The Plowshare and the Sword: A Tale of Old Quebec

  CHAPTER XIX.

  ENKINDLED.

  The raft of fire, which had been reported to the sachems as visibleupon the river, had indeed been ignited and started upon its course bythe hands of the Dutch, but without any idea of signalling to theirallies. The man who was chiefly instrumental in giving the signal,which Van Vuren had arranged for in the time of his power, had neverheard of that secret conspiracy which the action of the Englishventurers had brought to nought.

  Because the captain shrank from introducing his party into a campfriendly only in name, where friction between his men and those ofRoussilac might have occurred, the Dutchmen bivouacked upon theoutskirts of the forest, and while darkness surrounded them sat smokingsolemnly and chatting, altogether ignorant of the contemplated nativerising. These men were of all ages and drawn from almost every stationin life. The most prominent character was one Pieter von Donck, anelderly sailor of immense bulk, attired in the shapeless sack-coat,white tucker, and immense knee-breeches of the period. This man, soreport went, had touched at every known harbour in the world, hadexplored many an unknown tract of country, and was as well acquaintedwith the streets of New Amsterdam, its double-roofed church, itsbattery upon the hill, its toylike windmills, and its gallows besidethe wharf, as with the old-world town of Holland on the arm of theZuyder Zee. He had been sent out with Dutoit to act as guide for theexpedition, and it was well for the lieutenant that old Pieter had beenwith him, otherwise the entire party must have been lost. Von Donckwas very nearly as skilful as an Indian in picking up a trail, and tohis more unenlightened comrades his knowledge of locality savoured ofwitchcraft. Van Vuren and his lieutenant were conversing at a littledistance from the big circle, the former frequently consulting a scrapof vellum covered with names and lines, the first map of the greateastern coast which had ever been designed.

  "Yonder is a mighty precipice," observed presently one of the youngestof the soldiers, nodding his head gravely in the direction of theheights. "How the folk at home would marvel, could they but see whatwe look upon daily in this land."

  "What say you, boy? What say you?" cried Von Donck, aroused from hismusings by this criticism. "What! call you yonder hill a precipice?How would you name the cliffs of Jersey, had you seen them as I, Pietervon Donck, saw them from the ship _Goede Vrouw_? Should you but crossthe expanse of Tapaan Bay, as I have done, should you enter the defilesof the Highlands and see the wigwams of the Iroquois perched among thecliffs like nests of eagles, should you see the black thunder-cloudschasing the hobgoblins among the Kaatskills, as I, Pieter von Donck,have seen them, then methinks, boy, you might sit among old travellersand talk to them the night."

  The old sailor's voice was thick, and he snorted like an ox between hiswords.

  "'Tis given to few to venture as you have done," spoke a conciliatoryvoice from the circle. "Tell us now somewhat of your journey upHudson's River, good Piet."

  "A weird river, they tell me," said another voice.

  "True! true!" snorted the voyageur. "A river of ghosts and devils. Ariver which changes the flow of its tide 'gainst all nature. A riverwhich shoals or deepens in an hour, to hold the explorer back, or tolure him into the heart of a storm. 'Tis a river which few dare totempt. But I, Pieter von Donck, went up it under a master who, despitehis English blood, was the bravest man upon this earth. Ay, but I saweven his cheek whiten, when we reached the whirlpools at the end of theknown world, and yet saw no sea ahead."

  "Who was that master?" asked the young man who had opened theconversation.

  A derisive laugh sounded, followed by Von Donck's booming reproach:

  "Young man, have you no pride in the doings of the great? Hast neverheard the name of Hendrick Hudson?"

  "I knew not that you had been with him," muttered the youth.

  "Before Marie von Toit, your mother, was weaned I crossed the seas,"snorted the old man, smiling into the fire. "What Dutchman has notheard of the ship which brought me over, the _Goede Vrouw_, which liesas I speak a-rotting within the wooden harbour of New Amsterdam? SanNicolas was her figure-head, the good saint who guided us through allperils, and to whom upon landing we erected a chapel within sight ofthe sea. He is the patron of our first settlement in this new world,and shall remain so for ever. Now they call him Santa Claus, and thechildren of New Amsterdam hang up each one a stocking in thechimney-side on San Nicolas' Eve, for the good saint is a lover ofchildren, and rides that night over the houses, his wide breechesfilled with gifts, which he lets fall down the chimneys and so into thestockings hung to receive them. All the city is a-laughing withchildren on the morn of San Nicholas' Day."

  "Gives he then nothing to the elder folk?" asked one.

  "'Twas once his custom to do so, when he could find an industrious bodywho spoke no evil of his neighbour," said Von Donck. "But he has muchado to find such now."

  "Didst ever see the storm ship upon Hudson's River?" a listenerdemanded.

