XXIV.
ALPHONSE D'ERLACH.
The dawn of the morning after the separation of D'Erlach with his fewcompanions from the great body of the French, found the former emergingfrom a dense thicket which they had traversed through the night. Theywere still but a few miles from their late encampment. A bright andgenerous sun, almost the first that had shone for several weeks inunclouded heavens, seemed to smile upon their desperate enterprise. Thecries of wild fowl awaking in the forests, with occasionally the merrychaunt of some native warbler, arousing to the day, spake also in thelanguage of encouragement. On the borders of a little lake, they foundsome wild ducks feeding, which they approached without alarming them,and the fire of a couple of arquebuses gave them sufficient food for theday. A small supply of maize, prepared after the Indian fashion, wasborne by each of the party, but this was carefully preserved for use ina moment of necessity. Assuming the possibility of their being pursued,the youthful leader urged their progress until noon, when they haltedfor repose, in a dense thicket, which promised to give them shelter.Here, having himself undertaken the watch, Alphonse D'Erlach counselledhis people to seek for a renewal of their strength in slumber. Theyfollowed his counsel without scruple, though not without a struggle onthe part of his brother, and others among them, to share his watch. Thishe would not permit, alleging his inability to sleep, but promising,when he felt thus disposed, to devolve his present duty upon others.Long and sweet was the slumbers which they enjoyed, and unbroken by anyalarm. When they awakened, the sun had sloped greatly in the westernheavens, and but two or three marching hours remained of the day. Thesethey employed with earnestness and vigor. The night found them on theedge of a great basin, or lake, thickly fenced in with great trees, anda dense and bewildering thicket. As the day closed, immense flocks ofwild fowl, geese, ducks, and cranes, alighted within the waters of thelake, and again did the arquebusiers, with a few shot, provide amplefood for the ensuing day. Here they built themselves a fire, aroundwhich the whole party crouched, a couple only of their number beingposted as sentinels on the hill side, from which alone was it reasonableto suppose that an enemy would appear. Again did they sleep withoutdisturbance, arising with the dawn, again to resume their progress. Butbefore they commenced their journey, a solemn council was held as tothe course which they should pursue. On this subject the mind of theiryouthful leader had already adopted a leading idea. His experience inthe country, as well as that of his brother, during frequent progresses,had enabled them to form a very correct notion of the topography of theregion. Besides, several of their followers, were of the first coloniesof Ribault, and had accompanied Laudonniere, Ottigny, and both theErlachs on various expeditions among the Indians.
"We are now upon the great promontory of the Floridian," said Alphonse,"a region full of dense thickets and impenetrable swamps. These weshould labor to avoid, as well as any approach in the direction of theSpaniards. By pursuing a course inclining to the north-west for a while,we shall be enabled to do so, and this done, gradually steering for thenorth-east, we shall be enabled to reach the great mountains of theApalachia. This is a region where, as we know, the red-men are moremild and gentle, more laborious, with larger fields of grain, and morehospitably given than those which inhabit the coasts. It may be thathaving sufficiently ascended the country, it will be our policy to leavethe mountains on our left, following at their feet, until we shall havepassed the territories in the immediate possession of the Spaniard. Thenit will be easy to speed downwards to the eastern coasts, where thepeople always received us with welcome and affection. We may thus renewour intercourse with the tribes that skirt the bay of St. Helena--thetribes of Audusta, Ouade, Maccou and others of which ye wot. But,whether we take this direction or not, our present course should be asI have described it. When we have reached the country where the landgreatly rises, it will be with us to choose our farther progress. Thereis gold, as we know, in abundance in these mountains of the Apalachian;and it may be our good hap even to attain to the great city of themountains of which Potanou and others have spoken, and to which certaintravellers have given the name of the Grand Copal, of the existence ofwhich I nothing doubt. This, they report as but fifteen or twentydays' march from St. Helena, north-westward. It will, follow, if thisdescription be true, that we are quite as near to this place, as to St.Helena. Here is adventure and a marvellous discovery open to us, mycomrades and we shall, perhaps, in future days, bless the cruelty of theSpaniards which hath thus driven us on the road to fortune. At least, weshould have reason to rejoice that we are here, when our comrades liestark and bleeding on the shores of Cannaverel. We are few, but we aretrue; we have health and vigor; we have arms in our hands, and are quiteequal to any of the small bands of Indians that infest the country. Weshall seek to avoid encounters with them, but shall not fear them if wemeet; and all that I have seen of the red-man inclines me to the faith,that they who deal with him justly will mostly find justice, nay, evenreverence in return. What remains, but that we steadily pursue ourprogress, heedful where we set our feet, keeping our minds in patience,never hurrying forward blindly, and never being too eager in theattainment of our object. Our best strength will lie in our patience.This will save us when our strength shall fail."
