The Crew of the Water Wagtail Part 20

"That's more than I can tell," answered Grummidge. "I remember hearin'

Master Burns a-talkin' on that point wi' the cappen, an' he thought it was conscience or the voice of G.o.d."

"Well, conscience or no conscience, I've resisted it all my life,"

returned the sick man, "an' it do seem a mean, sneakin' sort o' thing to come to the Almighty at the very last moment, when I can't help myself, an' say, `I'm sorry.'"

"It would be meaner to say `I'm _not_ sorry,' wouldn't it?" returned Grummidge. "But, now I think of it, Master Burns did read one or two things out o' that writin' that he's so fond of, which he says is the Word of G.o.d. If it's true what he says, he may well be fond of it, but I wonder how he has found that out. Anyway, I remember that one o' the things he read out of it was that the Lamb of G.o.d takes away the sins of the world; an' he explained that Jesus is the Lamb of G.o.d, an' that he stands in our place--takes our punishment instead of us, an' fulfils the law instead of us."

The sick man listened attentively, even eagerly, but shook his head.

"How can any _man_ stand in my place, or take my punishments?" he said, in a tone savouring almost of contempt. "As far as I can see, every man will have enough to do to answer for himself."

"That's just what come into my mind too, when I heard Master Burns speak," returned the other; "but he cleared that up by explainin' that Jesus is G.o.d as well as man--`G.o.d with us,' he said."

"That do seem strange," rejoined the sick man, "and if true," he added thoughtfully, "there's somethin' in it, Grummidge, somethin' in it to give a man comfort."

"Well, mate, I'm of your mind about that, for if G.o.d himself be for us, surely n.o.body can be agin us," said the seaman, unconsciously paraphrasing the word of Scripture itself. "Blow high or blow low, that seems to me an anchor that you an' me's safe to hang on to."

The conversation was interrupted at this point by the sudden entrance of Jim Heron with an arrow sticking in the fleshy part of his back.

"Attacked by savages!" he gasped. "Here, Grummidge, lend a hand to haul out this--I can't well reach it. They came on us behind the big store, t'other side o' the settlement, and, after lettin' fly at us took to their heels. The lads are after them. I got separated from the boys, and was shot, as you see, so I came--hah! pull gently, Grummidge--came back here that you might haul it out, for it's hard to run an' fight with an arrow in your back."

"Stay here, Jim," said Grummidge, after hastily extracting the shaft.

"You couldn't do much with a wound like that. I'll take your place and follow up the men, and you'll take mine here, as nurse to Swinton. We mustn't leave him alone, you know."

Eager though Jim Heron was at first for the fray, the loss of blood had reduced his ardour and made him willing to fall in with this proposal.

"Good-bye, Grummidge," cried Swinton, as the former, having s.n.a.t.c.hed up his knife and bow, was hastening to the door.

"Good-bye--good-bye, mate," he responded, turning back and grasping the proffered hand. "You'll be all right soon, old chap--and Jim's a better nurse than I am."

"I like what you said about that anchor, mate, I'll not forget it" said Swinton, sinking back on his pillow as Grummidge sallied forth to join in the pursuit of the savages.

The stout seaman's movements were watched by some hundreds of glittering black eyes, the owners of which were concealed amid the brushwood of the adjoining forest.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the settlement, the greater number of the s.h.i.+pwrecked mariners were engaged in hot pursuit of the party of Indians who had attacked them. They were very indignant, several of their mates having been wounded, and a considerable quant.i.ty of their stores carried off.

It quickly became apparent, however, that the seamen were no match for savage, at a race through the woods, therefore Grummidge, who soon overtook his comrades, called a halt, and gathered as many of his men as possible around him.

"Now, lads," he said, "it's plain that some of you can't run much further. You ain't used to this sort o' work. Besides, we have left our settlement undefended. Most of you must therefore return, an' a few of the smartest among you will follow me, for we must give these rascals a fright by followin' 'em till we catch 'em--if we can--or by drivin'

'em back to their own place, wherever that may be."

