The Span o' Life: A Tale of Louisbourg & Quebec
CHAPTER IX
"JOY AND SORROW ARE NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS"
As I had not been in the habit of asking favours of my superiors,permission was readily given that the English lad should be allowedto share my quarters with me.
I set my servant to work arranging for his comfort, and we sate inmy little garden, I dying with curiosity to hear what lucky chancehad blown him hither.
"Where is your mother, Kit?" I asked.
At this his eyes filled and his lips trembled, and for some momentshe could not reply, during which I was unable to suppress a selfishhope that perchance my time of probation had ended.
"Mother is lost," he answered, at last. "But let me start fair."I was pleased to mark the boy spake with an easy address, for Ihate the taint of servility above all things. "Ever since I hadgrown up I have been begging her to let me get to sea, and at lengthshe yielded, in part to my entreaties, and in part to the wishesof some members of The Society who had settled in Boston, in theProvince of Massachusetts, and agreed to come out to them. For me,anything answered that would give me my wish, and I did not seethat it mattered whether she was among Methodists in England, oramong Methodists in America."
"You are right, my lad; I imagine they would make the world muchof a likeness wherever they might be."
He answered nothing to my observation, but went on:
"At length all our preparations were complete, and we left in Junelast in a wretched old craft, called the _African Chief_, so illfound that she was dismasted and disabled in the first gale we metwith.
"We were captured, or rather rescued, three days later by this veryship I have just come in, and the hulk was rerigged and sent backto France a prize, with her unfortunate crew and passengers asprisoners. From this fate my mother and I were preserved throughthe kindness of a French lady, who took compassion on mother asthe only woman on board, and offered to take her as her waiting-woman,and I was allowed to accompany her. Anything was better than thecertainty of a prison in France."
"What was the lady's name, Kit? I may know her."
"'Pon my word, sir, I am ashamed to say I don't know myself. Therewere no others of her condition on board, and she was addressed byevery one simply as 'Madame.' and I never thought of asking mymother."
"Never mind; go on."
"We were treated with every kindness, and Madame showed everyconceivable consideration for my poor mother, while I made friendswith all on board, and soon learned enough French to find my wayabout ship. Madame and my poor mother found the length of thevoyage tedious to a degree, but I loved every hour of it. Weunfortunately ran short of water, as our casks had so strainedduring a heavy gale we encountered they lost all or most of theircontents. Besides this mischief, the gale drove us so far out ofour course to the north, that our captain determined to run intothe Baie des Chaleurs for a fresh supply of water.
"This we did, and there found it in abundance; and after the boatshad begun to pass backward and forward, and we were convinced therewas no danger, Madame and mother were allowed to have their wishand leave the ship for a ramble on shore. At first they stayedwithin sight, but gradually gaining courage, they strayed awayunnoticed by any of us for some time. When they were missed, aninstant search was made, and we started through the woods hallooingand firing our pieces, but without result; at length some of thesailors, who had been in those parts before, discovered a placewhere they said Indians had lately camped. We soon found furthertraces that confirmed this, and at last a small gray tippet whichI knew to be mother's, and we were no longer in doubt.
"I was wild to keep at the search, but the others persuaded me itwas useless to do so, that these savages wandered over the wholecountry, and would certainly carry their prisoners to some postwhere they would claim a reward, especially if they thought theywere English, which might well be the case; and in any event therewas no danger of their lives, as these savages never illtreat whitewomen, except in attack. Anxious as I was, I could not but agreethat they were right, and so said no more; but now I am content toremain here, as I have a better chance of hearing news than ifexchanged for some French prisoner, as we were hoping all the wayout."
Although I had not the same confidence as the boy, I encouragedhim in his hopefulness, and in turn told him of my own doings sinceI had left their roof in London.
My whole existence now took on a different aspect; my duties werein no degree onerous; and Kit, the dear boy, so won every heartthat he was looked upon as a guest of the whole garrison, ratherthan a prisoner. No restrictions were placed upon his movements,and we roamed over the whole country with our fowling-pieces orangles, and many a fine string of trout did we present to Madamede Drucour and other friends.
