Wyandotte - James Fenimore Cooper
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"Were you in this battle, Nick? How came you to learn so much about
it?"
"Don't want to be in it--better out--no scalp taken. Red-man not'in' to
do, dere. How know about him?--_See_ him--dat all. Got eye; why no
see him, behind stone wall. Good see, behind stone wall."
"Were you across the water yourself, or did you remain in Boston, and
see from a distance?"
"Across in canoe--tell red-coat, general send letter by Nick--major
say, he _my_ friend--let Nick go."
"My son was in this bloody battle, then!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "He
writes, Hugh, that he is safe?"
"He does, dearest Wilhelmina; and Bob knows us too well, to attempt
deception, in such a matter."
"Did you see the major in the field, Nick--after you crossed the water,
I mean?"
"See him, all. Six--two--seven t'ousand. Close by; why not see major
stand up like pine--no dodge he head, _dere_. Kill all round him--
no hurt _him_! Fool to stay dere--tell him so; but he no come
away. Save he scalp, too."
"And how many slain do you suppose there might have been left on the
ground--or, did you riot remain to see?"
"Did see--stay to get gun--knapsack--oder good t'ing--plenty about;
pick him up, fast as want him." Here Nick coolly opened a small bundle,
and exhibited an epaulette, several rings, a watch, five or six pairs
of silver buckles, and divers other articles of plunder, of which he
had managed to strip the dead. "All good t'ing--plenty as stone--have
him widout askin'."
"So I see, Master Nick--and is this the plunder of Englishmen, or of
Americans?"
"Red-coat nearest--got most t'ing, too. Go farder, fare worse; as pale-
face say."
"Quite satisfactory. Were there more red-coats left on the ground, or
more Americans?"
"Red-coat so," said Nick, holding up _four_ fingers--Yankee, so;
"holding up _one_. Take big grave to hold red-coat. Small grave
won't hold Yankee. Hear what he count; most red-coat. More than
t'ousand warrior! British groan, like squaw dat lose her hunter."
Such was Saucy Nick's description of the celebrated, and, in some
particulars, unrivalled combat of Bunker Hill, of which he had actually
been an eye-witness, on the ground, though using the precaution to keep
his body well covered. He did not think it necessary to state the fact
that he had given the _coup-de-grace_, himself, to the owner of
the epaulette, nor did he deem it essential to furnish all the
particulars of his mode of obtaining so many buckles. In other
respects, his account was fair enough, "nothing extenuating, or setting
down aught in malice." The auditors had listened with intense feeling;
and Maud, when the allusion was made to Robert Willoughby, buried her
pallid face in her hands, and wept. As for Beulah, time and again, she
glanced anxiously at her husband, and bethought her of the danger to
which he might so soon be exposed.
The receipt of this important intelligence confirmed Beekman in the
intention to depart. The very next morning he tore himself away from
Beulah, and proceeded to Albany. The appointment of Washington, and a
long list of other officers, soon succeeded, including his own as a
colonel; and the war may be said to have commenced systematically. Its
distant din occasionally reached the Hutted Knoll; but the summer
passed away, bringing with it no event to affect the tranquillity of
that settlement. Even Joel's schemes were thwarted for a time, and he
was fain to continue to wear the mask, and to gather that harvest for
another, which he had hoped to reap for his own benefit.
Beulah had all a young wife's fears for her husband; but, as month
succeeded month, and one affair followed another, without bringing him
harm, she began to submit to the anxieties inseparable from her
situation, with less of self-torment, and more of reason. Her mother
and Maud were invaluable friends to her, in this novel and trying
situation, though each had her own engrossing cares on account of
Robert Willoughby. As no other great battle, however, occurred in the
course of the year '75, Beekman remained in safety with the troops that
invested Boston, and the major with the army within it. Neither was
much exposed, and glad enough were these gentle affectionate hearts,
when they learned that the sea separated the combatants.
This did not occur, however, until another winter was passed. In
November, the family left the Hut, as had been its practice of late
years, and went out into the more inhabited districts to pass the
winter. This time it came only to Albany, where colonel Beekman joined
it, passing a few happy weeks with his well-beloved Beulah. The ancient
town mentioned was not gay at a moment like that; but it had many young
officers in it, on the American side of the question, who were willing
enough to make themselves acceptable to Maud. The captain was not sorry
to see several of these youths manifesting assiduity about her he had
so long been accustomed to consider as his youngest daughter; for, by
this time, his opinions had taken so strong a bias in favour of the
rights of the colonies, that Beekman himself scarce rejoiced more
whenever he heard of any little success alighting on the American arms.
