently a bright light burst up; the redskins, provided with faggots of resinous sticks, had crept up towards some buildings, consisting of several storehouses, a hospital, and sawmill, and the huts and tents of the rangers, and having placed their torches against them set them on fire and instantly re- treated. The garrison could do nothing to save the build- ings, as their efforts in the absence of water must be unavailing, and they would have been shot down by the foe lying beyond the circle of light. They therefore re- mained lying behind the etitrenchment, firing wherever they heard the slightest sound, and momentarily expecting an attack ; but morning came without the French advancing, and the garrison were then able to give their whole atten- tion to saving the buildings in the fort. Some great woodstacks bad now ignited, and the burn- L^ ft- f ^ 228 With Wolfe in Canada ^■»'^ *ni' 'fel^ ri ing embers fell thickly on the huts, and for some hours ii was only by the j^reatest exertions that the troops were able to save the buildings from destruction. Every moment they expected to be attacked, for had the French advanced the huts must have been left to themselves, in which case the garrison would have found themselves shelterless, and all their provisions and stores would have been consumed; but before noon the danger was over, for not only had the fires begun to burn low, but a heavy «^nowstorm set in. All day it continued. '* Now would be the time for them to attack," James Walsham said to his lieutenant; **we can scarce see twenty yards away." "Now is their chance," Edwards agreed; " but I don't believe in their attacking. I can't think who they have got in command. He ought to be shot, a man with such a force as he has hanging about here for four days when he could have carried the place with a rush any momcnl.' "No, I don't think they will attack," James replied. "Men who will stop to light a fire to warm themselves within sight of an enemy's fort they want to surprise are not likely to venture out of shelter of their blankets in such a snow as this." All day and all night the snow came down till the ground was covered to a depth of over three feet. Early on Tues- day morning twenty volunteers of the French regulars made a bold attempt to burn a sloop building on the stocks, with several storehouses and other structures near the water, and some hundreds of boats and canoes which were ranged near them. They succeeded in firing the sloop and some buildings, but James with his scouts sallied out and forced them to retreat with the loss of five of their number, and by pulling down some of the huts prevented the fire spreading. Next morning the sun rose brightly, and the white sheet of the lake was dotted with the French in full retreat % An Abortive Attack 329 ours Jl s were loment vanced :h case ss, and sumed; tiad the set in. ' James rce see ; I don't ey have ith such ys when jmenl/' replied, pmselves Drise are in such ground an Tues- regulars on the res near |es which ing the scouts loss of e of the lite sheet I retreat for Canada. Their total loss had been eleven killed and wounded, while on the English side seven men had been wounded, all slightly. Never was a worse conducted or more futile expedition. After this affair the time passed slowly at Fort William Menry. Until the sun gained strength enough to melt the thick white covering of the earth James practised his men in the use of snowshoes, and as soon as spring had fairly commenced resumed the work of scouting. This was done only as an exercise, for there was no fear that after such a humiliating failure the French would for some time to come attempt another expedition against the fort. In the autumn of 1756 General Montcalm had come out from France to take the command of the French troops. Few of the superior officers of the French army cared to lake the command in a country where the work was hard and rough and little glory was to be obtained. Therefore the minister of war was able for once to choose an ofiicer fitted for the post, instead of being obliged, as usual, to fill up the appointment by a court favourite. The Marquis of Montcalm was born at the chateau of Candiac, near Nimes, on the 29th of February, 17 12. At the age of fifteen, up to which time he had studied hard, he entered the army. Two years later he became a cap- tain, and was first under fire at the siege of Philipsbourg. In 1736 he married Mademoiselle Du Boulay, who brought him influential connections and some property. In 1741 Montcalm took part in the campaign in Bohemia. Two years later he was made colonel, and passed unharmed through the severe campaign of 1744. In the following year he fought in the campaign in Italy, and in 1746 was wounded at the disastrous action at Piacenza, where he twice rallied his regiment, received five sabre cuts, and was made prisoner. He was soon liberated on parole, and was promoted in the following year to the rank of brigadier-general, and being exchanged V fiJ PITT 330 With Wolfe in Canada for an officer of similar rank rejoined the army, and was again wounded by a musket-shot. Shortly afterwards the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle was signed, and Montcalm re- mained living quietly with his family, to whom he was tenderly attached, until informed by the minister of war that he had selected him to command the troops in North America with the rank of major-general. The Chevalier de Levis was appointed second in com- mand. No sooner did Montcalm arrive in America than difficulties arose between him and the Marquis de Vau- dreuil, the governor, who had hoped to have himself re- ceived the appointment of commander of the French forces, and who, in virtue of his office, commanded the Canadian militia. From first to last this man opposed and thwarted Mont- calm, doing all in his power to injure him by reports to France in his disfavour. The misfortunes which befell France during the war were in no slight degree due to this divided authority and to the obstacles thrown in the way of Montcalm by the governor. Montcalm's first blow against the English was struck in August, 1756, six months before the attack on Fort William Henry, which had been arranged by Vaudreuil. Three battalions of regular troops, with 700 Canadians and 250 Indians, with a strong force of artillery, were quietly concentrated at Fort Frontenac, and were intended for an attack upon the important English post of Oswego. Fighting had been going on in this neighbourhood for some time, and it was from Oswego that Shirley had intended to act against Niagara and Frontenac. That enterprise had fallen through owing to Shirley having been deprived of the command; but a sharp fight had taken plao, between Colonel Bradstreet and his armed boatmen and 1 100 French, who were beaten off. Oswego was a place of extreme importance. It was the only English post on Ontario, situated as it was til An Abortive Attack ^ 231 towards the south-west corner of the lake. So long as it remained in their possession it was a standing menace against the whole line of communications of the French with the south. Owing to gross neglect the fort had never been placed in a really defensive condition. The garrison was small, and crippled with the fever, which had carried off great numbers of them. The remainder were ill-fed and discontented. On the 1 2th of August the Earl of Loudon sent Colonel Webb with the 44th Regiment and some of Bradstreet's boatmen to reinforce Oswego. They should have started a month before, and had they done so would have been in time; but confusion and