"Been indulging in day-dreams?" her father asked.
"I believe I have," she smilingly replied, while a conscious blush stole into her cheeks. "And why shouldn"t I?" she hastily added. "Who could help having daydreams in such a wonderful place as this?"
"I am glad to see you so bright and happy, dear. Poor Old Mammy is indulging in night-dreams, and moaning about our terrible lot."
"Night-mares, I should say," the captain laughingly corrected. "To hear her wail and lament one would think that we are all going to be scalped alive before morning."
"And there are others who have the same idea," the Colonel replied.
"They can see nothing but misery and death right ahead."
"But is there any real danger, captain?" Jean asked.
"There is always more or less danger in a country such as this," was the quiet reply. "This river has witnessed stirring scenes. Look at those little clearings over yonder, for instance," and he pointed to the western sh.o.r.e. "A few settlers had their homes there, but the Indians drove them out, and burned their houses. It has been the same in other places, and it may happen again. But I have made many trips on this river, and the natives have never troubled me yet. It may be because I sail on the _Polly_," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.
"What has the _Polly_ to do with it, captain?"
"Oh, she leads a charmed life. She has got into no end of difficult places, but has always come out on top. I have driven her through storms between here and the West Indies that would have swamped a much larger vessel. At one time she was forced by a wild gale on the top of the wharf at Newburyport. But she was pulled off all right. Several times she was captured by pirates, though generally she was able to show her heels in a lively manner to the fastest pursuer. She has carried all kinds of loads, from fish taken at Annapolis and Pa.s.samaquoddy to barrels of rum from Jamaica. But this is the most important cargo she ever carried, and she seems proud of it. She"s English to the core, the _Polly_ is. Now, look how she swings away from that point. She doesn"t like the place."
"Why?" the colonel asked. "It is a most beautiful spot."
"Indeed it is, but the _Polly_ always shies off when she comes here.
No doubt it"s due to the current from that little stream, the Beaubear, but I like to think that this schooner knows that the old French Fort, Boishebert, was situated on that point. You can see the ruins of the place from here. No, the _Polly_ doesn"t like the French; guess she"s had too much to do with them, the same as her captain."
They were out of Grand Bay now and bearing up through a fine stretch of water known as the "Long Reach." The land on both sides of the river was rugged, while far ahead the outlines of several islands could be discerned.
"And there"s another," the captain exclaimed in disgust.
"Another what?" Jean asked.
"Oh, a place where the French once held out. It"s that first island you see away up there. The Indian name is "Ah-men-henik," but the French called it "Isle au Garce," for what reason I don"t know.
Anyway, there were lively times on that island when the French had a trading post there. It now belongs to Captain Isaac Caton. There"s a small rocky island a little above, which the French called "Isle de trent," while just above is the "Isle of Vines." It is in behind that where you are to land, just below Oak Point."
"Is it a pretty place?" Jean asked, now much excited. "Have you ever been there?"
"Not often, Miss. I generally keep out in the main channel, as I haven"t the time to run into any of the out-of-the-way places. But I guess you"ll like it all right."
"I am going to like it," the girl declared with enthusiasm. "And what is more, I am going to do my best to make others like it, too. It will be our home only for a while until daddy and the other men can look around and choose places where they are to settle permanently. Mammy, I believe, will be the hardest one to manage. She means well, and makes all kinds of promises, though she is very forgetful. I must now go and cheer her up."
An hour and a half later the _Polly_ left the channel and glided in through a narrow opening between the first island and the mainland.
Captain Leavitt was at the wheel, for navigation here was difficult.
Jean was standing by his side, her eyes and face aglow with animation.
"What a wonderful and beautiful place this is!" she exclaimed. "Those islands lying over there, and that long point running out into the river make this a perfect harbour. Where do we land, captain?"
"Straight ahead, Miss, where those big pines stand the thickest," the captain replied as he gave the wheel a rapid turn to the left. "Say, I nearly struck that bar," he added. "I didn"t know it ran out so far from the island."
In less than a half hour the _Polly_ was brought up head to the wind, and the anchor dropped. The small boat, which had been towed astern, was brought into service, and the pa.s.sengers taken ash.o.r.e. It was a snug cove where these exiles had determined for a time to make their wilderness home. The land lifted gradually back to the high hills, all covered with a dense forest. Eastward, toward the point, the trees were thinner, and in some spots the land had been cleared, evidently by early French settlers. To the northwest the water extended inland in the form of a marshy creek, with a fair-sized brook beyond, flanked on both sides by high hills.
It wanted but two hours to sunset when the pa.s.sengers were landed, and their household effects brought ash.o.r.e. It was a busy time, for camping sites had to be chosen, underbrush cleared away, and tents pitched. But men and women alike worked with a hearty good will.
There was something thrilling and invigorating in this new and strange life. It was most restful after the tumult and distractions of war, the unpleasant ocean voyage, and the landing at desolate Portland Point. The warmth and brightness of the day, the fragrance of the forest, and the happy laughter of children racing along the sandy sh.o.r.e charmed and inspired the parents" hearts. Even Old Mammy forgot for a time her gloomy forbodings, and was quite cheerful as she helped Jean to unpack some of their household belongings.
The Colonel had pitched his tent in a snug retreat several rods back from the water. When the last peg had been driven securely into the ground, he stepped back to view the effect.
"How does that suit you, dear?" he asked, turning to Jean who was standing near by.
"I think it is great, daddy," was the enthusiastic reply. "This is the happiest and most peaceful time I have known for years. It is like a perfect calm after a terrible storm."
