Ticonderoga: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley

by G. P. R. James

All saw, however, and comprehended, that a change had come over the British government; that the hesitating and doubtful policy which had hitherto characterized their military movements in America was at an end, and that the contest was now to be waged for the gain and loss of all the European possessions on the American continent. Already it was known amongst the Five Nations, although the time for the transmission of the intelligence was incredibly small, that a large fleet and armament had arrived at Halifax, and that several naval successes over the French had cleared the way for some great enterprise in the north. At the same time, the neighborhood of Albany was full of the bustle of military preparation, and a large force was already collected under Abercrombie for some great attempt upon the lakes; and from the west, news had been received that a British army was marching rapidly toward the French forts upon the Ohio and the Monongahela. The Indian natives roused themselves at the sound of war, for though some few of them acted regularly in alliance with one or the other of the contending European powers, a greater number than is generally believed cared little whom they attacked, or for whom they fought, or whom they slew, and were, in reality, but as a flock of vultures, spreading their wings at the scent of battle, and ready to take advantage of the carnage, whatever was the result of the strife.

CHAPTER XXIII

We must now return to the scene in which this narrative first commenced; but, oh! how changed was the aspect of all things from that which the house of Mr. Prevost presented but five short months before! The father and the daughter were there alone. The brother no longer gleamed about the house, with his blithesome air and active energies, and the thought of him and of his fate hung continually, like a dark shadow, over those to whom he was so dear. They were not wholly without comfort; they were not wholly without hope; for, from time to time, renewed assurances came to them from many a quarter that Walter would still be saved. But still time wore on, and he was not delivered.

During the winter Lord H---- visited them very frequently, and it is probable that, had no dark cloud overshadowed the hopes as well as the happiness of all, he would have pressed for the prize of Edith's hand without delay; but he loved not the mingling of joy and sorrow. In that, at least, his view of the world, and life, and fate, was deceitful. He was not yet convinced, although he had some experience, that such a thing as unalloyed happiness, even for a few short days, is not to be found on earth--that the only mine of gold without dross lies beneath the grave.

In the meantime, the gathering together of British soldiers on the Hudson and the Mohawk had, like one wave meeting another, somewhat repelled the Indian tribes. A runner, a half-breed, or one or two redmen together--more frequently from the nation of the Mohawks than from any other tribe--would be seen occasionally, wandering through the woods, or crossing the open ground near the settler's dwelling; but they seldom approached the house, and their appearance caused no apprehension. Relations of the greatest amity had been established between the British authorities and the chiefs of the Five Nations, and several of the tribes were preparing to take part in the coming strife upon the side of England.

Three times during the winter the house of Mr. Prevost was visited by a single Indian of the Oneida tribe. On two occasions it was a man who presented himself, and his stay was very short. On the first occasion, Edith was alone, when, without the sound of footsteps, he glided in like a dark shadow. His look was friendly, though for a moment he said nothing, and Edith, well knowing their habits, asked if he would take food. He answered yes, in his own language; and she called some of the servants to supply him; but before he ate, he looked up in her face, saying: "I am bidden to tell thee that thy brother shall be safe."

"Whose words do you bear?" asked Edith; "is it the Black Eagle speaks?"

"Nay; Otaitsa," replied the man.

This was all she could learn, for the messenger was either ignorant of more or affected to be so; yet still it was a comfort to her. The next who came was a woman, somewhat past the middle age, and by no means beautiful. She stayed long, and with good-natured volubility related all that had happened immediately after Edith's visit to the Oneida Castle. She dwelt upon the attempt of the Blossom to deliver her lover as she would have expatiated upon some daring feat of courage in a warrior; and though in the end she had to tell how the maiden's bold effort had been frustrated, she added: "Yet he shall be safe; they shall not slay our brother."

The third time the same man returned, bearing the same assurances; but, as hour after hour went by, and day by day, without the lad's return, or any definite news of him, hope sickened and grew faint. By this time it was known that the efforts of the Mohawks and the Onondagas had been frustrated; and, moreover, it was plainly intimated by the chiefs of those two nations that they would interfere no more.