“There’s a case-bottle of brandy for Rolloweh,”—the quarter-master’s face fell as he gazed at the list on the head of a barrel. “Why, ’tis known that the Injuns will drink pepper vinegar as soon as sherry wine! And a jug of raspberry shrub—the finest ever made, I’ll swear. Get ’em out. Get ’em out!”—and once more he stood over the commodities, and eyed them funereally, and shook his head in melancholy farewell.
“And the cheeses, sor. Would ut be convanient fur yer honor to furgit the cheeses?” suggested the sergeant with a roguish eye.
“What?—not at all—not at all,” said the quarter-master, out of countenance, nevertheless.
“Thin, sor, if yez be aimin’ to presarve yer memory, there’s a box o’ snuff—fine Rappee—at the top of the list, passed by.”
“Get it out! Get it out!” said the quarter-master, pacing back and forth, as if preoccupied, in the narrow aisle between the baled goods, his red face grave and bent, his portly figure erect, his hands clasped behind him, with the list held carelessly in his fingers.
“I’ll engage the commandant niver thinks how low the sthore is running,” suggested the sergeant.
“And if we get out—out we will be; for the government will send no more goods here, and we just awaiting orders to evacuate and march for Charlestown. Have you finished—the order filled? Then call the boat’s crew and get it aboard.”
They were embarked at last, the oars striking the water with a masterful impact, the boats then skimming off like a covey of birds with wings spread. There went first the commandant and his escort, followed by the pettiaugre laden with the necessaries for the expedition, and lastly by the Indian delegation, who had come afoot of their own motion, and were now going back at the expense of Fort Prince George with transportation furnished. Very drunk several of them were, all a trifle unsteadied by the signal success of their mission, and the fervor of the hospitality of Fort Prince George. To their own place in his estimation they ascribed Captain Howard’s instant concession to their demand, the compliment of his official presence on this mission, their return to their confrères in this triumphant state, and they pridefully interpreted the desire of the government to preserve the peace as fear still entertained of the prowess of the Indian. They took no heed of the commandant’s solicitude for the life of the old missionary.
Captain Howard felt justified in bestirring himself smartly for the rescue of the old man.
“It is for the obvious good of the frontier and in the interest of the government, for one murder now would be the precursor of an outbreak,” he had said in a council of the officers summoned the previous morning; “and I am glad that it is thus, for I cannot in conscience, in humanity, leave the old missionary to his horrible fate. The thought would not let me sleep a wink last night.”