A CONVIVIAL MORNING.
It must have been an hour past midnight when we broke from the forest into the clearing, and as we strode across toward the stockade we noted with relief that all was still and peaceful. Malcolm Cameron greeted us at the gate, and we passed on to receive a hearty welcome at the house. With the exception of Pemecan, our comrades were all awake, sprawled about a blazing tire, and at sight of the meat we carried they set up a great shout.
“Hush! you will rouse Miss Hatherton!” said I, for I saw that she had retired.
However, I doubt if she had slept a wink; and no sooner was there a lull in the conversation than she called from the little room adjoining, in a hesitating voice:
“Have you returned, Denzil?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I am back, safe and sound, and with a fat deer for breakfast. But go to sleep at once; it is very late.”
“I will,” Flora answered. “Good-night, Denzil.”
“Good-night,” I responded, and then my face grew hot as I saw Captain Rudstone regarding me with half-veiled amusement.
“You are a lucky chap, Carew,” he said; “but you have well earned your happiness.”
I never quite knew how to take the captain’s words, so I merely nodded in reply. We were all sleepy, and without delay we completed the preparations for the night. Two men were chosen for sentry duty at the gate—Luke Hutter and Baptiste, and the latter at once relieved Cameron and sent him in. Carteret and I had a look about the inclosure, and then, after putting a great beam on the fire, we rolled ourselves in our blankets and laid down beside our companions.
I must have fallen asleep as soon as my eyes closed, for I remembered nothing until I was roused by a hand on my shoulder. Luke Hutter was standing over me, and from head to foot he was thickly coated with snow. The gray light of dawn glimmered behind the frosted windows, and I heard a hoarse whistling noise. The fire was blazing cheerily, for Baptiste had replenished it when he came off duty. Several of the men were stirring; the others were sound asleep.
“A bad day to travel, Mr. Carew,” said Hutter.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
For answer he led me to the door, and as he opened it a fine cloud of snow whirled into the room. I cried out with astonishment, for one of those rapid changes of weather so common in northern latitudes had taken place during the night. A storm of wind and snow, much like a blizzard, was raging violently. The cold was intense, and it was impossible to see more than a yard or two in front of one’s face.
“It began several hours ago,” said Hutter, “and it is good to last until night. If we set out for Fort Charter we shall lose our way, sir, and perhaps become exhausted and freeze to death.”
I agreed with Hutter, and after some reflection I hit upon a plan that afforded me no little pleasure. My companions were by this time awake and up, and I called their attention to the storm. As to the danger and impossibility of proceeding on our journey, they were all of one mind.
“We need a rest,” said I, “and here is a chance to take it, with a bit of recreation and enjoyment thrown in. There is not the slightest risk of an attack by Indians. We can spare a day, and we have snug quarters and enough to eat. The storm will doubtless abate by to-morrow morning, and then we will push on. What do you say, men?”
They assented readily, even with enthusiasm, and I saw that they entered fully into the spirit which had prompted me to make the proposal.
“I’m thinking it will be like old times,” said Cameron. “It was a happy life at Fort Royal, on the whole, sir. There’s one thing we’ll be lacking for the day’s pleasure—a stiff glass of grog all round.”
“We’ll manage to get along without it,” I replied. “And now let’s finish up the work; there is plenty to do.”
First of all we made a kettleful of warm water by melting snow, and I handed a pannikin of it in to Flora, whom I had heard stirring for some time. She bade me a sweet good-morning, and showed me a glimpse of her pretty face round the corner of the door. Then some of us began to prepare breakfast—we had found an ample supply of dish ware in the fort—and others demolished a part of the stockade and brought the timbers in for fuel. Captain Rudstone and I busied ourselves by making the crevices of the door and windows secure against wind and sifting snow. For once we dispensed with sentry duty, thinking it to be unnecessary.
As breakfast was ready to be served, Flora tripped out of her little room looking radiantly beautiful. When she learned that we were to stop at the fort that day her eyes glowed with pleasure, and what I read in them set my heart beating fast. Seated about the fire on benches and rickety stools, we attacked the delicious slices of venison, the steaming coffee, and the crisp cakes of cornmeal. Then, the dishes washed and the room tidied a bit, we heaped the fire high and settled ourselves for a long morning. Outside the wind howled and the whirling snow darkened the air; inside was warmth and cheer and comfort.
Looking back to that day over the gulf of years, I can recall few occasions of keener enjoyment. The security and comfort were in such strong contrast to what we had lately suffered, that we abandoned ourselves wholly to the pleasure of the passing moment. We forgot the tragedies and sufferings that lay behind us, and gave no thought to what the uncertain future might hold in store. For me the horizon was unclouded. Flora was by my side, and I looked forward to soon calling her my wife.
