The pictures in such works as La Hontain and others I had seen were unreal, and I could not recognise their models in the men about me. They were painted, it is true, but in a manner more grotesque than affrighting; their hair was black and lanky, plastered close to their heads, but with one or two long, plaited braids escaping, ornamented with beads. Their only clothing consisted of leather leggings more or less tattered, and the belts for their weapons, which crossed their naked bodies; each one was shod with soft moccasins neatly ornamented, and I could not but admire the ease and agility of their movements. Strangely enough, I was no longer possessed by my former terrors, my only anxiety being for Lucy; but I could not doubt she was in safety, as the Indians were evidently expecting the arrival of the rest of the band.
Before long we heard sounds of their approach, and my poor Lucy appeared. “Oh, my dear, dear mistress!” she cried, “I was afraid I should never see you again!” and the faithful creature clasped me in her arms and kissed me as if I had been a child. Once she was convinced of my safety, she straight recovered her serenity, for it was more than composure. Her absolute faith and trust that we were in the hand of God—of “Our Heavenly Father,” as she always said—was so complete that I leaned upon her strength and was comforted.
All was now ready for the embarkation, but, to our dismay, we were directed to different canoes. No force was used. Indeed, my captor, who appeared to be the leader, or chief, for he wore somewhat more of their tawdry finery than the others, and his face was decorated by a broad band of white below the eyes, seemed anxious to add to my comfort, directing me how to dispose of myself in the bottom of the canoe. But once separated from Lucy, I lost the courage with which she had inspired me, and I trembled at the rough, guttural voices of the savages, who talked their loudest, filling me with the greater apprehension, as it betokened they held themselves beyond pursuit or discovery.
But Lucy, dear courageous soul that she was, divined my fears, and sent back her message of reassurance to me in one of her people's hymns, which I had learned to love on board the ship:
“Thou very present Aid In suffering and distress, The mind which still on Thee is stayed Is kept in perfect peace.”
At length, when the clear September day began to fade, we landed, and Lucy and I were again together. No one seemed to pay any special regard to us, but though we had apparent liberty, I felt sure that any attempt at escape would be futile; indeed, the black forest about us held more terrors, to our minds, than even our captivity.
It was not long before the savages had kindled a fire, and the work of clearing away the brush and making a camp was begun. In spite of our fears, we could not but admire the readiness of those at work, while the chief, with the principal warriors, lay about smoking, and staring at us with their fixed eyes.
In a little space a fish was broiled on the hot stones, and a portion of it laid before us, cleanly enough, on sweet-smelling bark freshly peeled from one of the great birch-trees near by. It was flat for the want of salt, but we were too hungry to be over-nice, and our spirits revived with the comfort of our meal. Then, wearied out, I laid my head on Lucy's lap and fell fast asleep.
I was awakened by the sound of voices raised in discussion, and, to my amazement, I saw in the light of the fire a man in the garb of a priest. Instead of a hat he wore a tight-fitting cap, his soutane was rusty and patched in many places, and his feet were shod with moccasins like the Indians. To my dismay, instead of the accents which I expected, he was speaking to the chief in the same guttural tongue as his own; yet his very gown was a protection, and I rose and went to him without hesitation.
“Oh, father! You have been sent in answer to our prayers. Thank God, we are safe!”