misunderstanding had arisen from a change in command. Webb had scarcely made half his march when tidings of the disaster met him, and he at once fell back with the greatest precipitation. At midnight on the loth, Montcalm had landed his force within half a league of the first English fort. Four cannon were at once landed and a battery thrown up, and so care- less of danger were the garrison that it was not till the morning that the invaders were discovered. Two armed vessels at once sailed down to cannonade them ; but their light guns were no match for the heavy artillery of the French, and they were forced to retire. The attack was commenced without delay. The Indians and Canadians swarming in the forest round the fort kept up a hot fire upon it. By nightfall the first parallel was marked out at 180 yards from the rampart. Fort Ontario, considered the strongest of the three forts at Oswego, stood on a high plateau on the right side of the river where it entered the lake. It was in the shape of a star, and formed of a palisade of trunks of trees set upright in the ground, hewn flat on both sides, and closely fitted together — an excellent defence against musketry, but worthless against artillery. The garrison of the fort, 370 in number, had H f ^ P p 232 With Wolfe in Canada eight small cannon and a mortar, with which all next day they kept up a brisk fire against the battery which the French were throwing up and arming with twenty-six pieces of heavy artillery. Colonel Mercer, the commandant of Oswego, saw at once that the French artillery would, as soon as they opened fire, blow the stockade into pieces, and thinking it better to lose fort alone than the fort and its garrison, he sent boats .ross the river after niglii- fall, and the garrison having spiked their guns, and thrown their ammunition into the well, crossed the river unper- ceived by the French. But Oswego was in no position for defence. Fort Pepperell stood on the mouth of the river facing Fort Ontario. Towards the west and south the place was protected by an outer line of earthworks mounted with cannon, but the side facing the river was wholly exposed, in the belief that Fort Ontario would prevent any attack in this direction. Montcalm lost no time. Th next evening his whole force set to work throwing up ttery at the edge of the rising ground on which Fort v>» ario stood, and by day- break twenty heavy guns were in position, and at once opened fire. The grape and round shot swept the English position, smashing down the mud-built walls, crashing through the stockades, and carrying destruction among the troops. The latter made a shelter of pork barrels, three high and three deep, and planted cannon behind them, and returned the enemy's fire; but the Canadians and Indians had crossed the river by a ford two miles up, i\n6 soon opened fire from all sides. Colonel Mercer, who had bravely led his men and in- spired them by his example, was cut in two by a cannon shot, and the garrison were seized with despair. A council of officers was held, and the garrison surrendered as pri- soners of war, to the number of sixteen hundred, which included sick, the sailors belonging to the shipping, An Abortive Attack 233 labourers, and upwards of a hundred women. Montcalm had the greatest difliculty in preventing the Indians, by means of threats, promises, and pijsents, from massacring the prisoners. Oswego was burned to the ground, the forts and vessels on the stocks destroyed, and the place having been made a desert, the army returned with their prisoners and spoil to Montreal. The loss of Oswego had inHicted a very severe blow to the influence and prestige of England among the Indians of the lake districts, but this was partly restored by the tailure of the French expedition against William Henry early in the following spring. The expedition against Louisbourg, to strengthen which the western frontier had been denuded of troops, proved a failure. A great delay had taken place at home in consequence of ministerial changes, and it was not until the 5th of May that fifteen ships of the lin and three frigates under Admiral Hol- bourne with 5000 troops on board sailed from England for Halifax, where Loudon was to meet him with the forces from the colony. But while the English fleet had bten dela^ ing, the French government had obtained in- formation of its destination, and had sent three French squadrons across the Atlantic to Louisbourg. It was the loth of July before the united English force assembled at Halifax, and there fresh delays arose. The troops, nearly twelve thousand in number, were landed, and weeks were spent in idle drill. At the beginning of August the forces were again embarked, when a sloop came in from Newfoundland bringing letters which had been captured on board a French ship. From these it appeared that there were twenty-two ships of the line besides several frigates in the harbour of Louisbourg, and that 7000 troops were in garrison in what was by far the strongest fortress on the continent. Success was now impossible, and the enterprise was i'tt) ^ ♦^ J ii w M] 1 ■■ 234 With Wolfe in Canada abandoned. Loudon with his troops sailed back to New York, and Admiral Holbourne, who had been joined by four additional ships, sailed for Louisbourg in hopes that the French fleet would come out and fight him. He cruised for some time off the port, but Lamotte, the French admiral, would not come out. In September a tremendous gale burst upon the British fleet: one ship was dashed on the rocks a short distance from Louisbourg, and only a sudden shift of the wind saved the rest from a total destruction. Nine were dismasted, and others threw their cannon into the sea. Had Lamotte sailed out on the following day the English fleet was at his mercy. Fortunately he did not do so, and Holbourne returned to England. The French in Canada were aware that Loudon had gathered all his troops at New York, and was preparing for an expedition which was to be aided by a fleet from England ; but thinking it probable that it was directed against Quebec, the most vital point in Canada, since its occupation by the English would entirely cut the colony off from France, Montcalm was obliged to keep his forces in hand near that town, and was unable to take advantage of the unprotected state in which Loudon had left the frontier of the colonies. As soon, however, as, by dispatch received from France, and by the statements of prisoners captured by the Indians on the frontier, Montcalm learned that the expedition which had just left New York was destined for Louis- bourg, he was at liberty to utilize his army for the invasion of the defenceless colonies, and he determined to commence the campaign by the capture of Fort William Henry. James Walsham with his company of Royal Scouts had spent the spring at Fort William Henry. Loudon had at first sent an order for the corps to be broken up, and the men to rejoin their respective regiments and to accompany them on the expedition ; but the earnest representations of it; An Abortive Attack 235 Colonel Monro of the 35th Regiment, who was now in command, of the total inadequacy of the garrison to defend itself should a serious attack be made from Ticonderoga, and of the great value to him of the corps under Captain Walsham, which was now thoroughly trained in forest fighting, induced him to countermand the order. James was glad that he was not obliged to rejoin his regiment. The independent command was a pleasant one, and although life at Fort William Henry had, since the French repulse, been an uneventful one, there was plenty of