Chapter XVIII
The _Osprey_, of Plymouth
It must have been a good two hours that I slept. I woke with a start,with a sense of some duty left undone. I was in an awkward position,half on my side amid stones and underbrush, my arms clasping the bundleof herbage which I had meant for Mizpah's pillow. The daylight wasfairly established, blue and cold, though the sun was not yet visible.The gale hummed shrilly as ever, the huge waves thundered on thetrembling beach, and all seaward was such a white and purple hell ofraving waters that I shuddered at the sight of it. Mizpah was stillsleeping. As I looked at her the desire for sleep came over me againwith deadly strength, but I resisted it, rushing down to the edge ofthe surf, and facing a chill buffet of driven spume. I took anotherglance at the canoe. It was past mending. The two muskets were there,but everything else was gone, washed away, or ground upon the rocks.After much searching, however, to my delight I found a battered roll ofbacon wedged into a cleft. Pouncing upon this, I bore it in triumph toMizpah.
"Wake up, comrade," I cried, shaking her softly. "We must be gettingaway."
The poor girl roused herself with difficulty, and sat up. When shetried to stand, she toppled over, and would have fallen if I had notcaught her by the arms. It was some minutes before she could controlthe stiffness of her limbs. At last the whipping of the wind somewhatrevived her, and sitting down upon a rock she looked about with a faceof hopeless misery.
"Eat a little," said I, gently, "for we must get away from here atonce, lest our enemies come over the hills to look for us."
But she pushed aside the untempting, sodden food which I held out toher.
"Whither shall we go?" she asked heavily. "The canoe is wrecked. Howcan we find my boy? Oh, I wish I could die!"
Poor girl! my heart ached for her. I knew how her utter and terribleexhaustion had at last sapped that marvellous courage of hers; but Ifelt that roughness would be her best tonic, though it was far indeedfrom my heart to speak to her roughly.
"Shame!" said I, in a voice of stern rebuke. "Have you struggled andendured so long, to give up now? Will you leave Philip to the savagesbecause a canoe is broken? Where is your boasted courage? Why, wewill walk, instead of paddling. Come at once."
Even this rebuke but half aroused her. "I'm so thirsty," she said,looking around with heavy eyes. By good Providence, there was aslender stream trickling in at this point, and I led her to it. Whileshe drank and bathed her face, I grubbed in the long grasses growingbeside the stream, and found a handful of those tuberous roots whichthe Indians call ground-nuts. These I made her eat, after which shewas able to endure a little of the salt bacon. Presently, she becamemore like herself, and began to grieve at the weakness which she hadjust shown. Her humiliation was so deep that I had much ado to comforther, telling her again and again that she was not responsible for whatshe had said when she was yet but half awake, and in the bonds of aweariness which would have killed most women. I told her, which wasnothing less than true, that I held her for the bravest of women, andthat no man could have supported me better than she had done.
We pushed our way straight over the height of land which runs seawardand ends in Cape Merigomish. Our way lay through a steep but pleasantwoodland, and by the time the sun was an hour high we had walked offmuch of our fatigue. The tree tops rocked and creaked high above us,but where we walked the wind troubled us not.
"Where are we going?" asked Mizpah, by and by--somewhat tremulously forshe still had in mind my censure.
"Why, comrade," said I, in a cheerful, careless manner of speech, athousand miles away from the devotion in my heart,--"my purpose is topush straight along the coast to Canseau. There we will find a few ofyour country-folk, fishermen mostly, and from them we will get a boatto carry us up the Bras d'Or."
"But what will become of Philip, all this time?" she questioned, withhaggard eyes.
"As a matter of fact," I answered, "I don't think we will lose muchtime, after all. If we still had the canoe, we would be storm-bound inthe bay back there till the wind changes or subsides--and it may bedays before it does the one or the other. As it is, the worst that hasbefallen us is the loss of our ammunition and our bread. But we willmake shift to live, belike, till we reach Canseau."
"Oh, Monsieur," she cried, in answer, with a great emotion in hervoice, "you give me hope when my despair is blackest. You seem to memore generous, more brave, more strong, than I had dreamed the greatestcould be. What makes you so good to an unhappy mother, so faithfullydevoted to a poor baby whom you have never seen?"
"Tut, tut!" said I, roughly; "I but do as any proper minded man woulddo that had the right skill and the fitting opportunity. Thank Marc!"But I might have told her more if I had let my heart speak truth.
"I know whom to thank, and all my life long will I pray Heaven to blessthat one!" said Mizpah.
Thus talking by the way, but most of the way silent, we came at lengthover Merigomish and down to the sea again, fetching the shore at thehead of a second bay. This was all in a smother and a roar, like thatwe had just left behind. As we rounded the head of it, we came upon alittle sheltered creek, and there, safe out of the gale, lay a smallNew England fishing schooner. I knew her by the build for a NewEnglander, before I saw the words OSPREY, PLYMOUTH, painted in redletters on her stern.
"Here is fortune indeed!" said I, while a cry of gladness sprang toMizpah's lips. "I'll charter the craft to take us up the Bras d'Or."