This counsel found no opposition. There was much discussion of details,and the leading suggestion of his mind being adopted, Erlach readilyyielded much of the minutiae to others. We shall not follow the dailyprogress of our adventurers. Enough that for twenty-seven days theytravelled without suffering disaster. There were small ailments of theparty--some grew faint and feeble, others became slightly lamed; andoccasionally all hearts drooped; but on such occasions the troop wentinto camp, chose out some secure thicket, built themselves a goodlyfire, and while the invalids lay around it, the more vigorous hunted andbrought in game. Wild turkeys were in abundance. Sometimes they roostedat night upon the very trees under which our Frenchmen slept. On suchoccasions the hunters rose at dawn, and with well-aimed arquebuses shotdown two or more; the very fatness of the birds being such, as made themsplit open as they struck the earth. Anon, a wandering deer crossedtheir path, and fell a victim to their shot. In this way they graduallyadvanced into the hilly country. Very seldom had they met with any ofthe red-men, and never in any numbers. These treated them with greatforbearance, were civil, shared with them their slender stock ofprovisions, and received a return in trinkets, knives, or rings ofcopper, and little bells, a small store of which had been providentallybrought by persons of the party. Sometimes, these Indians travelledwith them, camped with them at night, and behaved themselves like goodChristians. From these, too, they gathered vague intelligence of thegreat city which lay among the mountains. This was described to them, inlanguage often heard before, as containing a wealth of gold, and othertreasures in the shape of precious gems, which, assuming the truthof the description given by the red-men, our Frenchmen assumed to benothing less than diamonds, rubies and crystals. But they were told thatthis country was in possession of a very powerful people, fierce andwarlike, who were very jealous of the appearance of strangers. The cityof Grand Copal was described as very populous and rich, a walled town,which it would be difficult to penetrate.
These descriptions contributed greatly to warm the imaginations of ourFrenchmen, but as the several informants differed in regard to thedirection in which this great city lay, it so happened that partiesbegan to be formed in respect to the route which should be pursued.Opinion was nearly equally divided among them. Alphonse D'Erlach was forpursuing a more easterly course than was desired by some ten or more ofthe party. He was influenced by information previously derived from theIndians, when he went into the territories of Olata Utina, and beyond.But the more recent testimony was in favor of the west, and this hewas disposed to disregard. For a time, the discussion led to nothingdecisive. His authority was still deferred to and the course continuedupon which he had begun. But as the winter began to press more severelyupon the company, and as their usual supplies of game bega
n to diminishfrom the moment that they left the lakes, and great swampy river marginof the flat country, from that moment, as if justified by suffering, theFrenchmen lessened in their deference to a leader who was at once soyouthful and so imperative. Alphonse D'Erlach beheld these symptoms withapprehension and misgiving. He well knew how frail was the tenure bywhich he held his authority, from the moment that self-esteem began tobe active in the formation of opinion. He felt that a power for coercionwas wanting to his authority, and resorted to all those politic arts bywhich wise men maintain a sway without asserting it. He would say tothem:
"My comrades, there are but twenty-two of us in a world of savages.Hitherto, for more than thirty days, we have traversed the wildernessesin safety. This is solely due to the fact that we have suffered nodifferences to prevail among us. If you feel that I have counselled andled you in safety, you may also admit that I have led you rightly; forsafety has been our first object. We are as fresh and vigorous now, aswhen we left the dreary plains of Cannaverel. Not one has perished.We have not suffered from want of food, though frequently delayed inobtaining it. Methinks, that you have no reason to complain of me. Butif there be dissatisfaction with my authority, choose another leader.Him will I obey with good will; but do not suffer yourselves todisagree, lest ye separate, and all parties perish."
This rebuke was felt and had its effect for a season; but when, after aweek of farther and seemingly unprofitable wandering--when they hadattained no special point--when they rather continued to skirt themountains, pressing to the northward, than to ascend them--the spiritof discontent was re-awakened. The circumstance which rather gratifiedAlphonse D'Erlach, for the present, that they had met so few of thenatives, none in large numbers, and had succeeded mostly in avoidingtheir villages, was the circumstance that led to dissatisfaction amonghis followers. They were eager to have their hopes fortified by daily ornightly reports from those who might be supposed to know; they desired,above all, to gather constant tidings of the great city of themountains--to receive intimations of its proximity; and this, they beganto assert, was impossible, so long as they should forbear to penetratethe mountains themselves. Against this desire their young leader strovefor many reasons. It is not improbable that he himself doubted theexistence of the marvellous city of Grand Copal. At all events, he wellknew that to penetrate the mountains, during winter, which alreadypromised to be one of intense rigor, would subject his party to greatsuffering, and, should food fail them even partially in the unfriendlysolitudes, would terminate in the destruction of the whole. By followingthe mountains, along the east for a certain distance, he knew he shouldfinally arrive at the heads of the streams descending to the sea in theneighborhood of the first settlements made by the Huguenots; that heshould there find friendly and familiar nations, and perhaps secure ahome for his people, and found a new community in the happy territoriesof Iracana, the Eden of the Indians, of the beautiful and loving Queen,whereof, he began to have the tenderest recollections. He also knewthat, only by pursuing his way along the mountains, aiming at thisobject, could he be secure from the Spaniards in the possession of LaCaroline, as well as St. Augustine, who, he did not doubt, were alreadypreparing for exploration of the golden territories of which they hadheard, as well as the French.
