Фредерик Марриет
The Settlers in Canada
CHAPTER XXX
The party had proceeded many miles before they arrived at the spot where Malachi thought that they would fall in with some venison, which was the principal game that they sought. It was not till near ten o'clock in the morning that they stood on the ground which had been selected for the sport. It was an open part of the forest, and the snow lay in large drifts, but here and there on the hill-sides the grass was nearly bare, and the deer were able, by scraping with their feet, to obtain some food. They were all pretty well close together when they arrived. Percival and Henry were about a quarter of a mile behind, for Percival was not used to the snow-shoes, and did not get on so well as the others. Malachi and the rest with him halted, that Henry and Percival might come up with them, and then, after they had recovered their breath a little, he said,
"Now, you see there's a fine lot of deer here, Master Percival, but as you know nothing about woodcraft, and may put us all out, observe what I say to you. The animals are not only cute of hearing and seeing, but they are more cute of smell, and they can scent a man a mile off if the wind blows down to them; so you see it would be useless to attempt to get near to them if we do not get to the lee side of them without noise and without being seen. Now, the wind has been from the eastward, and as we are to the southward, we must get round by the woods to the westward, before we go upon the open ground, and then, Master Percival, you must do as we do, and keep behind, to watch our motions. If we come to a swell in the land, you must not run up, or even walk up, as you might show yourself; the deer might be on the other side, within twenty yards of you; but you must hide yourself, as you will see that we shall do, and when we have found them, I will put you in a place where you shall have your shot as well as we. Do you understand, Master Percival?"
"Yes, I do, and I shall stop behind, and do as you tell me."
"Well then, now, we will go back into the thick of the forest till we go to the leeward, and then we shall see whether you will make a hunter or not."
The whole party did as Malachi directed, and for more than an hour they walked through the wood, among the thickest of the trees, that they might not be seen by the animals. At last they arrived at the spot which Malachi desired, and then they changed their course eastward toward the more open ground, where they expected to find the deer.
As they entered upon the open ground, they moved forward crouched to the ground, Malachi and Martin in the advance. When in the hollows, they all collected together, but on ascending a swell of the land, it was either Malachi or Martin who first crept up, and, looking over the summit, gave notice to the others to come forward. This was continually repeated for three or four miles, when Martin having raised his head just above a swell, made a signal to those who were below that the deer were in sight. After a moment or two reconnoitering, he went down and informed them that there were twelve or thirteen head of deer scraping up the snow about one hundred yards ahead of them upon another swell of the land; but that they appeared to be alarmed and anxious, as if they had an idea of danger being near.
Malachi then again crawled up to make his observations, and returned.
"It is sartin," said he, "that they are flurried about something; they appear just as if they had been hunted, and yet that is not likely. We must wait and let them settle a little, and find out whether any other parties have been hunting them."
They waited about ten minutes, till the animals appeared more settled, and then, by altering their position behind the swell, gained about twenty-five yards of distance. Malachi told each party which animal to aim at, and they fired nearly simultaneously. Three of the beasts fell, two others were wounded, the rest of the herd bounded off like the wind. They all rose from behind the swell, and ran forward to their prey. Alfred had fired at a fine buck which stood apart from the rest, and somewhat further off; it was evident that the animal was badly wounded, and Alfred had marked the thicket into which it had floundered; but the other deer which was wounded was evidently slightly hurt, and there was little chance of obtaining it, as it bounded away after the rest of the herd. They all ran up to where the animals lay dead, and as soon as they had reloaded their rifles, Alfred and Martin went on the track of the one that was badly wounded. They had forced their way through the thicket for some fifty yards, guided by the track of the animal, when they started back at the loud growl of some beast. Alfred, who was in advance, perceived that a puma (catamount, or painter, as it is usually termed) had taken possession of the deer, and was lying over the carcass. He leveled his rifle and fired; the beast, although badly wounded, immediately sprang at him and seized him by the shoulder. Alfred was sinking under the animal's weight and from the pain he was suffering, when Martin came to his rescue, and put his rifle ball through the head of the beast, which fell dead.
