Chapter 14: On Champlain

The three arrived at the Richelieu without further hostile encounter, but they met a white forest runner who told them the aspect of affairs in the Ohio country was growing more threatening. A small force from Virginia was starting there under a young officer named Washington, and it was reported that the French from Canada in numbers were already in the disputed country.

“We know what we know,” said Willet thoughtfully. “I’ve never doubted that English and French would come into conflict in the woods, and if I had felt any such doubts, our visit to Quebec would have driven them away. I don’t think our letters from the Governor of New York to the Governor General of Canada will be of any avail.”

“No,” said Robert, soberly. “They won’t. But I want to say to you, Dave, that I’m full of gladness, because we’ve reached our canoe. Our packs without increasing in size are at least twice as heavy as they were when we started.”

“I can join you in your hosannas, Robert. Never before did a canoe look so fine to me. It’s a big canoe, a beautiful canoe, a strong canoe, a swift canoe, and it’s going to carry us in comfort and far.”

It was, in truth, larger than the one they had used coming up the lakes, and, with a mighty sigh of satisfaction, Robert settled into his place. Their packs, rifles, swords and the case containing Tayoga’s bow and arrows were adjusted delicately, and then, with a few sweeps of the Onondaga’s paddle, they shot out into the slow current of the river. Robert and Willet leaned back and luxuriated. Tayoga wanted to do the work at present, saying that his wrists, in particular, needed exercise, and they willingly let him. They were moving against the stream, but so great was the Onondaga’s dexterity that he sent the canoe along at a good pace without feeling weariness.

“It’s like old times,” said Willet. “There’s no true happiness like being in a canoe on good water, with the strong arm of another to paddle for you. I’m glad you winged that savage, Tandakora, Tayoga. It would spoil my pleasure to know that he was hanging on our trail.”

“Don’t be too happy, Great Bear,” said Tayoga. “Within a week the Ojibway will be hunting for us. Maybe he will be lying in wait on the shores of the great lake, Champlain.”

“If so, Tayoga, you must have him to feel the kiss of another arrow.”

Tayoga smiled and looked affectionately at his bow and quiver.

“The Iroquois shaft can still be of use,” he said, “and we will save our ammunition, because the way is yet far.”

“Deer shouldn’t be hard to find in these woods,” said Willet, “and when we stop for the night we’ll hunt one.”

They took turns with the paddle, and now and then, drawing in under overhanging boughs, rested a little. Once or twice they saw distant smoke which they believed was made by Canadian and therefore hostile Indians, but they did not pause to investigate. It was their desire to make speed, because they wished to reach as quickly as they could the Long House in the vale of the Onondaga. It was still possible to arrive there before St. Luc should go away, because he would have to wait until the fifty sachems chose to go in council and hear him.

On this, their return journey, Robert thought much of the chevalier and was eager to see him again. Of all the Frenchmen he had met St. Luc interested him most. De Galisonnière was gallant and honest and truthful, a good friend, but he did not convey the same impression of foresight and power that the chevalier had made upon him, and there was also another motive, underlying but strong. He wished to match himself in oratory before the fifty chiefs with Duquesne’s agent. He was confident of his gifts, discovered so recently, and he knew the road to the mind and hearts of the Iroquois.

“What are you thinking so hard about, Robert?” asked Willet.

“Of St. Luc. I think we’ll meet him in the vale of Onondaga. Do you ever feel that you can look into the future, Dave?”

“Just what do you mean?”

“Nothing supernatural. Don’t the circumstances and conditions sometimes make you think that events are going to run in a certain channel? At the very first glance the Chevalier de St. Luc interested me uncommonly, and even in our exciting days in Quebec I thought of him. Now I have a vision about him. His life and mine are going to cross many times.”

The hunter looked sharply at the lad.

“That’s a queer idea of yours, Robert,” he said, “but when you think it over it’s not so queer, after all. It seems to be the rule that queer things should come about.”

“Now I don’t understand you, Dave.”

“Well, maybe I don’t quite understand myself. But I know one thing, Robert. St. Luc is always going to put you on your mettle, and you’ll always appear at your best before him.”

“That’s the way I feel about it, Dave. He aroused in me an odd mixture of emotions, both emulation and defiance.”

“Perhaps it’s not so odd after all,” said Willet.

Robert could not induce him to pursue the subject. He shied away from St. Luc, and talked about the more immediate part of their journey, recalling the necessity of finding another deer, as their supplies of food were falling very low. Just before sunset they drew into the mouth of a large creek and made the canoe fast. Tayoga, taking bow and quiver, went into the woods for his deer, and within an hour found him. Then they built a small fire sheltered well by thickets, and cooked supper.

The Onondaga reported game abundant, especially the smaller varieties, and remarkably tame, inferring from the fact that no hunting parties had been in the region for quite a while.

“We’re almost in the country of the Hodenosaunee,” he said, “but the warriors have not been here. All of the outlying bands have gone back toward Canada or westward into the Ohio country. This portion of the land is deserted.”

“Still, it’s well to be careful, Tayoga,” said the hunter. “That savage, Tandakora, is going to make it the business of his life to hunt our scalps, and if there’s to be a great war I don’t want to fall just before it begins.”