But his arguments failed to influence the impatient people under hiscontrol. Sharp words and a warm controversy, one night, took place overthe camp-fires, and led to a division of the party in nearly equalnumbers. It was in vain that Alphonse D'Erlach and his brother employedall their arguments, and used every appeal, in order to persuade hispeople to cling together as the only means of safety. One Le Caille, asergeant, who was greatly endowed, in his own regards, as a leader amongmen, and who had enjoyed some experience in Indian adventure underLaudonniere, set himself in direct opposition to the two brothers. "Weare leaving the route, entirely, to the great city. We are speeding fromit rather than towards. It lies back of us already, according to all theaccounts given us, and as we march now, we seek nothing. There is ourpath, pointing to the great blue summits in the north-west, and thithershould we turn, if we seek for the Grand Copal."
He found believers and followers. So warm had grown the controversy,that the two parties separated that very night, and camped apart, eachhaving its own fires. The greater number, no less than thirteen, wentwith Le Caille, leaving but nine to D'Erlach, including himself andbrother. The young leader brooder over the disaster, for such heregarded it, in silence. He found that it was in vain that he shouldargue, solely on the strength of his own conjectures, against any coursewhich they should take, when his own course, though maintaining them inhealth and safety, had failed to bring them to any of the ends whichthey most desired. They were now wearied of wandering--they craved ahaven where they might rest for a season; and were quite willing tolisten to any one who could speak with boldness and seeming certainty ofany such place. Thus it was that they followed Le Caille.
"Let us at least separate in peace and good-fellowship, _mescamarades_," said Alphonse D'Erlach, passing over, with the dawn, tothat side of the thicket where the others had made their camp. Theyembraced and parted, taking separate courses, like a stream that havinglong journeyed through a wild empire, divides at last, only to losethemselves both more rapidly in the embracing sea.
For more than two hours had they gone upon their different routes, theone party moving straight for the mountains, the other still pursuingthe route along their bases, in the direction of the east, when AlphonseD'Erlach said to his brother:
"It grieves me that these men should perish: they will perish of coldand hunger, and by violence among the savages. This man Le Caille willfight bravely, but he is a sorry dolt to have the conduct of brave men.Besides, we shall all perish if we do not keep together. Perhaps itis better that we should err in our progress--go wide from the propertrack--than that we should break in twain. Let us retrace our steps--letus follow them, and unite with them for a season, at least, until theireyes open upon the truth."
He spoke to willing listeners. His followers obeyed him through habit;they acknowledged the authority of a greater will and a stronger genius;but they had not been satisfied. They, too, hungered secretly for thegreat city and the place of rest, and were impatient of the wearisomeprogress, day by day, without any ultimate object in their eyes.Cheerfully, and with renewal of their strength, did they turn at thedirection of their leader, and push forward to re-unite with theircomrades. They had a wearisome distance of four hours to overcome, butthey had hopes to regain their brethren by night, as they knew thatthey would rest two hours at noon for the noonday meal, which, it wasresolved, should not, on this occasion, delay their progress, and bymoving with greater speed than usual, it was calculated that the lostground might be recovered.
Meanwhile, the party of Le Caille had crossed a little river which theyhad to wade. The depth was not great, reaching only to their waists, butit was very cold and it chilled them through. They halted accordingly onthe opposite side, and built themselves a fire. Here the rest taken andthe delay were unusually long, and contributed somewhat to the effortsmade by D'Erlach's party to overtake them. When, after a pause oftwo hours, the troop of Le Caille was prepared again to move, it wasconsiderably past the time of noon. As they gathered up their traps,one of their party who had gone aside from the rest, was suddenlyconfounded to behold a red-man start up from the bushes where he hadbeen crouching, in long and curious watch over their proceedings. TheFrenchman, who was named Rotrou, was quite delighted at the apparition,since they eagerly sought to gather from the Indians the directions fortheir future progress, and none had been seen for many days. Rotroucalled to the Indian in words of good-nature and encouragement, but thelatter, slapping his naked sides with an air of defiance, started offtowards the mountains. Rotrou again shouted; the savage turned for amoment and paused, then waving his hand with a significant gesture, heresponded with the war-whoop, and once more bounded away in flight. Therash and wanton Frenchman immediately lifted his arquebus
e, and firedupon the fugitive. He was seen to stagger and fall upon his knee, butimmediately recovering himself, he set off almost at as full speed asever, making for a little thicket that spread itself out upon the right.The party of Le Caille by this time came up. They penetrated the covertwhere the red-man had been seen to shelter himself, and for a while theytracked him by his blood. But at length they came to a spot where he hadevidently crouched and bound up his hurts. They found a little puddleof blood upon the spot, and some fragments of tow, moss, and cottoncloth, some of which had been used for the purpose. Here all tracesof the wounded man failed them; and they resumed their route, greatlyregretting that he should have escaped, but greatly encouraged, asthey fancied that they were approaching some of the settlements of thenatives.