Luckily, we had plenty of tobacco, and wreaths of fragrant smoke curled from blackened pipes. Baptiste and Carteret sang the dialect songs of the wilderness; Duncan Forbes amused us with what he called a Highland fling, and Pemecan, to the accompaniment of outlandish chanting, danced an Indian war-dance. Captain Rudstone and Christopher Burley, who were rarely anything but quiet and reserved, showed us sides of their characters that we had not suspected before; they clapped their hands and joined in the laughter and merriment. And in Flora’s unfeigned happiness and light spirits I took my greatest enjoyment.
“Comrade, it’s your turn,” said Forbes, addressing old Malcolm Cameron. “Maybe you’ll be giving us your imitation of the skirl of the bagpipes.”
“Man, it’s too dry work,” Cameron replied. “If I had a wee drop of liquor—But it’s no use asking for that.”
“By the way, Carew,” said Captain Rudstone, “as I was overhauling that heap of rubbish in the cellar this morning, I pulled out a small cask. Could it contain anything drinkable?”
I was on my feet like a shot.
“Come; we’ll see!” I cried. “Lead the way!”
I followed the captain to the cellar and we found the cask. I quickly broached it, and to my delight it, contained what I had scarcely ventured to hope for—a fine old port wine.
“Where did it come from?” asked the captain, smacking his lips.
“My father used to have it sent to him from England,” I replied, “and this cask must have been mislaid and covered up.”
“Your father?” muttered the captain: and he gave me one of those strange looks that had so mystified me in the past.
“Yes, he was a judge of wine, I believe,” I answered. “Come, we’ll go up. Cameron can wet his whistle now, and we’ll all be the better for a little sound port.”
When we returned to our companions with the cask, and told them what it held, they gave us an eager and noisy welcome. We rummaged about until we found a sufficient number of cracked glasses and cups, and then we filled them with the fragrant, ruddy beverage.
“Miss Hatherton shall drink first,” said I, as I sat down beside her and handed her a glass.
My own I held up with a little nod, and she partly understood me. Such a roguish look twinkled in her eyes that I carried out my purpose.
“Attention!” I cried, standing up. “A toast, comrades! to my promised wife!”
With an earnestness that I liked, the men drank, one and all, and Flora smiled very prettily through her confusion and blushes.
“Ah, she’s a bonnie lady,” old Malcolm Cameron said bluntly.
“And with the spirit of a man,” added Luke Hutter.
I acknowledged these compliments with a bow as I sat down. Most of the drinking vessels were emptied and passed to Carteret to be filled. That done, at a sign from me he carried the cask to a closet at the other side of the room. Some of the men were bibulously inclined, and for Flora’s sake I had to be cautious.
Of a sudden Captain Rudstone rose, his handsome, stern face almost transformed by an expression of genial good will.
“Mr. Carew,” he began, “on such an occasion as this I feel that I must say a word. Indeed you have won a prize. ’Tis an old proverb that a man married is a man marred, but in you I see an exception. Were I a few years younger I should have ventured to enter the lists against you. I have knocked about the world, and I can pay Miss Hatherton no higher compliment than to say that she is equally fitted to be queen of a London drawing room or mistress of a factor’s humble house. But enough. I wish you every prosperity and happiness, and a long career in the service of the company.”
The captain was evidently sincere, and I had never liked him so well as now, though I must confess that I felt a spark of jealousy when Flora made him a smiling courtesy.
He was no sooner down in his seat than Christopher Burley stood up. The law clerk’s face was flushed, and his eyes had an unwonted sparkle. He had drunk but two glasses of port, yet he was a different man to look at.
“Mr. Carew and Miss Hatherton, my compliments,” he said. “I shall think of this convivial gathering when I am back in London—in that crowded, bustling heart of the world, and I hope some day to have the pleasure of seeing you there—of seeing all of you, my friends. I will take you to my favorite haunt, the Cheshire Cheese, in Fleet Street, where the great and learned Dr. Johnson was wont to foregather. But I have much to do before I can return to England. The task that brought me to this barbarous country—this land of snow and ice—is of a most peculiar and difficult nature. I will take the present opportunity to inquire—”
“Enough!” suddenly interrupted Captain Rudstone in a harsh voice. “Your tongue is rambling sir. I am doing you a service by requesting you to sit down.”
“Sir, do you mean to insinuate—” began Christopher Burley.
But at that instant voices were heard outside and the door was thrown open.