Wyandotte - James Fenimore Cooper
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Michael O'Hearn, on the contrary, thought only of the end; and this so
intensely, not to so say vehemently, as generally to overlook the
means. Frank, generous, self-devoted, and withal accustomed to get most
things wrong-end-foremost, he usually threw away twice the same labour,
in effecting a given purpose, that was expended by the Yankee; doing
the thing worse, too, besides losing twice the time. He never paused to
think of this, however. The _masther's_ boat was to be rowed to
the other end of the lake, and, though he had never rowed a boat an
inch in his life, he was ready and willing to undertake the job. "If a
certain quantity of work will not do it," thought Mike, "I'll try as
much ag'in; and the divil is in it, if _that_ won't sarve the
purpose of that little bit of a job."
Under such circumstances the party started. Most of the skiffs and
canoes went off half an hour before Mrs. Willoughby was ready, and Joel
managed to keep Mike for he last, under the pretence of wishing his aid
in loading his own boat, with the bed and bedding from the hut. All was
ready, at length, and taking his seat, with a sort of quiet
deliberation, Joel said, in his drawling way, "You'll follow _us_,
Mike, and you can't be a thousand miles out of the way." Then he pulled
from the shore with a quiet, steady stroke of the sculls, that sent the
skiff ahead with great rapidity, though with much ease to himself.
Michael O'Hearn stood looking at the retiring skiff, in silent
admiration, for two or three minutes. He was quite alone; for all the
other boats were already two or three miles on their way, and distance
already prevented him from seeing the mischief that was lurking in
Joel's hypocritical eyes.
"Follow _yees_!" soliloquized Mike--"The divil burn ye, for a
guessing yankee as ye ar'--how am I to follow with such legs as the
likes of these? If it wasn't for the masther and the missus, ra'al
jontlemen and ladies they be, I'd turn my back on ye, in the desert,
and let ye find that Beaver estate, in yer own disagreeable company.
Ha!--well, I must thry, and if the boat won't go, it'll be no fault of
the man that has a good disposition to make it."
Mike now took his seat on a board that lay across the gunwale of the
skiff at a most inconvenient height, placed two sculls in the water,
one of which was six inches longer than the other, made a desperate
effort, and got his craft fairly afloat. Now, Michael O'Hearn was not
left-handed, and, as usually happens with such men, the inequality
between the two limbs was quite marked. By a sinister accident, too, it
happened that the longest oar got into the strongest hand, and there it
would have staid to the end of time; before Mike would think of
changing it, on that account. Joel, alone, sat with his face towards
the head of the lake, and he alone could see the dilemma in which the
county Leitrim-man was placed. Neither the captain nor his wife thought
of looking behind, and the yankee had all the fun to himself. As for
Mike, he succeeded in getting a few rods from the land, when the strong
arm and the longer lever asserting their superiority, the skiff began
to incline to the westward. So intense, however, was the poor fellow's
zeal, that he did not discover the change in his course until he had so
far turned as to give him a glimpse of his retiring master; then he
inferred that all was right, and pulled more leisurely. The result was,
that in about ten minutes, Mike was stopped by the land, the boat
touching the north shore again, two or three rods from the very point
whence it had started. The honest fellow got up, looked around him,
scratched his head, gazed wistfully after the fast-receding boat of his
master, and broke out in another soliloquy.
"Bad luck to them that made ye, ye one-sided thing!" he said, shaking
his head reproachfully at the skiff: "there's liberty for ye to do as
ye ought, and ye'll not be doing it, just out of contrairiness. Why the
divil can't ye do like the other skiffs, and go where ye're wanted, on
the road towards thim beavers? Och, ye'll be sorry for this, when ye're
left behind, out of sight!"
Then it flashed on Mike's mind that possibly some article had been left
in the hut, and the skiff had come back to look after it; so, up he ran
to the captain's deserted lodge, entered it, was lost to view for a
minute, then came in sight again, scratching his head, and renewing his
muttering--"No," he said, "divil a thing can I see, and it must be pure
con_trair_iness! Perhaps the baste will behave betther next time,
so I'll thry it ag'in, and give it an occasion. Barring obstinacy, 't
is as good-lookin' a skiff as the best of them."