fishing in the lake and shooting in the woods to vary the monotony of drill. He and Edwards were now both expert canoemen, and often ventured far down the lake, taking with them one or other of the scouts, and keeping a sharp lookout among the woods on either side for signs of the enemy. Once or twice they were chased by Indian canoes, but always suc- ceeded in distancing them. "The news has just come in that the expedition has sailed," James said as he one day, towards the end of July, entered the hut which he now occupied with Edwards, for the corps had long since been put under huts, these being better suited for the hot season than tents. "It is rather a nuisance," Edwards grumbled, "being kept here instead of going and taking share in a big siege. "Don't be impatient, Edwards," James replied. " If I am not greatly mistaken you will have quite as much fighting as you want here before long. Montcalm's sudden attack on Oswego last autumn showed that he is an enter- prising general, and I have no doubt that as soon as he learns that Loudon's expedition is not intended for Quebec he will be beating us up on the frontier with a vengeance." Montcalm indeed had already prepared to strike a blow. A thousand Indians, lured by the prospect of gifts, scalps, and plunder, had come in from the west and north, and 2^6 With Wolfe in Canada Ik I were encamped near Montreal; and besides these there were the Mission Indians, and those of the Five Nations who adhered to France. Early in June the movement began. Day after day fleets of boats and canoes rowed up Lake Champlain, and towards the end of the month the whole force was gathered at Ticonderoga. Here were now collected eight thousand men, of whom two thousand were Indians, representing forty-one tribes and sub-tribes; among them were Iroquois, Hurons, Nipissings, Abenakis, Algonkins, Micmacs, and Malecites, these were all nominal Christians, and counted eight hundred warriors. With them were the western Indians; Ojibwas, Mississagas, Pottawattamies, Menomonies, Sacs, Foxes, Winnebagoes, Miamis, and lowas. These were still unconverted. The French held these savage allies in abhorrence. Their drunkenness, their turbulence, their contempt of all orders, their cruelty to their captives, and their cannibalism, dis- gusted and shocked Montcalm and his officers; but *^hey were powerless to restrain them, for without them as scouts, guides, and eyes in the forests, the French could have done nothing, and at the slightest remonstrance the Indians were ready to take offence and to march away to their dis- tant homes. The letters of Montcalm and his officers to their friends were full of disgust at the doings of their savage allies, and of regret that they could not dispense with their services or restrain their ferocity. Vaudreuil and the Canadians, on the other hand, accustomed to the traditions of savage warfare, made no attempt whatever to check the ferocity of the Indians, and were indeed the instigators of the raids which the savages made upon the unprotected villages and settlements on the frontier, offered rewards for scalps, and wrote and talked gleefully of the horrible atrocities com- mitted upon the colonists. m CHAPTER XIV Scouting on Lake Champlain One morning Colonel Monro sent for James. "Captain Walsham," he said, "there are rumours that the French are gathering" at Crown Point in considerable force. Cap- tain Rogers is still disabled by his wound, and his band have suffered so heavily in their last affair with the enemy that for the time they are out of action. It is important that I should learn the truth of these rumours, for if they be true I must communicate at once to the general, in order that he may get together a sufficient force to relieve us if Montcalm comes down and lays siege to the fort. Will you undertake the business?" *' I will do my best, sir," James replied. '* Do you pro- pose that I should take all my company, or only a picked party?" "That I will leave to you, Captain Walsham. I want trustworthy news, and how you obtain it for me matters little." "Then I will take only a small party," James said. " Fifty men would be useless for purposes of fighting if the enemy are numerous, while with such a number it would be hopeless to attempt to escape detection by the Indians. The fewer the better for such an enterprise." On leaving the commandant James at once summoned the two hunters to his hut, and told them the mission he had received. " I am ready, captain, that is if you, and I, and Jonathan makes up the party. As to going trapezing about round 387 ¥ I -m l: '!»■ Hi. i 238 With Wolfe in Canada Crown Point with fifty soldiers, the thing ain't to be thought of. We should be there no more than half an hour before the Indians would know of it, and we should have no show either for fighting or running away. No, captain, the lads are good enough for scouting about round camp here ; but as for an expedition of that sort, we might as well start with a drove of swine." "That is just what I thought, Nat: one canoe may escape even the eyes of the Indians, but a dozen would have no chance of doing so." ** We might get up the lakes," the scout said ; *' but the mischief would be in the woods. No, it never would do, captain. If we goes it must be the three of us and no more. When do you think of starting?" **The sooner the better, Nat." " Very well, captain, I will go and get some grub ready, and as soon as it gets dusk we will get the canoe into the water." " I suppose you can't take me with you?" Lieutenant Edwards said when James told him of the duty he had been requested to perform. *' It is dismal here." *' Not exactly," James laughed. "What would become of the company if it were to lose its two officers and its two scouts at a blow ! No, Edwards, you will command during my absence, and I think you will soon have more lively times here, for if it be true that Montcalm will himself com- mand the troops coming against us it will be a different business altogether from the last. And now leave me alone for an hour, I have some letters to write before I start, they will be for you to send off in case we don't come back again. Don't look serious, I have no intention of falling into the hands of Montcalm's savages. Still there is no doubt the expedition is a risky one, and it is just as well to be prepared." Just as the sun was setting Nat came into the officer's hui. Scouting on Lake Champlain 239 "Everything- is ready, captain," he said. "I hope you have made a good dinner, for it's the last hot meal you will eat till you get back. I have cooked enough meat for the next four days, and that's about as long as it will keep good ; after that dried deer's flesh will have to do for us. I expect, I tell you, we shall have to be pretty spry this time. If they are coming down in force they are sure to send a lot of their Indians through the woods on each side of the lake, and the water wi;I be swarming with their canoes. Jonathan and I have been talking it over and try- ing to settle which would be the safest, to foot it all the way or to go by water. We concluded as there ain't much difference, and the canoe will be the quickest and easiest, so we had best keep to that plan." *' I would certainly rather go that way, Nat, if you think that the danger is no greater." "No, I don't think there's much difference, captain; at any rate we may as well go that way; like enough we shall have to tramp back by the woods." Half an hour later the canoe put out. Although they had little fear that any of the Indian canoes would be so far up Lake George there was scarce a word spoken in the boat for some hours after starting. Jonathan was always silent, and Nat, although talkative enough when in camp, was a man of few words when once embarked upon a serious expedition. As for James, he had little inclination for conversation. The enterprise was, he knew, one of extreme danger. Had it been only a French force he was about to reconnoitre, or even one composed of French and Canadians together, he would have thought little of it; but he knew that the redskins would be roaming thickly in the forest ahead of the army, and much as he relied upon the skill and ex- perience of the two scouts, he knew it would be difficult indeed to elude their watchful eyes. He thought of the letters he had been writing, and wondered whether he ^ :# :l im II i ^ *■ J.i ;* in ■;-i •!