That night they dressed as much of their deer as they could carry, and the next day they passed into Lake Champlain, which displayed all of its finest colors, as if it had been made ready especially to receive them. Its waters showed blue and green and silver as the skies above them shifted and changed, and both to east and west the high mountains were clothed in dark green foliage. Robert’s eyes kindled at the sight of nature’s great handiwork, the magnificent lake more than a hundred miles long, and the great scenery in which it was placed. It had its story and legend too. Already it was famous in the history of the land and for unbroken generations the Indians had used it as their road between north and south. It was both the pathway of peace and the pathway of war, and Robert foresaw that hostile forces would soon be passing upon it again.

They saw the distant smoke once more, and kept close to the western shore where they were in the shadow of the wooded heights, their canoe but a mote upon the surface of the water. In so small a vessel and almost level with its waves, they saw the lake as one cannot see it from above, its splendid expanse stretching away from north to south, until it sank under the horizon, while the Green Mountains on the east and the great ranges of New York on the west seemed to pierce the skies.

“It’s our lake,” said Robert, “whatever happens we can’t give it up to the French, or at least we’ll divide it with the Hodenosaunee who can claim the western shore. If we were to lose this lake no matter what happened elsewhere I should think we had lost the war.”

“We don’t hold Champlain yet,” said the hunter soberly. “The French claim it, and it’s even called after the first of their governors under the Company of One Hundred Associates, Samuel de Champlain. They’ve put upon it as a sign a name which we English and Americans ourselves have accepted, and they come nearer to controlling it than we do. They’re advancing, too, Robert, to the lake that they call Saint Sacrement, and that we call George. When it comes to battle they’ll have the advantage of occupation.”

“It seems so, but we’ll drive ‘em out,” said Robert hopefully.

“But while we talk of the future,” said Tayoga in his measured and scholastic English, “it would be well for us also to be watchful in the present. The French and their Indians may be upon the lake, and we are but three in a canoe.”

“Justly spoken,” said Willet heartily. “We can always trust you, Tayoga, to bring us back to the needs of the moment. Robert, you’ve uncommonly good eyes. Just you look to the north and to south with all your might, and see if you can see any of their long canoes.”

“I don’t see a single dot upon the water, Dave,” said the youth, “but I notice something else I don’t like.”

“What is it, Robert?”

“Several little dark clouds hanging around the crests of the high mountains to the west. Small though they are, they’ve grown somewhat since I noticed them first.”

“I don’t like that either, Robert. It may mean a storm, and the lake being so narrow the winds have sudden and great violence. But meanwhile, I suppose it’s best for us to make as much speed southward as we can.”

Tayoga alone was paddling them, but the other two fell to work also, and the canoe shot forward, Robert looking up anxiously now and then at the clouds hovering over the lofty peaks. He noticed that they were still increasing and that now they fused together. Then all the crests were lost in the great masses of vapor which crept far down the slopes. The blue sky over their heads turned to gray with amazing rapidity. The air grew heavy and damp. Thunder, low and then loud, rolled among the western mountains. Lightning blazed in dazzling flashes across the lake, showing the waters yellow or blood red in the glare. The forest moaned and rocked, and with a scream and a roar the wind struck the lake.

The water, in an instant, broke into great waves, and the canoe rocked so violently that it would have overturned at once had not the three possessed such skill with the paddle. Even then the escape was narrow, and their strength was strained to the utmost.

“We must land somewhere!” exclaimed Willet, looking up at the lofty shore.

But where? The cliff was so steep that they saw no chance to pull up themselves and the canoe, and, keeping as close to it as they dared, they steadied the frail vessel with their paddles. The wind continually increased in violence, whistling and screaming, and at times assuming an almost circular motion, whipping the waters of the lake into white foam. Day turned to night, save when the blazing flashes of lightning cut the darkness. The thunder roared like artillery.

Willet hastily covered the ammunition and packs with their blankets, and continued to search anxiously for a place where they might land.

“The rain will be here presently,” he shouted, “and it’ll be so heavy it’ll come near to swamping us if we don’t get to shelter first! Paddle, lads! paddle!”

The three, using all their strength and dexterity, sent the canoe swiftly southward, still hugging the shore, but rocking violently. After a few anxious minutes, Robert uttered a shout of joy as he saw by the lightning’s flash a cove directly ahead of them with shores at a fair slope. They sent the canoe into it with powerful strokes, sprang upon the bank, and then drew their little craft after them. Selecting a spot sheltered on the west by the lofty shore and on either side to a certain extent by dense woods, they turned the canoe over, resting the edges upon fallen logs which they pulled hastily into place, and crouched under it. They considered themselves especially lucky in finding the logs, and now they awaited the rain that they had dreaded.

It came soon in a mighty sweep, roaring through the woods, and burst upon them in floods. But the canoe, the logs and the forest and the slope together protected them fairly well, and the contrast even gave a certain degree of comfort, as the rain beat heavily and then rushed in torrents down to the lake.

“We made it just in time,” said Willet. “If we had stayed on the water I think we’d have been swamped. Look how high the waves are and how fast they run!”