We explored the country from Louisbourg to Mire, and there we fellin with Sarennes and his following, with whom Kit was delightedbeyond measure; and indeed there was much in the Canadian to attractthose who did not look beyond the externals. He fairly enchantedthe boy with his tales of savage life, his exhibition of his wildfollowers, and his skill in woodcraft and the chase, and I soonfelt that Kit was revolving some plan for discovering the whereaboutsof his mother through his aid.
This was the one flaw in my happiness. If I had not wished for herdeath, I had at least hoped never to hear of her again, and indeedthere seemed but little likelihood of it in this remote quarter,but every inquiry on the part of Kit gave me fresh uneasiness. Thishe was quick to perceive, but as I had never given him an inklingof the reason, he put my holding to him down to the liking of asolitary exile for one of his own kind.
Sarennes, too, saw my fondness for the lad, and took a pleasure inattracting him from me on every possible excuse; but it was notuntil a dinner given by M. de Drucour at the New Year that I sawhow far his petty cruelty could go.
With an air of assumed geniality he said to the Commandant: "M.de Drucour, before I start on my expedition to-morrow, I am temptedto ask for a volunteer in the English lad Christopher. He is anxiousto go, and I shall be pleased to have him."
"But, monsieur, you can hardly have him without me, for I amresponsible to M. de Drucour for his safe-keeping," I broke in,with a chilling fear at my heart that my one treasure in the worldwould be imperilled in such treacherous hands.
"M. de Maxwell seems over-fond of this prisoner," sneered M. Prevost,who was an unwelcome guest, but could not well be left out on anofficial occasion. "A too-lenient jailer may be even more dangerousthan his prisoner at times," he went on; and I saw that furtherdiscussion might only precipitate matters, when I stood in sodelicate a position; for a soldier in foreign service, no matterwhat his merit, is ever a ready object of suspicion.
However, M. de Drucour turned matters by addressing me in his usualcourteous and friendly manner: "With these rumours of war in thespring, have you had no inspiration for your Muse, Chevalier?"
"I have a song, if you will not hold the end a reflection on oursurroundings," I replied. "However, remember that it is not I, butmy sword, that sings, and, I am afraid, only strikes a note commonto us all."
I regret I cannot give the graceful French couplets into whichMadame de Drucour had obligingly turned my verses, and so cleverlypreserved all the fire and strength of my original, which must nowserve as it was written.
"In Spanish hands I've bent and swung With Spanish grace and skill; I've scoured Lepanto of the Turk, And Spain of Boabdil; I've clanged throughout the Low Countrie; I've held the Spanish Main;-- Ferrara made and fashioned me, In Cordova, In Spain.
"In Scottish hands I've saved the pride That else had starved at home, When under Bourbon's banner wide We swept through Holy Rome; In private fight I've cleared the slight That Beauty's brow would stain;-- Ferrara made and fashioned me, In Cordova, in Spain.
"At Killiecrankie with Dundee I've struck for James the King; The blood-red waters of the Boyne Have heard my metal ring; Again with Mar at Sherriff-muir I've raised the olden strain;-- Ferrara made and fashioned
me, In Cordova, in Spain.
"Along the line at Fontenoy I've flashed in wild parade, When on the English columns fell The strength of Clare's Brigade; I've stood for Bonnie Charles until Culloden's fatal plain;-- Ferrara made and fashioned me, In Cordova, in Spain.
"But now in exiled hands I rust Beside the salt sea's marge, And though I dream of trumpet call, Of rally, and of charge, Of screaming fife, and throbbing drum, As troops defile in train,-- I wake to hear the wailing moan Of the imprisoning Main-- Dead is all Glory! Dead all Fame! Will never sound that song again-- That great, world-wakening refrain?-- Ferrara made and fashioned me, In Cordova, in Spain."
There was a spontaneous outburst of applause as I ended, for I hadseldom made a better effort, and my closing lines but echoed asentiment common to us all--that is, of all of us who were soldiers.Such a creature as Prevost could never have a generous impulse stirthe weighing-machine which served him in lieu of a soul; and Sarenneswas spoiled for nobler aims by the debasing influence of la petiteguerre, dear to all Canadians. So M. Prevost saw fit to refrainfrom all applause; and Sarennes, foolish boy, for boy he was, inspite of his thirty years, was ill-bred enough to follow his example.