■ 240 With Wolfe in Canada should return to tear them up, or whether they would be read at home. All the time he was thinking he worked his paddle vigorously and at a high rate of speed. The light canoe bounded noiselessly over the water, impelled by three vigorous pairs of arms. When they approached the nar- rows connecting Lake George with Lake Champlain the boat's head was directed towards the shore, for they could not get past Ticonderoga before daylight broke, and it was likely that a good watch would be kept in the narrows by the enemy, and it would be dangerous to try to effect a landing there. The canoe was carried ashore and hidden in some bushes, and all lay down to sleep. When day broke Nat rose and went down to the water to see that in landing they had left no mark upon the shore which might betray them to the eye of a passing redskin. Going down on his hands and knees he obliterated every sign of their footprints, raised the herbage upon which they had trodden, cut short to the ground such stalks as they had bruised or broken in their passage, and then, when conf.dent that all was safe, he returned to his camp. When it again became dark the canoe was carried down and replaced in the water, and they continued their passage. James had, at Nat's request, laid by his paddle. *' You paddle wonderfully well, captain. I don't say you don't ; but for a delicate piece of work like this one can't be too careful. It ain't often I can hear your paddle dip in the water, not once in a hundred times, but then you see that once might cost us our scalps. We have got to go along as silent as a duck swimming; speed ain't no object, for we shall be miles down Lake Champlain before day- light ; but if the French know their business they will have half a dozen canoes in these narrows to prevent us scouting on Lake Champlain, and you see they have got all the advantage of us, 'cause they've got just to lie quiet and listen and we have got to row on. As far as seeing go^^s ||.§^ 'M'- Scouting on Lake Champlain 241 I can make them out as soon as they can make us out; but they can hear us while they won't give our ears a chance. I tell you, captain, I don't expect to get through this nar- rows without a chase for it ; if it come to running, of course vou will take your paddle again and we three can show our heels to any canoe on the lakes, perviding of course as it's only a starn chase; if there are three or four of them, then I don't say as it won't be a close thing." James accordingly lay quietly back in the boat while his companions took the paddles. It was not necessary for him either to look out or to listen, for he knew that his companions' eyes and ears were quicker than his own. It had been agreed before starting that they should go along close to the trees on the left-hand side of the passage, be- cause the keenest lookout would be kept on the right- hand side, as that would naturally be chosen by any boat going up as being farthest from the French fort. "There is no fear whatever of our being seen from the land," Nat had said; **the redskins would know that so well that they wouldn't trouble to look out. It's only canoes we have got to be afraid of, and as to them it's just a chance ; they might see us out in the light waters in the middle, but under the trees they can't make us out thirty yards off. They will be lying there quiet if they are there at all, and we shall either get past them safe or we shall pretty nigh run into them. It's just chance, and there's nothing to do for it but to paddle as noiselessly as fish and trust to our luck." Having crossed the lake to the left shore they entered the narrows; the paddles were dipped so quietly into the water that even James could scarcely hear their sound. Every few strokes the scouts stopped paddling altogether and sat listening intently. They were keeping close to the trees, so close that at times it seemed to James that by stretching out his hands he could touch the bushes. After an hour's paddling they stopped longer than usual. (337) 16 I' I M 1^ 242 With Wolfe in Canada "What is it?" James whispered in Jonathan's ear, for Nat had taken the bow paddle. "There are men ahead," the scout whispered back. "We heard them speak just now." Presently the boat began to move again, but so quietly that it was only by looking at the dark masses of the boughs that stretched out overhead that James knew the boat was in motion. Jonathan now crouched in the bottom of tlie boat and placed his hand on Nat's shoulder as a sign for him to do the same. The time seemed endless to James as he lay there ; it was too dark under the trees for him even to see the outline of Nat's figure. The boat was, he was sure, moving, for occasionally as he lay on his back it grew lighter overhead as they passed under openings in the trees. Suddenly his heart gave a bound and he nearly started, for a guttural voice spoke seemingly within a few feet the canoe. He placed his hand on his rifle in readiness to sit up and fire, but all was still again. It was a passing remark made by one redskin to another in a canoe, for the sound was to his right. Another long period passed and then Jonathan sat up and took to his paddle again, and James judged that the danger was over. Raising his head he could see nothing except the vague light of the sheet of water on his right; the boat was still keeping close under the trees on the left shore of the lake, and he lay back again and dozed off to sleep. He was awoke by Jonathan touching his foot. "You can take your paddle now, captain." He sat up at once and looked round. They were far out now on a broad sheet of water; there were some faint lights as of fires burning low high up to the left behind them, and he knew that they had already passed Ticonderoga and were making their way along Lake Champlain. They paddled for some hours and then landed on the right-hand side of the lake. s ear, for red back. so quietly he boughs s boat was :om of the a sign for 3 James as r him even as, he was ick it grew ngs in the rly started, few feet o eadiness to 3 a passing loe, for the passed and again, and ig his head he sheet of lose under |e lay back Jonathan I He sat up now on a Ights as of )m, and he and were ky paddled Ind side of Scouting on Lake Champlain 243 "We are not likely to be disturbed here," Nat said as they lifted the canoe from the water. "The Indians coming down from Crown Point would keep on the other side of the lake, they will all make for Ticonderoga and will not think of keeping a lookout for anyone as far down the lakes as this." " That was a close shave with that canoe, Nat ; it startled me when I heard the voice close to us. They must have been within ten yards of us." " About that," Nat said ; *' It was lucky they spoke when we were coming along. I expect