"It will all come right in the end," the worthy captain used to assure
his friend the chaplain. "They will open their eyes at home, ere long,
and the injustice of taxing the colonies will be admitted. Then all
will come round again; the king will be as much beloved as ever, and
England and America will be all the better friends for having a mutual
respect. I know my countrymen well; they mean right, and will do right,
as soon as their stomachs are a little lowered, and they come to look
at the truth, coolly. I'll answer for it, the Battle of Bunker's Hill
made _us_"--the captain had spoken in this way, now, for some
months--"made _us_ a thousand advocates, where we had one before.
This is the nature of John Bull; give him reason to respect you, and he
will soon do you justice; but give him reason to feel otherwise, and he
becomes a careless, if not a hard master."
Such were the opinions captain Willoughby entertained of his native
land; a land he had not seen in thirty years, and one in which he had
so recently inherited unexpected honours, without awakening a desire to
return and enjoy them. His opinions were right in part, certainly; for
they depended on a law of nature, while it is not improbable they were
wrong in all that was connected with the notions of any peculiarly
manly quality, in any particular part of christendom. No maxim is truer
than that which teaches us "like causes produce like effects;" and as
human beings are governed by very similar laws all over the face of
this round world of ours, nothing is more certain than the similarity
of their propensities.
Maud had no smiles, beyond those extracted by her naturally sweet
disposition, and a very prevalent desire to oblige, for any of the
young soldiers, or young civilians, who crowded about her chair, during
the Albany winter mentioned. Two or three of colonel Beekman's military
friends, in particular, would very gladly have become connected with an
officer so much respected, through means so exceedingly agreeable; but
no encouragement emboldened either to go beyond the attention and
assiduities of a marked politeness.
"I know not how it is," observed Mrs. Willoughby, one day, in a
_tete-a-tete_ with her husband; "Maud seems to take less pleasure
than is usual with girls of her years, in the attentions of your sex.
That her heart is affectionate--warm--even tender, I am very certain;
and yet no sign of preference, partiality, or weakness, in favour of
any of these fine young men, of whom we see so many, can I discover in
the child. They all seem alike to her!"
"Her time will come, as it happened to her mother before her," answered
the captain. "Whooping-cough and measles are not more certain to befall
children, than love to befall a young woman. You were all made for it,
my dear Willy, and no fear but the girl will catch the disease, one of
these days; and that, too, without any inoculation."
"I am sure, I have no wish to separate from my child"--so Mrs.
Willoughby always spoke of, and so she always felt towards Maud--"I am
sure, I have no wish to separate from my child; but as we cannot always
remain, it is perhaps better this one should marry, like the other.
There is young Verplanck much devoted to her; he is everyway a suitable
match; and then he is in Evert's own regiment."
"Ay, he would do; though to my fancy Luke Herring is the far better
match."
"That is because he is richer and more powerful, Hugh--you men cannot
think of a daughter's establishment, without immediately dragging in
houses and lands, as part of the ceremony."
"By George, wife of mine, houses and lands in moderation, are very good
sweeteners of matrimony!"
"And yet, Hugh, I have been very happy as a wife, nor have you been
very miserable as a husband, without any excess of riches to sweeten
the state!" answered Mrs. Willoughby, reproachfully. "Had you been a
full general, I could not have loved you more than I have done as a
mere captain."
"All very true, Wilhelmina, dearest," returned the husband, kissing the
faithful partner of his bosom with strong affection--"very true, my
dear girl; for girl you are and ever will be in my eyes; but _you_
are one in a million, and I humbly trust there are not ten hundred and
one, in every thousand, just like myself. For my part, I wish dear,
saucy, capricious little Maud, no worse luck in a husband, than Luke
Herring."
"She will never be _his_ wife; I know her, and my own sex, too
well to think it. You are wrong, however, Willoughby, in applying such
terms to the child. Maud is not in the least capricious, especially in
her affections. See with what truth and faithfulness of sisterly
attachment she clings to Bob. I do declare I am often ashamed to feel
that even his own mother has less solicitude about him than this dear
girl."