The little ship lay in a very pleasant idleness. The small haven wasfull of sun, the green, wooded hills sloping softly down about it andshutting off all winds. The water heaved and rocked; but smoothly,stirred by the yeasty tumult that roared past the narrow entrance. Theclamour of the surf outside made the calm within the more excellent.
Several gray figures of the crew lay sprawling about the deck, which wecould see very well, by reason of the steepness of the shore on whichwe stood. In the waist was a gaunt, brown-faced man, with a scant,reddish beard, a nose astonishingly long and sharp, and a blue woollencap on the back of his head. He stood leaning upon the rail watchingus, and spitting contemplatively into the water from time to time.
We climbed down to the beach beside the schooner, and I spoke to theman in English.
"Are you the captain?" I asked civilly.
"They do say I be," he answered in a thin, high, sing-song of a voice."Captain Ezra Bean, Schooner _Osprey_, of Plymouth, at your sarvice."And he waved his hand with a spacious air.
I bowed with ceremony. "And I am your very humble servant," said I,"the Sieur de Briart, of Canard by Grand Pre. We were on our way toCanseau, but have lost our canoe and stores in the gale. We are boldto hope, Captain, that you will sell us some bread, as also some powderand bullets. We did not lose our little money, Heaven be praised!"
Knowing these New Englanders to be greedy of gain, but highly honest, Imade no scruple of admitting that we had money about us.
"Come right aboard, good sirs!" said the captain; and in half a minutethe gig, which floated at the stern, was thrust around to us, and weclambered to the deck of the _Osprey_, where crew and captain, five inall, gathered about us without ceremony. The captain, I could see atonce, was just one of themselves, obeyed when he gave orders, butstanding in no sort of formal aloofness. Cold salt beef, and biscuitand cheese, and tea, were soon set before us, and as we made a hastymeal they all hung about us and talked, as if we had been in one oftheir home kitchens on Massachusetts Bay. As for Mizpah, who feltlittle at ease in playing her man's part, she spoke only in French, andmade as if she knew no word of English. Captain Ezra Bean had someFrench, but no facility in it, and a pronunciation that was beyondmeasure execrable.
But at last, being convinced that they were honest fellows, I spoke ofchartering the _Osprey_, and in explanation told the main part of ourstory, representing Mizpah as a youth of Canard. But, alas, I had notread my men aright. Honest they were, and exceeding eager to turn anhonest penny,--but they
had not the stomach for fighting. When theyfound that a war party of Micmacs was in chase of us, they fell into agreat consternation, and insisted on our instant departure.
At this I was all taken aback, for I had ever found the men of NewEngland as diligent in war as in trade. But these fellows were in ashaking terror for their lives and for their ship.
"Why, gentlemen," I said, in a heat, "here are seven of us, well armed!We will make short work of the red rascals, if they are so foolhardy asto attack us."
But no! They would hear none of it.
"It's no quarrel of mine!" cried Captain Ezra Bean, in his highsing-song, but in a great hurry. "My dooty's to my ship. There's beenmany of our craft fell afoul of these here savages, and come to grief.We're fast right here till the wind changes, and we'll just speak theredskins fair if they come nigh us, an' there ain't goin' to be notrouble. But you must go your ways, gentlemen, begging your pardon;and no ill will, I hope!" And the boat being hauled around for us,they all made haste to bid us farewell.
Mizpah, with a flushed face, stepped in at once; but I hung back alittle, sick with their cowardly folly.
"At least," said I, angrily, "you must sell me a sack of bread, andsome powder and ball. Till I get them I swear I will not go."
"Sartinly!" sing-songed the captain; and in a twinkling the supplieswere in the boat. "Now go, and God speed ye!"
I slipped a piece of gold into his hand, and was off. But frightenedas he was, he was honest, and in half a minute he called me back.
"Here is your silver," came the queer, high voice over the rail. "Youhave overpaid me three times," and I saw his long arm reaching out tome.
"Keep it," I snapped. "We are in more haste to be gone than you to getrid of us."
In five minutes more the woods enfolded us, and the little _Osprey_ washid from our view. I walked violently in my wrathful disappointment,till at last Mizpah checked me. "If the good soldier," said she,"might advise his captain, which would be, of course, intolerable, Iwould dare to remind you of what you have said to me more than oncelately. Is not this pace too hot to last, Monsieur?" And stopping,she leaned heavily on her musket.
"Forgive me," I exclaimed, flinging myself down on the moss. "And whata fool I am to be angry, too, just because those poor bumpkins wouldn'ttake up our quarrel."
The look of gratitude which Mizpah gave me for that little phrase, "ourquarrel," made my heart on a sudden strong and light. Presently weresumed our journey, going moderately, and keeping enough inland toavoid the windings of the coast. The little _Osprey_ we never sawagain; but months later, when it came to my ears that a fishing vesselof Plymouth had been taken by the Indians that autumn whilestorm-stayed at Merigomish, and her crew all slain, I felt a qualm ofpity for the poor lads whose selfish fears had so misguided them.