they had been watching for some nights and hadn't much idea anyone would come, or else they wouldn't have spoken. As it was it was easy enough to pass them on such a dark night. Of course they were looking outside and I just kept along as close as I could to the bushes, only just giving a light stroke now and then to take her along. Being inside them I got a sight of 'em some distance away, but I knew they couldn't see us, sharp as their eyes are ; the only chance was their hearing, and as there was no noise for them to hear I felt safe enough after I had once caught sight of 'em and saw they were lying out at the edge of the shadow. If they had been close under the bushes, as they ought to have been, we should have been in for a fight, for we mightn't have seen each other till the boats touched. Let that be a lesson to you, captain ; when you are on the lookout for a canoe at night lie in among the bushes; it must pass between you and the light then, and as they can't see you, you can either grapple or shoot, just as you like. If they had a seen us we should have had a hot time, for I could hear by their calls right along the other side that they were looking out for us in earnest, and if a rifle had been fired we should have had half a dozen canoes down upon us in no time, and like enough should have had to leave the boat and take to the woods." " How far is Crown Point away?" h ■I ii ■^ lltt •4 . ii 1 w* m ' mm VUI '■5 1 ^^s ^^^H 1 if III 244 With Wolfe in Canada •'Not more than ten miles," Nat said; "it is thirty miles from Ticonderog-a. It lies out on a point just where Champlain widens out. I reckon our safest wa\ to-night will be to scout along this side till we are well past the point, then to paddle out well across the lake and come up again and land to the left of Crown Point. We shall then be in the track of boats coming up from the lower end of the lake, and can paddle boldly on. No one would be keeping any lookout that way. Our danger won't begin until we get ashore; in course then we must act according to sarcumstances." This manoeuvre was carried out. They started as soon as it became dark, and after paddling along the eastern shore for nearly three hours struck out into the wide lake till they approached the opposite shore, and then headiiij; south again paddled boldly down towards the spot where, at the end of a sweep of land which seemed to close in the lake, stood the French fort of Crown Point. Before starting the two scouts had stripped to the waist, had laid aside their caps, and fastening a strip of leather round their heads had stuck some feathers into it. They then painted their faces and bodies. "You needn't be particular about the flourishes, Jona- than; it's only the redskin outline as one wants to get; if we run against any other canoes coming up the lake, or they get sight of us as we near the shore, so as we look something like redskins that's near enough. Of course we, can both speak Mohawk well enough to pass muster, and the captain will lay himself down in the bottom. Captain, you will do well enough for a Canadian when we have once landed. There ain't much difference between a hunter one side of the frontier and the other, but it's as well that you shouldn't be seen till we land. The less questions asked the better. Our MohaVk's good enough with any of the other tribes, but it wouldn't pass with a Mohawk if we got into a long talk with him." Scouting on Lake Champlain 245 Fortunately, however, these precautions proved un- necessary; no other canoes were seen on the lake, and they landed unnoticed at a spot a mile and a half to the west of Crown Point. Before starting from Fort William Henry, James had laid aside his uniform and had dressed himself in huntinj^ shin and leggings similar to those worn by the scouts. He had adopted various little details in which the Canadian hunters differed from those on the Knglish side of the frontier. The latter wore their hunting shirts loose in Indian fashion, while the Canadians generally wore a leathern belt outside theirs at the waist. His cap was made of squirrels' skins, which would pass equally well on both sides of the frontier. The firebag, in which tobacco, tinder, and other small matters were carried, was of Indian workmanship, as was the cord of his powder horn and bullet pouch. Altogether his get- up was somewhat brighter and more picturesque than that of English scouts, who, as a rule, despised anything kpproaching to ornament. He knew that by disguising himself he would be liable, if captured, to be shot at once as a spy; but this could not be considered, under the circumstances, to add to the risk he ran, for in any case he was certain to be killed if detected, and it would have been out of the question to attempt to approach the French camp in the uniform of a British officer. Could he have spoken Canadian French the mission would have been comparatively easy, but he knew only a few words of the language, and would be detected the instant he opened his lips. The canoe was hauled up and carefully concealed on land, and then they lay down until daylight, for no infor- mation as to the strength of the enemy could be gained in the dark. In the morning the two scouts very carefully made their toilet. They had brought all necessaries with them ; and soon, in their Indian hunting shirts and fringed liM '' i|tt:|f v>>mPf f ,1 246 With Wolfe in Canada leggings, and with carefully painted faces, they were in a position to defy the keenest scrutiny. When, after a careful survey of each other, they felt that their disguise was complete, they moved boldly for- ward, accompanied by James. After half an hour's walk- ing they emerged from the forest, and the strong fort of Crown Point lay before them. It was constructed of stone, and was capable of withstanding a long siege by any force which could be brought against it. Round it was the camp of the French troops, and James judged from the number of tents that there must be some 1500 French soldiers there. A short distance away were a large number of roughly constructed huts roofed with boughs of trees. "Them's the Canadians," Jonathan said. "The red- skins never build shelters while on the warpath. There are a heap of redskins about." These, indeed, even at the distance of several hundred yards, could be easily distinguished from their white allies by their plumed headdresses and by the blankets or long robes of skins which hung from their shoulders. ** I should put them down at three thousand." " It is a big army," Nat said. " I should think there must be quite as many Canadians as French. How many redskins there are there ain't no knowing, but we may be sure that they will have got together as many as they could. Put 'em down at 40CX), and that makes 7000 al- together, enough to eat up Fort William Henry and to march to Albany." *• Ay, or to New York if they a' to it — that is, if the col( lis* smartly. Well, so far y to seek, captain. What le ne^ "We must discover, it we can, whether they mean to go up the lakes in boats or to n*. ich through the woods," James replied. "They will have a tremendous jc getting 11 ' ad .hint and take fancy stir themselves what you came Scouting on Lake Champlain 247 any guns through the woods, but if they are going by water of course they can bring them." '•Very well," Nat replied. " In that case, captain, my advice is, you stop in the woods, and Jonathan and I will go down past the fort to the shore and see what provision they are making in that way. You see, the place swarms with Canadians, and you would be sure to be spoken to. Redskins don't