"M. Prevost, surely you are over-critical when you do not applaud,"said M. de St. Julhien, banteringly. "Remember we are not in therue St. Honore, though I would trust this voice even there."
"You have more faith in that, then, than he has in his sword. Heputs it in Spanish and Scotch hands. Why not in French?" snappedout the little centipede, virulently.
"Possibly there are some French hands in which he would not trustit," retorted M. de Julhien, to our great delight.
"Do your words bear that construction?" asked the nettled Commissary,turning on me.
"Possibly, too, M. de Maxwell may think it is not to be trusted insome Canadian hands," broke in Sarennes, with a hectoring air.
"Now, gentlemen," I returned, "you are coming too fast with yourquestions. As for you, M. de Sarennes, I once offered you some goodadvice which you did not see fit to follow, and now, even at therisk of having it similarly disregarded, I will proffer more; whichis, not to expose yourself to punishment for the impertinences ofothers. As for your question, when I have had some more satisfactoryexperience of Canadians, I shall know better how to answer it."
"And has not your experience of me been satisfactory, monsieur?"said he, pluming up again.
"You are perfectly qualified to answer that question, yourself,"I replied, looking "blank requisitions" at him so pointedly thathe simply reddened to the roots of his black hair and held histongue, to the amazement of all who had hoped for some furtheramusement.
"As for your question, M. Prevost," I continued, rounding on him,"I made no reflection on Frenchmen in general. They are my comrades,my brothers-in-arms!" I said, playing to the company at large, bywhom my sentiment was greeted with a burst of applause. "As toFrenchmen in particular, I have known some who were so dangerouswith the pen that I would indeed hesitate to trust them with thesword." Now, as Prevost was hated and dreaded for nothing more thanhis lying reports to the Minister at home, and as no man in anyposition at the table had escaped his venom, my sally was againgreeted not only with applause, but also with a roar of stentorianlaughter.
The whole affair ended in nothing more serious than the hot wordsand laughter, for Sarennes, though a braggart, was not evil-tempered,at least towards me. For Prevost I cared not a maravedi, and wouldhave spitted him liked a smoked herring at any time with the greatestpleasure. My chief disappointment was that I had not succeeded inmy attempt to obtain a refusal of Sarennes's request for Kit'scompany, an attempt I dared not renew, and was forced to give areluctant consent when it was referred to me.
My heart was big with foreboding the last evening we spent together,and it required an effort almost beyond my powers to refrain fromtaking him into my arms and telling him he was my son. I almostpersuaded myself that my life was so wretched, so lonely, sohopeless, that I would be justified in so doing. But for some reasonor other I did not, why, I cannot pretend to say, and I saw himmarch proudly off at daybreak the next morning with my secret stilluntold. I wondered if any one would be equally faithful to me.
Such a weary month of January I never passed, for no one knew thedanger of these miserable, skulking little war parties better thanI; and to add to this there was my distrust of Sarennes eating atmy heart every time I tried to make little of my fears.
What wonder was it, when the door of my room opened after a quietknock, one stormy afternoon, and the dark face of the Canadianappeared, that I sprang to my feet and demanded, savagely: "Whereis he? What have you done with him?"
"He was taken," he answered, quietly, "and I am here to answer forhim."
There was such a dignity in his bearing, such a sensibility in hislook, that I was melted at once, and my murderous suspicion put toflight.
"A thousand pardons, monsieur, for my rudeness. I have been anxiousday and night for the boy. Tell me what has happened."
He told the story simply, and I could not doubt that he told ittruly. It was the ordinary incident, common to these wretchedmarauding parties, an attempted surprise, a couple of men lost, mypoor boy wounded and captured before the baffled coureurs de boiscould attempt a rescue.
When Sarennes left me with some words of sympathy, I was sufferingonly what hundreds of fathers have suffered before me. That it wascommon was no alleviation to my pain.