Cameron of Lochiel
The harsh voice of Major Montgomery put an end to these reflections.
"What are you doing here?" he growled.
"I have left my men by the edge of the river, and was proposing to
encamp there after our long march."
"It is not late," answered the major, "and you know the country better
than I. You will easily find for your encampment another place than
that which I have just chosen for myself."
"I will march at once," said Archie. "There is another river about a
mile from here where we can camp for the night."
"Very well," said Montgomery, in an insolent voice; "and as you have
but a few more houses to burn in this district, your men will soon be
able to rest."
"It is true," said Lochiel, "for there remain but five more dwellings.
Two of these, however, the group of buildings which you see yonder and
a mill on the stream where I am going to camp, belong to the Seigneur
D'Haberville, the man who during my exile took me in and treated me as
a son. For God's sake, Major Montgomery, give the order yourself for
their destruction!"
"I never should have believed," replied the major, "that a British
officer would have dared to utter treason."
"You forget, sir," said Archie, restraining himself with difficulty,
"that I was then a mere child. But once more I implore you, in the name
of all you hold most dear, give the order yourself, and do not force
upon me the dishonor of setting the torch to the home of them who in my
days of adversity heaped me with benefits."
"I understand," replied the major, with a sneer, "you wish to keep a
way open to return to the favor of your friends when occasion shall
arise."
At this insulting sarcasm Archie was tempted for an instant to draw his
claymore and cry:
"If you are not as cowardly as you are insolent, defend yourself, Major
Montgomery!"
Happily, reason came to his aid. Instead of grasping his sword, his
hand directed itself mechanically toward his breast, which he tore
fiercely. Then he remembered the words of the witch:
"Keep your pity for yourself, Archibald de Lochiel, when, forced to
execute a barbarous order, your nails shall tear that breast which
covers, nevertheless, a noble heart."
"She was indeed taught of hell, that woman," thought he, "when she
uttered that prophecy to a Cameron of Lochiel."
With malicious pleasure Montgomery watched for a moment the strife of
passions which tortured the young man's heart. He gloated over his
despair. Then, persuaded that Archie would refuse to obey, he turned
his back upon him. Lochiel, perceiving his treacherous design, hastened
to rejoin his men, and a half-hour later the buildings were in flames.
Archie paused beside the fountain where in happier days he had so often
refreshed himself with his friends; and from that spot his lynx-like
eyes discerned Montgomery, who had returned to the hill-top, and there
with folded arms stood feasting on the cruel scene.
Foaming with rage at the sight of his enemy, Archie cried:
"You have a good memory, Montgomery. You have not forgotten the time
when my ancestor beat your grandfather with the flat of his saber in an
Edinburgh tavern. But I, also, have a good memory. I shall not always
wear this uniform that now ties my hands, and sooner or later I will
redouble the dose upon your own shoulders, for you would be too much
of a coward to meet me in fair fight. A beast like you can not possess
even the one virtue of courage. Curse be you and all your race! When
you come to die may you be less fortunate than those whose dwellings
you have desolated to-day, and may you have no place to lay your head!
May all the pangs of hell--"
Then, ashamed of the impotence of his rage, he moved away with a groan.
The mill upon the Trois-Saumons River was soon but a heap of cinders,
and the burning of Captain D'Haberville's property in Quebec, which
took place during the siege, was all that was needed to complete his
ruin.
After taking the necessary precautions for the safety of his company,
Archie directed his steps to the desolated manor. There, seated on the
summit of the bluff, he gazed in the silence of anguish on the smoking
ruins at his feet. It must have been about nine o'clock. The night
was dark, and few stars revealed themselves in the sky. Presently,
however, he made out a living creature wandering among the ruins. It
was old Niger, who lifted his head toward the bluff and began howling
piteously. Archie thought the faithful animal was reproaching him with
his ingratitude, and bitter tears scalded his cheeks.
"Behold," said he, "the fruits of what we call the code of honor of
civilized nations! Are these the fruits of Christianity, that religion
of compassion which teaches us to love even our enemies? If my
commander were one of these savage chiefs, whom we treat as barbarians,
and I had said to him: 'Spare this house, for it belongs to my friends.
I was a wanderer and a fugitive, and they took me in and gave me a
father and a brother,' the Indian chief would have answered: 'It is
well; spare your friends; it is only the viper that stings the bosom
that has warmed it.'
"I have always lived in the hope," went on Lochiel, "of one day
rejoining my Canadian friends, whom I love to-day more than ever, if
that were possible. No reconciliation would have been required. It was
natural I should seek to regain my patrimony, so nearly dissipated
by the confiscations of the British Government. There remained to
me no career but the army, the only one worthy of a Cameron. I had
recovered my father's sword, which one of my friends had bought back
from among the spoils of Culloden. Bearing this blade, which had never
known a stain, I dreamed of a glorious career. I was grieved, indeed,
when I learned that my regiment was to be sent against New France;
but a soldier could not resign in time of war without disgrace. My
friends would have understood that. But what hope now for the ingrate
who has ravaged the hearth of his benefactors! Jules D'Haberville,
whom I once called my brother, his gentle and saintly mother, who
took me to her heart, the fair girl whom I called my sister to hide a
deeper feeling--these will, perhaps, hear my justification and end by
forgiving me. But Captain D'Haberville, who loves with all his heart,
but who never forgives an injury, can it be imagined that he will
permit his family to utter my name, unless to curse it?
