Chapter 18: Northward With the Fleet

When Alvarez was gone, the five rose and thanked the Governor General. They, too, did not wish to rejoice over a fallen foe, but it was the moment of their complete triumph. Success had come better than they had ever hoped and the great three-faced conspiracy was shattered. It was Spanish cannon that they had dreaded and now they could not thunder against the wooden walls in Kentucky. They crowded around the priest, too, and shook his hand and were grateful for his timely assistance. He had come at the most opportune of all moments.

It was Paul who acted as spokesman for them with Bernardo Galvez.

“Your Excellency, we came this vast distance confiding in your justice, and we have found our confidence well placed,” he said.

Bernardo Galvez smiled. It was a moment of triumph for him, too. A bold conspiracy against him had been crushed, and the five had been the chief instruments in the crushing of it. Even without the aid of his good heart, his feelings toward them would have been very kindly.

“If New Orleans has proved inhospitable to you for a time,” he said, “she is now ready to make atonement. Your good friend, Mr. Pollock, will care for you.”

The five withdrew with the merchant, still elated, still feeling the full sense of victory. Mr. Pollock had been very quiet but when they reached the open air he burst forth.

“Lads,” he said, “‘tis a great task that you have done. You have saved Kentucky--and these things are far-reaching--you may have saved all the colonies beside. If the Mississippi had been closed to us we could not reach our friends in the east with the supplies that they need so badly. But I can’t say more. You were surely inspired when you set out upon this errand, and there is a tremendous debt of gratitude coming to you.”

He shook hands with them all, one by one. But Long Jim heaved a mighty sigh of relief.

“Is it all over, Paul?” he asked.

“I think so, Jim. We seem to have destroyed for good and all the great three-cornered conspiracy against us.”

“Then,” said Jim, “ef it’s all done I want to talk sense. I’m in favor uv our startin’ to Kentucky right away, that is, in about five minutes. Them big woods keep callin’ to me, I heard ‘em callin’ last night in my dreams, an’ I hear ‘em callin’ now when I’m awake. I’ve breathed indoor air long enough. It’s layin’ heavy on my lungs, an’ I want to put in its place air that’s swep’ clean across from the Pacific Ocean an’ that ain’t hit not bin’ foul on the way.”

“Five minutes is too short notice, Jim,” laughed Paul, “but we’ll surely start soon, though it’s a tremendously long tramp through the woods and even if we had ‘The Galleon’ we’d have to pull and sail against the current.”

Oliver Pollock was watching them as they talked and his eyes gleamed, but he said nothing until they were within his house, where he took them and gave them refreshments. There he had a proposition to make.

“The boat, of course, you have lost,” he said, “as it belongs to Spain, but your arms and other equipment are all in my possession--they were given to me to keep for you. But our fleet of canoes loaded with arms and supplies will start north in three days. Will you go on it? Not to work, not to paddle, unless you wish, but to guide and to fight. It is no favor that I am conferring upon you, but one that you can confer upon me if you will. We need such as you and with you I shall feel that the fleet is safer.”

It was a most welcome offer. They could serve the cause and themselves at the same time. All things seemed to fall out as they wished.

“Sir, we thank you,” said Henry speaking for them all. “You do not have to make such an offer twice.”

“Good! Good!” said Oliver Pollock. “Then the main feature of the bargain is closed and now I must have you to know the captain of the fleet. Oh, I think that you will agree with him famously. He will be in charge of the navigation and the fleet, though not of you. You are to remain in your rôle of free rangers.”

He clapped his hand upon a little bell on the table and one of the stalwart, sunbrowned clerks entered.

“Bring in Captain Colfax. I want him to make some new friends,” said Oliver Pollock, who was in the greatest of good humors.

Captain Adam Colfax of New Hampshire, who found the climate of New Orleans very warm, came in in a minute or two, and his was a figure to attract the attention of anybody. Middle aged, nearly as tall as Jim Hart, red haired, with a sharp little tuft of red whisker on his chin, and with features that seemed to be carved out of some kind of metal, he was a combination of the seaman and landsman, as tough and wiry as they ever grow to be. He regarded Oliver Pollock out of twinkling little blue eyes that could be merry or severe, as they pleased.

