The story of the ma.s.sacre after the surrender of Fort William Henry had made a profound impression throughout the English-speaking provinces, and had awakened a longing after vengeance which in itself had seemed almost like an earnest of victory. And now the regular troops began to muster and pour in, and Albany was all excitement and enthusiasm; for the Dutch had by that time come to have a thorough distrust of France, and to desire the victory of the English arms only less ardently than the English themselves.
Mrs. Schuyler, as usual, opened her doors wide to receive as many of the officers as she was able whilst the final preparations were being made. And upon a soft midsummer evening Lord Howe appeared in the supper room, bringing with him two fine-looking officers--one grey headed, the other young and ardent--and introducing them to his hostess and those a.s.sembled round the table as Major Duncan Campbell, the Laird of Inverawe, in Scotland; with his son Alexander, a Lieutenant of the Highland force.
Young Alexander was seated next to Fritz at table, and began an eager conversation with him. Talk surged to and fro that night.
Excitement prevailed everywhere. But Fritz observed that Major Campbell sat very grave and silent, and that even Lord Howe"s efforts to draw him into conversation proved unavailing.
Mrs. Schuyler also tried, but with little success, to make the veteran talk. He answered with grave courtesy all remarks made to him, but immediately lapsed into a sombre abstraction, from which it seemed difficult to rouse him.
At the end of the supper Lord Howe rose to his feet, made a dashing little speech to the company, full of fire and enthusiasm, and proposed the toast:
"Success to the expedition against Ticonderoga!"
Fritz happened to be looking at the grave, still face of Major Campbell, and as these words were spoken he saw a sudden spasm pa.s.s across it. The soldier rose suddenly to his feet, took up his gla.s.s for a moment, put it down untasted, and with a bow to his hostess pushed aside his chair, and strode from the room in an access of visible emotion.
Lord Howe looked after him a moment, and draining his gla.s.s, seemed about to go after the guest; but young Alexander, from the other side of the table, made him a sign, and he sat down again.
The incident, however, seemed to act like the breaking up of the supper party, and the guests rose and left the table, dispersing quickly to look after bag or baggage or some last duty, till only Mrs. Schuyler, Lord Howe, Fritz, and Lieutenant Campbell were left in the supper room.
It was then that young Alexander looked round and said, "It was the name you spoke which affected my father so strangely--the fatal name of Ticonderoga!"
"Fatal! how fatal?" asked Lord Howe quickly.
"You have not heard the strange story, then?"
"No; what story?"
"It concerns my father; it is the cause of his melancholy. When you have heard it you will not perhaps wonder, though to you the incident may seem incredible."
"I have learned that there are many things in this world which are wonderful and mysterious, yet which it is folly to disbelieve,"
answered Howe. "Let us hear your story, Campbell. I would not have spoken words to hurt your father could I have known."
"I am sure you would not; but hear the tale, and you will know why that name sounds in his ears like a death knell.
"Long years ago it must have been when I was but a little child--my father was sitting alone over the fire in our home at Inverawe; a wild, strange place that I love as I love no other spot on earth.
He was in the great hall, and, suddenly there came a knocking at the door, loud and imperative. He opened, and there stood a man without, wild and dishevelled, who told how he had slain a man in a fray, and was flying from his pursuers.
""Give me help and shelter!" he implored; and my father drew him in and closed the door, and promised to hide him. "Swear on your dirk not to give me up!" he implored; and my father swore, though with him his word was ever his bond. He hid the fugitive in a secret place, and hardly had he done so before there was another loud knocking at the door.
"This time it was the pursuers, hot on the track of the murderer.
"He has slain your cousin Donald," they told him. "He cannot be far away. We are hunting for him. Can you help us?" My father was in a great strait; but he remembered his oath, and though he sent out servants to help in the search, he would not give up to justice the man who had trusted him."
"And he was right," said Lord Howe quickly; "I honour and respect him for that."
"It may be so, yet it is against the traditions of our house and race," answered Alexander gravely; "and that night my father woke suddenly from a troubled dream to see the ghost of his murdered kinsman standing at his bedside. The spectre spoke to him in urgent tones:
""Inverawe, Inverawe, blood has been shed; shield not the murderer!"
"Unable to sleep, my father rose, and went to the fugitive and told him he could not shelter him longer. "You swore on your dirk!"
replied the miserable man; and my father, admitting the oath not to betray him, led him away in the darkness and hid him in a mountain cave known to hardly any save himself.
"That night once more the spectre came and spoke the same words, "Inverawe, Inverawe, blood has been shed; shield not the murderer!"