  The old sailor pulled himself round to face the speaker.

  "What story is this?" he muttered.

  "There is a ship which haunts that river and comes a-sailing by nightor day, running 'gainst both wind and tide, her deck crowded withDutchmen who neither move nor speak. She comes before a storm, andgoes while men gaze, like a flash of light."

  Pieter von Donck grinned.

  "Will call me a phantom, brave boys? Here you shall find enough soundflesh to make two men as good as any," he said, slapping his mightythighs. "That ship is surely none other than the _Half Moon_ herself.Know you not that Hudson and his crew haunt the Kaatskills? O' nightsthe good ship, which lies sunken at the end of the world, rises, andthe ghosts of my master and my mates pass from the phantom deck totheir revels within the mountains, and back ere morning to theirgraves. Peace be to them, brave fellows all!

  "Twenty-nine years past," Von Donck went on, in his strident voice,which brought Van Vuren near to listen, "we cast away from our new cityon the island, and sailed westward to discover the overland passage toChina. In a day we had left the land of the Manhattoes far astern, andwith a favouring breeze had run under the palisadoes, a wall of rock,young friend, which makes yonder height seem to my eye no greater thanan ant-mound. The solitude unmanned all, save Hudson, who walked thedeck, swearing that he would reach the sea if he had to explore tillJudgment Day. Awful was that silence when our ship entered the shadowof the Highlands, where the falling of a rope upon deck broke intoechoes among the hills, and over the river came a noise as of demonslaughing. The terror of the New World was upon us, and when we sangour chanties, heaving the lead or drawing in sail, we would fain havestopped our ears, so terrible were the voices which answered us fromthe shore."

  "Was there no talk of turning back?"

  "There was no turning back with Hendrick Hudson. He strode the deckday and night, and at his every order the black rocks pealed and theprecipices shrieked, though the weather would be calm and the wind notmore than a whisper. We held on our course until a storm seized andflung us upon the shore; and there we made landing, in a place wheresnakes darted their heads at us, and having built us a fire under thebasswoods, cooked food and dried our clothes.

  "'This mountain country is the place for me,' cried Hudson. 'Heremight we spend a free life, my sailors, hunting by day, and at sport bynight. Bring out our pipes and liquor from the ship, and in thishollow let us rest until the storm clouds pass.'

  "So we remained there three days, chasing bears by light, spending thedark hours around the fire, smoking our long pipes, and playing atbowls, the favourite game of our master; and the mountains thundered,and the goblin voices shrieked with every gust of wind. A fearsomeplace, that dripping rock-forest at the end of the world. Upon thethird night came Indians to our camp, two sachems old and cunning, whodemanded by what right we had brought ourselves into their land. I cansee the face of Hudson now, with its straight black beard and hardblack eyes, and the angry twitch of his mouth, a trick of his whencrossed, as he answered them.
'We are Dutch,' quoth he. 'And if therebe any new passage across this world Dutchmen shall find it.' Then thesachems came down from the rocks, and cursed him and his crew, swearingto call up spirits of river and wind which should fight against ourship. Hudson threatened them with the sword--there was methinks toomuch hot English blood in our captain--and the next day we remanned the_Half Moon_, and sailed away against the stream.

  "A wind struck us, and the horse-shoe which had been nailed to the mastbefore starting dropped with a fearful clanging upon deck. We sang thehymn to San Nicolas, and fastened the horse-shoe anew, but again itfell. The Indian spirits were making mischief in the wind. The daybecame dark; the sun went out; but Hudson bade us cram on sail, becauseevery hour he looked to hear the roar of the sea. 'And then for China,my men,' cried he.

  "We ran into whirlpools and cross currents, and the _Half Moon_ struckfull upon a rock in the middle of the stream. The water roared around,and I swam for my life through darkness, seeing no man, dreading everyinstant lest a hand should seize my heel and drag me down. I reachedthe shore, and there found a companion, who had saved himself as I haddone. Of our ship and mates we could find no trace, therefore we setout together, and made a great journey overland, until by the grace ofGod we saw the tower of the church of San Nicolas lit by the morningsun, and the good folk of New Amsterdam coming out to greet us as menbrought back from the dead."

  Von Donck drew a flaming stick from the fire and relighted his rolledtobacco leaf. A circle of solemn faces was set towards him.