"Are you much hurt, sir?" said Martin.
"No, not much," replied Alfred; "at least I think not, but my shoulder is badly torn, and I bleed freely."
Malachi and the others now came up, and perceived what had taken place. Alfred had sunk down and was sitting on the ground by the side of the dead animals.
"A painter!" exclaimed Malachi; "well, I didn't think we should see one so far west. Are you hurt, Mr. Alfred?"
"Yes, a little," replied Alfred, faintly.
Malachi and Martin, without saying another word, stripped off Alfred's hunting-coat, and then discovered that he had received a very bad wound in the shoulder from the teeth of the beast, and that his side was also torn by the animal's claws.
"John, run for some water," said Malachi; "you are certain to find some in the hollow."
John and Percival both hastened in search of water, while Malachi and Martin and Henry tore Alfred's shirt into strips and bound up the wounds, so as to stop in a great measure the flow of blood. As soon as this was done and he had drunk the water brought to him in John's hat, Alfred felt revived.
"I will sit down for a little longer," said he, "and then we will get home as fast as we can. Martin, look after the game, and when you are ready I will get up. What a tremendous heavy brute that was; I could not have stood against him for a minute longer, and I had no hunting-knife."
"It's a terrible beast, sir," replied Malachi. "I don't know that I ever saw one larger; they are more than a match for one man, sir, and never should be attempted single-handed, for they are so hard to kill."
"Where did my ball hit him?" said Alfred.
"Here, sir, under the shoulder, and well placed too. It must have gone quite close to his heart; but unless you hit them through the brain or through the heart, they are certain to make their dying spring. That's an ugly wound on your shoulder, and will put a stop to your hunting for five or six weeks, I expect. However, it's well that it's no worse."
"I feel quite strong now," replied Alfred.
"Another ten minutes, sir; let John and me whip off his skin, for we must have it to show, if we have all the venison spoiled. Mr. Henry, tell Martin only to take the prime pieces, and not to mind the hides, for we shall not be able to carry much. And tell him to be quick, Mr. Henry, for it will not do for Mr. Alfred to remain till his arm gets stiff. We have many miles to get home again."
In the course of ten minutes Malachi and John had skinned the puma, and Martin made his appearance with the haunches of two of the deer, which, he said, was as much as they well could carry, and they all set off on their return home.
Alfred had not proceeded far when he found himself in great pain, the walking upon snow-shoes requiring so much motion as to open the wounds and make them bleed again; but Malachi gave him his assistance, and having procured him some more water they continued their route.
After a time the wounds became more stiff, and Alfred appeared to be more oppressed by the pain. They proceeded, however, as fast as they could, and at nightfall they were not far from home. But Alfred moved with great difficulty; he had become very faint, so much so, that Martin requested John would put down the venison and hasten before them to the house to request Mr. Campbell to send some brandy or other cordial to support Alfred, who was scarcely able to move on from weakness and loss of blood. As they were not more than a mile from the house, John was soon there, and hastening in at the door, he gave his message in presence of Mrs. Campbell and his cousins, who were in a state of great distress at the intelligence. Mr. Campbell went to his room for the spirits, and as soon as he brought it out Emma seized her bonnet, and said that she would accompany John.
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell had no time to raise any objection, if they were inclined, for Emma was out of the door in a moment, with John at her heels. But Emma quite forgot that she had no snow shoes, and before she had gone half the distance she found herself as much fatigued as if she had walked miles; and she sank deeper and deeper in the snow every step that she advanced. At last they arrived, and found the party: Alfred was lying insensible on the snow, and the others making a litter of branches that they might carry him to the house.
A little brandy poured down his throat brought Alfred to his senses; and as he opened his eyes, he perceived Emma hanging over him.
"Dear Emma, how kind of you," said he, attempting to rise.
"Do not move, Alfred; they will soon have the litter ready, and then you will be carried to the house. It is not far off."
"I am strong again now, Emma," replied Alfred. "But you must not remain here in the cold. See, the snow is falling again."
"I must remain now till they are ready to carry you, Alfred, for I dare not go back by myself."
