Wyandotte - James Fenimore Cooper
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_Miss_ Strides thought exactly as her husband thought, and the
miller and his wife were not long in chiming in with her, accordingly.
The sermon furnished material for conversation throughout the remainder
of the day, at the mill, and divers conclusions were drawn from it,
that were ominous to the preacher's future comfort and security.
Nor did the well-meaning parson entirely escape comment in the higher
quarters.
"I wish, Woods, you had made choice of some other subject," observed
the captain, as he and his friend walked the lawn together, in waiting
for a summons to dinner.
"In times like these, one cannot be too careful of the political
notions he throws out; and to own the truth to you, I am more than half
inclined to think that Caesar is exercising quite as much authority, in
these colonies, as justly falls to his share."
"Why, my dear captain, you have heard this very sermon three or four
times already, and you have more than once mentioned it with
commendation!"
"Ay, but that was in garrison, where one is obliged to teach
subordination. I remember the sermon quite well, and a very good one it
was, twenty years since, when you first preached it; but--"
"I apprehend, captain Willoughby, that '_tempora mutantur, et, nos
mutamus in illis.'_ That the mandates and maxims of the Saviour are
far beyond the mutations and erring passions of mortality. His sayings
are intended for all times."
"Certainly, as respects their general principles and governing truths.
But no text is to be interpreted without some reference to
circumstances. All I mean is, that the preaching which might be very
suitable to a battalion of His Majesty's Fortieth might be very
unsuitable for the labourers of the Hutted Knoll; more especially so
soon after what I find is called the Battle of Lexington."
The summons to dinner cut short the discourse; and probably prevented a
long, warm, but friendly argument.
That afternoon and evening, captain Willoughby and his son had a
private and confidential discourse. The former advised the major to
rejoin his regiment without delay, unless he were prepared to throw up
his commission and take sides with the colonists, altogether. To this
the young soldier would not listen, returning to the charge, in the
hope of rekindling the dormant flame of his father's loyalty.
The reader is not to suppose that captain Willoughby's own mind was
absolutely made up to fly into open rebellion. Far from it. He had his
doubts and misgivings on the subjects of both principles and prudence,
but he inclined strongly to the equity of the demands of the Americans.
Independence, or separation, if thought of at all in 1775 entered into
the projects of but very few; the warmest wish of the most ardent of
the whigs of the colonies being directed toward compromise, and a
distinct recognition of their political franchises. The events that
followed so thickly were merely the consequences of causes which, once
set in motion, soon attained an impetus that defied ordinary human
control. It was doubtless one of the leading incidents of the great and
mysterious scheme of Divine Providence for the government of the future
destinies of man, that political separation should commence, in this
hemisphere, at that particular juncture, to be carried out, ere the end
of a century, to its final and natural conclusion.
But the present interview was less to debate the merits of any disputed
question, than to consult on the means of future intercourse, and to
determine on what was best to be done at the present moment. After
discussing the matter, pro and con, it was decided that the major
should quit the Knoll the next day, and return to Boston, avoiding
Albany and those points of the country in which he would be most
exposed to detection. So many persons were joining the American forces
that were collecting about the besieged town, that his journeying on
the proper road would excite no suspicion; and once in the American
camp, nothing would be easier than to find his way into the peninsula.
All this young Willoughby felt no difficulty in being able to
accomplish, provided he could get into the settlements without being
followed by information of his real character. The period of spies, and
of the severe exercise of martial-law, was not yet reached; and all
that was apprehended was detention. Of the last, however, there was
great danger; positive certainty, indeed, in the event of discovery;
and major Willoughby had gleaned enough during his visit, to feel some
apprehensions of being betrayed. He regretted having brought his
servant with him; for the man was a European, and by his dulness and
speech might easily get them both into difficulties. So serious,
indeed, was this last danger deemed by the father, that he insisted on
Robert's starting without the man, leaving the last to follow, on the
first suitable occasion.
