CHAPTER VII.
Colonel Scott was pacing the walk in front of the battery of the little fort of Coteau-du-lac, viewing alternately lake St Francis, glittering peacefully in the rays of the fast westering sun, and the swift-running river into which it contracted where he stood, with the surges of the rapids farther down. He was tall, and his face was that of a man who had intellect to conceive and will to put his conceptions into force. To the door of a house larger than any of its neighbors, and before which a sentry paced, the Colonel often glanced and when a lady came out, he stepped to meet her. It was his wife, who joined him for an airing before dinner. After admiring, as she had done every day since her arrival, the contrast between the lake and the river, as it went sweeping downwards between forest-covered islands, she asked, “And is there any news? I heard an arrival reported.”
“None since the despatch of last night and it said Wilkinson was still at Sackett’s Harbor.”
“So we may not expect his flotilla of boats this week?”
“No, and were I in Sir George Prevost’s place, they would never leave Sackett’s Harbor.”
“Why, you have told me his Excellency has not sufficient naval force to attack them.”
“I would not attack the flotilla; I would render its purpose abortive. What is the American plan of invasion? I can give it to you in a nutshell, Helen. Wilkinson is to take possession of the St Lawrence with his flotilla and is to meet Hampton at the mouth of the Chateaugay river, when the combined forces will land on the island of Montreal and capture it and the city. Now, to defeat this plan, it is not necessary to destroy the flotilla. If the line of communication between Wilkinson and Hampton is cut, the whole scheme fails.”
“And how would you cut the line?”
“Why, as I have represented time and again to headquarters, by the capture of French Mills. Four hundred men could take and hold that place, and with it in British hands Wilkinson and Hampton would be as completely prevented from acting in concert as if Hampton was back to his slaves in Carolina and Wilkinson to his gally-pots. It provokes me to see the opportunities our forces miss. The war in the time of Washington was a series of blunders on our side and it looks as if the second was going to be a repetition.”
“And you blame his Excellency?”
“Yes and his staff. He is brave personally, and he is active to fussiness, but he is unable to plan a campaign or carry it out. Here we have the flower of the British army arriving by every convoy, yet our policy is a purely defensive one and changed every day. Out upon such a peddling course of action! I would teach the braggarts who lurk on yonder heights that Canada is not to be invaded with impunity, and that she has hearts to dare and die in defence of her independence.”
“Well, Norman, it may prove to be all for the best. So far Canada has repulsed every attempt at invasion.”
“It is not for the best. I have made suggestion after suggestion to improve the opportunities presented to me, and every one has been set aside, and I am condemned to a course of inaction that galls and frets me.”
Here an orderly approached. “An Indian and a young woman want to speak with you.”
“I will go,” said Mrs Scott.
“Do not,” cried the Colonel, “what tete-a-tete may I not have with the lovely squaw.”
“Please, sir,” said the orderly, “she is not a squaw. She is white and a Scotchwoman by her speech.”
“And young to boot,” exclaimed Mrs Scott archly, “I shall certainly stay and keep you from falling into temptation.”
“Bring them this way,” said the Colonel, and the orderly returned with Hemlock and Maggie.
“In truth an odd-matched pair,” whispered the Colonel as he saw them approach.
“Why, it’s you, Hemlock. I thought you were raising the war-whoop on the Huntingdon frontier. And who may your companion be? Too young to be your wife—too fair to be your sweetheart.”
The Indian’s features relaxed into the nearest approach they ever came to a smile, as he answered, “An arrow from another bow than mine has struck the doe.”
“Well, Hemlock, do you bring me news from Hinchinbrook? When is Hampton going to march?”
In reply, Hemlock briefly told how he had been at Oka, was sought out there by Maggie and for what purpose. The Colonel listened with stern expression as he was told of Morton’s peril, and when the Indian had done, he plied Maggie with questions. When she had told all, the Colonel brought his fist down heavily on the cannon beside which he stood as he exclaimed, “I knew these Americans were boasters but I did not think they were capable of such cruelty. Once they hung a gentleman wearing His Majesty’s uniform and were allowed to escape under the belief that, tradesmen and farmers as they were, they knew no better, but if they send a second to the gallows, there is not an officer in Canada who would not consider it his duty to challenge every one concerned in the deed.”