By this time the litter was prepared, and Alfred placed on it. Malachi, Henry, Martin and John took it up.
"Where is Percival?" said Emma.
"He's behind a little way," replied John. "The snow-shoes hurt him, and he could not walk so fast. He will be here in a minute."
They carried Alfred to the house, where Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and Mary were waiting at the door in great anxiety; poor Emma was quite knocked up by the time that they arrived, and went into her own room.
Alfred was laid on his bed, and his father then examined his wounds, which he considered very dangerous, from the great laceration of the flesh. Mr. Campbell dressed them, and then they left Alfred to the repose which he so much required. The state of Alfred so occupied their minds and their attention, that nothing and nobody else was thought of for the first hour. Emma, too, had been taken very ill soon after she came in, and required the attention of Mrs. Campbell and Mary. It was not until they were about to sit down to supper that Mr. Campbell said, "Why, where's Percival?"
"Percival! Is he not here?" was the question anxiously uttered by all the party who had been hunting.
"Percival not here!" exclaimed Mrs. Campbell, starting up. "Where—where is my child?"
"He was just behind us," said John; "he sat down to alter his snow-shoes; the ties hurt him."
Malachi and Martin ran out of doors in consternation; they knew the danger, for the snow was now falling in such heavy flakes that it was impossible to see or direct their steps two yards in any direction.
"The boy will be lost for sartin," said Malachi to Martin; "if he has remained behind till this fall of snow, he never will find his way, but wander about till he perishes."
"Yes," said Martin, "he has but a poor chance, that is the truth; I would have given my right arm this had not happened."
"Misfortune never comes single," replied Malachi; "what can we do? Madam Campbell will be beside herself, for she loves that boy beyond all measure."
"It's useless our going out," observed Martin; "we should never find him, and only lose ourselves; but still we had better go back, and say that we will try. At all events we can go to the edge of the forest, and halloo every minute or so; if the boy is still on his legs, it will guide him to us."
"Yes," replied Malachi, "and we may light a pine torch; it might be of some use. Well, then, let's go in, and tell them that we are going in search of the boy; as long as madam knows that we are seeking him she will not lose hope, and hope will keep up her spirits for the time, till she is better prepared for her loss."
There was much good sense and knowledge of the human heart in the observation of Malachi, who, although he was aware that all search would be useless, could not resolve to destroy at once all hope in the mind of the afflicted and anxious mother.
They went in, and found Mrs. Campbell weeping bitterly, supported by her husband and Mary. They stated that they were going to search for the boy, and bring him home if they could, and, taking three or four pine torches, one of which they lighted, they set off for the edge of the forest, where they remained for two hours with the light, shouting at intervals; but the snow fell so fast, and the cold was so intense, for the wind blew fresh from the northward, that they could remain no longer. They did not, however, return to the house, but went to their own lodge to recover themselves, and remained there till daylight. They then went out again; the snow-storm had ceased, and the morning was clear and bright; they went back into the forest (on the road by which they had come home) for three or four miles, but the snow had now fallen and covered all the tracks which they had made the day before, and was in many places several feet deep. They proceeded to where Percival was last seen by John, who had described the spot very exactly; they looked every where about, made circuits round and round, in hopes of perceiving the muzzle of his rifle peeping out above the snow, but there was nothing to be discovered, and after a search of four or five hours, they returned to the house. They found Mr. Campbell and Henry in the kitchen, for Mrs. Campbell was in such a state of anxiety and distress, that she was in her room attended by Mary. Mr. Campbell perceived by their countenances that they brought no satisfactory tidings. Malachi shook his head mournfully, and sat down.
"Do you think that my poor boy is lost, Malachi?" said Mr. Campbell.
"He is, I fear, sir; he must have sat down to rest himself, and has been overpowered and fallen asleep. He has been buried in the snow, and he will not wake till the day of resurrection."
Mr. Campbell covered his face with his hands, and after a time exclaimed, "His poor mother!"
After a few minutes, he rose and went into Mrs. Campbell's room.
"What of my child,—my dear, dear Percival?" exclaimed Mrs. Campbell.