"Pooh, Willy; don't be afflicted with the idea that you don't make
yourself sufficiently miserable about the boy. Bob will do well enough,
and will very likely come out of this affair a lieutenant-colonel. I
may live yet to see him a general officer; certainly, if I live to be
as old as my grandfather, Sir Thomas. As for Maud, she finds Beulah
uneasy about Beekman; and having no husband herself, or any over that
she cares a straw about, why she just falls upon Bob as a _pis
aller_. I'll warrant you she cares no more for him than any of the
rest of us--than myself, for instance; though as an old soldier, I
don't scream every time I fancy a gun fired over yonder at Boston."
"I wish it were well over. It is _so_ unnatural for Evert and
Robert to be on opposite sides."
"Yes, it is out of the common way, I admit; and yet 'twill all come
round, in the long run. This Mr. Washington is a clever fellow, and
seems to play his cards with spirit and judgment. He was with us, in
that awkward affair of Braddock's; and between you and me, Wilhelmina,
he covered the regulars, or we should all have laid our bones on that
accursed field. I wrote you at the time, what I thought of him, and now
you see it is all coming to pass."
It was one of the captain's foibles to believe himself a political
prophet; and, as he had really both written and spoken highly of
Washington, at the time mentioned, it had no small influence on his
opinions to find himself acting on the same side with this admired
favourite. Prophecies often produce their own fulfilment, in cases of
much greater gravity than this; and it is not surprising that our
captain found himself strengthened in his notions by the circumstance.
The winter passed away without any of Maud's suitors making a visible
impression on her heart. In March, the English evacuated Boston, Robert
Willoughby sailing with his regiment for Halifax, and thence with the
expedition against Charleston, under Sir Henry Clinton. The next month,
the family returned to the Knoll, where it was thought wiser, and even
safer to be, at a moment so critical, than even in a more frequented
place. The war proceeded, and, to the captain's great regret, without
any very visible approaches towards the reconciliation he had so
confidently anticipated. This rather checked his warmth in favour of
the colonial cause; for, an Englishman by birth, he was much opposed at
bottom to anything like a dissolution of the tie that connected America
with the mother country; a political event that now began seriously to
be talked of among the initiated.
Desirous of thinking as little as possible of disagreeable things, the
worthy owner of the valley busied himself with his crops, his mills,
and his improvements. He had intended to commence leasing his wild
lands about this time, and to begin a more extended settlement, with an
eye to futurity; but the state of the country forbade the execution of
the project, and he was fain to limit his efforts by their former
boundaries. The geographical position of the valley put it beyond any
of the ordinary exactions of military service; and, as there was a
little doubt thrown around its owner's opinions, partly in consequence
of his son's present and his own previous connection with the royal
army, and partly on account of Joel's secret machinations, the
authorities were well content to let the settlement alone, provided it
would take care of itself. Notwithstanding the prominent patriotism of
Joel Strides and the miller, they were well satisfied, themselves, with
this state of things; preferring peace and quietness to the more
stirring scenes of war. Their schemes, moreover, had met with somewhat
of a check, in the feeling of the population of the valley, which, on
an occasion calculated to put their attachment to its owner to the
proof, had rather shown that they remembered his justice, liberality,
and upright conduct, more than exactly comported with their longings.
This manifestation of respect was shown at an election for a
representative in a local convention, in which every individual at the
Hutted Knoll, who had a voice at all, the two conspirators excepted,
had given it in favour of the captain. So decided was this expression
of feeling, indeed, that it compelled Joel and the miller to chime in
with the cry of the hour, and to vote contrary to their own wishes.
One, dwelling at the Hutted Knoll, in the summer of 1776, could never
have imagined that he was a resident of a country convulsed by a
revolution, and disfigured by war. There, everything seemed peaceful
and calm, the woods sighing with the airs of their sublime solitude,
the genial sun shedding its heats on a grateful and generous soil,
vegetation ripening and yielding with all the abundance of a bountiful
nature, as in the more tranquil days of peace and hope.