It was probably an hour after this event when D'Erlach and his partyreached the same neighborhood, and found the proof of the rest andrepast which that of Le Caille had taken on the banks of the littleriver. This sight urged them to new efforts, and though chilled alsovery greatly by the passage of the stream, they did not pause in theirpursuit, but pressed forward without delay, having the fresh tracks oftheir brethren before their eyes, for the guidance of their footsteps.It was well they did so. In little more than an hour after this, whilestill urging the forced march which they had begun, they were suddenlyarrested by a wild and fearful cry in the forests beyond, the characterof which they but too well knew, from frequent and fierce experience. Itwas the yell of the savage, the terrible war-whoop of the Apalachian,that sounded suddenly from the ambush, as the rattle of the snake isheard from the copse in which he makes his retreat. Then followed thedischarge of several arquebuses, four or five in number, all at once,and soon after one or two dropping shots.
"Onward!" cried Alphonse D'Erlach; "we have not a moment to lose. Ourcomrades are in danger! On! Fools! they have delivered nearly or quiteall their pieces; and if the savage be not fled in terror, they areat the mercy of his arrows. Onward, my brave Gascons! Let us save ourbrethren."
The young captain led the advance, but though pushing forward with allindustry, he did not forego the proper precautions. His men were alreadytaught to scatter themselves, Indian fashion, through the forests, andat little intervals to pursue a parallel course to each other, so as tolessen the chances of surprise, and to offer as small a mark as possibleto the shafts of the enemy. The shouts and clamor increased. They coulddistinguish the cries of the savages from those of the Frenchmen. Of thelatter, they fancied they could tell particular voices of individuals.They could hear the flight of arrows, and sometimes the dull, heavysounds of blows as from a macana or a clubbed arquebuse; and a fewmoments sufficed to show them the savages darting from tree to tree,and here and there a Frenchman apparently bewildered with the number andagile movements of his foes, but still resolute to seek his victim. Atthis moment Alphonse D'Erlach stumbled upon a wounded man. He lookeddown. It was the Sergeant, Le Caille himself. He was stuck full ofarrows; more than a dozen having penetrated his body, and one was yetquivering in his cheek just below his eye. Still he lived, but his eyeswere glazing. They took in the form of D'Erlach. The lips parted.
"Le Grand Copal, Monsieur--eh!" was all he said, when the death-rattlefollowed. He gasped, turned over with a single convulsion, and hisconcern ceased wholly for that golden city, in the search for which hehad forgotten every other. D'Erlach gave but a moment's heed to thedying man, then pushed forward for the rescue of those who might beliving. They were surrounded by more than fifty savages, and among thesewere scattered groups of women and even children. In fact, Le Caille, inhis pursuit of the Indian wounded by Rotrou, had happened upon a villageof the Apalachians.
It was fortunate for D'Erlach that the savages were quite too busy withthe first, to be conscious of the second party. They had been broughton quietly, and, scattered as they had been in the approach, they wereenabled to deliver their fire from an extensive range of front. Itappalled the Indians, even as a thunder burst from heaven. They hadgathered around the few Frenchmen surviving of Le Caille's party,and were prepared to finish their work with hand-javelins and stonehatchets. The Frenchmen were not suffered to reload their pieces, andwere reduced to the necessity of using them as clubs. They were aboutto be overwhelmed when the timely fire of the nine pieces of D'Erlach'sparty, the shout and the rush which followed it, struck death andconsternation into the souls of their assailants, and drove them fromtheir prey. With howls of fright and fury the red-men fled to deeperthickets, till they should ascertain the nature and number of their newenemies, and provide themselves with fresh weapons. But D'Erlach was notdisposed to afford them respite. His pieces were reloaded; those of theFrenchmen of Le Caille--all indeed who were able--joined themselves tohis party, and the Indians were pressed through the thicket and upontheir village. To this they fled as to a place of refuge. Our Frenchmenstormed it, fired it over the heads of the inmates, and terrible was theslaughter which followed. The object of D'Erlach was obtained. He hadstruck such a panic into the souls of the savages, that he was permittedto draw off his people without molestation; but the inspection of thefatal field into which the rashness of Le Caille had led his party,left D'Erlach with few objects of consolation. Seven of them were slainoutright, or mortally wounded; three others were slightly wounded, andbut three remained unhurt. The survivors were brought off in safety,greatly rejoicing in a rescue so totally undeserved. The party thatnight encamped in a close wood, in a spot so chosen as to be easilyguarded. Two of the persons mortally wounded in the conflict died thatnight; the third, next day at noon. They were not abandoned till theircares and sufferings were at an end, and their comrades buried them,piling huge stones about their corses. Repose was greatly wanting tothe party; but they were conscious that the Indians were about them.D'Erlach knew too well the customs of the Apalachian race to doubtthat the runners had already sped, east and west, bearing _le batonrouge_--the painted club of red, which summons the tribe to which itis carried to send its young vultures to the gathering about the prey.