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away," replied Mr. Campbell; "your child is happy."
Mrs. Campbell wept bitterly; and having thus given vent to the feelings of nature, she became gradually more calm and resigned; her habitually devout spirit sought and found relief in the God of all comfort.
CHAPTER XXXI
Thus in one short day was the family of Mr. Campbell changed from a house of joy to one of mourning. And true was the remark of Malachi, that misfortunes seldom come single, for now they had another cause of anxiety. Emma, by her imprudent exposure to the intense chill of the night air and the wetting of her feet, was first taken with a violent cold, which was followed by a fever, which became more alarming every day. Thus, in addition to the loss of one of their children, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell were threatened with being deprived of two more; for their nieces were regarded as such, and Alfred was in a very precarious state. The wounds had assumed such an angry appearance, that Mr. Campbell was fearful of mortification. This accumulated distress had, however, one good effect upon them. The danger of losing Emma and Alfred so occupied their minds and their attention, that they had not time to bewail the loss of Percival; and even Mrs. Campbell, in her prayers, was enabled to resign herself to the Almighty's will in taking away her child, if it would but please Him to spare the two others who were afflicted. Long and tedious were the hours, the days, and the weeks that passed away before either of them could be considered in a state of convalescence; but when her prayers were heard, and, as the winter closed, their recovery was no longer doubtful. A melancholy winter it had been to them all, but the joy of once more seeing Emma resume her duties, and Alfred, supported on cushions, able to be moved into the sitting-room, had a very exhilarating effect upon their spirits. True, there was no longer the mirth and merriment that once reigned, but there was a subdued gratitude to Heaven, which, if it did not make them at once cheerful, at least prevented any thing like repining or complaint. Grateful for the mercies vouchsafed to them, in having Alfred and Emma spared to them, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell consoled themselves in reference to Percival, with the reflection that, at so early an age, before he had lived to be corrupted by the world, to die was gain,—and that their dear boy had become, through Divine grace, an inhabitant of the kingdom of Heaven. By degrees the family became cheerful and happy; the merry laugh of Emma once more enlivened them, Alfred again recovered his former health and spirits, and Mrs. Campbell could bear the mention of the name of Percival, and join in the praises of the amiable child.
The spring now came on, the snow gradually disappeared, the ice was carried down the rapids, and once more left the blue lake clear; the cattle were turned out to feed off the grass the year before left on the prairie, and all the men were busy in preparing to put in the seed. As soon as the snow was gone, Malachi, Martin and Alfred, without saying a word to Mrs. Campbell, had gone into the forest, and made search for the body of poor Percival, but without success, and it was considered that he had wandered and died on some spot which they could not discover, or that the wolves had dug his remains out of the snow, and devoured them. Not a trace of him could any where be discovered; and the search was, after a few days, discontinued. The return of the spring had another good effect upon the spirits of the party; for, with the spring came on such a variety of work to be done, that they had not a moment to spare. They had now so many acres for corn, that they had scarcely time to get through all the preparatory work, and fortunate it was that Alfred was so much recovered that he could join in the labor. Malachi, John, and even Mr. Campbell, assisted, and at last the task was completed. Then they had a communication with the fort, and letters from Quebec, Montreal, and England: there were none of any importance from England, but one from Montreal informed Mr. Campbell, that, agreeably to contract, the engineer would arrive in the course of the month, with the bateaux containing the machinery, and that the water-mill would be erected as soon as possible. There was also a letter from England, which gave them great pleasure; it was from Captain Sinclair to Alfred, informing him that he had arranged all his business with his guardian, and that he should rejoin his regiment and be at the fort early in the spring, as he should sail in the first vessel which left England. He stated how delighted he should be at his return, and told him to say to Emma that he had not found an English wife, as she had prophesied, but was coming back as heart-whole as he went. Very soon afterward they had a visit from Colonel Forster and some of the officers of the garrison. The Colonel offered Mr. Campbell a party of soldiers to assist in raising the mill, and the offer was thankfully accepted.