Mike was as good as his word, and gave the skiff as fair an opportunity
of behaving itself as was ever offered to a boat. Seven times did he
quit the shore, and as often return to it, gradually working his way
towards the western shore, and slightly down the lake. In this manner,
Mike at length got himself so far on the side of the lake, as to
present a barrier of land to the evil disposition of his skiff to
incline to the westward. It could go no longer in that direction, at
least.
"Divil burn ye," the honest fellow cried, the perspiration rolling down
his face; "I think ye'll be satisfied without walking out into the
forest, where I wish ye war' with all my heart, amang the threes that
made ye! Now, I'll see if yer con_trair_y enough to run up a
hill."
Mike next essayed to pull along the shore, in the hope that the sight
of the land, and of the overhanging pines and hemlocks, would cure the
boat's propensity to turn in that direction. It is not necessary to say
that his expectations were disappointed, and he finally was reduced to
getting out into the water, cool as was the weather, and of wading
along the shore, dragging the boat after him. All this Joel saw before
he passed out of sight, but no movement of his muscles let the captain
into the secret of the poor Irishman's strait.
In the meanwhile, the rest of the flotilla, or _brigade_ of boats,
as the captain termed them, went prosperously on their way, going from
one end of the lake to the other, in the course of three hours. As one
of the party had been over the route several times already, there was
no hesitation on the subject of the point to which the boats were to
proceed. They all touched the shore near the stone that is now called
the "Otsego Rock," beneath a steep wooded bank, and quite near to the
place where the Susquehannah glanced out of the lake, in a swift
current, beneath a high-arched tracery of branches that were not yet
clothed with leaves.
Here the question was put as to what had become of Mike. His skiff was
nowhere visible, and the captain felt the necessity of having him
looked for, before he proceeded any further. After a short
consultation, a boat manned by two negroes, father and son, named Pliny
the elder, and Pliny the younger, or, in common parlance, "old Plin"
and "young Plin," was sent back along the west-shore to hunt him up. Of
course, a hut was immediately prepared for the reception of Mrs.
Willoughby, upon the plain that stretches across the valley, at this
point. This was on the site of the present village of Cooperstown, but
just twenty years anterior to the commencement of the pretty little
shire town that now exists on the spot.
It was night ere the two Plinies appeared towing Mike, as their great
namesakes of antiquity might have brought in a Carthaginian galley, in
triumph. The county Leitrim-man had made his way with excessive toil
about a league ere he was met, and glad enough was he to see his
succour approach. In that day, the strong antipathy which now exists
between the black and the emigrant Irishman was unknown, the
competition for household service commencing more than half a century
later. Still, as the negro loved fun constitutionally, and Pliny the
younger was somewhat of a wag, Mike did not entirely escape, scot-free.
"Why you drag 'im like ox, Irish Mike?" cried the younger negro--"why
you no row 'im like other folk?"
"Ah--you're as bad as the rest of 'em," growled Mike. "They tould me
Ameriky was a mighty warm country, and war-r-m I find it, sure enough,
though the wather isn't as warm as good whiskey. Come, ye black divils,
and see if ye can coax this _contrairy_ crathure to do as a person
wants."
The negroes soon had Mike in tow, and then they went down the lake
merrily, laughing and cracking their jokes, at the Irishman's expense,
after the fashion of their race. It was fortunate for the Leitrim-man
that he was accustomed to ditching, though it may be questioned if the
pores of his body closed again that day, so very effectually had they
been opened. When he rejoined his master, not a syllable was said of
the mishap, Joel having the prudence to keep his own secret, and even
joining Mike in denouncing the bad qualities of the boat. We will only
add here, that a little calculation entered into this trick, Joel
perceiving that Mike was a favourite, and wishing to bring him into
discredit.
Early the next morning, the captain sent the negroes and Mike down the
Susquehannah a mile, to clear away some flood-wood, of which one of the
hunters had brought in a report the preceding day. Two hours later, the
boats left the shore, and began to float downward with the current,
following the direction of a stream that has obtained its name from its
sinuosities.
In a few minutes the boats reached the flood-wood, where, to Joel's
great amusement, Mike and the negroes, the latter having little more
calculation than the former, had commenced their operations on the
upper side of the raft, piling the logs on one another, with a view to
make a passage through the centre. Of course, there was a halt, the
females landing. Captain Willoughby now cast an eye round him in
hesitation, when a knowing look from Joel caught his attention.