Robert as he gazed at the stormy waters was truly thankful.

“We have many dangers,” he said, “but somehow we seem to escape them all.”

“We dodge ‘em,” said Willet, “because we make ready for ‘em. It’s those who think ahead who inherit the world, Robert.”

The storm lasted an hour. Then the rain ceased abruptly. The wind died, the darkness fled away and the lake and earth, washed and cleansed anew, returned to their old peace and beauty, only the skies seemed softer and bluer, and the colors of the water more varied and intense.

They launched the canoe and resumed their journey to the south, but when they had gone a few hundred yards Robert observed a black dot behind them on the lake. Willet and Tayoga at once pronounced it a great Indian canoe, containing a dozen warriors at least.

“Canadian Indians, beyond a doubt,” said Tayoga, “and our enemies. Perhaps Tandakora is among them.”

“Whether he is or not,” said Willet, “they’ve seen us and are in pursuit. I suppose they stayed in another cove back of us while the storm passed. It’s one case where our foresight couldn’t guard against bad luck.”

He spoke anxiously and looked up at the overhanging forest. But there was no convenient cove now, and it was not possible for them to beach the canoe and take flight on land. A new danger and a great one had appeared suddenly. The long canoe, driven by a dozen powerful paddles, was approaching fast.

“Hurons, I think,” said Tayoga.

“Most likely,” said the hunter, “but whether Hurons or not they’re no friends of ours, and there’s hot work with the paddles before us. They’re at least four rifleshots away and we have a chance.”

Now the three used their paddles as only those can who have life at stake. Their light canoe leaped suddenly forward, and seemed fairly to skim over the water like some great aquatic bird, but the larger craft behind them gained steadily though slowly. Three pairs of arms, no matter how strong or expert, are no match for twelve, and the hunter frowned as he glanced back now and then.

“Only three rifleshots now,” he muttered, “and before long it will be but two. But we have better weapons than theirs, and ours can speak fast. Easy now, lads! We mustn’t wear ourselves out!”

Robert made his strokes slower. The perspiration was standing on his face, and his breath was growing painful, but he remembered in time the excellence of Willet’s advice. The gain of the long canoe increased more rapidly, but the three were accumulating strength for a great spurt. The pursuit and flight, hitherto, had been made in silence, but now the Hurons, for such their paint proved them to be, uttered a long war whoop, full of anticipation and triumph, a cry saying plainly that they expected to have three good scalps soon. It made Robert’s pulse leap with anger.

“They haven’t taken us yet,” he said.

Willet laughed.

“Don’t let ‘em make you lose your temper,” he said. “No, they haven’t taken us, and we’ve escaped before from such places just as tight. They make faster time than we can, Robert, but our three rifles here will have a word or two to say.”

After the single war whoop the warriors relapsed into silence and plied their paddles, sure now of their prey. They were experts themselves and their paddles swept the water in perfect unison, while the long canoe gradually cut down the distance between it and the little craft ahead.

“Two rifle shots,” said the hunter, “and when it becomes one, as it surely will, I’ll have to give ‘em a hint with a bullet.”

“It’s possible,”’ said Robert, “that a third power will intervene.”

“What do you mean?” asked Willet.

“The storm’s coming back. Look up!”

It was true. The sky was darkening again, and the clouds were gathering fast over the mountains on the west. Already lightning was quivering along the slopes, and the forest was beginning to rock with the wind. The air rapidly grew heavier and darker. Their own canoe was quivering, and Robert saw that the long canoe was rising and falling with the waves.

“Looks as if it might be a question of skill with the paddles rather than with the rifles,” said Willet tersely.

“But they are still gaining,” said Tayoga, “even though the water is so rough.”

“Aye,” said Willet, “and unless the storm bursts in full power they’ll soon be within rifle shot.”

He watched with occasional keen backward looks, and in a few minutes he snatched up his rifle, took a quick aim and fired. The foremost man in the long canoe threw up his arms, and fell sideways into the water. The canoe stopped entirely for a moment or two, but then the others, uttering a long, fierce yell of rage, bent to their paddles with a renewed effort. The three had made a considerable gain during their temporary check, but it could not last long. Willet again looked for a chance to land, but the cliffs rose above them sheer and impossible.

“We are in the hands of Manitou,” said Tayoga, gravely. “He will save us. Look, how the storm gathers! Perhaps it was sent back to help us.”

The Onondaga spoke with the utmost earnestness. It was not often that a storm returned so quickly, and accepting the belief that Manitou intervened in the affairs of earth, he felt that the second convulsion of nature was for their benefit. Owing to the great roughness of the water their speed now decreased, but not more than that of the long canoe, the rising wind compelling them to use their paddles mostly for steadiness. The spray was driven like sleet in their faces, and they were soon wet through and through, but they covered the rifles and ammunition with their blankets, knowing that when the storm passed they would be helpless unless they were kept dry.

The Hurons fired a few shots, all of which fell short or wide, and then settled down with all their numbers to the management of their canoe, which was tossing dangerously. Robert noticed their figures were growing dim, and then, as the storm struck with full violence for the second time, the darkness came down and hid them.