He sped away accordingly, re-crossing the little river where the partyof Le Caille had encountered the Indian spy, and pressing forward uponthe route which he had been before pursuing. Day and night he travelledwith little intermission, in the endeavor to put as great a space aspossible between his band and their enemies. But the toil had become toosevere for his people. They began to falter, and were finally compelledto halt for a rest of two or more days, in a snug and pleasant valley,such as they could easily defend. Here they suffered several disasters.One of his men, drying some gunpowder before the fire, it exploded, andhe was so dreadfully burnt that he survived but a day, and expiredin great agony. Another, who went out after game, never returned. Heprobably fell a victim to his own imprudence, or sunk under thearrows of some prowling savage. The camp was broken up in haste andapprehension, and the march resumed. Their force was now reduced tothirteen men, and these were destined to still further reduction. Thecold had become excessive. The feet of the Frenchmen grew sore fromconstant exercise; and at length, despairing of the long progress stillbefore them before they could reach the sea, Alphonse D'Erlach yieldedto the growing desire of his people to ascend the mountains and seek anearer spot of refuge, or at least of temporary repose. He began to giveear more earnestly to the story of the great city of the mountains; or,he seemed to do so. At all events,--such was the suggestion--'we canshelter ourselves for the winter in some close valley of the hills; herewe can build log dwellings, and supply ourselves with game as hunters.'The Frenchmen had acquired sufficient experience of Indian habits toresort to their modes of meeting the exigencies of the season. They knewwhat were the roots which might be bruised, macerated, and made intobread; and they had been fed on acorns more than once by the Floridiansavages. They began the painful ascent, accordingly, which carried themup the heights of Apalachia, that mighty chain of towers which dividethe continent from north to south. They had probably reached the regionwhich now forms the upper country of Georgia and South Carolina.
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It was in the toilsome ascent of these precipitous heights that theyencountered one of those dangers which D'Erlach had striven so earnestlyto elude. This was a meeting with the Indians, in any force. A body ofmore than forty of them were met descending one of the gorges up whichthe Frenchmen were painfully making their way. The meeting was thesignal for the strife. The war-whoop was given almost in the moment whenthe parties discovered each other. The Indians had the superiority aswell in position as in numbers; being on an elevation considerably abovethat of the Frenchmen. They were a large, fine-limbed race of savages,clad in skins, and armed with bows and stone-hatchets. They had probablynever beheld the white man before, and knew nothing of his fearfulweapons. They were astounded by the explosion of the arquebuse, and whentheir chief tumbled from the cliff on which he stood, stricken by aninvisible bolt, they fled in terror, leaving the field to the Frenchmen.But, three of the latter were slain in the conflict, and three otherswounded. The path was free for their progress, but they went forwardwith diminished numbers, and sinking hearts. The survivors were nowbut ten, and these were hurt and suffering from sore, if not fatal,injuries. The cold increased. The savages seemed to have housedthemselves from the fury of the winds, that rushed and howled along thebleak terraces to which the Frenchmen had arisen. They buried themselvesin a valley that offered them partial protection, built their fires,raised a miserable hovel of poles and bushes for their covering, andsent out their hunters. Two parties, one of two, the other of three men,went forth in pursuit of a bear whose tracks they had detected; leavingfive to keep the camp, three of whom were wounded men. Of these twoparties, one returned at night, bringing home a turkey. They had failedto discover the hiding-place of the bear. The other did not reappear allnight. Trumpets were sounded and guns fired from the camp to guide theirfootsteps, but without success; and with the dawn Alphonse D'Erlach setforth with his brother and another, one Philip le Borne, to seek thefugitives. Their tracks were found and followed for a weary distance;lost and again found. Pursued over ridge and valley, in a zigzag andill-directed progress, showing that the lost party had been distractedby their apprehensions. This pursuit led the hunters greatly from thecamp; but D'Erlach had made his observations carefully at every step,and knew well that he could regain the spot. He had provided himselfwell with such food as they possessed, and his little party was wellarmed. He refused to discontinue the search, particularly as they stillrecovered the tracks of the missing men. For two days they searchedwithout ceasing, camping by night, and crouching in the shelter of somefriendly rock that kept off the wind, and building themselves fireswhich guarded their slumbers from the assaults of wolf and panther; thehowls of the one, and the screams of the other, sounding ever and anonwithin their ears, from the bald rocks which overhung the camp. On themorning of the third day the fugitives were found, close together, andstiffened in death. They had evidently perished from the cold.