"This does not seem to be right," he said--"cannot we better if a
little?"
"It's right wrong, captain," answered Joel, laughing like one who
enjoyed other people's ignorance. "A sensible crittur' would begin the
work on such a job, at the lower side of the raft."
"Take the direction, and order things to suit yourself."
This was just what Joel liked. _Head-work_ before all other work
for him, and he set about the duty authoritatively and with
promptitude. After rating the negroes roundly for their stupidity, and
laying it on Mike without much delicacy of thought or diction, over the
shoulders of the two blacks, he mustered his forces, and began to clear
the channel with intelligence and readiness.
Going to the lower side of the jammed flood-wood, he soon succeeded in
loosening one or two trees, which floated away, making room for others
to follow. By these means a passage was effected in half an hour, Joel
having the prudence to set no more timber in motion than was necessary
to his purpose, lest it might choke the stream below. In this manner
the party got through, and, the river being high at that season, by
night the travellers were half-way to the mouth of the Unadilla. The
next evening they encamped at the junction of the two streams, making
their preparations to ascend the latter the following morning.
The toil of the ascent, however, did not commence, until the boats
entered what was called the creek, or the small tributary of the
Unadilla, on which the beavers had erected their works, and which ran
through the "Manor." Here, indeed, the progress was slow and laborious,
the rapidity of the current and the shallowness of the water rendering
every foot gained a work of exertion and pain. Perseverance and skill,
notwithstanding, prevailed; all the boats reaching the foot of the
rapids, or straggling falls, on which the captain had built his mills,
about an hour before the sun disappeared. Here, of course, the boats
were left, a rude road having been cut, by means of which the freights
were transported on a sledge the remainder of the distance. Throughout
the whole of this trying day, Joel had not only worked head-work, but
he had actually exerted himself with his body. As for Mike, never
before had he made such desperate efforts. He felt all the disgrace of
his adventure on the lake, and was disposed to wipe it out by his
exploits on the rivers. Thus Mike was ever loyal to his employer. He
had sold his flesh and blood for money, and a man of his conscience was
inclined to give a fair penny's-worth. The tractable manner in which
the boat had floated down the river, it is true, caused him some
surprise, as was shown in his remark to the younger Pliny, on landing.
"This is a curious boat, afther all," said Pat. "One time it's all
con_trar_iness, and then ag'in it's as obliging as one's own
mother. It _followed_ the day all's one like a puppy dog, while
yon on the big wather there was no more _dhriving_ it than a hog.
Och! it's a faimale boat, by its whims!"
Chapter III.
"He sleeps forgetful of his once bright flame
He has no feeling of the glory gone;
He has no eye to catch the mounting flame
That once in transport drew him on;
He lies in dull oblivious dreams, nor cares
Who the wreathed laurel bears."
Percival.
The appearance of a place in which the remainder of one's life is to be
past is always noted with interest on a first visit. Thus it was that
Mrs. Willoughby had been observant and silent from the moment the
captain informed her that they had passed the line of his estate, and
were approaching the spot where they were to dwell. The stream was so
small, and the girding of the forest so close, that there was little
range for the sight; but the anxious wife and mother could perceive
that the hills drew together, at this point, the valley narrowing
essentially, that rocks began to appear in the bed of the river, and
that the growth of the timber indicated fertility and a generous soil.
When the boat stopped, the little stream came brawling down a ragged
declivity, and a mill, one so arranged as to grind and saw, both in a
very small way, however, gave the first signs of civilization she had
beheld since quitting the last hut near the Mohawk. After issuing a few
orders, the captain drew his wife's arm through his own, and hurried up
the ascent, with an eagerness that was almost boyish, to show her what
had been done towards the improvement of the "Knoll." There is a
pleasure in diving into a virgin forest and commencing the labours of
civilization, that has no exact parallel in any other human occupation.
That of building, or of laying out grounds, has certainly some
resemblance to it, but it is a resemblance so faint and distant as
scarcely to liken the enjoyment each produces. The former approaches
nearer to the feeling of creating, and is far more pregnant with
anticipations and hopes, though its first effects are seldom agreeable,
and are sometimes nearly hideous. Our captain, however, had escaped
most of these last consequences, by possessing the advantage of having
a clearing, without going through the usual processes of chopping and
burning; the first of which leaves the earth dotted, for many years,
with unsightly stumps, while the rains and snows do not wash out the
hues of the last for several seasons.
