The Span o' Life: A Tale of Louisbourg & Quebec

  CHAPTER X

  "HE WHO SOWS HATRED SHALL GATHER RUE"

  Sarennes had taken himself off again to gather fresh laurels inambuscade and retreat, the alternatives which compose the wholescience of la petite guerre, and I had but little to remind me ofmy loss save the constant ache at my heart when I was alone, aposition I strove by every means possible to avoid.

  That Sarennes was desirous of making some reparation for his injurytowards me, was proved by a letter from him dated in March, andwritten from his mother's house at Beaulieu:

  "Chevalier,--There is an Englishwoman staying here who claims to be your wife. What do you wish me to do in the matter? I am ready to oblige you in any way.

  "Sarennes."

  I have never made any pretension to a fortitude other than thatwhich any honourable gentleman of my standing might claim. I wasstill sore under this last stroke of undeserved misfortune whichhad so cruelly deprived me of Kit, and I could not but look on hismother as at least the indirect cause of my loss. Under thesefeelings I delivered the following to the Indian runner:

  "Monsieur,--If you have any regard for me, keep the lady claiming to be my wife at such distance that I may never set eyes on her again. Should she be in want, I will gladly reimburse you for any expenditure you may make on her account.

  "Le Chev. Maxwell."

  We now come to events on which the antiquary and the student mightdemand a larger attention and notice than I shall devote to them.I have been too prominent an actor in the drama of the downfall ofNew France to write on the subject with that calmness and impartialitywith which I try to view all matters; and I leave it to the gentlemanwho has passed his lifetime at his desk, undisturbed by any greaterexplosion than that of wifely indignation at his late hours andwaste of otherwise valuable ink and paper, to relate the battleshe has never seen and weigh the interests he cannot understand.

  In January we had positive intelligence that the English would makea descent in force at the earliest possible moment in the spring.On the first day of June we saw from our ramparts the sails oftheir fleet spreading over the horizon, and by the eighth theyattempted their descent by land.

  We made such defence as seemed possible at the time, but, like allunsuccessful efforts, it has been severely criticised since, chieflyby "the gentleman at his desk."

  As we lay in position at our post at La Cormorandiere, hourlyexpecting the landing of the enemy, it was reported by oursurgeon-general, M. Guerin, that we were utterly without provisionof lint, brandy, and other necessities for the wounded. A messengerwas instantly despatched with a requisition to the Commissary, buthe returned with a message from Prevost saying, "There are none ofthese articles in the King's magazines; if the English force ourintrenchments, it will be their business to take care of the wounded;if, on the other hand, we are successful, we shall have time enoughto attend to them."

  Our colonel, M. de St. Julhien, read this heartless reply aloud,amid the deepest execrations on the part of our officers, and thenturning to me, said, "Here, Chevalier, I understand there is nolove lost between you and this creature. I commission you to seethat these requirements are fulfilled by the morning." And he satedown and wrote an order on the Commissary to "deliver to theChevalier Maxwell such stores as he may demand for the use of theCompany d'Artois."

  Armed with this authority, I set forth at once, and arriving atthe town about eight o'clock, made my way to the Commissary's houseand demanded him with scant ceremony.

  He appeared with but little delay, and I caught sight of the brightface of Madame, alight with curiosity, behind him, though he clappedthe door to sharply enough.

  "Well, Monsieur le Lieutenant"--he took a petty spite in disregardingmy title of Chevalier--"what brings you here away from your post?"

  "Only the definite intention, M. le Commissaire, of seeing thatyou obey orders. I require stores for my colonel; there is hisorder, and if you try any of your devil's tricks with me, sir, Iwill make no more of running you through than I would a rat."

  He turned as white as a piece of dried plaster.

  "Come, sir, none of your shuffling. I want an answer at once."

  "You'll get no answer from me, sir, other than I have sent. I haveno stores; the magazines are empty."

  "I know you to be a thief, M. le Commissaire, and it is no greatstretch of imagination to believe you a liar. Show me your vaults."

  "Very well, very well. We shall see who is right. We shall seewho is a liar," and he started off with alacrity.

