The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757
tumble, on every side of them. Their suspense, however, was soon relieved; for,
aided by the skill of the natives, the canoe shot back into the eddy, and
floated again at the side of the low rock, before they thought the scout had
even time to rejoin his companions.
“We are now fortified, garrisoned, and provisioned,” cried Heyward
cheerfully, “and may set Montcalm and his allies at defiance. How, now,
my vigilant sentinel, can see anything of those you call the Iroquois, on the
main land!”
“I call them Iroquois, because to me every native, who speaks a foreign
tongue, is accounted an enemy, though he may pretend to serve the king! If Webb
wants faith and honesty in an Indian, let him bring out the tribes of the
Delawares, and send these greedy and lying Mohawks and Oneidas, with their six
nations of varlets, where in nature they belong, among the French!”
“We should then exchange a warlike for a useless friend! I have heard
that the Delawares have laid aside the hatchet, and are content to be called
women!”
“Aye, shame on the Hollanders and Iroquois, who circumvented them by
their deviltries, into such a treaty! But I have known them for twenty years,
and I call him liar that says cowardly blood runs in the veins of a Delaware.
You have driven their tribes from the seashore, and would now believe what
their enemies say, that you may sleep at night upon an easy pillow. No, no; to
me, every Indian who speaks a foreign tongue is an Iroquois, whether the
castle[1] of his
tribe be in Canada, or be in York.”
[1]
The principal villages of the Indians are still called “castles”
by the whites of New York. “Oneida castle” is no more than a
scattered hamlet; but the name is in general use.
Heyward, perceiving that the stubborn adherence of the scout to the cause of
his friends the Delawares, or Mohicans, for they were branches of the same
numerous people, was likely to prolong a useless discussion, changed the
subject.
“Treaty or no treaty, I know full well that your two companions are brave
and cautious warriors! have they heard or seen anything of our enemies?”
“An Indian is a mortal to be felt afore he is seen,” returned the
scout, ascending the rock, and throwing the deer carelessly down. “I
trust to other signs than such as come in at the eye, when I am outlying on the
trail of the Mingoes.”
“Do your ears tell you that they have traced our retreat?”
“I should be sorry to think they had, though this is a spot that stout
courage might hold for a smart scrimmage. I will not deny, however, but the
horses cowered when I passed them, as though they scented the wolves; and a
wolf is a beast that is apt to hover about an Indian ambushment, craving the
offals of the deer the savages kill.”
“You forget the buck at your feet! or, may we not owe their visit to the
dead colt? Ha! what noise is that?”
“Poor Miriam!” murmured the stranger; “thy foal was
foreordained to become a prey to ravenous beasts!” Then, suddenly lifting
up his voice, amid the eternal din of the waters, he sang aloud:
“First born of Egypt, smite did he,
Of mankind, and of beast also:
O, Egypt! wonders sent ’midst thee,
On Pharaoh and his servants too!”
“The death of the colt sits heavy on the heart of its owner,” said
the scout; “but it’s a good sign to see a man account upon his dumb
friends. He has the religion of the matter, in believing what is to happen will
happen; and with such a consolation, it won’t be long afore he submits to
the rationality of killing a four-footed beast to save the lives of human men.
It may be as you say,” he continued, reverting to the purport of
Heyward’s last remark; “and the greater the reason why we should
cut our steaks, and let the carcass drive down the stream, or we shall have the
pack howling along the cliffs, begrudging every mouthful we swallow. Besides,
though the Delaware tongue is the same as a book to the Iroquois, the cunning
varlets are quick enough at understanding the reason of a wolf’s
howl.”
The scout, while making his remarks, was busied in collecting certain necessary
implements; as he concluded, he moved silently by the group of travelers,
accompanied by the Mohicans, who seemed to comprehend his intentions with
instinctive readiness, when the whole three disappeared in succession, seeming
to vanish against the dark face of a perpendicular rock that rose to the height
of a few yards, within as many feet of the water’s edge.
CHAPTER VI.
“Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide;
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And ‘Let us worship God’, he says, with solemn
air.”—Burns
Heyward and his female companions witnessed this mysterious movement with
secret uneasiness; for, though the conduct of the white man had hitherto been
above reproach, his rude equipments, blunt address, and strong antipathies,
together with the character of his silent associates, were all causes for
exciting distrust in minds that had been so recently alarmed by Indian
treachery.
The stranger alone disregarded the passing incidents. He seated himself on a
projection of the rocks, whence he gave no other signs of consciousness than by
the struggles of his spirit, as manifested in frequent and heavy sighs.
Smothered voices were next heard, as though men called to each other in the
bowels of the earth, when a sudden light flashed upon those without, and laid
bare the much-prized secret of the place.