“Captain Colfax,” said Oliver Pollock, “These are the five from Kentucky of whom you heard. They are to go with you on your great journey as far as Kentucky, but they are to do as they please. They are scouts, warriors, and free rangers. You will find them of great service.”

He introduced them one by one, and Adam Colfax gave them a hearty grip with a hand which seemed to be made of woven steel wire.

“Good woodsmen and good riflemen I take it,” he said, “and we may need both. I hear that the Creeks, Cherokees, and others, are feeling full of fight. Now, I ain’t looking for a fight, but if it happens to get in my way I’m not running from it.”

“You old war horse,” said Oliver Pollock, laughing, “it’s your business to get these supplies through, not to be shooting at Indians. I wish I could go with you. It’s a wonderful journey, but I have to stay here in New Orleans. This is the gate and we must see that it is not closed. How many canoes and boats have we now, Adam?”

“About sixty, and they are manned by at least three hundred men. As I see it, we can take care of ourselves.”

“Adam,” said Mr. Pollock laughing, “I believe you’re really looking for a fight.”

Adam Colfax showed two rows of fine, white teeth, but said nothing. After a little more hearty talk he went away to look after his fleet, and Mr. Pollock made arrangements for the five to stay at his house until their departure north. They were to occupy a single big room, and their rifles, other arms, and general equipment were already there waiting for them.

“I’ll miss ‘The Galleon,’” said Paul, “I’d like to be going back in her. I suppose it’s sentiment, but I became attached to that boat.”

“She wuz shorely comf’table,” said Shif’less Sol. “I had a good time floatin’ down her on the Missip’. Now I reckon Jim here will hev to row me or paddle me all the way back to Kaintuck.”

“Ef you wait fur me to row or paddle you, you won’t ever travel more’n six inches,” said Long Jim.

“Jest like you, Jim; you ain’t got no gratitood at all fur me gittin’ you away from New Orlee-yuns.”

Paul, who had been speaking to Henry in a low tone, now turned again to Mr. Pollock.

“There is one more thing that we want you to do for us, if you will, Mr. Pollock,” he said. “We took the boat from Alvarez because he attacked us first, and we put it to what we think was a good use. But it really belonged to Spain and Bernardo Galvez. So if any wages are coming to us we wish that you would take enough in advance and pay the Governor General for the use of the boat and what stores we may have consumed.”

“It shall be done,” said Oliver Pollock, “and I like your spirit in wishing it to be done.”

It was a promise that he kept faithfully.

When they reached their room they found their rifles and other arms in perfect order. Lieutenant Diégo Bernal had taken good care of them. Long Jim picked up his rifle and handled it lovingly.

“It feels good jest to tech it,” he said. “I didn’t think I could ever like a Spaniard ez well ez I do that thar little leftenant. I’ll miss him when we go ploughin’ up the river.”

They were preparing to leave the room and breathe all out of doors, as Sol put it, when they were stopped by the entrance of Father Montigny. They crowded around him, expressing anew the gratitude that they had shown to him at the house of the Governor General.

“It was really you, Father Montigny, who saved everything,” said Paul.

The priest smiled and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “It was not I, but your courage and tenacity. I had the rare good fortune to find the letter among the Chickasaws and obtain it. It was sent by the Shawnees and Miamis as a sort of token, a war belt as it were. It was only a remote chance that brought it back to New Orleans, and even then Alvarez confidently expected to be Governor General.”

“What will become of Alvarez?” asked Paul.

“It is the plan to send him a prisoner to Spain on the galleon, Doña Isabel, as you know, but I fear that we have not heard the last of him. He is a man of fierce temper, and now he is wild with rage and mortification. Moreover, he has many followers here in New Orleans. All the desperadoes, adventurers, former galley slaves, and others of that type would have been ready to rally around him. But I have come to tell you good-bye. I go again in my canoe up the Mississippi.”

“Can’t you stay a while in New Orleans and rest?” asked Paul--the sympathy between Paul and the priest was strong, each having a certain spiritual quality that was in agreement.