"We were very much alarmed about you last autumn, when the woods were on fire, Mr. Campbell," said the Colonel; "but I perceive that it has been of great advantage to you. You have now a large quantity of cleared land sown with seed, and if you had possessed sufficient means, might have had much more put in, as I perceive all the land to the north-west is cleared by the fire."
"Yes," replied Mr. Campbell; "but my allotment, as you know, extends along the beach, and we have sown the seed as far from the beach as the property extends."
"Then I should recommend you to write to Quebec, and apply for another grant on each side of the stream; indeed, at the back of and equal to what you now have."
"But if I do, I have not the means of working the land."
"No, not with your present force, I grant; but there are many emigrants who would be glad of work, and who would settle here upon favorable conditions."
"The expense would be very great," said Mr. Campbell.
"It would; but the return would indemnify you. The troops at the fort would take all the flour off your hands, if you had ever so much."
"I am not inclined at present to speculate much further," replied Mr. Campbell, "but I shall see how this year turns out, and if I find that I am successful, I will then decide."
"Of course, you will but act prudently. You can send down to your agent at Quebec, and ascertain what would be the probable terms of the men you might require. But there is another way, which is to give them the land to cultivate, and the seed, and to receive from them a certain portion of corn in return, as rent; that is very safe, and your land will be all gradually brought into cultivation, besides the advantage of having neighbors about you. You might send one of your sons down to Montreal, and arrange all that."
"I certainly will write to my agent and institute inquiries," replied Mr. Campbell, "and many thanks to you for the suggestion; I have still a few hundred at the bank to dispose of, if necessary."
About three weeks after this conversation, the bateaux arrived with the engineer and machinery for the flour and saw-mills: and now the settlement again presented a lively scene, being thronged with the soldiers who were sent from the fort. The engineer was a very pleasant, intelligent young Englishman, who had taken up his profession in Canada, and was considered one of the most able in the colony. The site of the mill was soon chosen, and now the axes again resounded in the woods, as the trees were felled and squared under his directions. Alfred was constantly with the engineer, superintending the labor of the men, and contracted a great intimacy with him; indeed, that gentleman was soon on such a footing with the whole family, as to be considered almost as one of them, for he was very amusing, very well bred, and had evidently received every advantage of education. Mr. Campbell found that Mr. Emmerson, for such was his name, could give him every particular relative to the emigrants who had come out, as he was so constantly traveling about the country, and was in such constant communication with them.
"You are very fortunate in your purchase," said he to Mr. Campbell; "the land is excellent, and you have a good water-power in the stream, as well as convenient carriage by the lake. Fifty years hence this property will be worth a large sum of money."
"I want very much to get some more emigrants to settle here," observed Mr. Campbell. "It would add to our security and comfort; and I have not sufficient hands to cultivate the land which has been cleared by the fire of last autumn. If not cultivated in a short time, it will be all forest again."
"At present it is all raspberries, and very good ones too, are they not, Mr. Emmerson?" said Emma.
"Yes, miss, most excellent," replied he; "but you are aware that, whenever you cut down trees here, and do not hoe the ground to sow it, raspberry bushes grow up immediately."
"Indeed, I was not aware of it."
"Such is the case, nevertheless. After the raspberries, the seedling hardwood trees spring up, and, as Mr. Campbell says, they soon grow into a forest again."
"I do not think that you would have much trouble in getting emigrants to come here, Mr. Campbell, but the difficulty will be in persuading them to remain. Their object in coming out to this country is to obtain land of their own, and become independent. Many of them have not the means to go on, and, as a temporary resource, are compelled to act as laborers; but the moment that they get sufficient to purchase for themselves, they will leave you."
"That is very natural; but I have been thinking of obtaining a larger grant than I have now, and I wish very much that I could make an arrangement with some emigrants. The Colonel says that I might do so by supplying them with seed, and taking corn in return as rent."
"That would not be a permanent arrangement," replied Mr. Emmerson. "How much land, do you propose applying for?"
"Six hundred acres."