talk much to each other unless there is some need for words, and we can go right through the P'rench camp without fear. The only danger is of some loping Mohawk coming up to us, and I don't reckon there are many of 'em in the camp, perhaps nary a one." Although James did not like his followers to go into danger without his sharing it, he saw that his presence would enormously add to their risks, and therefore agreed to their plan. Withdrawing some distance into the wood, and choosing a thick growth of underwood, he entered, and lay down in the bushes, while the two scouts walked quietly away towards the camp. Two hours passed. Several times he heard footsteps in the wood near him, and, peering through the leaves, caught sight of parties of Indians going towards the camp, either late arrivals from Montreal or bands that had been out scouting or hunting. At the end of two hours, to his great relief he saw two figures coming from the other way through the woods, and at once recog- nized the scouts. He crawled out and joined them as they came up. "Thank God you are back again! I have been in a fever all the time you have been away." "1 wish I had known the precise place where you were hiding, I should have made a sign to you to keep quiet; but it ain't of no use now." •'What's the matter then, Nat?" " I ain't quite sure as anything is the matter," the scout replied; '•but I am feared of it. As bad luck would have i » I 1 \'i I 248 With Wolfe in Canada it, just as we were coming back through the camp we came upon a Mohawk chief. He looked hard at us, and then came up and said : * The Owl thought that he knew all his brothers ; but here are two whose faces are strange to him.' Of course I told him that we had been living and hunting for years in the English colony, but that hearing that the Mohawks had joined the French we had come to fight beside our brothers. He asked a few questions, and then passed on. But I could see the var- min was not satisfied, though, in course, he pretended to be glad to welcome us back to the tribe. So we hung about the camp for another half- hour, and then made a sweep before we came out here. I didn't look round, but Jonathan stooped as if the lace of his moccasin had come undone, and managed to look back, but in course he didn't see anything." •'Then you have no reason to believe you are followed, Nat?" " Don't I tell you I have every reason?" Nat said. •' If that redskin the Owl has got any suspicion — and suspicion you may be sure he's got — he won't rest till he's cleared the matter up. He is after us, sure enough." "Then had we not better make for the canoe at full speed?" **No," Nat said. "If they are behind us they will be watching our trail, and if they see we change our pace they will be after us like a pack of wolves, while as long as we walk slowly and carelessly they will let us go. If it were dark we might make a run for it, but there ain't no chance at present. If we took to the lake we should have a hundred canoes after us, while the woods are full of Indians, and a whoop of the Owl would bring a hundred of them down on to our track." " Why shouldn't the Owl have denounced you at once if he suspected you?" James asked. *' Because it ain't redsk.n nature to do anything till s -'.^M n course Scouting on Lake Champlain 249 you are sure," the scout replied. " There is nothing a redskin hates so much as to be wrong, and he would rather wait for weeks to make sure of a thing than run the risk of making a mistake. I don't suppose he takes us for whites. He expects we belong to some other tribe come in as spies." " Then what are you thinking of doing?" James asked. •'We will go on a bit further," Nat said, **in hopes of coming across some stream where we may hide our trail. If we can't find that we will sit down before long and eat as if we was careless and in no hurry." For a time they walked on in silence. "Do you think they are close to us?" James asked presently. "Not far away," the scout said carelessly. "So long as they see we ain't hurrying they will go easy. They will know by this time that we have a white man with us, and like enough the Owl will have sent back for one or two more of his warriors. Likely enough he only took one with him at first seeing we were but two, and that he reckoned on taking us by surprise; but when he saw you joined us he would send back for perhaps a couple more." "Then what I would suggest," James said, "is, that we should at once stroll down to our canoe, put it in the water, and paddle out a few hundred yards, and there let Jown the lines we have got on board and begin to fish. As long as we are quiet there the redskins may not inter- fere with us, and when it gets dark we can make off. At the worst we have a chance for it, and it seems to me anything would be better than this sort of wandering about when we know that at any time we may have them down upon us." "Perhaps that is the best plan," Nat said. "What do you think, Jonathan?" Jonathan gave an assenting grunt, and they turned their I- ? Jit 250 With Wolfe in Canada faces towards the lake, still walking at the same leisurely pace. Not once did any of the three look back. As they neared the water James found the temptation very strong to do so, but h'i restrained it, and sauntered along as care- lessly as ever. The canoe was lifted from its hiding-place and put in the water. As they were about to step in the bushes parted, and the Owl stood beside them. *' Where are my brothers going?" he asked quietly. '* We are going fishing," Nat answered. ** The noise in the woods will have frightened game away." "There is food in the camp," the Owl said. "The French give food to their brothers the redskins." '* My white brother wants fish," Nat said quietly, "and we have told him we will catch him some. Will the Owl go with us?" The Indian shook his head, and in a moment the canoe put off from the shore, the Indian standing watching them at the edge of the water. "That's a badly puzzled redskin," Nat said with a low laugh. " His braves have not come up yet or he would not have let us start. There, that is far enough ; we are out of the range of Indian guns. Now lay in your paddles and begin to fish. There are several canoes fishing further out, and the redskin will feel safe. He can cut us off pro- viding we don't go beyond them." The Indian was, as Nat had said, puzzled. That some- thing was wrong he was sure; but as he was alone he was unable to oppose their departure. He watched them closely as they paddled out, in readiness to give a war- whoop which would have brought down the fishing canoes outside, and given warning to every Indian within sound of his voice; but when he saw them stop and begin to fish he hesitated. If he gave the alarm he might prove to be mistaken, and he shrank from facing the ridicule which a false alarm would bring upon him. Should they really prove, as he believed, to be spies, he would, if he gave i Scouting on Lake Champlain 2;! the alarm, lose the honour and glory of their capture, and their scalps would fall to other hands — a risk not to be thought of. He therefore waited until six of his braves came up. He had already retired among the trees before he joined them ; but the canoe was still visible through the branches. "The men we tracked have taken to the water; they are fishing. The Owl is sure that they are not of our tribe; but he must wait till he sees what they will do. Let three of my brothers go and get a canoe, and paddle out beyond them, and there fish. I will remain with the others here. If they come back again we will seize them. If they go