The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757
scarce; well, the fall was once a few yards below us, and I dare to say was, in
its time, as regular and as handsome a sheet of water as any along the Hudson.
But old age is a great injury to good looks, as these sweet young ladies have
yet to l’arn! The place is sadly changed! These rocks are full of cracks,
and in some places they are softer than at othersome, and the water has worked
out deep hollows for itself, until it has fallen back, ay, some hundred feet,
breaking here and wearing there, until the falls have neither shape nor
consistency.”
“In what part of them are we?” asked Heyward.
“Why, we are nigh the spot that Providence first placed them at, but
where, it seems, they were too rebellious to stay. The rock proved softer on
each side of us, and so they left the center of the river bare and dry, first
working out these two little holes for us to hide in.”
“We are then on an island!”
“Ay! there are the falls on two sides of us, and the river above and
below. If you had daylight, it would be worth the trouble to step up on the
height of this rock, and look at the perversity of the water. It falls by no
rule at all; sometimes it leaps, sometimes it tumbles; there it skips; here it
shoots; in one place ’tis white as snow, and in another ’tis green
as grass; hereabouts, it pitches into deep hollows, that rumble and crush the
’arth; and thereaways, it ripples and sings like a brook, fashioning
whirlpools and gullies in the old stone, as if ’twas no harder than
trodden clay. The whole design of the river seems disconcerted. First it runs
smoothly, as if meaning to go down the descent as things were ordered; then it
angles about and faces the shores; nor are there places wanting where it looks
backward, as if unwilling to leave the wilderness, to mingle with the salt. Ay,
lady, the fine cobweb-looking cloth you wear at your throat is coarse, and like
a fishnet, to little spots I can show you, where the river fabricates all sorts
of images, as if having broke loose from order, it would try its hand at
everything. And yet what does it amount to! After the water has been suffered
so to have its will, for a time, like a headstrong man, it is gathered together
by the hand that made it, and a few rods below you may see it all, flowing on
steadily toward the sea, as was foreordained from the first foundation of the
’arth!”
While his auditors received a cheering assurance of the security of their place
of concealment from this untutored description of Glenn’s,[2]
they were much inclined to judge differently from Hawkeye, of its wild
beauties. But they were not in a situation to suffer their thoughts to dwell on
the charms of natural objects; and, as the scout had not found it necessary to
cease his culinary labors while he spoke, unless to point out, with a broken
fork, the direction of some particularly obnoxious point in the rebellious
stream, they now suffered their attention to be drawn to the necessary though
more vulgar consideration of their supper.
[2]
Glenn’s Falls are on the Hudson, some forty or fifty miles above the
head of tide, or that place where the river becomes navigable for sloops. The
description of this picturesque and remarkable little cataract, as given by the
scout, is sufficiently correct, though the application of the water to uses of
civilized life has materially injured its beauties. The rocky island and the
two caverns are known to every traveler, since the former sustains the pier of
a bridge, which is now thrown across the river, immediately above the fall. In
explanation of the taste of Hawkeye, it should be remembered that men always
prize that most which is least enjoyed. Thus, in a new country, the woods and
other objects, which in an old country would be maintained at great cost, are
got rid of, simply with a view of “improving” as it is called.
The repast, which was greatly aided by the addition of a few delicacies that
Heyward had the precaution to bring with him when they left their horses, was
exceedingly refreshing to the weary party. Uncas acted as attendant to the
females, performing all the little offices within his power, with a mixture of
dignity and anxious grace, that served to amuse Heyward, who well knew that it
was an utter innovation on the Indian customs, which forbid their warriors to
descend to any menial employment, especially in favor of their women. As the
rights of hospitality were, however, considered sacred among them, this little
departure from the dignity of manhood excited no audible comment. Had there
been one there sufficiently disengaged to become a close observer, he might
have fancied that the services of the young chief were not entirely impartial.
That while he tendered to Alice the gourd of sweet water, and the venison in a
trencher, neatly carved from the knot of the pepperidge, with sufficient
courtesy, in performing the same offices to her sister, his dark eye lingered
on her rich, speaking countenance. Once or twice he was compelled to speak, to
command the attention of those he served. In such cases he made use of English,
broken and imperfect, but sufficiently intelligible, and which he rendered so
mild and musical, by his deep, guttural voice, that it never failed to cause
both ladies to look up in admiration and astonishment. In the course of these
civilities, a few sentences were exchanged, that served to establish the
appearance of an amicable intercourse between the parties.