With a glance of apprehension at her husband, Mrs Scott with admirable tact strove to divert him from his vengeful mood by changing the subject. Addressing Maggie she asked, “And what is Mr Morton to you that you should risk the peril of these woods to save him? Is he a brother?”
“He is neither kith nor kin to me,” answered Maggie.
“The attraction is of another sort, then. Cupid flies his arrows in these woods as well as the red warrior.”
Maggie blushed and the Colonel, forgetting his anger, gallantly came to her rescue. “And if he does, madam, I would say to Master Cupid, give me the maiden who, like our fair Maggie, would dare the dragons of the field and flood to save her lover.”
“Oh!” retorted Mrs Scott, “that is as much as to say, I would not do that and more for you. What thankless monsters you men are!”
“Nay, spare me, Helen, and as by what she has told us, she has walked from Oka today, perhaps you will take her with you and play the hostess.”
“She has done more than walk from Oka today,” said Hemlock, “she killed a bear and saved my life.”
“What!” cried Mrs Scott in astonishment, and Hemlock told the story of the encounter. When he had done the Colonel stepped forward and grasping Maggie’s hands he said, “I honor you as a brave man honors a brave woman, and if there is any possibility of saving Mr Morton’s life, it shall be done.”
Maggie was too overcome to reply, and Mrs Scott, slipping her arm into hers, led her away to her husband’s quarters, leaving Hemlock and the Colonel in eager converse, which lasted until daylight had nearly faded and until a servant came with word that dinner was waiting the Colonel. Ordering the servant to call one of the sergeants, the Colonel committed Hemlock to his hospitable care and then entered his own quarters. Maggie spent one of the most delightful evenings of her life in the company of the Colonel and his wife, forgetting her weariness and the excitement she had passed through in the enjoyment of social converse of a brighter and wider scope than she had been accustomed. When bedtime came she was solicitous about being called early so that Hemlock might not be kept waiting, when the Colonel assured her he would take her restoration to her home by the Chateaugay into his own hands. When she made her appearance next day, she found her entertainers seated on the veranda, and was concerned to learn that it was near noon and that Hemlock had left at sunrise. The anxious look that flitted across her face, the Colonel relieved by telling her that Hemlock had chosen a route she could not have followed, across the great swamp that lay between the St Lawrence and the Chateaugay, and that he carried a letter to her father, telling where she was and that she would go home by the first safe opportunity.
“And now, my dear Maggie,” said Mrs Scott, “You need not be concerned about those at home but be my companion for a few days. Buried away here in these romantic wilds, you cannot conceive what a treat it is to me to have your society.”
“You are welcome, Miss Forsyth,” added the Colonel, “and you will get a chance before long of a convoy to Annfield, for I expect one from Kingston by the end of the week.”
“But they may be needing me at home, Colonel; my mother is frail and if the Yankees have crossed she will be sore in need of my help.”
“Make yourself easy as to that,” said the Colonel with a smile. “General Hampton, as I know for an assured fact, has not crossed the frontier and will not for several days, at least—perhaps never, for he has no heart in the undertaking. As to Wilkinson coming, I wish he would. I am just afraid he is going to deprive me of the pleasure of giving him the warm reception I have gone to so much trouble to prepare. After lunch, or rather your breakfast, we will take the boat and see that everything is in order for him.”