Very sadly did the D'Erlachs return with their one companion to the campwhere they had left their comrades. But their gloom and grief were notto suffer diminution. What was their horror to find the spot whollydeserted. The ashes were cold where they had made their fires: theprobability was that the place had been fully a day and night abandoned.No traces of the Frenchmen were left--not a clue afforded to theirbrethren of what had taken place. Alphonse D'Erlach, however, discoveredthe track of an Indian moccasin in the ashes, but he carefullyobliterated it before it was beheld by his companions. It was apparentto him that his people had suffered themselves to be surprised; butwhether they had been butchered or led into captivity was beyond hisconjecture. His hope that they still lived was based upon the absence ofall proofs of struggle or of sacrifice.
To linger in that spot was impossible; but whither should they directtheir steps.
"We are but three, now, my comrades," said the younger D'Erlach,--"wemust on no account separate. We must sleep and hunt together, and sufferno persuasions to part us. Let us descend from this inhospitablemountain, and, crossing the stretch of valley which spreads below,attempt the heights opposite. We may there find more certain food, andbetter protection from these bleak winds."
"Better that we had perished with our comrades, under the knife ofMelendez," was the gloomy speech of the elder D'Erlach.
"It is always soon enough to die," replied the younger. "For shame, mybrother!--it is but death, at the worst, which awaits us. Let us on!"
And he led the way down the rugged heights, the others followingpassively and in moody silence.
They crossed the valley, through which a river went foaming andflashing over huge rocks and boulders, great fractured masses from theoverhanging cliffs, that seemed the ruins of an ancient world. Thestream was shallow though wild; and crossing from rock to rock they madetheir way over without much trouble or any accident. The ascent of thesteep heights beyond was not so easy. Three days were consumed in makinga circuit, and finding a tolerable way for clambering up the mountain.Cold and weary, hungry and sick at heart, the elder D'Erlach and Philiple Borne, were ready to lie down and yield the struggle. Despair had setits paralyzing grasp upon their hearts; but the considerate care, thecheerful courage, the invigorating suggestion, of the younger D'Erlach,still sufficed to strengthen them for renewed effort, when they wereabout to yield to fate. He adopted the legend of the great city. Theserocks were a fitting portal to such a world of empire and treasure. Hedwelt with emotion upon its supposed wonders, and found reasons of greatsignificance for assuming it to be near at hand. And they toiled afterhim up the terrible heights, momently expecting to hear him cry aloudfrom the summit for which they toiled--"Eureka! Here is the GrandCopal!" In this progress the younger D'Erlach was always the leader;Philip le Borne struggled after him, though at a long distance, and,more feeble than either, the elder D'Erlach brought up the rear.Alphonse had nearly reached the bald height to which he was climbing,when a fearful cry assailed him from behind. He looked about instantly,only in time to see the form of le Borne disappear from the cliff,plunging headlong into the chasm a thousand feet below. The victim wastoo terrified to cry. Life was probably extinguished long before hislimbs were crushed out of all humanity amongst the jagged masses ofthe fractured rocks which received them. The cry was from the elderD'Erlach. He saw the dreadful spectacle at full; beheld his companionshoot suddenly down beside him, with outstretched arms, as if imploringthe succor for which he had no voice to cry. He saw, and, overcome withhorror, sank down in a convulsion upon the narrow ledge which barelysufficed to sustain his person. Alphonse D'Erlach darted down to hissuccor, and clung to him till he had revived.
"Where is Philip?" demanded the elder brother.
"We are all that remain, my brother," was the reply.
The other covered his eyes with his hands, as if to shut out thought;and it was some time before he could be persuaded to re-attempt theascent. Alphonse clung to his side as he did so; never suffered him tobe beyond reach of his arm, and, after several hours of the greatesttoil, succeeded in placing him safely upon the broad summit of themountain. And what a prospect had they obtained--what a world of wonder,of beauty and sublimity--fertile realms of forest; boundless valleys ofverdure; illimitable seas of mountain range, their billowy tops rollingonward and onward, till the eye lost them in the misty vapors of the seaof sky beyond.
But the eyes of our adventurers were not sensible to the sublimityand beauty of the scene. They beheld nothing but its wildness, itsstillness, its coldness, its loneliness, its dread and dreary solitude.
"We are but two, my brother, two of all," said the elder D'Erlach. "Letus die together, my brother."
"If fate so pleases," was the reply--"well! But let us hope that we maylive together yet."
"I am done with hope. I am too weary for hope. My heart is frozen. Isee nothing but death, and in death I see something very sweet in theslumber which it promises. Why should we live? It is but a prolongationof the struggle. Let us die. Oh! Alphonse, your life is not lessprecious to me than mine own. I would freel
y give mine, at any moment,to render yours more safe; yet, if you agree, my hand shall strike thedagger into your heart, if yours will do for mine the same friendlyoffice."