"There is something frightful in the calm of this valley, Beulah!"
exclaimed Maud one Sunday, as she and her sister looked out of the
library window amid the breathing stillness of the forest, listening to
the melancholy sound of the bell that summoned them to prayers. "There
is a frightful calm over this place, at an hour when we know that
strife and bloodshed are so active in the country. Oh! that the hateful
congress had never thought of making this war!"
"Evert writes me all is well, Maud; that the times will lead to good;
the people are right; and America will now be a nation--in time, he
thinks, a great, and a very great nation."
"Ah! It is this ambition of greatness that hurries them all on! Why can
they not be satisfied with being respectable subjects of so great a
country as England, that they must destroy each other for this phantom
of liberty? Will it make them wiser, or happier, or better than they
are?"
Thus reasoned Maud, under the influence of one engrossing sentiment. As
our tale proceeds, we shall have occasion to show, perhaps, how far was
that submission to events which she inculcated, from the impulses of
her true character. Beulah answered mildly, but it was more as a young
American wife:
"I know Evert thinks it all right, Maud; and you will own he is neither
fiery nor impetuous. If _his_ cool judgment approve of what has
been done, we may well suppose that it has not been done in too much
haste, or needlessly."
"Think, Beulah," rejoined Maud, with an ashen cheek, and in trembling
tones, "that Evert and Robert may, at this very moment, be engaged in
strife against each other. The last messenger who came in, brought us
the miserable tidings that Sir William Howe was landing a large army
near New York, and that the Americans were preparing to meet it. We are
certain that Bob is with his regiment; and his regiment we know is in
the army. How can we think of this liberty, at a moment so critical?"
Beulah did not reply; for in spite of her quiet nature, and implicit
confidence in her husband, she could not escape a woman's solicitude.
The colonel had promised to write at every good occasion, and that
which he promised was usually performed. She thought, and thought
rightly, that a very few days would bring them intelligence of
importance; though it came in a shape she had little anticipated, and
by a messenger she had then no desire to see.
In the meantime, the season and its labours advanced. August was over,
and September with its fruits had succeeded, promising to bring the
year round without any new or extraordinary incidents to change the
fortunes of the inmates of the Hutted Knoll. Beulah had now been
married more than a twelvemonth, and was already a mother; and of
course all that time had elapsed since the son quitted his father's
house. Nick, too, had disappeared shortly after his return from Boston;
and throughout this eventful summer, his dark, red countenance had not
been seen in the valley.
Chapter XI.
And now 'tis still! no sound to wake
The primal forest's awful shade;
And breathless lies the covert brake,
Where many an ambushed form is laid:
I see the red-man's gleaming eye,
Yet all so hushed the gloom profound,
That summer birds flit heedlessly,
And mocking nature smiles around.
Lunt.
The eventful summer of 1776 had been genial and generous in the valley
of the Hutted Knoll. With a desire to drive away obtrusive thoughts,
the captain had been much in his fields, and he was bethinking himself
of making a large contribution to the good cause, in the way of fatted
porkers, of which he had an unusual number, that he thought might yet
be driven through the forest to Fort Stanwix, before the season closed.
In the way of intelligence from the seat of war, nothing had reached
the family but a letter from the major, which he had managed to get
sent, and in which he wrote with necessary caution. He merely mentioned
the arrival of Sir William Howe's forces, and the state of his own
health. There was a short postscript, in the following words, the
letter having been directed to his father:--"Tell dearest Maud," he
said, "that charming women have ceased to charm me; glory occupying so
much of my day-dreams, like an _ignis fatuus_, I fear; and that as
for love, _all_ my affections are centred in the dear objects at
the Hutted Knoll. If I had met with a single woman I admired half as
much as I do her pretty self, I should have been married long since."
This was written in answer to some thoughtless rattle that the captain
had volunteered to put in his last letter, as coming from Maud, who had
sensitively shrunk from sending a message when asked; and it was read
by father, mother, and Beulah, as the badinage of a brother to a
sister, without awaking a second thought in either. Not so with Maud,
herself, however. When her seniors had done with this letter, she
carried it to her own room, reading and re-reading it a dozen times;
nor could she muster resolution to return it; but, finding at length
that the epistle was forgotten, she succeeded in retaining it without
awakening attention to what she had done. This letter now became her
constant companion, and a hundred times did the sweet gill trace its
characters, in the privacy of her chamber, or in that of her now
solitary walks in the woods.