  "Wait, sir! Where are you going?"

  "Only into the next room to get my keys."

  "Very well; I'll go with you," and I followed him into the nextroom.

  Here we found Madame on tiptoe with excitement and curiosity.

  "Where are you going? What is the matter?" she asked, quickly.

  "None of your business!" roared her husband, with his usual brutality.

  "Only into the vault to look for stores." I answered, throwing asmuch feeling into the commonplace answer as was possible.

  Prevost provided himself with a lanthorn and led the way throughthe passage and down the steps leading to the cellars, mutteringand scolding to himself, for he dared not make a complaint to whichI might reply, until we reached the outer door. This he unlocked,and I discovered a long passage, evidently underground, for theair struck me as damp and chill as we traversed it, to the entranceof the principal vault, which he opened.

  "There! See for yourself if I have not told the truth. It is asempty as death!" and as he spake he held the lanthorn high.

  Bat this did not satisfy me. I was determined to take nothing forgranted until I had personally proved the truth of his protestations.

  "Give me the light," I said, taking it from him as I entered.

  "Willingly." he replied; but I had not taken a dozen steps beforeI heard a clang, the quick turn of a key, and found I was a prisoner,trapped like a rat by the man I most hated and despised.

  At first I was inclined to laugh, for the turn was not without itscleverness, but the inclination was quickly stifled as I realizedwhat such a situation might mean to one in my position.

  A foreign officer failing to be at his post when about to meet hisown countrymen face to face, would be a default open to suchconstruction as filled me with dismay--a construction which thewretch who had trapped me would use every means to convert intothe blackest of certainties. When the first feeling of dismay hadpassed I made a careful examination of my prison, but the resultbrought no encouragement. The vault, which was an outer one, wasonly provided with two heavy doors, the one by which I had entered,and the other doubtless leading to another vault. There was not asign of any window or opening, and the walls were covered with awhite coating of fungus. In one corner was some useless householdlumber, and against the wall stood a wooden coffer like those inwell-to-do farmers' houses at home; save for these odds and ends,the place was indeed empty; in so far, at least, my gentleman hadnot lied.

  I placed my lanthorn on the floor, and seating myself on the chest,tried to form some plan of action. There was no use in attemptingto attract attention by raising an outcry, for I was certainlyunderground, cut off by the long passage from the house. If I madea fire the smoke could not escape, and I should only gain suffocationfor my pains. There was absolutely no escape that I could furtherby my unaided effort. Dreadful as this thought was, I was torturedby others infinitely worse; by phantasms that the future might wellconvert into horrid realities.

  With a too-ready imagination I framed the crafty charges which myenemy would prefer against me. No sense of shame would prevent himfrom distorting my innocent relations towards his wife into atreacherous attempt upon his honour; he would no doubt trump upsome suggestive story of my presence in his house. My unsupportedstatement of my imprisonment must stand against his specioustale--the word of the accused against that of the injured husband,and he an official with powerful backing. The ridiculous trap intowhich I had so stupidly fallen would b
e difficult to explain withoutderision at any time, but now it was a time of actual war, whenany infraction of duty would be punished with the severest penalty;nothing short of death would be a sufficient excuse for my failureto return to my post.

  I pictured myself, an alien--for a foreigner is always an alien nomatter what his merit or service may be--fighting for life againstthe malevolence of a virulent enemy, contending too against thatmonstrous perversion of justice which so often sways a court-martial--composed as it is of men little qualified by training for impartialjudgment--towards the severest interpretation where an officerwithout influence is concerned, to win a cheap applause fromoutsiders and inferiors.

  My blood ran cold at the thought. I stared at the lanthorn untilmy eyes ached, and, when I looked elsewhere, the image of the flameonly faded to give place to another scene in the drama that triedmy fortitude almost beyond endurance: It was early dawn outsidethe Brouillon Bastion, chilling sheets of fog swept in from overthe dull waters, and there, with back against the ramparts, stooda coatless figure, with pinioned arms and bandaged eyes, facing afile of soldiers--the dreadful waiting in the dark, the whisperedcommands, the sudden movement of the men, and then--I jumped to myfeet trembling in every limb, and with shaking hand wiped thegathered perspiration from my forehead, but could not wipe awaythe vision of the men staring at the motionless figure lying facedownward on the trampled grass, dishonoured, never to be spokenof, until the Great Day, when all the injustices of the ages shallbe righted and made clear.