In the meanwhile, the gravity of Chingcachgook remained immovable. He had
seated himself more within the circle of light, where the frequent, uneasy
glances of his guests were better enabled to separate the natural expression of
his face from the artificial terrors of the war paint. They found a strong
resemblance between father and son, with the difference that might be expected
from age and hardships. The fierceness of his countenance now seemed to
slumber, and in its place was to be seen the quiet, vacant composure which
distinguishes an Indian warrior, when his faculties are not required for any of
the greater purposes of his existence. It was, however, easy to be seen, by the
occasional gleams that shot across his swarthy visage, that it was only
necessary to arouse his passions, in order to give full effect to the terrific
device which he had adopted to intimidate his enemies. On the other hand, the
quick, roving eye of the scout seldom rested. He ate and drank with an appetite
that no sense of danger could disturb, but his vigilance seemed never to desert
him. Twenty times the gourd or the venison was suspended before his lips, while
his head was turned aside, as though he listened to some distant and distrusted
sounds—a movement that never failed to recall his guests from regarding
the novelties of their situation, to a recollection of the alarming reasons
that had driven them to seek it. As these frequent pauses were never followed
by any remark, the momentary uneasiness they created quickly passed away, and
for a time was forgotten.
“Come, friend,” said Hawkeye, drawing out a keg from beneath a
cover of leaves, toward the close of the repast, and addressing the stranger
who sat at his elbow, doing great justice to his culinary skill, “try a
little spruce; ’twill wash away all thoughts of the colt, and quicken the
life in your bosom. I drink to our better friendship, hoping that a little
horse-flesh may leave no heart-burnings atween us. How do you name
yourself?”
“Gamut—David Gamut,” returned the singing master, preparing
to wash down his sorrows in a powerful draught of the woodsman’s
high-flavored and well-laced compound.
“A very good name, and, I dare say, handed down from honest forefathers.
I’m an admirator of names, though the Christian fashions fall far below
savage customs in this particular. The biggest coward I ever knew was called
Lyon; and his wife, Patience, would scold you out of hearing in less time than
a hunted deer would run a rod. With an Indian ’tis a matter of
conscience; what he calls himself, he generally is—not that Chingachgook,
which signifies Big Sarpent, is really a snake, big or little; but that he
understands the windings and turnings of human natur’, and is silent, and
strikes his enemies when they least expect him. What may be your
calling?”
“I am an unworthy instructor in the art of psalmody.”
“Anan!”
“I teach singing to the youths of the Connecticut levy.”
“You might be better employed. The young hounds go laughing and singing
too much already through the woods, when they ought not to breathe louder than
a fox in his cover. Can you use the smoothbore, or handle the rifle?”
“Praised be God, I have never had occasion to meddle with murderous
implements!”
“Perhaps you understand the compass, and lay down the watercourses and
mountains of the wilderness on paper, in order that they who follow may find
places by their given names?”
“I practice no such employment.”
“You have a pair of legs that might make a long path seem short! you
journey sometimes, I fancy, with tidings for the general.”
“Never; I follow no other than my own high vocation, which is instruction
in sacred music!”
“’Tis a strange calling!” muttered Hawkeye, with an inward
laugh, “to go through life, like a catbird, mocking all the ups and downs
that may happen to come out of other men’s throats. Well, friend, I
suppose it is your gift, and mustn’t be denied any more than if
’twas shooting, or some other better inclination. Let us hear what you
can do in that way; ’twill be a friendly manner of saying good-night, for
’tis time that these ladies should be getting strength for a hard and a
long push, in the pride of the morning, afore the Maquas are stirring.”
“With joyful pleasure do I consent”, said David, adjusting his
iron-rimmed spectacles, and producing his beloved little volume, which he
immediately tendered to Alice. “What can be more fitting and consolatory,
than to offer up evening praise, after a day of such exceeding jeopardy!”
Alice smiled; but, regarding Heyward, she blushed and hesitated.
“Indulge yourself,” he whispered; “ought not the suggestion
of the worthy namesake of the Psalmist to have its weight at such a
moment?”
Encouraged by his opinion, Alice did what her pious inclinations, and her keen
relish for gentle sounds, had before so strongly urged. The book was open at a
hymn not ill adapted to their situation, and in which the poet, no longer
goaded by his desire to excel the inspired King of Israel, had discovered some
chastened and respectable powers. Cora betrayed a disposition to support her
sister, and the sacred song proceeded, after the indispensable preliminaries of
the pitchpipe, and the tune had been duly attended to by the methodical David.
The air was solemn and slow. At times it rose to the fullest compass of the
rich voices of the females, who hung over their little book in holy excitement,
and again it sank so low, that the rushing of the waters ran through their
melody, like a hollow accompaniment. The natural taste and true ear of David
governed and modified the sounds to suit the confined cavern, every crevice and
cranny of which was filled with the thrilling notes of their flexible voices.
The Indians riveted their eyes on the rocks, and listened with an attention
that seemed to turn them into stone. But the scout, who had placed his chin in
his hand, with an expression of cold indifference, gradually suffered his rigid
features to relax, until, as verse succeeded verse, he felt his iron nature
subdued, while his recollection was carried back to boyhood, when his ears had
been accustomed to listen to similar sounds of praise, in the settlements of
the colony. His roving eyes began to moisten, and before the hymn was ended