Defending the Island Part 1

Defending the Island.

by James Otis.

CHAPTER I

THE ISLAND

In the year of grace 1758 there were two families living on that island which we of to-day call Mount Desert; but Champlain named Mons Deserts, because its thirteen high, rugged mountains could be seen from the seaward a distance of twenty leagues, making it the first landmark of the coast for seamen.

It is said, by those gentlemen who write down historical facts for us young people to study, that the "savages were much attached to the island; for in the mountains they hunted bears, wildcats, racc.o.o.ns, foxes, and fowls; in the marshes and natural meadows, beaver, otter and musquash; and in the waters they took fin and sh.e.l.lfish."

Now in the proper kind of a story there should be nothing which savors of school-book study, and yet, before telling how the children of these two families defended the island in 1758, it seems much as if the reader would have a better idea of all that was done, if he or she knew just a few facts concerning those who lived on Mount Desert before Stephen Pemberton and Silas Harding took there their wives and children to build for themselves homes.

It is said, by those who busy themselves with finding out about such things, that in the year 1605 Champlain stopped at the island and named it; but not until four years later did any white people visit the place. Then two Jesuit missionaries, who had been living at Port Royal, under the protection of Monsieur Biencourt, went to Mount Desert with the hope of converting the Indians to Christianity.

How long these good men lived there, no one seems to know; but it is certain that they went back to Port Royal quite soon, because, in the year 1613, a Frenchman, by the name of La Sua.s.saye, the agent of Madame de Guercheville, a very rich and religious lady, visited Port Royal, and persuaded the missionaries to return to Mount Desert, in company with several French colonists.

An Englishman by the name of Argall, who had come across the ocean to drive away the French people from North America, in order to take possession of the country in the name of his king, found the settlers while they were yet living in tents, not having had time to build houses. He robbed them of all their goods, afterward sending them adrift in an open boat, to make certain they wouldn't encroach on the land to which he believed they had no claim.

The French people, after suffering severely, contrived to gain the mainland, however, and before many months had pa.s.sed returned to Mount Desert, where they formed a settlement, which did not survive the encroachments of the Indians, as is known from the fact that when, in 1704, the great Indian fighter from Ma.s.sachusetts, Major Benjamin Church, rendezvoused at Mount Desert, before attacking the Baron de Castine on Pen.o.bscot Bay, he found no person living there.

In 1746 Stephen Pemberton and Silas Harding, with their wives, who were sisters, and their children, emigrated from England to Acadia, in Nova Scotia, hoping there to make better homes for themselves and their little ones than could be had in their native land. Then came the quarrels between the French and English, until Acadia was not a very pleasant land in which to live, and these two settlers determined to find an abiding-place where they might not be literally overrun by the soldiers of two armies.

Therefore it was that they built a small vessel, in which they could carry all their household belongings, including two cows, three or four pigs, and a flock of chickens, and started on a voyage that did not come to an end until they were arrived at the island of Mount Desert, near the mouth of what is now known as Duck Brook, within a short distance of the present town of Bar Harbor.

There the men built two small houses of logs, enclosed by a palisade, which is a high fence formed by driving stakes into the ground, for protection against the Indians, whom they had every reason to fear.

Here the two families lived in peace and comparative comfort until the year 1758, and then there were children in plenty.

Stephen Pemberton had in his family Mark, who was fifteen years old; Luke, two years younger; Mary, aged eleven and John, a stout lad of eight years.

Silas Harding's children were Susan, who was fourteen years old; Mary, four years younger, and James, who had lived seven years on Mount Desert without having seen ten white people, save those belonging to his own and Uncle Stephen Pemberton's family.

Now after so many words which have not been strung together in a very entertaining fas.h.i.+on, it is time to begin the story of what was done by these children, with, as a matter of course, some a.s.sistance from their mothers.

Each summer, just before the work of harvesting should be begun, the two men went out in the boat which had brought them from Acadia, to catch fish enough for the winter's supply, and on this year they set off early in September, with never a thought that any danger might menace their dear ones after so many years of peace and comparative prosperity.

The children had work in plenty to keep them from idleness during the week of ten days their fathers might be absent, and no sooner had the little vessel sailed out of the harbor than they set about their several tasks in order that all the labor might be performed by the time the fishermen returned.

Mark and Luke were engaged in setting up the flakes, or framework, on which the fish were to be dried, and this labor was performed near the sh.o.r.e of the harbor quite beyond sight of the homesteads with the high palisade, which last hid from view all save the roofs of the buildings.