out further my brothers will call to the redskins in the other canoes, and will cut them off. The Owl and his friends will soon be with them." "There is another canoe coming out, Nat," James said. " Hadn't we better make a run for it at once?" "Not a bit of it, captain. Dear me, how difficult it is to teach men to have patience! I have looked upon you as a promising pupil; but there you are, just as hasty and impatient as if you had never spent a day in the woods. Where should we run to? We must go up the lake, for we could not pass the point, for fifty canoes would be put out before we got there. We couldn't land this side, because the woods are full of redskins; and if we led them for ten miles down the lake and landed t'other side scores of them would land between here and there, and would cut us off. No, lad; we have got to wait here till it's getting late. I don't say till it's dark, but till within an hour or so of nightfall. As long as we show no signs of going, the chances is as they won't interfere with us. It's a part of redskin natur to be patient, and as long as they see as we don't try to make off they will leave us alone. That's how I reads it. You agrees with me, Jonathan? In course you do," he went on as his companion grunted i t r'i^fy "t' ■^, ; .1, iljl ! U,M ! IS i 252 With Wolfe in Canada an assent. ** I don't say as they mayn't ask a question or so; but I don't believe as they will interfere with us." "There is a fish on your line, captain. You don't seem to me to be attending to your business." James indeed found it difficult to fix his attention on his line when he knew that they were watched by hostile eyes, and that at any moment a conflict might begin. The canoe that had come out last had shaped its course so as to pass close to those fishing outside them, and a few words had been exchanged with the occupants of each— a warning, no doubt, as to the suspicious character of the fishing party near them. Beyond this nothing had happened. The Indians in the canoe had let down their lines, and seemed as intent as the others upon their fishing. The hours passed slowly. Under other circumstances James would have enjoyed the sport, for the fish bit freely, and a considerable number were soon lying in the canoe. Nat and Jonathan appeared as interested in their work as if no other boat but their own were afloat on the lake. Never once did James see them glance towards the canoes. They did not talk much, but when they spoke it was always in the Indian tongue. The time seemed endless before the sun began to sink beyond the low hills on their left. It was an intense relief to James when Nat said at last : "The time is just at hand now, cap. The redskins are tired of waiting. At least they think that they had better not put it off any longer. They know as v/ell as we do that it won't do to wait till it gets dark. Do you see that canoe that came out last is paddling down towards us? It looks as if it were drifting, but I have seen them dip a paddle in sev al times. The others are pulling up their lines so as to be in readiness to join in. Get your piece ready to pick up, and aim the moment I give the word. They think they are going to surprise us, but we must be first with them. don't seem Scouting on Lake Champlain 253 Go on with your fishing, and just drop your line overboard when you pick up your gun." The canoe approached slowly until it was within thirty yards. James and his companions went on with their fish- ing as if they did not notice the approach of the other canoe, until one of the Indians spoke. •* Have my Indian brothers caught many fish?" "A goodish few," Nat replied. "One or two of them are large ones. See here," and he stooped as if to select a large fish. ** Now," he said suddenly. In an instant the three rifles were levelled to the shoulder and pointed at the Indians. The latter, taken completely by surprise, and finding themselves with three barrels levelled at them, as by one accord dived overboard. "Now your paddles," Nat exclaimed. Three strokes sent the canoe dancing up to that which the Indians had just left. It struck it on the broad side and rolled it instantly over. " Those redskin guns are out of the way anyhow," Nat said. ** Now we have got to row for it." He gave a sharp turn to the canoe as he spoke, and it bounded away towards the right, thereby throwing those outside it on their quarter. Simultaneously with the upset of the canoe half a dozen rifles rang out from the shore, an Indian warwhoop rose at the edge of the woods, and a minute later half a dozen canoes shot out from shore. fV ^ r ■p^ i % ,, i*\^^:i t ''^ 11 I II CHAPTER XV Through Many Perils The course Nat was taking was not parallel to that of the boats outside him. He was sheering gradually out into the lake, and although the boat was travelling somewhat faster than its pursuers James saw that its course would carry it across their bows at a dangerously close distance. The Indians were not long in seeing that the canoe was outstripping them, and in each of the boats one of the red- skins laid aside his paddle and began to fire. The balls struck the water near the canoe, but no one was hit. '* Let them fire," Jonathan said ; "it ain't every man as can shoot straight from a canoe going at racing pace. The more they fires the better; they will only fall further behind." After firing two or three shots each the Indians appeared to be of the same opinion, and resumed their paddles; but they had lost so much ground that the canoe they were in chase of shot out into the lake fifty yards ahead of the nearest. Some more shots were fired, and then the Indians began hastily to throw the fish with which their canoes were laden into the water. After paddling two or three hundred yards farther Nat laid in his paddle. " Out with them fish," he said. " You can leave one or two for supper, but the rest must go overboard. Be quick about it, for those canoes from the shore are coming up fast." The work was concluded just as the canoes with the Owl and his warriors came up with the others, which, having 264 Through Many Perils 255 now got rid of their fish, again set out, and in a close body the ten canoes started in pursuit. "Paddle steady," Nat said; "and whatever you do, be keerful of your blades. If one was to break now it would mean the loss of our scalps. Don't gain on 'em ; as long as the redskins on shore think as their friends are going to catch us, they won't care to put out and join in the chase ; but if they thought we was getting away they might launch canoes ahead of us and cut us off. The nearer we are to them the better as long as we are keeping ahead." For an hour the chase continued. The Indians, although straining every nerve, did not gain a foot upon the fugitives, who, although paddling hard, had still some reserve of strength. The sun by this time was touching the tops of the hills. "Now, cap," Nat said, "it's time to teach 'em as we can bite a bit. They won't be quite so hot over it if we give them a lesson now. Do you turn round and pepper them a bit. Now, old boss ! you and I must row all we know for a bit." Turning himself in the canoe, resting his elbow on his knee to steady his rifle, James took as careful an aim as the dancing motion of the boat permitted, and fired. A dull sound came back like an echo to the crack of the piece, and a paddle in the leading boat fell into the water; a yell arose from the Indians, but no answering shout came back. The Indians were now paddling even harder than before, in hope of overtaking the canoe, now that it was impelled by but two rowers. But the