"No more, my brother! Let us not speak or think after this fashion. Ourfrail and feeble bodies are forever grudgeful of the authority whichour souls exercise upon them. If they are weary, they would escape fromweariness, at sacrifices of which they know not the extent; would theysleep, they are not unwilling that the sleep should be death, so thatthey may have respite from toil. My brother, I will not suffer my bodyso to sway my soul if I can help it. I will still live, and still toil,and still struggle onward, and when I perish it shall be with myfoot advanced, my hand raised, and my eye guiding, in the progressonward--forever onward. It will be time enough to think of death whendeath grapples us and there is no help. But, till that moment, I mockand defy the tempter, who would persuade me to rest before my limbs areweary and my strength is gone."
"But, Alphonse, my limbs are weary, and my strength is gone."
"Let your heart be strong; keep your soul from weariness, and your limbswill receive strength. Sleep, brother, under the shelter of this greatrock, while I kindle fire at your feet, and prepare something for you toeat."
And while the elder brother slept, the other watched and warmed him,and some shreds of meat dried in the sun, and a slender supply of mealcorns, parched by the fire, with a vessel of water, was prepared andready for him at awakening.
But he awakened in no better hope than when he had laid down. He ate andwas not strengthened. The hope had gone out from his heart, the firefrom his eye, his soul lacked the cheerful vigor necessary to exertion,and his physical strength was nearly exhausted.
"Would that I had not awakened!" was his mournful exclamation, as hiseyes opened once more to the dreary prospect from the bald eminence ofthat desolate mountain-tower. "Would that I might close mine eyes andsleep, my brother, sleep ever, or awake to consciousness only in abetter world."
"This world is ours, my brother," responded the younger, impetuously;"and, if we are men, if we had no misgivings--if we could feel only aswe might--that the weariness of this day would find a wing to-morrow; weshould conquer it, and be worthy of better worlds hereafter. But he whogives himself up to weariness, will neither find nor deserve a wing.Thou hast eaten--thou hast drunken,--thou shouldst be refreshed. I haveneither eaten nor drunken, since we set off at dawn this morning for ourprogress across the valley."
"Reproach me not, Alphonse," replied the other; "thou hast a strengthand a courage both denied to me."
"Believe it not; be resolute in thy courage, and thy strength willfollow. It is the heart, verily, that is the first to fail."
"Mine is dead within me!"
"Yet another effort, _mon frere_,--yet one more effort! The valleybelow us looks soft and inviting. There shall we find shelter from thebleak winds that sweep these bald summits."
"It is cold! and my limbs stiffen beneath me," answered the other, ashe rose slowly to resume a march which was more painful to his thoughtsthan any which he had of death. But for his deference to the superiorwill of the younger brother, he had surely never risen from the spot.But he rose, and wearily followed after the bold Alphonse, who wasalready picking his way down the steep sides of the mountain.
* * * * *
We need not follow the brothers through the painful details of aprogress which had few varieties to break its monotony, and nothing torelieve its gloom. Two days have made a wonderful difference in theappearance of both. Wild, stern and wretched enough before in aspect,there was now a grim, gaunt, wolf-like expression in the features ofAlphonse D'Erlach, which showed that privation and labor were workingfearfully upon the mind as well as the body. He was emaciated--his eyessunken and glossy, staring intensely yet without expression--hishair matted upon his brows, and his movements rather convulsive thanenergetic. His soul was as strong as ever--his will as inflexible; butthe tension of the mind had been too great, and nature was beginning tofail in the support of this rigor. He now strove but little in the workof soothing and cheering his less courageous brother. He had no longer avoice of encouragement, and he evidently began to think that the deathfor which the other had so much yearned would perhaps be no unwelcomevisitor. Still, as if the maxims which we have heard him utter were aportion of his real nature, his cry was forever "On," and still his handwas outstretched towards blue summits that seemed to hide another worldin the gulfs beyond them.
"I can go no farther, Alphonse. I will go no farther. The struggle isworse than any death. I feel that I must sleep. I feel that sleep wouldbe sweeter than anything you can promise."
"If you sleep, you die."
"I shall rejoice!"
"You must not, brother. I will help you. I will carry you."
He made the effort as he spoke--for a moment raised up the failing formof his brother--staggered forward, and sank himself beneath the burden.
"Ha! ha!" he laughed hoarsely; "that we should fail with the GoldenCopal in sight! But if we rest, we shall recover. Let us rest. Let uskindle here a fire, my brother, for my limbs feel cold also."
"It is death, Alphonse."
"Death! Pshaw! We cannot fail now; now that we are nearly at the summit.I tell you, brother, we are almost at the portals of that wondrous city.Once I doubted there were such city, but I have seen glimpses of towers,and methought but now I beheld the window in a turret from which a fairwoman was looking forth. See now! Look you to the right--there where yousee the mountain sink as it were, then suddenly rise again, the slopesleading gently up to a tower and a wall. The evening sunlight rests uponit. You see it is of a dusky white, and the window shows clearly throughthe stone, and some one moves within it. Dost thou see, my brother?"
"I see nothing but the sky and ocean. It is the waters that roll aboutus."