“No,” replied Father Montigny, “I cannot stay. You came on your task in spite of hardships and dangers because you felt that a power urged you to it. Farewell. We may meet again or we may not, as Heaven wills.”

They followed him to the door and when he was almost out of sight he turned and waved his hand to them.

The next day New Orleans, which was already deeply stirred by news of the plot of Alvarez and its discovery, had another thrill. It was Lieutenant Diégo Bernal who told the five of it at the counting house of Oliver Pollock.

“Francisco Alvarez has escaped,” he said. “The watch at the prison was none too strict; it may be that some of the guards themselves were friends of his. In any event, he is gone from the city, and his going has been followed by the departure of many men whom New Orleans could well spare. But whether their going now will be to our benefit I cannot tell.”

“Do you mean to say,” asked Henry, “that all these men have gone away to join Alvarez in some desperate adventure?”

“I have an impression, although my impressions are usually false,” replied the Lieutenant, “that such is the case. The Chickasaws, the Creeks, and other tribes of these regions are his friends because he has promised them much. A capable officer with a hundred desperate white men at his back and a horde of Indians might create stirring events.”

The five became very thoughtful over what he said, but when Lieutenant Diégo Bernal was taking his leave he looked at them rather enviously.

“You five inspire me with a certain jealousy,” he said. “I have an impression, although my impressions are usually wrong and my memory always weak, that you are strongly attached to one another, that no one ever hesitates to risk death for the others, that you are bound together by a hundred ties, and that you act together for the common good. Ah, that is something like friendship, real friendship, I should like to be one of a band like yours, but I look in vain for such a thing in New Orleans.”

“I wish that you were going with us,” said Henry heartily.

“I wish it, too. Often I long for the great forests and the free air as you do, but my service is due here to Bernardo Galvez, who is my good friend. But it is pleasant to see that you have triumphed so finely.”

“We may encounter great dangers yet,” said Henry.

“It is quite likely, but I have an impression, and upon this occasion at least I am sure my impression is not wrong, that you will overcome them as you have done before.”

When he was gone, and every one of the five felt genuine regret at his departure, they went down to the river, where their fleet was anchored, and were welcomed by Adam Colfax.

“We’re certainly going to-morrow,” said the captain, “but nobody can tell when we’ll get to Fort Pitt.”

It was indeed a fine fleet of canoes and boats to be propelled by paddle, oar, and sail, and it bore a most precious cargo. Eight of the larger boats carried a twelve pound brass cannon apiece to be used if need be on the way, but destined for that far-distant and struggling army in the northeast. Stored in the other boats and canoes were five hundred muskets, mostly from France, barrels of powder, scores of bars of lead, precious medicines worth their weight in gold, blankets, cloth for uniforms and underclothing. It was the most valuable cargo ever started up the Mississippi and there were many strong and brave men to guard it.

“We carry things both to kill and to cure,” said Paul.

“An’ we’re goin’, too!” said Long Jim, heaving again that mighty sigh of relief. “That’s the big thing!”

They started the next day at the appointed time. Henry, Paul, and Long Jim were In one of the leading boats, and Tom Ross and Shif’less Sol were in another near them. The population of New Orleans was on the levee to see them go, and some wished them good luck and many wished them bad. The majority of the French were for them, and the majority of the Spanish against them.

But the five, now that the time was at hand, felt only elation. The breeze blew strong and fresh over the mighty river that came from their beloved-forests and vast unknown regions beyond. They seemed to feel in it some of the tang and sparkle of the north.

“Good-bye, New Orleans,” said Jim Hart, waving a long hand on a long arm; “I’m glad I’ve seed you, I’m glad I’ve laid my weary head to rest inside your walls fur a few nights, but I’m glad I don’t stay in you, nor in any other town. Good-bye.”

One of the brass cannon fired a salute, cannon on the fort and the galleon, Doña Isabel, replied. Adam Colfax gave the word, and at the same instant hundreds of oars and paddles dipped into the muddy current of the Mississippi. The great supply fleet leaped forward as if it were one whole, and soon New Orleans and its intrigues sank under the curve behind them.