An exclamation betrayed the pleasure with which Mrs. Willoughby got her
first glimpse of the drained pond. It was when she had clambered to the
point of the rocks, where the stream began to tumble downward into the
valley below. A year had done a vast deal for the place. The few stumps
and stubs which had disfigured the basin when it was first laid bare,
had all been drawn by oxen, and burned. This left the entire surface of
the four hundred acres smooth and fit for the plough. The soil was the
deposit of centuries, and the inclination, from the woods to the
stream, was scarcely perceptible to the eye. In fact, it was barely
sufficient to drain the drippings of the winter's snows. The form of
the area was a little irregular; just enough so to be picturesque;
while the inequalities were surprisingly few and trifling. In a word,
nature had formed just such a spot as delights the husbandman's heart,
and placed it beneath a sun which, while its fierceness is relieved by
winters of frost and snow, had a power to bring out all its latent
resources.
Trees had been felled around the whole area, with the open spaces
filled by branches, in a way to form what is termed a brush fence. This
is not a sightly object, and the captain had ordered the line to be
drawn _within_ the woods, so that the visible boundaries of the
open land were the virgin forest itself. His men had protested against
this, a fence, however unseemly, being in their view an indispensable
accessory to civilization. But the captain's authority, if not his
better taste, prevailed; and the boundary of felled trees and brush was
completely concealed in the back-ground of woods. As yet, there was no
necessity for cross-fences, the whole open space lying in a single
field. One hundred acres were in winter wheat. As this grain had been
got in the previous autumn, it was now standing on the finest and
driest of the soil, giving an air of rich fertility to the whole basin.
Grass-seed had been sown along both banks of the stream, and its waters
were quietly flowing between two wide belts of fresh verdure, the young
plants having already started in that sheltered receptacle of the sun's
rays. Other portions of the flat showed signs of improvement, the
plough having actually been at work for quite a fortnight.
All this was far more than even the captain had expected, and much more
than his wife had dared to hope. Mrs. Willoughby had been accustomed to
witness the slow progress of a new settlement; but never before had she
seen what might be done on a beaver-dam. To her all appeared like
magic, and her first question would have been to ask her husband to
explain what had been done with the trees and stumps, had not her
future residence caught her eye. Captain Willoughby had left his orders
concerning the house, previously to quitting the Knoll; and he was now
well pleased to perceive that they had been attended to. As this spot
will prove the scene of many of the incidents we are bound to relate,
it may be proper, here, to describe it, at some length.
The hillock that rose out of the pond, in the form of a rocky little
island, was one of those capricious formations that are often met with
on the surface of the earth. It stood about thirty rods from the
northern side of the area, very nearly central as to its eastern and
western boundaries, and presented a slope inclining towards the south.
Its greatest height was at its northern end, where it rose out of the
rich alluvion of the soil, literally a rock of some forty feet in
perpendicular height, having a summit of about an acre of level land,
and falling off on its three sides; to the east and west precipitously;
to the south quite gently and with regularity. It was this accidental
formation which had induced the captain to select the spot as the site
of his residence; for dwelling so far from any post, and in a place so
difficult of access, something like military defences were merely
precautions of ordinary prudence. While the pond remained, the islet
was susceptible of being made very strong against any of the usual
assaults of Indian warfare; and, now that the basin was drained, it had
great advantages for the same purpose. The perpendicular rock to the
north, even overhung the plain. It was almost inaccessible; while the
formation on the other sides, offered singular facilities, both for a
dwelling and for security. All this the captain, who was so familiar
with the finesse of Indian stratagem, had resolved to improve in the
following manner:
In the first place, he directed the men to build a massive wall of
stone, for a hundred and fifty feet in length, and six feet in height.
This stretched in front of the perpendicular rock, with receding walls
to its verge. The latter were about two hundred feet in length, each.