As soon as this point was settled, there arose the question of the
proper guide. Although he distrusted the Tuscarora, captain Willoughby,
after much reflection, came to the opinion that it would be safer to
make an ally of him, than to give him an opportunity of being employed
by the other side. Nick was sent for, and questioned. He promised to
take the major to the Hudson, at a point between Lunenburg and
Kinderhook, where he would be likely to cross the river without
awakening suspicion; his own reward to depend on his coming back to the
Hutted Knoll with a letter from the major, authorizing the father to
pay him for his services. This plan, it was conceived, would keep Nick
true to his faith, for the time being, at least.
Many other points were discussed between the father and son, the latter
promising if anything of importance occurred, to find the means of
communicating it to his friends at the Knoll, while Parrel was to
follow his master, at the end of six weeks or two months, with letters
from the family. Many of the captain's old army-friends were now in
situations of authority and command, and he sent to them messages of
prudence, and admonitions to be moderate in their views, which
subsequent events proved were little regarded. To general Gage he even
wrote, using the precaution not to sign the letter, though its
sentiments were so much in favour of the colonies, that had it been
intercepted, it is most probable the Americans would have forwarded the
missive to its direction.
These matters arranged, the father and son parted for the night, some
time after the house-clock had struck the hour of twelve.
Chapter IX.
Though old in cunning, as in years,
He is so small, that like a child
In face and form, the god appears,
And sportive like a boy, and wild;
Lightly he moves from place to place,
In none at rest, in none content;
Delighted some new toy to chase--
On childish purpose ever bent.
Beware! to childhood's spirits gay
Is added more than childhood's power;
And you perchance may rue the hour
That saw you join his seeming play.
Griffen
The intention of the major to quit the Knoll that day, was announced to
the family at breakfast, on the following morning. His mother and
Beulah heard this intelligence, with a natural and affectionate
concern, that they had no scruples in avowing; but Maud seemed to have
so schooled her feelings, that the grief she really felt was under a
prudent control. To her, it appeared as if her secret were constantly
on the point of exposure, and she believed _that_ would cause her
instant death. To survive its shame was impossible in her eyes, and all
the energies of her nature were aroused, with the determination of
burying her weakness in her own bosom. She had been so near revealing
it to Beulah, that even now she trembled as she thought of the
precipice over which she had been impending, strengthening her
resolution by the recollection of the danger she had run.
As a matter of necessary caution, the intended movements of the young
man were kept a profound secret from all in the settlement. Nick had
disappeared in the course of the night, carrying with him the major's
pack, having repaired to a designated point on the stream, where he was
to be joined by his fellow-traveller at an hour named. There were
several forest-paths which led to the larger settlements. That usually
travelled was in the direction of old Fort Stanwix, first proceeding
north, and then taking a south-eastern direction, along the shores of
the Mohawk. This was the route by which the major had come. Another
struck the Otsego, and joined the Mohawk at the point more than once
mentioned in our opening chapters. As these were the two ordinary
paths--if paths they could be called, where few or no traces of
footsteps were visible--it was more than probable any plan to arrest
the traveller would be laid in reference to their courses. The major
had consequently resolved to avoid them both, and to strike boldly into
the mountains, until he should reach the Susquehanna, cross that stream
on its flood wood, and finding one of its tributaries that flowed in
from the eastward, by following its banks to the high land, which
divides the waters of the Mohawk from this latter river, place himself
on a route that would obliquely traverse the water-courses, which, in
this quarter of the country, have all a general north or south
direction. Avoiding Schenectady and Albany, he might incline towards
the old establishments of the descendants of the emigrants from the
Palatinate, on the Schoharie, and reach the Hudson at a point deemed
safe for his purposes, through some of the passes of the mountains in
their vicinity. He was to travel in the character of a land-owner who
had been visiting his patent, and his father supplied him with a map
and an old field-book, which would serve to corroborate his assumed
character, in the event of suspicion, or arrest. Not much danger was
apprehended, however, the quarrel being yet too recent to admit of the
organization and distrust that subsequently produced so much vigilance
and activity.
"You will contrive to let us hear of your safe arrival in Boston, Bob,"
observed the father, as he sat stirring his tea, in a thoughtful
way--"I hope to God the matter will go no farther, and that our
apprehensions, after all, have given this dark appearance to what has
already happened."