At the further extremity of a narrow, deep cavern in the rock, whose length
appeared much extended by the perspective and the nature of the light by which
it was seen, was seated the scout, holding a blazing knot of pine. The strong
glare of the fire fell full upon his sturdy, weather-beaten countenance and
forest attire, lending an air of romantic wildness to the aspect of an
individual, who, seen by the sober light of day, would have exhibited the
peculiarities of a man remarkable for the strangeness of his dress, the
iron-like inflexibility of his frame, and the singular compound of quick,
vigilant sagacity, and of exquisite simplicity, that by turns usurped the
possession of his muscular features. At a little distance in advance stood
Uncas, his whole person thrown powerfully into view. The travelers anxiously
regarded the upright, flexible figure of the young Mohican, graceful and
unrestrained in the attitudes and movements of nature. Though his person was
more than usually screened by a green and fringed hunting-shirt, like that of
the white man, there was no concealment to his dark, glancing, fearless eye,
alike terrible and calm; the bold outline of his high, haughty features, pure
in their native red; or to the dignified elevation of his receding forehead,
together with all the finest proportions of a noble head, bared to the generous
scalping tuft. It was the first opportunity possessed by Duncan and his
companions to view the marked lineaments of either of their Indian attendants,
and each individual of the party felt relieved from a burden of doubt, as the
proud and determined, though wild expression of the features of the young
warrior forced itself on their notice. They felt it might be a being partially
benighted in the vale of ignorance, but it could not be one who would willingly
devote his rich natural gifts to the purposes of wanton treachery. The
ingenuous Alice gazed at his free air and proud carriage, as she would have
looked upon some precious relic of the Grecian chisel, to which life had been
imparted by the intervention of a miracle; while Heyward, though accustomed to
see the perfection of form which abounds among the uncorrupted natives, openly
expressed his admiration at such an unblemished specimen of the noblest
proportions of man.
“I could sleep in peace,” whispered Alice, in reply, “with
such a fearless and generous-looking youth for my sentinel. Surely, Duncan,
those cruel murders, those terrific scenes of torture, of which we read and
hear so much, are never acted in the presence of such as he!”
“This certainly is a rare and brilliant instance of those natural
qualities in which these peculiar people are said to excel,” he answered.
“I agree with you, Alice, in thinking that such a front and eye were
formed rather to intimidate than to deceive; but let us not practice a
deception upon ourselves, by expecting any other exhibition of what we esteem
virtue than according to the fashion of the savage. As bright examples of great
qualities are but too uncommon among Christians, so are they singular and
solitary with the Indians; though, for the honor of our common nature, neither
are incapable of producing them. Let us then hope that this Mohican may not
disappoint our wishes, but prove what his looks assert him to be, a brave and
constant friend.”
“Now Major Heyward speaks as Major Heyward should,” said Cora;
“who that looks at this creature of nature, remembers the shade of his
skin?”
A short and apparently an embarrassed silence succeeded this remark, which was
interrupted by the scout calling to them, aloud, to enter.
“This fire begins to show too bright a flame,” he continued, as
they complied, “and might light the Mingoes to our undoing. Uncas, drop
the blanket, and show the knaves its dark side. This is not such a supper as a
major of the Royal Americans has a right to expect, but I’ve known stout
detachments of the corps glad to eat their venison raw, and without a relish,
too[1]. Here, you
see, we have plenty of salt, and can make a quick broil. There’s fresh
sassafras boughs for the ladies to sit on, which may not be as proud as their
my-hog-guinea chairs, but which sends up a sweeter flavor, than the skin of any
hog can do, be it of Guinea, or be it of any other land. Come, friend,
don’t be mournful for the colt; ’twas an innocent thing, and had
not seen much hardship. Its death will save the creature many a sore back and
weary foot!”
[1]
In vulgar parlance the condiments of a repast are called by the American
“a relish,” substituting the thing for its effect. These provincial
terms are frequently put in the mouths of the speakers, according to their
several conditions in life. Most of them are of local use, and others quite
peculiar to the particular class of men to which the character belongs. In the
present instance, the scout uses the word with immediate reference to the
“salt,” with which his own party was so fortunate as to be
provided.
Uncas did as the other had directed, and when the voice of Hawkeye ceased, the
roar of the cataract sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder.
“Are we quite safe in this cavern?” demanded Heyward. “Is
there no danger of surprise? A single armed man, at its entrance, would hold us
at his mercy.”
A spectral-looking figure stalked from out of the darkness behind the scout,
and seizing a blazing brand, held it toward the further extremity of their
place of retreat. Alice uttered a faint shriek, and even Cora rose to her feet,
as this appalling object moved into the light; but a single word from Heyward
calmed them, with the assurance it was only their attendant, Chingachgook, who,
lifting another blanket, discovered that the cavern had two outlets. Then,
holding the brand, he crossed a deep, narrow chasm in the rocks which ran at
right angles with the passage they were in, but which, unlike that, was open to
the heavens, and entered another cave, answering to the description of the
first, in every essential particular.
“Such old foxes as Chingachgook and myself are not often caught in a
barrow with one hole,” said Hawkeye, laughing; “you can easily see
the cunning of the place—the rock is black limestone, which everybody
knows is soft; it makes no uncomfortable pillow, where brush and pine wood is