"It is the winds that you hear, as they sweep down from yondermountains. But where I point your eyes is certainly a tower, a greatcastle--no doubt one that commands the ascent to the mountains."
"Brother, this is so sweet!"
"What?"
"Ah! what a blessed fortune! Escaped from the bloody Spaniard, afar fromthe inhospitable land of the Floridian, to see once more these sweetwaters and the well-known places."
"What waters? What places?"
"Do you know them not--our own Seine and the cottage, Alphonse? Ha! ha!there they are! I knew they would come forth. Old Ulrich leads them; andBertha is there, and brings little Etienne by the hand. And, ah! ha! ha!Joy, mother, we are come again!"
"He dreams! he dreams! If thus he dies, with such a dream, there can beno pain in it. Let him dream! let him dream!"
And Alphonse D'Erlach hastened to kindle the flames, and he tore fromhis own body the garment to warm his dying brother; and he clasped hishands convulsively as he listened to the faint and broken words thatfell from his lips, subsiding at last into,
"Mother, we are come!"
And then he lay speechless. The younger brother turned away, and lookedyearningly to the mountains.
"If I can only reach yon castle, he should be saved. It is not so far!but this valley to cross--but that low range of rocks to overcome. Itshall be done. I will but cover him warmly with leaves and throw freshbrands upon the fire, and before night I shall return with help."
And he did as he said. He threw fresh brands upon the fire; he wrappedthe senseless form of his brother in leaves and moss; and, stoopingdown, grasped his hand and printed a long, last kiss upon his lips.The eyes of the dying man opened, but they were fixed and glassy. ButAlphonse saw not the look. His own eyes were upon the castellatedmountain. He sped away, feebly but eagerly, and as he descended intothe valley, he looked back ever and anon; and as he looked, his voice,almost in whispers, would repeat the words--"Keep in heart, brother. Iwill bring you help;" and thus he sped from the scene.
* * * * *
The day waned rapidly, but still the young Alphonse sped upon
hismission. He crossed the plain; he urged his progress up the ridgy massesthat formed the foreground to the great cliffs from which the castledtowers still appeared to loom forth upon his sight. He cast a momentaryglance upon the sun, wan, sinking with a misty halo among the tops ofthe great sea-like mountains that rolled their blue and billowy summitsin the east, circumscribing his vision, and he murmured--
"I shall be in time. Do not despair, my brother. I will soon be with youand bring you succor."
And thus he ascended the stony ridges, height upon height graduallyascending, till he came to a sudden gorge--a chasm rent by earthquakeand convulsion from the bosom of the great mountain for which he sped.He looked down upon the gorge, and as he descended, he turned his eyeto the lone plateau upon which his brother had been laid to dream, andcried:
"I go from your eyes, my brother, but I go to bring you help."
And he passed with tottering steps, and a feebleness still increasing,but which his sovereign will was loth to acknowledge, down into thechasm, and was suddenly lost from sight.
* * * * *
Scarcely had he thus passed into the great shadow of the gorge, when thehowl of wolves awakened the echoes of the valley over which he had gone.And soon they appeared, five in number, trotting over the ground whichhe had traversed, and, with their noses momently set to earth, sendingup an occasional cry which announced the satisfaction of their scent.Now they ascend the stony ridges. For a moment they halt and gather uponthe verge of the great chasm; then they scramble down into its hollows,and howling as they go and jostling in the narrow gorges, they too passfrom sight into the obscurity of the mountain shadows.
* * * * *
Another spectacle follows in their place. Sudden, along the rocky ledgesof the high precipices which overhang the gorge, darts forth a gracefuland commanding form. It is a woman that appears, young and majestic,lofty in carriage, yet winning in aspect. She belongs to the red racesof the Apalachian, but she is fairest among her people. The skin ofa panther forms her mantle, and her garments are of cotton, richlystained. She carries a bow in her hand, and a quiver at her back. Herbrows are encircled by a tiara of crimson cotton, from which arise thelong white plumes of the heron. She claps her hands, and cries aloud toothers still in the shadows of the mountain. They dart out to join her,a group of graceful-looking women and of lofty and vigorous men. Shepoints to the gorge beyond, and fits an arrow to her bow. The warriorsdo likewise, and her shaft speeds upon its mission of death, shot downamidst the shadows of the gorge. A cry of pain from the wolf,--anotherand another, as the several shafts of the warriors speed in the samedirection. Then one of the warriors hurls a blazing torch into theabyss, and the wounded wolves speed back through the gorges, and thehunters dart after them with shafts, and blazing torches, and keenpursuit. Meanwhile, the Apalachian princess descends the precipice withfootsteps wondrous sure and fast. Her damsels follow her with cries ofeagerness, and soon they disappear--all save the hunters, who pursue thewolves with well-aimed darts, till they fall howling one by one, andperish in their tracks. Then the warriors scalp their prey and turnback, pass through the gorge, and follow in the footsteps of theirprincess. The sun sinks, the night closes upon the valley, and all issilent.