"Ah, my dear father; you little know the state of the country, through
which I have so lately travelled!" answered the major, shaking his
head. "An alarm of fire, in an American town, would scarce create more
movement, and not so much excitement. The colonies are alive,
particularly those of New England, and a civil war is inevitable;
though I trust the power of England will render it short."
"Then, Robert, do not trust yourself among the people of New England"--
cried the anxious mother. "Go rather to New York, where we have so many
friends, and so much influence. It will be far easier to reach New York
than to reach Boston."
"That may be true, mother, but it will scarcely be as creditable. My
regiment is in Boston, and its enemies are _before_ Boston; an old
soldier like captain Willoughby will tell you that the major is a very
necessary officer to a corps. No--no--my best course is to fall into
the current of adventurers who are pushing towards Boston, and appear
like one of their number, until I can get an opportunity of stealing
away from them, and join my own people."
"Have a care, Bob, that you do not commit a military crime. Perhaps
these provincial officers may take it into their heads to treat you as
a spy, should you fall into their hands!"
"Little fear of that, sir; at present it is a sort of colonial scramble
for what they fancy liberty. That they will fight, in their zeal, I
know; for I have seen it; but matters have not at all gone as far as
you appear to apprehend. I question if they would even stop Gage,
himself, from going through their camp, were he outside, and did he
express a desire to return."
"And yet you tell me, arms and ammunition are seized all over the land;
that several old half-pay officers of the king have been arrested, and
put under a sort of parole!"
"Such things were talked of, certainly, though I question if they have
yet been done. Luckily for yourself, under your present opinions at
least, _you_ are not on half-pay, even."
"It is fortunate, Bob, though you mention it with a smile. With my
present feelings, I should indeed be sorry to be on half-pay, or
quarter-pay, were there such a thing. I now feel myself my-own master,
at liberty to follow the dictates of my conscience, and the suggestions
of my judgment."
"Well, sir, you are a little fortunate, it must be acknowledged. I
cannot see how any man _can_ be at liberty to throw off the
allegiance he owes his natural sovereign. What think you, Maud?"
This was said half in bitterness, half in jest, though the appeal at
its close was uttered in a serious manner, and a little anxiously. Maud
hesitated, as if to muster her thoughts, ere she replied.
"My feelings are against rebellion," she said, at length; "though I
fear my reason tells me there is no such thing as a natural sovereign.
If the parliament had not given us the present family, a century since,
by what rule of nature would it be our princes, Bob?"
"Ah! these are some of the flights of your rich imagination, my dear--
Maud; it is parliament that has made them our princes, and parliament,
at least, is our legal, constitutional master."
"That is just the point in dispute. Parliament may be the rightful
governors of England, but are they the rightful governors of America?"
"Enough," said the captain, rising from table--"We will not discuss
such a question, just as we are about to separate. Go, my son; a duty
that is to be performed, cannot be done too soon. Your fowling-piece
and ammunition are ready for you, and I shall take care to circulate
the report that you have gone to pass an hour in the woods, in search
of pigeons. God bless you, Bob; however we may differ in this matter--
you are my son--my _only_ son--my dear and well-beloved boy--God
for ever bless you!"
A profound stillness succeeded this burst of nature, and then the young
man took his leave of his mother and the girls. Mrs. Willoughby kissed
her child. She did not even weep, until she was in her room; then,
indeed, she went to her knees, her tears, and her prayers. Beulah, all
heart and truth as she was, wept freely on her brother's neck; but
Maud, though pale and trembling, received his kiss without returning
it; though she could not help saying with a meaning that the young man
had in his mind all that day, ay, and for many succeeding days--"be
careful of yourself, and run into no unnecessary dangers; God bless
you, dear, _dear_ Bob."
Maud alone followed the movements of the gentlemen with her eyes. The
peculiar construction of the Hut prevented external view from the south
windows; but there was a loop in a small painting-room of the garret
that was especially under her charge. Thither, then, she flew, to ease
her nearly bursting heart with tears, and to watch the retiring
footsteps of Robert. She saw him, accompanied by his father and the
chaplain, stroll leisurely down the lawn, conversing and affecting an
indifferent manner, with a wish to conceal his intent to depart. The
glass of the loop was open, to admit the air, and Maud strained her
sense of hearing, in the desire to catch, if possible, another tone of
his voice. In this she was unsuccessful; though he stopped and gazed
back at the Hut, as if to take a parting look. Her father and Mr. Woods
did not turn, and Maud thrust her hand through the opening and waved
her handkerchief. "He will think it Beulah or I," she thought, "and it
may prove a consolation to him to know how much _we_ love him."