  I again seized the lanthorn and re-examined every stone and cornerwith feverish hope, only to have despair triumph over it morecompletely than before. Then came a season of mad revolt. It wastoo horrible! too impossible! that I, Hugh Maxwell, a gentleman,who had lived delicately, who had shone in society which the worldcourted, who had loved fair women, had talked, and smiled, and sungto them, could in a few short hours be lying a mangled corpse inthis obscure corner of the world, could die the death of a dog, ofa traitor, the most shameful that can come to a man of honour. Iwas filled with a vast pity for myself, so mighty and overwhelmingthat tears filled my eyes as for another, for I saw myself apart,as it were, as distinctly as I saw that pitiful figure before theramparts; then the childishness of it flashed across me and Ilaughed aloud; but my laughter was no more real than my tears, forneither brought relief, and the weary round began again.

  How many hours this continued I do not know, but my attention wassuddenly arrested by a sound at the door, and I made out a jingleof keys. Quickly blowing out the light, I drew my sword and preparedto force an exit, no matter what the odds. But scarce had the doormoved when I caught a low whisper. "The chest against the wall!Quick!" Then followed the voice of Madame Prevost raised in dismay:"Mon Dieu, Charles! My candle has gone out! Hurry, bring a light!"

  The moment's delay sufficed; I gained the chest and squeezed myselfin, letting the lid down over me.

  In a moment and before my heart ceased beating I heard her clearaccents again. "There, Charles! There, Antoine! Take it up andcarry it to my room." And I felt the chest slowly lifted, and themen staggered out, complaining loudly of its weight.

  Up the stairs we travelled, uncomfortably for me; then on a levelagain along the passage; and I was laughing to myself at the probableoutcome of my adventure, when I heard,

  "Where in the name of all the devils are you lugging that thing?"

  It was the Commissary!

  "To my room. I want to put my furs away," came the soft answer frommadame.

  "Blague! Put it down!" And I was jarred on the stone flags.

  Then came a pause, and I was speculating on the best mode of attackfor a man in my ridiculous position, when the chest was lifted atone end and again dropped heavily.

  Then came the same voice, but with a tone of triumph to it:

  "Well, do as you like; but there is a lot of old rubbish in it.Take it first, and empty it over the Princess's Bastion!" And oncemore the chest was slowly lifted.

  A pretty situation surely, and clever on the part of M. theCommissary again. A tumble down on those rocks or into the moatwould be equally effective, and would not require such explanationsas if my body were found in the King's vaults; but my gentlemanreckoned without his host.

  My scheme was as simple as his own. Hardly had we got clear of thehouse before my mind was made up. When I judged we were at theopen space between the end of the barricaded street and the rampartsI uttered a terrifying yell and flapped the lid. It was enough.The chest went crashing to the ground, and I crawled out, bruisedbut otherwise unhurt, and my valiant porters were out of sight.

  "I crawled out bruised, but otherwise unhurt."]

  Without delay I made my way to M. Bois de la Mothe, in charge ofthe fleet, and stated the case, carefully suppressing, however,all mention of my personal adventure, and by morning was in possessionof the desired stores, extracted from the Commissary by a peremptorythreat to put him in irons and send him to France if they were notforth-coming.

  Long before our preparations could be made for leaving the town,the sound of musketry reached us from La Cormorandiere, and we knewthe landing was attempted. I was all impatience to be off, butour scanty stores could not be risked if the attempt were successful;so with the others I anxiously awaited the result. But, alas! ourstoutest hopes were dashed by the sight of white uniforms stragglingover the crest of the hill in full flight, and, instead of a hospitaltrain, I was soon heading a sortie to support the retreat of ourtroops, with the cannon thundering over our heads to cover theirentry into the threatened town.