CHAPTER X. GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX
Inside the stockade, posted unevenly around three sides of a foot-worn square, were five buildings of rough logs. From a platform in the southeast corner two small cannon presented their muzzles to the river. At the back of this platform, on the southern side of the square, stood the Donnelly cabin. It was stoutly built, and measured fifteen paces across the front. Against the western palisade the Trigget cabin and Captain d'Antons' habitation faced the square. On the north side stood a fourth dwelling and a small storehouse. In the centre of the yard bubbled a spring of clear water under a rustic shed. A tiny brook sparkled away from it, under the stockade and down to the river. The well was flanked on both sides by a couple of slim birches, now leafless under the white November sun.
The visitors were led to the Triggets' cabin, and Skipper Trigget's wife and daughter—both big, comely women—fed them with the best in the little plantation. After breakfast, Kingswell and Ouenwa were taken to D'Antons' quarters. The Frenchman was the spirit of hospitality, and took blankets and sheets from his own bed to dress their couches. Also he produced a flask of priceless brandy, from which he and Kingswell pledged a couple of glasses to the Goddess of Chance. The toast was D'Antons' suggestion.
Presently D'Antons excused himself, saying that he had a matter of business to attend to, and left his guests to their own devices. The house was divided into two apartments by curtains of caribou hides, which were hung from one of the low crossbeams of the ceiling. At the end of each room a fire burned on a roughly built hearth. Two small windows of clouded glass partially lit the sombre interior. Books in English, French, and Spanish, a packet of papers, ink and quills, and a neatly executed drawing of a pinnace under sail lay on a table near one of the windows. Antlers of stags, decorated quivers and bows, painted hides, and glossy skins adorned the rough walls. Above the hearth in the room in which Kingswell and his young companion sat, hung a musket with a silver inlaid stock, a carved powder-horn, and several knives and daggers in beaded sheaths. On the floor lay two great, pink-lipped West Indian shells. A steel head-piece, a breastplate of the same sure metal, and a heavy sword with a basket hilt hung above D'Antons' bed.
Kingswell looked over the books on the table. He found that one of them was a manual of arms, written in the Spanish language; another a work of navigation, by a Frenchman; a third a weighty thesis on the science and practice of surgery; and the fourth was a volume as well-loved as familiar,—Master William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." He took up this last, and, seating himself with his shoulder to the window, was soon far away from the failures and daily perils of the wilderness. The greedy, hard-bitted materialist Present, with its quests of "fish," and fur, and gold, was replaced by the magic All-Time of the playwright poet.
Ouenwa wandered about the room, prying into every nook and corner, and examining the shells, the arms, and the decorations. He even knelt on the hearthstone, and, at the risk of setting fire to his hair, tried to solve the mystery of the chimney—for a fire indoor unaccompanied by a lodgeful of smoke was a new thing in his experience. He looked frequently at Kingswell, in the hope of finding him open to questions, but was always disappointed. At last the thought occurred to him that it would be a fine thing to get hold of the great sword above the bed, and make cut, lunge, and parry with it as Kingswell had shown him how to do on several occasions. So he climbed on to the bed, and, in trying to clear the sword from its peg, knocked the steel cap ringing to the floor. Kingswell sprang from his stool, with his arm across his body and his hand on his sword-hilt, and Master Shakespeare's immortal drama sprawled at his feet. "Oh, that's all, is it?" he exclaimed, in tones of relief. "But you must not handle other people's goods, lad," he added, kindly, "especially a gentleman's arms and armour."
Ouenwa flushed and apologized, and was about to step from D'Antons' couch to recover the head-piece, when D'Antons himself entered the cabin. Kingswell turned to him and explained the accident.
"My young friend is very sorry," he said, "and would beg your pardon if he felt less embarrassed. However, captain, I beg it for him. I was so intent on the affairs of Romeo that I was not watching him. He is naturally of an investigating turn of mind."
The Frenchman waved a slim hand and flashed his white teeth. "It is nothing, nothing," he cried. "I beg you not to mention it again, or give it another thought. The old pot has sustained many a shrewder whack than a tumble on the floor. Ah, it has turned blades of Damascus before now! But enough of this triviality! I have returned to request you to come with me to our governor. Neither Trigget nor I have mentioned him to you, as he is not desirous of meeting strangers. But he will make his own apologies, Master Kingswell."