The major saw the signal, and returned it. His father unexpectedly
turned, and caught a glimpse of the retiring hand, as it was
disappearing within the loop. "That is our precious Maud," he said,
without other thought than of her sisterly affection. "It is _her_
painting-room; Beulah's is on the other side of the gateway; but the
window does not seem to be open."
The major started, kissed his hand fervently, five or six times, and
then he walked on. As if to change the conversation, he said hastily,
and with a little want of connection with what had just passed--
"Yes, sir, that gate, sure enough--have it hung, at once, I do entreat
of you. I shall not be easy until I hear that both the gates are hung--
that in the stockade, and that in the house, itself."
"It was my intention to commence to-day," returned the father, "but
your departure has prevented it. I will wait a day or two, to let your
mother and sisters tranquillize their minds a little, before we besiege
them with the noise and clamour of the workmen."
"Better besiege them with _that_, my dear sir, than leave them
exposed to an Indian, or even a rebel attack."
The major then went on to give some of his more modern military
notions, touching the art of defence. As one of the old school, he
believed his father a miracle of skill; but what young man, who had
enjoyed the advantages of ten or fifteen years of the most recent
training in any branch of knowledge, ever believed the educations of
those who went before him beyond the attacks of criticism. The captain
listened patiently, and with an old man's tolerance for inexperience,
glad to have any diversion to unhappy thoughts.
All this time Maud watched their movements from the loop, with eyes
streaming with tears. She saw Robert pause, and look back, again and
again; and, once more, she thrust out the handkerchief. It was plain,
however, he did not see it; for he turned and proceeded, without any
answering signal.
"He never _can_ know whether it was Beulah or I," thought Maud;
"yet, he may fancy we are _both_ here."
On the rocks, that overhung the mills, the gentlemen paused, and
conversed for quite a quarter of an hour. The distance prevented Maud
from discerning their countenances; but she could perceive the
thoughtful, and as she fancied melancholy, attitude of the major, as,
leaning on his fowling-piece, his lace was turned towards the Knoll,
and his eyes were really riveted on the loop. At the end of the time
mentioned, the young soldier shook hands hastily and covertly with his
companions, hurried towards the path, and descended out of sight,
following the course of the stream. Maud saw him no more, though her
father and Mr. Woods stood on the rocks quite half an hour longer,
catching occasional glimpses of his form, as it came out of the shadows
of the forest, into the open space of the little river; and, indeed,
until the major was within a short distance of the spot where he was to
meet the Indian. Then they heard the reports of both barrels of his
fowling-piece, fired in quick succession, the signals that he had
joined his guide. This welcome news received, the two gentlemen
returned slowly towards the house.
Such was the commencement of a day, which, while it brought forth
nothing alarming to the family of the Hutted Knoll, was still pregnant
with important consequences. Major Willoughby disappeared from the
sight of his father about ten in the morning; and before twelve, the
settlement was alive with the rumours of a fresh arrival. Joel knew not
whether to rejoice or to despair, as he saw a party of eight or ten
armed men rising above the rock, and holding their course across the
flats towards the house. He entertained no doubt of its being a party
sent by the provincial authorities to arrest the captain, and he
foresaw the probability of another's being put into the lucrative
station of receiver of the estate, during the struggle which was in
perspective. It is surprising how many, and sometimes how pure patriots
are produced by just such hopes as those of Joel's. At this day, there
is scarce an instance of a confiscated estate, during the American
revolution, connected with which racy traditions are not to be found,
that tell of treachery very similar to this contemplated by the
overseer in some instances of treachery effected by means of kinsmen
and false friends.