This was enclosing an area of two hundred, by one hundred and fifty
feet, within a blind wall of masonry. Through this wall there was only
a single passage; a gateway, in the centre of its southern face. The
materials had all been found on the hill itself, which was well covered
with heavy stones. Within this wall, which was substantially laid, by a
Scotch mason, one accustomed to the craft, the men had erected a
building of massive, squared, pine timber, well secured by cross
partitions. This building followed the wall in its whole extent, was
just fifteen feet in elevation, without the roof, and was composed, in
part, by the wall itself; the latter forming nearly one-half its
height, on the exterior. The breadth of this edifice was only twenty
feet, clear of the stones and wood-work; leaving a court within of
about one hundred by one hundred and seventy-five feet in extent. The
roof extended over the gateway even; so that the space within was
completely covered, the gates being closed. This much had been done
during the preceding fall and winter; the edifice presenting an
appearance of rude completeness on the exterior. Still it had a sombre
and goal-like air, there being nothing resembling a window visible; no
aperture, indeed, on either of its outer faces, but the open gateway,
of which the massive leaves were finished, and placed against the
adjacent walls, but which were not yet hung. It is scarcely necessary
to say, this house resembled barracks, more than an ordinary dwelling.
Mrs. Willoughby stood gazing at it, half in doubt whether to admire or
to condemn, when a voice, within a few yards, suddenly drew her
attention in another direction.
"How you like him?" asked Nick, who was seated on a stone, at the
margin of the stream, washing his feet, after a long day's hunt. "No
t'ink him better dan beaver skin? Cap'in know all 'bout him; now he
give Nick some more last quit-rent?"
"_Last_, indeed, it will be, then, Nick; for I have already paid
you _twice_ for your rights."
"Discovery wort' great deal, cap'in--see what great man he make pale-
face."
"Ay, but _your_ discovery, Nick, is not of that sort."
"What sort, den?" demanded Nick, with the rapidity of lightning. "Give
him back 'e beaver, if you no like he discovery. Grad to see 'em back,
ag'in; skin higher price dan ever."
"Nick, you're a cormorant, if there ever was one in this world! Here--
there is a dollar for you; the quit-rent is paid for this year, at
least. It ought to be for the last time."
"Let him go for all summer, cap'in. Yes, Nick wonderful commerant! no
such eye he got, among Oneida!"
Here the Tuscarora left the side of the stream, and came up on the
rock, shaking hands, good-humouredly, with Mrs. Willoughby, who rather
liked the knave; though she knew him to possess most of the vices of
his class.
"He very han'som beaver-dam," said Nick, sweeping his hand gracefully
over the view; "bye 'nd bye, he'll bring potatoe, and corn, and cider--
all 'e squaw want. Cap'in got good fort, too. Old soldier love fort;
like to live in him."
"The day may come, Nick, when that fort may serve us all a good turn,
out here in the wilderness," Mrs. Willoughby observed, in a somewhat
melancholy tone; for her tender thoughts naturally turned towards her
youthful and innocent daughters.
The Indian gazed at the house, with that fierce intentness which
sometimes glared, in a manner that had got to be, in its ordinary
aspects, dull and besotted. There was a startling intelligence in his
eye, at such moments; the feelings of youth and earlier habit, once
more asserting their power. Twenty years before, Nick had been foremost
on the war-path; and what was scarcely less honourable, among the
wisest around the council-fire. He was born a chief, and had made
himself an outcast from his tribe, more by the excess of ungovernable
passions, than from any act of base meanness.
"Cap'm tell Nick, now, what he mean by building such house, out here,
among ole beaver bones?" he said, sideling up nearer to his employer,
and gazing with some curiosity into his face.
"What do I mean, Nick?--Why I mean to have a place of safety to put the
heads of my wife and children in, at need. The road to Canada is not so
long, but a red-skin can make one pair of moccasins go over it. Then,
the Oneidas and Mohawks are not all children of heaven."
"No pale-face rogue, go about, I s'pose?" said Nick, sarcastically.
"Yes, there are men of that class, who are none the worse for being
locked out of one's house, at times. But, what do _you_ think of
the hut?--You know I call the place the 'Hut,' the Hutted Knoll."
"He hole plenty of beaver, if you cotch him!--But no water left, and he
all go away. Why you make him stone, first; den you make him wood,
a'ter; eh? Plenty rock; plenty tree."
"Why, the stone wall can neither be cut away, nor set fire to, Nick;
that's the reason. I took as much stone as was necessary, and then used
wood, which is more easily worked, and which is also drier."