"But I am a coward and a fool," continued Archie, grinding his teeth,
"I should have declared before my men my reasons for refusing to obey,
and, though Montgomery had had me shot upon the spot, there would
have been found loyal spirits to approve my refusal and to right my
memory. I have been a coward and a fool, for in case the major, instead
of having me shot, had tried me before a court-martial, even while
pronouncing my death sentence they would have appreciated my motives.
I would have been eloquent in the defense of my honor, and of that
noblest of human sentiments, gratitude. Oh, my friends, would that you
could see my remorse! Coward, ten thousand times coward!--"
A voice near him repeated the words "Coward, ten thousand times
coward!" He thought at first it was the echo from the bluff. He
raised his head and perceived the witch of the manor standing erect
on a projecting rock. She stretched out her hands over the ruins, and
cried: "Woe! woe! woe!" Then she descended like lightning, by a steep
and dangerous path, and wandered to and fro among the ruins, crying:
"Desolation! desolation! desolation!" At length she raised her arm with
a gesture of menace, pointed to the summit of the bluff, and cried in a
loud voice: "Woe to you, Archibald de Lochiel!"
The old dog howled long and plaintively, then silence fell upon the
scene.
Archie's head sank upon his breast. The next moment four savages sprang
upon him, hurled him to the ground, and bound his hands. These were
four warriors of the Abénaquis, who had been spying upon the movements
of the English ever since their landing at Rivière Ouelle. Relying upon
his tremendous strength, Archie made desperate efforts to break his
bonds. The tough moose-hide which enwound his wrists in triple coils
stretched mightily, but resisted all his efforts. Seeing this, Archie
resigned himself to his fate, and followed his captors quietly into the
forest. His vigorous Scottish legs spared him further ill treatment.
Bitter were the reflections of the captive during the rapid southward
march through the forest, wherein he had so often hunted with his
brother D'Haberville. Heedless of the fierce delight of the Indians,
whose eyes flashed at the sight of his despair, he exclaimed:
"You have conquered, Montgomery; my curses recoil upon my own head. You
will proclaim that I have deserted to the enemy, that I am a traitor as
you long suspected. You will rejoice indeed, for I have lost all, even
honor." And like Job, he cursed the day that he was born.
After two hours' rapid marching they arrived at the foot of the
mountain which overlooks Trois Saumons Lake, on which water Archie
concluded that they would find an encampment of the Abénaquis. Coming
to the edge of the lake, one of his captors uttered three times the
cry of the osprey; and the seven echoes of the mountain repeated, each
three times, the piercing and strident call of the great swan of Lower
Canada. At any other time Lochiel would have thrilled with admiration
at the sight of this beautiful water outspread beneath the starlight,
enringed with mountains and seeded with green-crowned islets. It was
the same lake to which, for ten happy years, he had made hunting and
fishing excursions with his friends. It was the same lake which he had
swum at its widest part to prove his prowess. But to-night all Nature
appeared as dead as the heart within him. From one of the islets came
a birch canoe, paddled by a man in Indian garb, but wearing a cap of
fox-skin. The new comer held a long conversation with the four savages,
but Archie was ignorant of the Abénaquis tongue, and could make out
nothing of what they said. Two of the Indians thereupon started off to
the southwest; but Archie was put into the canoe and taken to the islet.
CHAPTER XII.
A NIGHT AMONG THE SAVAGES.
What tragic tears bedew the eye!
What deaths we suffer ere we die!
Our broken friendships we deplore,
And loves of youth that are no more.
+Logan.+
All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond
Is substance; the reverse is folly's creed.
How solid all where change shall be no more!
+Young's+ _Night Thoughts._
Having cursed his enemy and the day of his birth, Lochiel had gradually
come to a more Christian frame of mind, as he lay bound to a tree and
all hope banished from his heart. He knew that the savages scarcely
ever spared their captives, and that a slow and hideous death was in
store for him. Recovering his natural force of mind, he hardly took
care to pray for his deliverance; but he implored of Heaven forgiveness
for his sins and strength to bear the tortures that were before him. Of
what account, thought he, the judgment of men when the dream of life is
over? And he bowed himself beneath the hand of God.
The three warriors were seated around within a dozen feet of Lochiel,
smoking in silence. The Indians are naturally reserved, regarding light
conversation as only suitable to women and children. One of them,
however, by name Talamousse, speaking to the man of the island, made
inquiry:
"Will my brother wait long here for the warriors from the Portage?"
"Three days," answered the latter, lifting up three fingers.
"Grand-Loutre and Talamousse will depart to-morrow with the prisoner.
The Frenchman will rejoin them at the encampment of Captain Launière."
"It is well," said Grand-Loutre, extending his hand toward the south.