"I am very thankful, Jean, that our wanderings are at last ended. Here we shall stay for a time until we can choose a suitable place for our future home. When we get our house built we should be quite comfortable. We are on English soil, at any rate, and that is a great satisfaction. We are not likely to be molested here."
"Not if the Indians and rebels leave us alone, daddy."
"You must not worry about them, dear. We have had no quarrel with them, so why should they molest us? I feel that we are perfectly safe."
Night at length shut down slowly over the land, and a deep silence reigned on all sides. The weary children were asleep in the tents, and men and women were gathered upon the sh.o.r.e. A fire of drift-wood had been built, and around the bright cheerful blaze all were gathered.
The small crew of the schooner had come ash.o.r.e, and were taking part in the general conversation. For some time they sat there, talking of bygone days and plans for the future.
Colonel Sterling took little part in the talk. He sat upon a block of wood, with Jean seated on the ground by his side, her right arm resting upon his knee as she gazed dreamily into the fire. He was much interested in studying the flame-illumined faces of that little circle of men and women. He knew the history of their lives, what they had suffered during the war, and how much they had sacrificed for conscience"s sake. A few were bowed with age, and their late trials had deepened the furrows upon their faces, and increased the whiteness of their h.o.a.ry heads. Upon them the removal from their old homes had been the hardest. There were others, middle-aged men and women, whose eyes glowed with the light of a high resolve. Their features expressed determination which nothing could daunt. These said but little, leaving the younger ones to do most of the talking. There were youths and maidens, more free from care than their elders, who chatted and laughed in the most animated manner.
As the evening wore on and the conversation gradually died down, Simon Winters brought forth his fife and began to play an old familiar tune.
At once all talking ceased, and hearts thrilled with memories of other days. Several tunes did Simon play, and when he had ended, the Colonel brought forth a small, well-worn book from an inside coat pocket. This he opened and then glanced around upon the little band.
"Friends," he began, "the hour is late, and we are all weary. But ere we separate, I ask you to join with me in a brief service of prayer and praise. But first of all, we need a message from the Great Book."
Then in a clear strong voice he read the ninety-first psalm, and as the words of promise sounded forth an intense silence reigned. The psalm ended, the Colonel closed the book, and dropping upon his knees began to repeat the Lord"s Prayer. All immediately followed his example, including the captain and the crew of the schooner. As they rose to their feet, one man started to sing. The words and tune were familiar, and in another minute old and young were lifting up their voices in Isaac Watts" grand hymn of comfort and hope.
O G.o.d, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home.
Never before had the silent, brooding forest witnessed a like gathering, nor its dark mysterious depths re-echoed with such unfamiliar sounds. But that camp-fire scene was merely a prelude to the tide of progress already setting, when unnamed rivers, hidden lakes, crouching valleys, lofty hills, and secret woodland depths would know those sounds, and rejoice in the knowledge.
An hour later silence reigned over the camp in the wilderness, broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl, or the light steps of some little forest creature.
About midnight the moon rose beyond the eastern hills, and rode high above the Isle of Vines. It cast its bright beams across the now placid water, and stole on furtive foot into the camping ground of the weary sleepers. As the river and sh.o.r.e thus became illuminated, a tall Indian stepped out from the darkness of the forest, and stood for a few minutes gazing upon the ghost-like tents. In one hand he carried a heavy flint-lock, and in the other a string of fine trout, while across his right shoulder hung a long bow and several arrows. He was not at all surprised at the sight before him, as he had been lurking near all the evening, watching with intense interest the group about the camp-fire. His attention now, however, was fixed upon the tent where Jean and Old Mammy were sleeping, and the Colonel"s form wrapped in his blankets just outside.
At length he placed his gun and fish upon the ground, unslung the bow from his back, and fitted an arrow to its place. Then the bow-string tw.a.n.ged, and the arrow hurtled through the air, and sank deep into a great pine tree a few feet from where the Colonel was lying. For several minutes the Indian stood as motionless as the trees around him.
Then picking up the fish, he glided silently forward, and reaching the pine, he fastened them to the embedded arrow. This done, he cast a quick glance toward the still form near at hand, turned and moved swiftly away. In another minute he had recovered his weapons, and disappeared in the depths of the great gloomy forest.
CHAPTER VII
OUT OF THE STORM
Early the next morning Old Mammy drew back the flap of the tent, stepped outside, and waddled over to where she had prepared supper the previous evening. She had always prided herself upon being the first to rise, and she was determined that she would continue the custom here in the wilderness.
The sun had just risen above the far off eastern horizon, and was struggling to disentangle itself from the drifting tresses of fog hanging in ma.s.sy banks over the river. Slowly but surely it slipped away from each misty, tremulous embrace, and then like a giant refreshed by the encounter a.s.sumed the offensive. Before the mighty champion"s silent fiery darts the surging foggy battalions wavered, loosened their hold on river and land, and broke in utter confusion.
Wildly they scattered and fled, but escape they could not, and ere long not the slightest vestige remained of their once proud ranks.
Of all this Old Mammy saw nothing, as she was too busy digging among the ashes of the fire-place for a few live coals. It was only Jean who witnessed the magnificent sight. She had slipped out of the tent shortly after her old servant, and had hurried down to the sh.o.r.e for her morning wash. Here Mother Nature had provided her with basin and mirror combined in the calm water at her feet. Straight and lithe she stood, her dark, unbound hair flowing in ripples to her waist. Her face, turned eastward, was aglow with health and animation, and her eyes shone with the light of a joyous surprise.