CHAPTER XXII.
A MEMORABLE EVENT.
The morning of the sixth of October dawned. The heat of the weather had increased and become wellnigh intolerable. At breakfast, Mr.
Dubois and Mr. Norton gave accounts of fires they had seen in various parts of the country, some of them not far off, and owing to the prevalence of the forest and the extreme dryness of the trees and shrubs, expressed fears of great devastation.
They united in thinking it would be dangerous for the two gentlemen to undertake their journey home, until a copious rain should have fallen.
During the forenoon, the crackling of the fires and the sound of falling-trees in the distant forest could be distinctly heard, announcing that the terrible element was at work.
Mr. Dubois, accompanied by Mr. Norton and John, ascended the most prominent hills in the neighborhood to watch the direction in which the clouds of smoke appeared. These observations only confirmed their fears. They warned the people around of the danger, but these paid little heed. In the afternoon, the missionary crossed, from the Dubois house, on the northern side of the river, to the southern bank, and explored the country to a considerable distance around.
In the evening, when the family met in the Madonna room, cheerfulness had forsaken the party. The languor produced by the heat and the heavily-laden atmosphere, solicitude felt for the dwellers in the forest, through which the fire was now sweeping, a hoa.r.s.e rumbling noise like distant thunder, occasionally booming on their ears, and gloomy forebodings of impending calamity, all weighed upon the dispirited group.
Mr. Norton said it was his firm conviction that G.o.d was about to display His power in a signal manner to this people in order to arouse them to a sense of their guilt.
Before separating for the night, he requested permission to offer up a prayer to heaven. The whole circle knelt, while he implored the Great Ruler of all, to take them as a family under his protecting love, whether life or death awaited them, and that He would, if consistent with His great and wise plans, avert His wrath from the people.
The night was a dismal, and for the most of the family, a sleepless one. The morning rose once more, but it brought no cheering sound of blessed rain-drops. The air was still hot and stifling.
About noon, the missionary came in from a round of observation he had been making, and urged Mr. Dubois to take his family immediately to the south bank of the river. The fires were advancing towards them from the north, and would inevitably be upon them soon. He had not been able to discover any appearance of fire upon the southern side of the river. It was true the approaching flames might be driven across, but the stream being for some distance quite wide, this might not take place. In any event, the southern side was the safest, at the present moment. He had faith in the instinct of animals, and for several hours past he had seen cattle and geese leaving their usual places of resort and swimming to the opposite sh.o.r.e.
Mr. Dubois, also convinced that there was no other feasible method of escape, hastened to make arrangements for immediate departure.
A mist, tinged with deep purple, now poured in from the wilderness and overspread the horizon. A dark cloud wrapped the land in a dismal gloom. The heat grew nearly insupportable. Rapid explosions, loud and startling noises, filled the air, and the forest thrilled and shook with the raging flames. Soon a fiery belt encircled them on the east, north, and west, and advancing rapidly, threatened to cover the whole area. The river was the only object which, by any possibility, could stay its course.
Then followed a scene of wildest confusion. The people, aroused at last to their danger, rushed terrified to the river, unmoored their boats and fled across. Hosts of women, whose husbands were absent in the forest, came with their children, imploring to be taken to the other side. The remainder of the day was occupied in this work, and at the close of it, most of those living in the Dubois settlement had been safely landed on the southern sh.o.r.e; and there they stood huddled together in horror-stricken groups, on the highest points they could reach, watching the terrible, yet majestic scene.
Mr. Somers had been occupied in this way all the afternoon and was greatly exhausted. As the darkness of night shut down upon the scene, he landed a party of women and children, who rushed up, precipitately, to join those who had crossed before. He had handed the last pa.s.senger over the edge of the boat, when a sudden faintness, produced by the excessive heat and fatigue, overpowered him. He tottered backward and fell, striking his head violently upon some object in the bottom of the boat. It was a deathblow.
There he lay, with face upturned towards the lurid glare that lit up the darkness. The boat nestled about in the little cove, rocked upon the waves, presenting the pale countenance, now half in shadow, now wholly concealed by the overhanging shrubs, and now in full relief, but always with a sweet, radiant, immovable calm upon the features, in strange contrast to the elemental roar and tumult around him.
In the mean time, the fires drew nearer and nearer the northern bank of the river. A strong breeze sprang up and immense columns of smoke mounted to the sky. Then came showers of ashes, cinders and burning brands. At last, a tornado, terrible in fury, arose to mingle its horrors with the fire. Thunderbolt on thunderbolt, crash on crash rent the air. At intervals of momentary lull in the storm, the roar of the flames was heard. Rapidly advancing, they shot fiery tongues into every beast lair of the forest, into every serpent-haunted crevice of the rock, sending forth their denizens bellowing and writhing with anguish and death; onward still they rushed licking up with hissing sound every rivulet and shallow pond, twisting and coiling round the glorious pines, that had battled the winds and tempests hundreds of years, but now to be snapped and demolished by this new enemy.
With breathless interest, the inhabitants of the settlement watched the progress of the flames. The hamlet where they lived was situated on a wide point of land, around which the Miramichi made an unusually bold sweep. Micah"s Grove partly skirted it on the north.