Joel had actually got on his Sunday coat, and was making his way
towards the Knoll, in order to be present, at least, at the anticipated
scene, when, to his amazement, and somewhat to his disappointment, he
saw the captain and chaplain moving down the lawn, in a manner to show
that these unexpected arrivals brought not unwelcome guests. This
caused him to pause; and when he perceived that the only two among the
strangers who had the air of gentlemen, were met with cordial shakes of
the hand, he turned back towards his own tenement, a half-dissatisfied,
and yet half contented man.
The visit which the captain had come out to receive, instead of
producing any uneasiness in his family, was, in truth, highly
agreeable, and very opportune. It was Evert Beekman, with an old
friend, attended by a party of chain-bearers, hunters, &c., on his way
from the "Patent" he owned in the neighbourhood--that is to say, within
fifty miles--and halting at the Hutted Knoll, under the courteous
pretence of paying his respects to the family, but, in reality, to
bring the suit he had now been making to Beulah for quite a
twelvemonth, to a successful termination.
The attachment between Evert Beekman and Beulah Willoughby was of a
character so simple, so sincere, and so natural, as scarce to furnish
materials for a brief episode. The young man had not made his addresses
without leave obtained from the parents; he had been acceptable to the
daughter from the commencement of their acquaintance; and she had only
asked time to reflect, ere she gave her answer, when he proposed, a day
or two before the family left New York.
To own the truth, Beulah was a little surprised that her suitor had
delayed his appearance till near the close of May, when she had
expected to see him at the beginning of the month. A letter, however,
was out of the question, since there was no mode of transmitting it,
unless the messenger were sent expressly; and the young man had now
come in person, to make his own apologies.
Beulah received Evert Beekman naturally, and without the least
exaggeration of manner, though a quiet happiness beamed in her handsome
face, that said as much as lover could reasonably desire. Her parents
welcomed him cordially, and the suitor must have been dull indeed, not
to anticipate all he hoped. Nor was it long before every doubt was
removed. The truthful, conscientious Beulah, had well consulted her
heart; and, while she blushed at her own temerity, she owned her
attachment to her admirer. The very day of his arrival they became
formally betrothed. As our tale, however, has but a secondary
connection with this little episode, we shall not dwell on it more than
is necessary to the principal object. It was a busy morning,
altogether; and, though there were many tears, there were also many
smiles. By the time it was usual, at that bland season, for the family
to assemble on the lawn, everything, even to the day, was settled
between Beulah and her lover, and there was a little leisure to think
of other things. It was while the younger Pliny and one of the Smashes
were preparing the tea, that the following conversation was held, being
introduced by Mr. Woods, in the way of digressing from feelings in
which he was not quite as much interested as some of the rest of the
party.
"Do you bring us anything new from Boston?" demanded the chaplain. "I
have been dying to ask the question these two hours--ever since dinner,
in fact; but, somehow, Mr. Beekman, I have not been able to edge in an
inquiry."
This was said good-naturedly, but quite innocently; eliciting smiles,
blushes, and meaning glances in return. Evert Beekman, however, looked
grave before he made his reply.
"To own the truth, Mr. Woods," he said, "things are getting to be very
serious. Boston is surrounded by thousands of our people; and we hope,
not only to keep the king's forces in the Peninsula, but, in the end,
to drive them out of the colony."
"This is a bold measure, Mr. Beekman!--a very bold step to take against
Caesar!"
"Woods preached about the rights of Caesar, no later than yesterday, you
ought to know, Beekman," put in the laughing captain; "and I am afraid
he will be publicly praying for the success of the British arms, before
long."
"I _did_ pray for the Royal Family," said the chaplain, with
spirit, "and hope I shall ever continue to do so."
"My dear fellow, I do not object to _that_. Pray for all
conditions of men, enemies and friends alike; and, particularly, pray
for our princes; but pray also to turn the hearts of their advisers."
Beekman seemed uneasy. He belonged to a decidedly whig family, and was
himself, at the very moment, spoken of as the colonel of one of the
regiments about to be raised in the colony of New York. He held that
rank in the militia, as it was; and no one doubted his disposition to
resist the British forces, at the proper moment. He had even stolen
away from what he conceived to be very imperative duties, to secure the
woman of his heart before he went into the field. His answer, in
accordance, partook essentially of the bias of his mind.