scouts were rowing their hardest, and proved the justice of their fame as the best paddlers on the lakes, by maintaining their distance from their pursuers. Again and again James fired, several of his bullets taking effect. It was now rapidly becoming dusk. "That will do, captain; we had best be showing them our heels now, and get as far ahtad as we can by the time it is quite dark." •|l'^ I I ll Jfllpp w^ 256 With Wolfe in Canada Wi '\ I I :% James laid by his rifle and again took his paddle, and as all were rowing at the top of their speed they gradually in- creased the distance between themselves and their pursuers. Rapidly the gap of water widened, and when darkness fell on the lake the fugitives were more than half a mile ahead of their pursuers. The night was dark, and a light mist rising from the water further aided them. When night had set in the pursuing canoes could no longer be seen. For another half- hour they paddled on without inter- mitting their efforts, then to James's surprise Nat turned the head of the canoe to the western shore. He asked no question, however, having perfect faith in Nat's sagacity. They were nearly in the middle of the lake when they altered their course, and it took them half an hour's hard paddling before the dark mass of trees loomed up in the darkness ahead of him. Ten minutes before Nat had passed the word that they should paddle quietly and noiselessly. It was certain that the chase would be eagerly watched from the shore, and that any Indians there might be in the wood would be closely watching near the water's edge. Accordingly, as noiselessly as possible they approached the shore, and gliding in between the overhanging trees laid the canoe alongside a clump of bushes, then without a word being spoken they laid in their paddles and stretched themselves full length in the canoe. James was glad of the rest, for, trained and hard as were his muscles, he was exhausted by the long strain of the row for life. He guessed that Nat would calculate that the Indian canoes would scatter when they lost sight of them, and that they would seek for them more closely on the eastern shore. At the same time he was surprised that after once getting out of sight of their pursuers Nat had not imme- diately landed on the opposite shore and started on foot through the woods. After recovering his breath James sat up and listened attentively. Once or twice he thought he heard the sound Through Many Perils 257 of a dip of a paddle out on the lake, but he could not be sure of it, while from time to time he heard the croak of a frog", sometimes near, sometimes at a distance along the shore. He would have thought little of this had not a slight pressure of Jonathan's hand against his foot told him that these were Indian signals. Some hours passed before Nat made a move, then he touched Jonathan and sat up in the canoe; the signal was passed on to James, the paddles were noiselessly taken up, and without a sound that could be detected by the most closely-listening ear, the canoe stole out again on to the lake. Until some distance from shore they paddled very quietly, then gradually the strokes grew more vigorous until the canoe was flying along at full speed up the lake, her course being laid so as to cross very gradually towards the eastern side. It was not until, as James judged, they must have been several miles from the point at which they had started that they approached the eastern shore. They did so with the same precautions which had been adopted on the other side, and sat listening intently before they gave the last few strokes which took them to the shore. Quietly they stepped out, and the two scouts, lifting the canoe on their shoulders, carried it some fifty yards into the forest and laid it down among some bushes. Then they proceeded on their way, Nat walking first, James following him so close that he was able to touch him, for in the thick darkness under the trees he could not perceive even the outlines of his figure. Jonathan followed close behind. Their progress was slow, for even the trained woodsmen could with difficulty make their way through the trees, and Nat's only index as to the direction to be taken lay in the feel of the bark of the trunks. After an hour's progress he whispered : "We will stop here till daylight; we can't do any good at the work. We haven't made half a mile since we started." (887) t7 ^ I li;....^':; 258 With Wolfe in Canada It was a positive relief to James to hear the scout's voice, for not a single word had been spoken since they lost sight of their pursuers in the darkness. The fact that he had ventured now to speak showed that he believed that they were comparatively safe. "May I speak, Nat?" he asked after they had seated themselves on the ground. "Ay, you may speak, captain, but don't you raise your voice above a whisper; there is no saying what redskin ears may be near us. I guess these forests are pretty well alive with them. You may bet there isn't a redskin or one of the irregular Canadian bands but is out arter us to- night. The warwhoop and the rifles will have put them all on the lookout. They will have seen that we were pretty well holding our own, and will guess that when night came on we should give the canoes the slip. I guess they will have placed a lot of canoes and flatboats across the lake opposite Crown Point, for they will know that we should either head back or take to the woods. I guess most of the redskins near Crown Point will have crossed over at this point, as in course we were more likely to land on this side. I had a mighty good mind to land whar we was over there, but there are sure to be such a heap of Indians making their way up that side from Montreal that I judge this will be the best; but we shall have all we can do to get free of them." "Why didn't you land at once, Nat, after we lost sight of them instead of crossing over?" "Because that's where they will reckon we shall land, captain, that's where they will look for our tracks the first thing in the morning, and they will know that we can't travel far such a dark night as this, and they will search every inch of the shore for three or four miles below where they lost sight of us, to find where we landed. They would know well e;:ough we couldn't get ashore without leaving tracks as they would make out, and they would *■• % da !ar the scout's ^ou raise your what redskin ire pretty well ■edskin or one t arter us to- ave put them :hat we were ss that when slip. I guess tboats across inow that we ds. I guess have crossed likely to land and whar we :h a heap of lontreal that 'e all we can Through Many Perils reckon to pick ud ^ '0 overtake us before we "ad ^o' ^"""^^ '" "'« >vood and «e we have doubled on them ^ T. """'^ '""«>'• Now ^ou a good Jong stretch tr. ^ " ^"® mornini' hut .f "-ayn't strike on our ,/h°'"'' """ '^ «^ have'"l'uck .h! ^i-y'ifht. ,„ courT; th;' ZT'h> '°' '"""^ ^-" aft^ f'"" "S a chance anyhol I i°" '' «'''««'•; ''till it wenty miles less to trave7lhror^'"=u """'»' '''- ^e have W to start up there, I,d?haf^ ' ^°°''' '^an if w* the bad luck to come acrnL "' " »'« don't have With the first dawn of m^ • Stnking straight back into Tr^^ ''7 "^''^ °° ^^eir way ''"t with the irreatp!:^ "^""^^^ ^^ey walked Z^" -^|n. bends aK: J^ prrentT""' --'- 'We to do had they walked in =, . ^^ *""''' have been e ground was soft they wa Ld f5 ' ''"'■ Wheneve ?-^rf^iHHr?^^ri^5 :^p-.tenmLi:t^rdr:Xtn^^^ 7ybe^hr"for fou'r'hrsV;'^ ""J'" '^^ -'<<: "they ,f ce and find the can': " do;." f *=^ ''t - our l^nd j! '0 follow our trail-there a „ ', ^ "" ""^^ ^on't be able '^"