A couple of hours later they were seated in the Colonel’s long boat, manned by four tars, who, however, were spared the labor of rowing all the way, for the wind was favorable. Heading Grande Isle, they sailed down the south channel of the St Lawrence to a narrow point, where, by means of the trunks of huge trees anchored above where rapids foamed, the passage of boats was made impossible and before these obstructions could be lifted out, the Colonel pointed to his wife and Maggie how a concealed battery aided by sharp-shooters hid among the foliage that lined the river would decimate the occupants of the boats. He considered the southern channel to be so effectually closed that Wilkinson would not attempt it and would, therefore, have to take the northern, where he would have to run the gauntlet of the fire of the fort at Coteau-du-lac. “True it is,” added the Colonel, “that that channel is wide and the current swift, yet with a fire from both banks many boats must needs be crippled or sunk, and those that do escape would have to face a similar ordeal at Long Point, opposite the Cedars rapids, where another battery has been placed.”
“What if the Americans passed in the dark?” suggested Maggie.
“Yes,” added Mrs Scott, “or what if they landed a part of their large force before they came within range of the Coteau batteries and assailed them from the land-side?”
“All that I have considered. Were they to pass in the dark, they would not see to shoot the rapids properly, and their angry waters would be more disastrous than our shot. As to a flank movement, I rely on the Indian scouts to bring me word and, fully warned of their coming, these woods are so dense and cut up by swamps, that, with a hundred men, I would undertake to repulse a thousand.”
“So you keep constant watch?” asked Maggie.
“Unceasing,” answered the Colonel. “If you take this telescope you will perceive a sail at the upper end of the lake. It is one of the gunboats on the watch, and which would, on appearance of Wilkinson’s flotilla, either make for Coteau or if the wind were unfavorable send a row-boat. Then, on that farthest island there is a guard of regulars, who are likely to give the island a name, for already it is called Grenadier island. To the guard on that island, scouts on the southern shore report daily.”
“Surely you have contrived well,” exclaimed Maggie, “and I just wish the Yankees would come and get what you have prepared for them.”
“‘Their kail het through the reek, as the Scotch say,’” laughed the Colonel, “well I am just afraid I will not see them. Along the river, between Prescott and Cornwall, there is such a succession of points of attack, that, from all I learn of him, Wilkinson is not soldier enough to overcome.”
In returning, the boat landed the party in a cove on Grande Isle, whence, from under the shade of maples, they scanned the lake, shimmering in the sun, and the islets, heavy with trees richly colored by Autumn’s fingers, set in it like gems.
“This is so pleasant,” remarked Mrs Scott, “that I do not wonder at people growing to passionately love Canada. Do you prefer Canada to Scotland, Maggie?”
“I never saw Scotland,” replied Maggie, “but I dearly love Canada and can find it in my heart to wish that the Colonel may wring the necks of those who are trying to take it away from us.”
“Well said!” shouted the Colonel, “and Canada is so favored by nature in her line of defence and in her climate, that I cannot conceive how, if her people are true, she can ever come under the heel of a conqueror.”
The day passed happily and so did several others. Accompanying Mrs Scott, Maggie visited the little canals that enabled the boats, that plied between Montreal and Upper Canada, to overcome the rapids, to see the lockmen and their families, and watch the peculiar class of men who assisted the boats in passing upwards, either by poling and towing or by lightening their load with the help of their diminutive carts and ponies. With the garrison and its daily life she became familiar, and the detachment of blue jackets, drafted from the men-of-war at Quebec, partly engaged in manning the gunboats already afloat and in building others, she never wearied in watching. Each day endeared her more to Mrs Scott, who, she learned, had sacrificed her comfort and safety, by accompanying her husband on duty. Following the regiment, she had been with him in India, Egypt, and Spain, and, when ordered on special service to Canada, had unhesitatingly followed him, leaving their two children with friends in England. Maggie saw that her presence was a help rather than a drag upon the Colonel, whom she assisted and cared for as only a true woman can and preserved him from many privations he must otherwise have undergone. While most anxious to be at home again, it was not without a pang of regret that Maggie learned one morning that a fleet of the King’s bateaux was in sight coming down the lake. An hour afterwards she was on board of one, waving farewell to her friends. Landed at the foot of the Cascade rapids, she walked home before sunset.