As yet, the war had produced none of those scenes of ruthless frontier
violence, that had distinguished all the previous conflicts of America.
The enemy was on the coast, and thither the efforts of the combatants
had been principally directed. It is true, an attempt on Canada had
been made, but it failed for want of means; neither party being in a
condition to effect much, as yet, in that quarter. The captain had
commented on this peculiarity of the present struggle; all those which
had preceded it having, as a matter of course, taken the direction of
the frontiers between the hostile provinces.
"There is no use, Woods, in bothering ourselves about these things,
after all," observed captain Willoughby, one day, when the subject of
hanging the long-neglected gates came up between them. "It's a heavy
job, and the crops will suffer if we take off the hands this week. We
are as safe, here, as we should be in Hyde Park; and safer too; for
there house-breakers and foot-pads abound; whereas, _your_
preaching has left nothing but very vulgar and everyday sinners at the
Knoll."
The chaplain had little to say against this reasoning; for, to own the
truth, he saw no particular cause for apprehension. Impunity had
produced the feeling of security, until these gates had got to be
rather a subject of amusement, than of any serious discussion. The
preceding year, when the stockade was erected, Joel had managed to
throw so many obstacles in the way of hanging the gates, that the duty
was not performed throughout the whole of the present summer, the
subject having been mentioned but once or twice, and then only to be
postponed to a more fitting occasion.
As yet no one in the valley knew of the great event which had taken
place in July. A rumour of a design to declare the provinces
independent had reached the Hut, in May; but the major's letter was
silent on this important event, and positive information had arrived by
no other channel; otherwise, the captain would have regarded the
struggle as much more serious than he had ever done before; and he
might have set about raising these all-important gates in earnest. As
it was, however, there they stood; each pair leaning against its proper
wall or stockade, though those of the latter were so light as to have
required but eight or ten men to set them on their hinges, in a couple
of hours at most.
Captain Willoughby still confined his agricultural schemes to the site
of the old Beaver Pond. The area of that was perfectly beautiful, every
unsightly object having been removed, while the fences and the tillage
were faultlessly neat and regular. Care had been taken, too, to render
the few small fields around the cabins which skirted this lovely rural
scene, worthy of their vicinage. The stumps had all been dug, the
surfaces levelled, and the orchards and gardens were in keeping with
the charms that nature had so bountifully scattered about the place.
While, however, all in the shape of tillage was confined to this one
spot, the cattle ranged the forest for miles. Not only was the valley,
but the adjacent mountain-sides were covered with intersecting paths,
beaten by the herds, in the course of years. These paths led to many a
glen, or look-out, where Beulah and Maud had long been in the habit of
pursuing their rambles, during the sultry heats of summer, Though so
beautiful to the eye, the flats were not agreeable for walks; and it
was but natural for the lovers of the picturesque to seek the
eminences, where they could overlook the vast surfaces of leaves that
were spread before them; or to bury themselves in ravines and glens,
within which the rays of the sun scarce penetrated. The paths mentioned
led near, or to, a hundred of these places, all within a mile or two of
the Hut. As a matter of course, then, they were not neglected.
Beulah had now been a mother several months. Her little Evert was born
at the Knoll, and he occupied most of those gentle and affectionate
thoughts which were not engrossed by his absent father. Her marriage,
of itself, had made some changes in her intercourse with Maud; but the
birth of the child had brought about still more. The care of this
little being formed Beulah's great delight; and Mrs. Willoughby had all
that peculiar interest in her descendant, which marks a grandmother's
irresponsible love. These two passed half their time in the nursery, a
room fitted between their respective chambers; leaving Maud more alone
than it was her wont to be, and of course to brood over her thoughts
and feelings. These periods of solitude our heroine was much accustomed
to pass in the forest. Use had so far emboldened her, that apprehension
never shortened her walks, or lessened their pleasure. Of danger, from
any ordinary source, there was literally next to none, man never having
been known to approach the valley, unless by the regular path; while
the beasts of prey had been so actively hunted, as rarely to be seen in
that quarter of the country. The panther excepted, no wild quadruped
was to be in the least feared in summer; and, of the first, none had
ever been met with by Nick, or any of the numerous woodsmen who had now
frequented the adjacent hills for two lustrums.