Many of the men were more than willing to agree to this arrangement, while others were quite ready to follow their leader. The party, therefore, that finally continued in pursuit of the Indians was composed of Grummidge, George Blazer, Fred Taylor, Little Stubbs, Garnet Squill, and several others. Armed with bows, arrows, short spears, and clubs, these set off without delay into the forest, trusting to the sun and stars for guidance. The remainder of the men returned to the settlement, where they discovered that they had been the victims of a ruse on the part of the savages. The a.s.sault at the further end of the settlement proved to be a mere feint, made by a comparatively small party, for the purpose of drawing the seamen away, and leaving the main part of the settlement undefended, and open to pillage. While the small detachment of Indians, therefore, was doing its part, the main body descended swiftly but quietly on Wagtail Bay, and possessed themselves of all that was valuable there, and carried it off.

Of course, Swinton and Jim Heron were found there. Both had been beheaded, and their bodies stripped and left on the floor. Heron seemed to have offered a stout resistance, until overpowered by numbers and slain. Poor Swinton, who could not have had much more life remaining than enabled him to understand what was occurring, had been stabbed to death where he lay.

Fortunately, it was not possible for the Indians to carry off all the dried fish and other provisions, so that the men were not reduced to absolute starvation.

All ignorant of what was going on at the settlement, the avengers were pus.h.i.+ng their way through the woods in pursuit of the smaller body of savages. Nothing could have been more satisfactory to these latter.

From every eminence and knoll unseen eyes watched the movements of the white men, who remained under the delusion that they were striking terror into the hearts of a flying foe.

"Sure, we'll have to take a rest soon," said Squill, as they halted on the top of a mound, about sunset to breathe and wipe their heated brows.

"True, a short sleep we _must_ have, but we'll have to take our rest without kindling a fire," said Grummidge.

"Ay, an' go supperless to bed, too," remarked Little Stubbs; "for we've brought nothing to eat with us."

This fact had not struck any of the party till that moment. They had been so eager in pursuit of the foe that all prudential considerations had been thrown to the winds. They now lay down, therefore, to the very brief rest that was absolutely needful, not only without supper, but with the prospect of starting again without breakfast. However, each man felt bound in honour not to damp his fellows by complaining.

"Now, boys," said Grummidge, "you lie down, an' I'll mount guard. Sleep as fast as you can, for I'll route ye out in an hour or so."

But Grummidge did not fulfil his promise. Seating himself with his back to a tree, his bows and arrows ready to hand, and actuated by a firm resolve to watch with intense care, he fell fast asleep, and the whole party snored in concert.

About fifty Indians, who had joined the original attacking party, had waited patiently for this state of affairs. When quite certain that the seamen were all sleeping soundly, they crept silently forward, and pounced upon them. The struggle was sharp, but short. Courage and strength are futile when opposed to overwhelming numbers. A few minutes later, and the white men were led, with hands bound behind them, into the depth of the unknown wilderness.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A NEW FRIEND WITH STARTLING NEWS.

Turn we now to the island in the great lake where Hendrick, the hunter, had set up his romantic home.

The premature touch of winter, which had put so sudden a stop to the work of our explorers, gave way to a burst of warmth and suns.h.i.+ne almost as sudden. It was that brief period of calm repose in which nature indulges in some parts of the world as if to brace herself for the rough work of approaching winter. There was a softness in the air which induced one to court its embrace. Absolute stillness characterised the inanimate world. Clouds floated in the heavenly blue in rotund ma.s.ses, which seemed, to the careless glance, as unchangeable as the hills, and the gla.s.sy water reflected them with perfect fidelity. It also reflected gulls, ducks, plover, and other wildfowl, as they sailed, whirred, or waded about, absorbed in the activities of their domestic economy, or in the hilarious enjoyment of the sweet influences around them. Colours most resplendent dyed the forest trees; gentle sounds from bird and beast told of joyous life everywhere, and the blessed sun threw a golden haze over wood and lake and hill. It was as though Paradise had been restored to man, and our loving Creator had swept away every trace of evil and misery from the beautiful earth.