  "The _Half Moon_ yet sails upon Hudson's River," remarked the sailorwho had questioned the voyageur concerning the storm ship. "She ridesout of a thunder-cloud, her sails flying against the wind, the menstaring over her side. One Sunday in the morn, when the folk were atchurch and the dominie was preaching--such is the tale I haveheard--there sounded a mighty wind, and the building grew creepingdark. Upon that a man ran in, crying, 'A ship! A Dutch ship sailingby!' The dominie and all ran into the gloom of mid-day and saw avessel riding against the tide, full of men in wide breeches andsugar-loaf hats, with faces as white as wool. Some of the bolderyouths manned a boat, and rowed out signalling, but the stranger gavethem no heed. Sometimes she would appear so nigh to them that theycould mark the flakes rotting from her beams and the weeds trailinground her bows, and the same minute she would appear as though half amile away. And while they still rowed after her, they heard a noise asof iron ringing upon her deck and straightway she rode into a cloud andvanished. And afterwards came a great storm which wrecked close upon ascore of houses."

  "The old ship," muttered Von Donck, his eyes astray, his cheeks lessruddy than their wont. "'Twas the sound of the horse-shoe falling todeck which the rowers heard. Hudson swore in the face of Heaven thathe would make that passage. Mayhap he still strives, the storm holdinghim back from the unknown north-west for ever."

  As the old sailor ceased to speak Van Vuren advanced, the strip ofvellum between his fingers, and stood a sharp figure in the firelight.The men ceased their mutterings and leaned forward to hear what theirleader had to say.

  "Our expedition upon this land has failed, my men," he cried. "Ourship lies burnt, our comrades are lost, we are not strong enough towithstand the French. Shall we now make a journey through the unknownland, and so down to our own free colony, through which pours Hudson'sriver, of which I have heard you speak? Let us strive together to gainthe island of the Manhattoes, where our city of New Amsterdam smilesupon the sea."

  The Dutchmen did not break into a shout as Englishmen might have done,nor did they raise a noisy chatter after the manner of the French.They looked on one another with grave faces, and each man puffed hissmoke more heavily. Finally old Pieter von Donck snorted and spoke:

  "I have played the pioneer before to-day, captain. 'Twould gladden myeyes to see again the tower of San Nicolas by the sea."

  "Then let us away before morning," said Van Vuren.

  Boats of the fishermen were drawn along the white road of shore, andthese the Dutchmen requisitioned for crossing. They worked warily,fearful of seeing the flash of torches along the path beneath thecliff. The river brimmed and the stream flung down with a ceaselessundertone.

  "What have we here?" snorted Von Donck, while he groped under thegloomy wall.

  A number of dry logs, crossed and pinned together by wooden wedges, layupon the gravel spit, piled with dry grass and resinous boughsinterlaced. Beside were lengths of pine to act as rollers forlaunching. The mass of inflammable material rose high. Torches werepressed between two stones beside the logs.

  "'Tis but the raft made to give signal to the Iroquois tribes,"explained the lieutenant.

  "To the water with it," cried a voice.

  "Peace, fool. The French have sentries posted."

  "Fire it," snorted Von Donck. "Let not so much good work be spent invain. Will float it upon the French man-o'-war for a parting message."

  Eager hands set in place the rollers, and soon the unwieldy massgrumbled riverwards. It nosed into the water and settled with asplash, riding deep because the logs had weight. Flint and steelstruck, a shower of sparks rained upon the catch-fire, the torches wereignited. At a word the grass flared, and the raft, released, struckupon a rock, turned slowly, and raced down stream, a red and yellowsheet of fire under a whirling canopy of smoke, straight for thelantern which marked the presence of the man-of-war.

  "To the boats!" whispered Van Vuren.

  A cry was raised above, and soon the answering voices resembled achorus of daws frightened round a dark steeple by the shadow of a birdof prey. While the Dutch were floundering in mid-stream a brass gunthundered. The column of fire swept on, illuminating the seamed wall,and throwing into black contrast the trees on the opposite shore.

  As the laughing Dutchmen reached land a terrific din from the hemlockforest shocked the night, and this wild revelry became each moment moreterrible, until the wind seemed to cease to breathe.

  The raft was opposite the landing-stage, burning rapidly down to thewater, casting out flakes of fire and wisps of blazing grass. Lightsflashed confusedly upon the heights, and the tramp of armed men carriedsolemnly across the river.

  "The Iroquois are coming out!" cried Van Vuren.

  "Let us wait like vultures for the pickings," muttered the lieutenantat his side.

  "Vultures!" shrieked a malignant voice. "A good word, traitors."

  The men swung round and stared into the gloom. Upon a point of rockthey saw Gaudriole, squatting like a toad, his features half lit by theglow of his pipe.

  "The plain of Tophet lies ahead," he snarled at them. "Others may playat fire as well as ye."

  He sprang up and danced furiously upon the rock.

  "Slay me that hunchback," shouted Van Vuren in a rage.

  His men ran at the rock. Gaudriole spat at them like a cat andvanished among the scrub.

  A wave of smoke fanned over the ridge. A deep glow, waving up and downlike a red rag, grew along the southern sky, advancing storm-like,deepening in colour.

  The bush had been fired.