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

by G. P. R. James

It was better for all, indeed, that he should go, and he felt it. Not that there was any chance of his resolution being shaken, but as he had himself said, he wished to forget that resolution--to think no more of his coming fate than the dark remembrance of it within his own heart forced him to think; and the presence of Mr. Prevost and his daughter--the very absence of Walter from their fireside--would have reminded him constantly of the rock on which his bark was inevitably steering. With Mr. Prevost and Edith his presence would have had the effect of keeping up the struggle between affection for Walter and a kindly sense of justice toward him. His every look, his every word, would have been a source of painful interest, and the terrible balancing of very narrowly divided equities, where life was in the scale and affection held the beam, would have gone on, in the mind at least, continually.

When he was gone the agitating feelings gradually subtranspose themselves, and they almost looked upon him as a thing decided; the mind was relieved from a greater apprehension by a lesser, and a quiet melancholy, whenever his coming fate was thought of, took the place of anxious alarm. In some sort the present and the past seemed to transpose themselves, and they almost looked upon him as already dead.

True, all fear in regard to Walter was not completely banished. There was nothing definite, there was no tangible object of apprehension. They felt perfectly sure that Woodchuck would execute his resolution, but yet the heart, like an agitated pendulum, vibrated long after the momentum had ceased. It grew quieter and quieter by degrees, however, on the part of Mr. Prevost; a change of thought and of object did much. All his preparations had to be made for the proper execution of the office he had undertaken. He had more than once to go to Albany, and on each occasion he took his daughter with him. Each change had some effect, and both he and Edith recovered a certain degree of cheerfulness at last in general society. It was only in the quiet and the silent hours, when either was left alone, when those intervals took place during which, sleep refuses to visit the eye, when all external sounds are still, when all external sights are absent, and the mind is left alone with thought, and nothing but thought for its companion--it was only then that the fear, and the anxiety, and the gloom returned.

Every moment that could be spared from military duties were passed by Lord H---- at Edith's side, whether in her own home or in the city.

Thus passed nearly three weeks, by which time the bustle of active preparation, the marching of several regiments toward the north, and signs of activity and haste in every department, gave notice to the inhabitants of Albany that some important military movement was about to take place. The fife and drum, the lumbering roll of the cannon, were daily heard in the quiet streets. Boats were seen collecting on the river, parades and exercises occupied the greater part of every day; scouts and runners were hurrying about in all directions, and clouds of Indians, painted and feathered for the warpath, hovered round the city, and often appeared in the streets. Lord H---- had advanced with his whole regiment to the neighborhood of Sandy Hill; other bodies of troops were following, and the commissary general, whose active energy and keen intelligence surprised all who had only known him as a somewhat reserved and moody man, had advanced to a spot on the Hudson where a small fort had been built at the commencement of what was called the King's road, to see with his own eyes the safe delivery and proper distribution of the stores he had collected. Long ranges of huts had gathered round the fort, which was judged so far within the English lines as to be a place of perfect security, and many a lady from Albany, both young and old, had gathered together there to see the last of husband, brother, or father, before they plunged into the forest and encountered the enemy.

Here everything was done, as usual, to smooth the front of war and conceal ugly features, and certainly after the arrival of Lord H---- with his regiment and the wing of another, the scene was brilliant and lively enough. Bright dresses, glittering arms, military music, fluttering flags, and prancing chargers, were beheld on every side, and gay and lively talk, only interrupted now and then by the solemn words of adieu, of caution, or direction from anxious heart to anxious heart, hid in a great degree the deeper, stronger, sterner feelings that were busy underneath.

In all such expeditions, amidst the bustle and excitement, there come lapses of quiet inactivity, especially before the first blow is struck. Some accident causes a delay; some movements have not been combined with sufficient accuracy; one party has to wait for another, and is left unoccupied. Thus it was in the present instance. A small but important division of the army, to be accompanied by a large body of Indians, was retarded by a deficiency of boats, and the news arrived that two days must elapse before they could reach the fort. A superior officer was now present, and both Lord H---- and Mr. Prevost felt that it would be no dereliction of duty to seek leave of absence, in order to visit once more the house of the latter, and personally escort Edith to the place where she was to remain till the object of the expedition was accomplished. The same day it was first made known what the object of that expedition was. The word Ticonderoga was whispered through the encampment, running from the general's quarters through every rank down to the private soldier, and a strange sort of feeling of joy spread throughout the force; not that many knew either the importance of the object or the state of the place, but simply that all were relieved from an uncertainty.

The comment of Lord H---- was very brief. He had long known, indeed, the fact now first published, but as he told it to Edith while seating her on her horse to set out, he said: "The place is, luckily, near, and the business will soon be brought to an end, my love." A something indefinable in his heart made him add mentally, "one way or another," but he gave no utterance to the gloomy doubt, and the little party rode away.

A calm, quiet evening, with the wind at the south, the sun setting red in clouds, and a gray vapor stealing over the sky, with every prospect of a coming storm, and yet everything still and sober in solemn tranquillity, often puts me in mind of those pauses in the busy course of life which precede some great and decisive event.

Such an evening was that which Lord H---- and Edith and Mr. Prevost spent together at the house where so many of these scenes have been laid, after quitting Fort Edward in the morning. Their journey had passed quite peaceably. They had encountered no human being but a few bands of friendly Indians going to join the army, and the ride, as everyone knows, was, and still is, a very beautiful one. It had occupied hardly four hours, and thus the principal part of the day had been spent in calm tranquillity in a scene endeared to all.