But although the day is surely coming when, through Jesus Christ, "sorrow and sighing shall flee away," Paradise had certainly not returned to earth at the date we write of. Doubtless, however, something which seemed marvellously like it had reappeared round the hunter's home, for, while all nature was peaceful as well as beautiful, love was the grand motive power which actuated the hearts of those who dwelt there, and that love had been greatly intensified, as well as purified, since the advent of Paul Burns with the ma.n.u.script Gospel of John in his bosom, and the Spirit of G.o.d in his heart.

Besides being naturally sympathetic, Paul and Hendrick were thus drawn still more strongly together, as they communed with each other-- sometimes while walking through the forest engaged in the chase; often beside the camp-fire after supper while others slept; and, not unfrequently, while paddling in their canoe over the sleeping lake.

One evening they were in the latter position--returning from a successful day's hunt in the canoe--when Hendrick became more communicative than usual about the Indian tribe to which his wife belonged, and in regard to which subject he had hitherto been reticent.

The sun was setting; the island home was not far distant. The total absence of wind and consequent stillness of the lake rendered it unnecessary to do more than make an occasional dip of the paddles, with which the light craft was propelled--Paul using his in the bow, while Hendrick sat in the stern and steered. No one was with them--indeed the canoe was too small to carry more than two when loaded with the proceeds of the chase.

"I have often thought" said the hunter, dipping his paddle lazily, "that you must wonder why one whose position in the world warranted his looking forward to a bright and prosperous career should inflict on himself voluntary banishment, and wed an Indian woman."

"Hendrick," returned Paul, "I wonder at few things in this life, for I know something of the working of the human mind and heart and have ceased to judge other men's feelings by my own. Besides, I criticise not the actions of my friend. The motives of his acts are known only to himself and his G.o.d. The Gospel tells me to `judge not according to the appearance.' Moreover, the longer I live with you, the more have I learned to know that there are qualities in Trueheart which would do honour to dames of the highest station."

A gleam of satisfaction lightened the hunter's face for a moment as he exclaimed, with unwonted energy, "You do her no more than justice, my friend. I have lived to learn that love, truth, and every virtue are to be found in every station--alike with the high-born and the lowly; also that the lack of these qualities is common to both, and, to say truth, I had rather mate with a gentle savage than with a civilised female tiger!"

"But Trueheart is not a gentle savage," returned Paul, scarcely able to repress a smile at the tone in which his friend uttered his sentiments; "she is a gentle _woman_."

"Of course, I know that" rejoined Hendrick; "moreover she is a half-caste! I only used the word to designate the cla.s.s of humanity to which she belongs, and to contrast her with that other cla.s.s which deems itself at the top of the civilised tree."

"But it seems to me, Master Hendrick, that you are inclined to be too severe on the high-born. There are those among them whose lives conform to the teachings of the Gospel of Jesus."

"Do I not know it?" replied the hunter abruptly. "Have I not told you that my murdered wife was high-born and endowed with every grace?"

"True, but what of this civilised female tiger whom you would scorn to wed. Did not Christ die for _her_? May she not be saved by the same Power that drags the tiger of the lower ranks--both male and female-- from the pit?"

"I doubt it not," answered Hendrick thoughtfully, as he relapsed into his usual quiet manner, "and I am glad you appreciate Trueheart, for she is worthy of your regard. Her name was bestowed on her by her Indian relations. My children I have named after some of my kindred in the old country. The tribe to which my wife belongs are called Bethucks. They are well-disposed and kindly in disposition, and do not quarrel among themselves more than other human beings--indeed not so much as men in our own land; probably because they have not so much to quarrel about and have more elbow-room. They are good kinsmen, as I know; good hunters also, and inclined for peace, but the natives of Labrador render peace impossible, for they make frequent raids on our island, and of course we have to drive them away. If white men now come to Newfoundland, I fear that the poor Bethucks will be exterminated." [The Bethucks are now extinct.]