"Well, sir, I think it would meet the views of both parties if you were to offer terms like the following—that is, divide the land into lots of one hundred acres each, and allow them to cultivate for you the fifty acres that adjoin your own land, with the right of purchasing the other fifty as their own property, as soon as they can. You will then obtain three hundred acres of the most valuable land, in addition to your present farm, and have fixed neighbors around you, even after they are enabled to purchase the other fifty."
"I think that a very good arrangement, Mr. Emmerson, and I would gladly consent to it."
"Well, sir, I shall have plenty of opportunities this summer of making the proposal to the emigrants, and if I find any parties who seem likely to prove advantageous as neighbors, I will let you know."
"And with such expectations I will apply for the additional grant," said Mr. Campbell, "for to have neighbors in this solitude, I would almost make them a present of the land."
"I suspect that in a few years you will have neighbors enough, without resorting to such an expedient," replied Mr. Emmerson, "but according to your present proposal, they may be better selected, and you may make terms which will prevent any nuisances."
The works at the mill proceeded rapidly, and before the hay-harvest the mill was complete. Alfred was very careful, and paid every attention to what was going on, and so did Martin, that they might understand the machinery. This was very simple. Mr. Emmerson tried the mill, and found it to answer well. He explained every thing to Alfred, and put the mill to work, that he might be fully master of it. As it was a fortnight after the mill was at work before Mr. Emmerson could obtain a passage back to Montreal, Alfred and Martin worked both mills during that time, and felt satisfied that they required no further instruction. The soldiers, at the request of Mr. Campbell, were allowed to remain till the hay-harvest, and as soon as the hay was gathered in, they were paid and returned to the fort. Captain Sinclair, who, from his letter, had been expected to arrive much sooner, came just as the soldiers had left the farm. It need hardly be said that he was received most warmly. He had a great deal to tell them, and had brought out a great many presents; those for poor little Percival he kept back, of course. Emma and Mary were delighted to have him again as a companion, and to resume their walks with him; a fortnight thus passed away very quickly, when his leave of absence expired, and he was obliged to return to the fort. Previous, however, to his going away, he requested a private interview with Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, in which he stated his exact position and his means, and requested their sanction to his paying his addresses to Mary. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, who had already perceived the attentions he had shown to her, did not hesitate to express their satisfaction at his request, and their best wishes for his success; and having so done, they left him to forward his own suit, which Captain Sinclair did not fail to do that very evening, Mary Percival was too amiable and right-minded a girl not at once to refuse or accept Captain Sinclair. As she had long been attached to him she did not deny that such was the case, and Captain Sinclair was overjoyed at his success.
"I have spoken frankly to you, Captain Sinclair," said Mary; "I have not denied that you have an interest in my affections; but I must now request you to let me know what are your future views."
"To do just what you wish me to do."
"I have no right to advise, and no wish to persuade. I have my own path of duty pointed out to me, and from that I can not swerve."
"And what is that?"
"It is that, under present circumstances, I must not think of leaving my uncle and aunt. I have been bred up and educated by them; I have as an orphan shared their prosperity; I have a deep debt of gratitude to pay, and I can not consent to return to England to enjoy all the advantages which your means will afford, while they remain in their present isolated position. Hereafter circumstances may alter my opinion, but such it is at present."
"But if I am willing to remain with you here to share your fortunes, will not that satisfy you?"
"No, certainly not; for that would be allowing you to do injustice to yourself. I presume you do not mean to quit your profession?"
"I had no such intention; but still, if I have to choose between you and the service, I shall not hesitate."
"I trust you will not hesitate, but determine to adhere steadily to your profession for the present, Captain Sinclair. It will not do for you to give up your prospects and chance of advancement for even such a woman as me," continued Mary, smiling; "nor must you think of becoming a backwoodsman for a pale-faced girl."
"Then what am I to do if, as you say, you will not leave your uncle and aunt?"
"Wait, Captain Sinclair; be satisfied that you have my affections, and wait patiently till circumstances may occur which will enable me to reward your affection without being guilty of ingratitude toward those to whom I owe so much. On such terms I accept you willingly; but you must do your duty to yourself, while I must discharge my duty toward my uncle and aunt."