The _Future Hopes_, which was the name of the small vessel belonging to the settlers, had left her moorings when the first gray light of the coming day could be seen stealing over the waters, and while she was yet close in-sh.o.r.e the two lads set about building the flakes, counting on completing the task within three days, and to that end working so industriously as to give little or no heed to what might be pa.s.sing around them.

Therefore it was that they failed to see a canoe, in which were five Indians, come swiftly up from the southward, past what is now known as Pulpit Rock, and sail straight for the island at the mouth of the harbor, which the people of to-day call Bar Island.

Here the frail craft was hidden from view of the boys, and when half an hour or more had gone by, another canoe, this one carrying six men, executed the same maneuver.

Five minutes later a third craft appeared, but just as she came in view past the rock, Luke stood erect to drive in one of the stakes, and, therefore, saw the strangers as they were evidently trying to steal by without being seen.

More than once since Luke could remember had Mount Desert been visited by red men of the Abenakis tribe; but the visitors had always approached boldly, like friends, and this skulking from rock to island seemed much like a show of enmity.

Certain it is that the lad was alarmed, but he understood, from what his father had said many times, that it was not wise to let the Indians know of his fear, and, continuing at the labor, he said, in a low tone, to Mark:

"Don't raise your head, nor look around. A canoe filled with Abenakis has sneaked in behind the harbor island; can it be mischief is intended?"

"They may be after rock-cod, and count on coming ash.o.r.e later," Mark replied, continuing his work in such a fas.h.i.+on that he could look seaward without seeming to do so.

At this moment the occupants of the last canoe were moving around the point of the island, as if to gain a position where a full view of the buildings might be had, for there could be no possibility the visitors were engaged in fis.h.i.+ng, of any other such peaceful pursuit.

"There's trouble of some kind, and it's for us to find out what,"

Mark said, in a whisper. "There must have been other canoes than the one you saw, for I have already counted eleven men on the island, and they could not all have come in a single boat."

The boys had had no experience, fortunately for them, in Indian warfare, but they had heard enough from their parents to be fully alive to the possibilities, and after a few moments, during which time fear had held them speechless, Mark said, in a low tone, although there was no chance the enemy could have heard him:

"We must get over to the house without seeming to be running away.

You start first, and when you go through the gate, call out that mother wants to see me."

Luke obeyed leisurely, although his heart was beating so loudly and heavily that it seemed as if it could be heard a long distance away, and, arriving at the palisade, he summoned his brother, as had been proposed.

Then it was that Mark was at liberty to leave his work, and he answered the summons more quickly, perhaps, than ever before in his life.

Mistress Pemberton was busily engaged inside the house, and the other two children were in a small garden directly in the rear of the building, therefore the boys were able to impart the disagreeable tidings without alarming those who could be of little or no a.s.sistance.

"Indians skulking on the harbor island!" the good woman exclaimed, when Mark had hurriedly told his story and her face paled as the lads had never seen it before.

"And they have chanced to come on the very day our father went fis.h.i.+ng!" Luke cried.

"It wasn't chance that brought them, my son. Unless coming for some evil purpose, they would have landed boldly, as they have done so many times. It must be that the painted wretches have been watching to learn when your father and uncle left the island! Ask your aunt and Susan to come over her; the other children need not be told until it is no longer possible to hold them in ignorance of what may be done."

Luke ran swiftly to the house, which stood hardly more than fifty feet away, and in a twinkling Mistress Harding and her daughter Susan were where they could hear what, to settlers in their situation, was the worst possible news.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Indians skulking on the harbor island!"]

Women who did their share in conquering the wilderness were not cowardly, even though they might turn pale with apprehension when the first note of danger was sounded, and there two, knowing it was useless to expect aid from the outside, lost no time in planning a defence.

The palisade was weak in many places; more than one of the timbers had decayed and fallen, for while the Indians from the near-by mainland were friendly disposed, there seemed to be no good reason why time and labor should be expended upon a means of defence which might never be needed, and at this moment both the women bethought themselves of such fact.

"There may be time in which to strengthen the fence," Mistress Harding suggested, and Mark, who considered himself as well-nigh being a man grown, took the part of leader by saying, stoutly:

"In can be done, aunt. Luke and I will get the timbers, and the other children shall drag them out of the woods, coming into the enclosure near the spring where the Indians cannot see them."

"But surely we can do something to help the work along," his mother said, quickly.

"So you shall. We must know what the Indians are about, and you two can take one of the small boys down near the sh.o.r.e. Stay there as if bent on pleasuring, and, without seeming to do so, keep a sharp watch on the harbor island. I will look after the rest."

Boys who lived on the frontier in 1758 were accustomed to doing the work of men, and very seldom was one found to be a coward.