From the Grove to the river, the forest-trees had been cleared, leaving the open s.p.a.ce dotted with the houses of the settlers. The fire pressed steadily on toward the Grove. The destruction of that forest fane, consecrated so recently to the worship of G.o.d, and the burning of their homes and earthly goods seemed inevitable. The people, with pale, excited faces, awaited this heart-rending spectacle.
Just at this moment, the tornado, coming from the North, with terrific fury, drawing flames, trees, and every movable object in its wake, whirling forward with gigantic power, suddenly turned in its path, veered towards the east, swept past the Grove and past the settlement, leaving them wholly untouched, and took its destructive course onward to the ocean. The people were dumb with amazement. Ruin had seemed so sure that they scarcely trusted the evidence of their senses.
They dared not even think they had been saved from so much misery. For a time, not a word was uttered, not a muscle moved.
Mr. Mummychog was the first to-recover his voice.
""Tis a maracle! and nuthin" else", he exclaimed, "and we"ve jest got to thank Captin" Norton for it. He"s been a prayin" ut we might be past by, all "long and "tis likely the Lord has heerd him. "Tain"t on eour own acceounts, my worthy feller-sinners, that we"ve been spared.
Mind ye remember _that_".
The people in their joy gathered around the missionary, and united with Micah, in acknowledging their belief, that his prayers had averted from them this great calamity. For a moment, their attention was distracted from the still raging horrors of the scene by the sense of relief from threatened danger.
It was during this brief lull of intense anxiety and expectation, that our friends first became aware of the absence of Mr. Somers. They had supposed, of course, that he was standing somewhere among the groups of people, his attention riveted, like their own, upon the scene before them. Adele first woke to the consciousness that he was not with them.
She turned her head and explored with earnest gaze the people around.
She could see distinctly by the intense red light, nearly every countenance there, but did not recognize that of Mr. Somers. A painful anxiety immediately seized her, which she strove in vain to conceal.
She approached near where Mr. Lansdowne stood, by the side of her mother, gazing after the fire, placed her hand lightly on his arm, and asked, "Can you tell me where Mr. Somers is to be found?"
"Mr. Somers! yes,--Ned. Where is he?" he exclaimed, turning, half bewildered by her question, and looking in her face.
In an instant, the solicitude her features expressed, pa.s.sed into his own, the same sudden presentiment of evil possessed him.
Drawing Adele"s arm hurriedly into his, he said, "please go with me to seek him".
Hastening along, they went from one to another, making inquiries. It appeared that Mr. Somers had not been seen for several hours.
Immediately, the whole company took the alarm and the search for him commenced.
John and Adele, after fruitless efforts among the houses, at length took their way to the river bank. As they were hastening forward, a woman standing upon a rock overhanging the path they pursued, told them that Mr. Somers brought herself and children over in the boat, just at dark,--that she had not seen him since, and she remembered now, that she did not see him come up from the river after he landed them.
"Lead us to the spot where you left the boat", said Adele. "Go on as quickly as you can".
The woman descended from her perch upon the rock and plunged before them into the path.
"I remember now", she said with sudden compunctions, at her own selfish indifference, "that the gentleman looked pale and seemed to be dreadful tired like".
Neither John nor Adele made reply, and the woman hurried on. In a few minutes, a sudden turn in the path brought them to the little cove where the boat still lay.
The woman first caught sight of the wan face in the bottom of the boat, and uttered a scream of horror. The lips of the others were frozen into silence by the dread spectacle.
Scarcely a moment seemed to have pa.s.sed, before John rushed down into the water, reached the boat, raised thence the lifeless form, bore it to the sh.o.r.e and laid the dripping head into the arms of Adele, who seated herself on the gra.s.s to receive it.
"Go quickly", she said to the woman, "go for Dr. Wright. I saw him only a moment ago. Find him and bring him here".
John threw himself upon his knees and began chafing Mr. Somers"s hands. "He is dead! he is dead!" he whispered, in a voice, hoa.r.s.e and unnatural with fear and anxiety.
"Let us hope not", said Adele in a tone of tenderness. "Perhaps it is only a swoon. We will convey him to some shelter and restore him". And she wrung the rain from his curls of long brown hair.
John"s finger was upon Mr. Somers"s wrist. "It will break my mother"s heart", he said, in the same hoa.r.s.e whisper. At that moment, Dr.
Wright"s voice was heard. He placed himself, without a word, upon the gra.s.s, looked at the pale face, unfastened the dripping garments, thrust his hand in beneath them, and laid it upon the young man"s heart.
"He is dead!" said Dr. Wright. "Friends, get a bit of canvas and a blanket and take him to some house, till day breaks".
John, stupefied with horror and grief, still knelt by Mr. Somers, chafing his hands and wringing the water from his wet garments. At length, Mr. Dubois gently roused him from his task, telling him they would now remove their friend to a house, where he might be properly cared for.
"Let me lift him", said Micah to the young man. But John shook his head and stooping, raised Mr. Somers and laid him on the canvas as gently as if he were a sleeping infant.
Mr. Dubois, the missionary, John, and Micah conveyed the precious charge. The Doctor, with Mrs. Dubois and Adele followed in melancholy silence. The crowd came behind. The terrific events of the night had made the people quiet, thoughtful, and sympathetic.