The vision troubled my father greatly. At daybreak he went once more to the cave; but the man was gone--whither he never knew. He went home, and again upon the third night the ghostly figure stood beside him; but this time he was less stern of voice and aspect.
"He spoke these words, "Farewell, Inverawe; farewell, till we meet at Ticonderoga." Then it vanished, and he has never seen it since."
"Ticonderoga!" repeated Lord Howe, and looked steadily at Alexander, who proceeded:
"That was the word. My father had never heard it before. The sound of it was so strange that he wrote it down; and when I was a youth of perhaps seventeen summers, and had become a companion to him, he told me the whole story, and we pondered together as to what and where Ticonderoga could be. Years had pa.s.sed since he saw the vision, and he had never heard the name from that day. I had not heard it either--then."
The faces of the listeners were full of grave interest. The strangeness of the coincidence struck them all.
"And then?" queried Howe, after a silence.
"Then came the news of this war, and some Highland regiments were ordered off. My father and I were amongst those to go. We were long in hearing what our destination was to be. We had landed upon these sh.o.r.es before we heard that the expedition to which we were attached was bound for Ticonderoga."
Again there was silence, which Mrs. Schuyler broke by asking gently:
"And your father thinks that there is some doom connected with that name?"
"He is convinced that be will meet his death there," replied Alexander, "and I confess I fear the same myself."
n.o.body spoke for a minute, and then Mrs. Schuyler said softly:
"It is a strange, weird story; yet it cannot but be true. No man could guess at such a name. Ticonderoga, Ticonderoga. I wonder what will be the end of that day!"
"And what matters the end if we do our duty to the last?" spoke Lord Howe, lifting his bright young face and throwing back his head with a gesture that his friends knew well. "A man can but die once.
For my part, I only ask to die sword in hand and face to the foe, doing my duty to my country, my heart at peace with G.o.d. That is the spirit with which we soldiers must go into battle. We are sent there by our country; we fight for her. If need be we die for her.
Can we ask a n.o.bler death? For myself I do not. Let it come to me at Ticonderoga, or wherever Providence wills, I will not shrink or fear. Give me only the power to die doing my duty, and I ask no more."
There was a beautiful light in his great hazel eyes, a sweet smile hovered round his lips. Fritz, looking at him, seemed to see something in his face which he had scarcely noted before--a depth, a serenity, a beauty quite apart from the dashing gallantry of look and bearing which was his most salient characteristic.
Into the eyes of Mrs. Schuyler there had sprung sudden tears. She went over to the young man and laid a hand upon his head.
"Thank G.o.d that our soldiers still go into battle in that spirit; that they make their peace with Him before they draw sword upon their fellow men. A soldier"s life is a strange paradox; yet G.o.d, who is the G.o.d of battles as well as Prince of Peace, knows and understands. He will bless the righteous cause, though He may call to rest many a gallant soldier, and still in death many an ardent young heart. But however mysteriously He works, we are instruments in His hands. Let us strive to be worthy of that honour, and then we shall know that we are helping to bring nearer His kingdom upon earth, which, when once set up, shall bring in a reign of peace, where war shall be no more."
"Amen, with all my heart!" quoth Lord Howe, and there was a light in his eyes which bespoke that, soldier though he was to his fingertips, he was no stranger to the hope of the eternal peace which the Lord alone can give.
Mrs. Schuyler was not a demonstrative woman in daily life; but when her guest rose to say goodnight upon this last evening, she kissed him as a mother might, and he kissed her back with words of tender grat.i.tude and affection.
And so the night fell upon the town of Albany--the night before the march to Ticonderoga.
Chapter 4: Ticonderoga.
A joyous farewell to friends at Albany, with antic.i.p.ation of a speedy and victorious return thither; a rapid and well-arranged march to Fort Edward and Lake George, where they were gladdened by the sight of the hardy Rogers and the remnant of his gallant band, embarked in whaleboats, and ready to lead the van or perform any daring service asked of them; a cheerful embarking upon the lake in the great mult.i.tude of boats and bateaux; bright sunshine overhead, the sound of military music in their ears, flags waving, men cheering and shouting--what expedition could have started under happier and more joyous auspices?
There were regulars from England--the foremost being the Fifty-fifth, commanded by Lord Howe. There were American and Highland regiments, and the provincials from numbers of the provinces, each in its own uniform and colours. The lake was alive with above one thousand craft for the transport of this great army with its heavy artillery, and Rogers declared that Ticonderoga was as good as their own: for it had only provision to last eight or nine days; and if not at once battered down by the enemy"s guns, it could easily be starved out by a judicious disposition of the troops.