Wau-nan-gee or the Massacre at Chicago Part 7

"G.o.d bless you, Ronayne! Alas, you are not alone in, your trials--much of moment awaits us all. Good night!"

And, a.s.suming her disguise, she speedily regained her home.

CHAPTER X.

"Ne'er may he live to see a suns.h.i.+ne day that cries--Retire, when Warwick bids him stay."

--_Henry IV._

On the western bank of the south side of the Chicago River, and opposite to Fort Dearborn, stood the only building which, with the exception of the cottage of Mr. Heywood on the opposite sh.o.r.e, and already alluded to, could at all come under the cla.s.sification of a dwelling-house. The owner of this mansion, as it was generally called, which rose near the junction of the river with Lake Michigan, was a gentleman who had been long a resident and trader in the neighborhood, and between whom and the Pottowatomie Indians in particular, a good understanding had always existed. Several voyageurs, consisting of French Canadians and half-breeds, const.i.tuted his establishment, and in the course of his speculations, chiefly in furs, with the several tribes, he had ama.s.sed considerable wealth. He was, in fact, the only person of any standing or education outside the wall of the fort itself, and of course the only civilian, besides Mr. Heywood--whom, however, they far less frequently saw--the officers of the garrison could a.s.sociate with. His house was the abode of hospitality, and as, in his trading capacity, he had opportunities of procuring many even of the luxuries of life from Detroit and Buffalo, which were not within the reach of the inmates of the fort, much of the monotony which would have attached to a society purely military, however gifted or sufficient to their mutual happiness, was thus avoided. His library was ample, and there was scarcely an author of celebrity (the world was not overrun with them in those days), either historian, essayist, or novelist, whose works were not to be found on the shelves of his ma.s.sive black walnut bookcase, made by the hands of his own people from the most gigantic trees of that genus that could be found in Illinois. He had, moreover, for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the officers of the little garrison, prepared a billiard room, where many a rainy hour was pa.s.sed, when the sports of the chase and of the prairie were shut out to them, and for those who asked not for either of these amus.e.m.e.nts, there was a tastefully, but not ostentatiously, furnished drawing-room, with one of the best pianos made in those days, which he had had imported at a great expense from the capital of the western world, and at which his amiable and only daughter generally presided.

Margaret McKenzie had been born at Chicago, but having lost her mother at an early age, her father, profiting by one of his periodical visits to New York, had taken her with him for the purpose of receiving such an education as would enable her not only to grace a drawing-room, and make her a companion to a man of sense and refinement, but to fit her for those more domestic duties which the uncertain character of so secluded a life might occasionally render necessary, and where luxury and education alone were insufficient to a trading husband's views of happiness. After five years' absence, she had returned to Chicago, a girl of strong mind, warm affection, without the slightest affectation, and altogether so adapted in manner and education--for she eminently combined the useful with the ornamental--that her father was delighted with her, not less for the proficiency she had made in all that gives value to society, but because of the utter absence of all appearance of regret in abandoning the gay and enlivening scenes of the fascinating capital, in which she had spent so many years, for the still, dull monotony of the primeval forest in which her childhood had been pa.s.sed.

But here she was not doomed to "waste her sweetness on the desert air." There were only two officers in the garrison, besides Captain Headley, when Miss McKenzie returned to her native wilds--Doctor Von Voltenberg and Lieut. Elmsley. The third who made up the number of those attached to the company had a few days previously been shot and scalped by a party of Indians near Hardscrabble, while on his return to the fort from shooting the hen, or English grouse, of the prairie. His place was supplied by Ensign Ronayne, who had joined the garrison a few days after. Lieutenant Elmsley, captivated by the accomplishments and amiability of the fascinating Margaret, had offered her his heart and hand, and obtained her unreluctant promise speedily to share his barrack room, some twenty feet by twelve in dimensions. Meanwhile, in order to prove to him how well she was fitted to be a soldier's wife, not an article of food was ever placed before her father's almost constant visitors that did not in some measure pa.s.s under her supervision. Poor would have been the preparation of the grosser viands had not her directing voice presided; and, as for the tarts, and puddings, and custards, _et hoc genus omne_, no one who tasted could doubt that no hands but her own had operated in the fabrication; and the currant, the cranberry, the strawberry jelly, the peach, the plum, and the cherry preserve, and the currant and gooseberry wine! What, in the name of all that is delicate in gastronomy, could be more delicious or exhibit greater perfection of taste! So thought Von Voltenberg. He was in raptures. Such a wife, he thought, was all he wanted to his comfort; he could have dispensed, if necessary, with the more intellectual portions of the worth of Margaret McKenzie, but his imagination could not picture to itself perfection superior to that of an interesting and beautiful woman, manipulating among fruit, and sugar, and dough, until she had produced results far sweeter and much more prized by him than all the ornamental accomplishments in the world. It was even whispered that the Doctor, deeply sensible of the treasure he should obtain in the possession of so generally useful a wife, had absolutely proposed for her, but that she, without offending him, had rejected the honor. Whether it was so or not, no one knew positively, for Margaret McKenzie was not a woman to triumph in the humiliation of another, not because she considered it in any way a humiliation to a man that he did not so accord in sentiment with her as to render an union for life with him desirable, but because she knew it would, however absurdly, draw upon him the ill-natured comments of his companions. Be that as it may, whether or not he did offer and was rejected, it made no difference in his relations with the family. He ate her dinner, luxuriated over her preserves, and sipped her wine as plentifully as when first she had offered them to him; and they always were the best friends in the world.

Soon after the first rumor of Von Voltenberg's offer--and if the secret was betrayed, it must have been by himself, during one of his moments of devotion to his favorite whiskey punch--it was generally known throughout the fort and neighborhood that Lieutenant Elmsley was to espouse Miss McKenzie, and that the ceremony was only delayed until the arrival of his the officer so recently killed and scalped, as has been stated, was now almost daily expected. At length he came, and soon afterwards Captain Headley, duly commissioned to perform the service, in the absence of a clergyman, married them, Ronayne a.s.sisting as groomsman, and Mrs.

Ronayne--then Maria Heywood--as bridesmaid. This was two years previous to the marriage of the Virginian himself, and the occasion on which he first met her whom he subsequently so fervently adored.

It was no privation to Mrs. Elmsley to forsake the almost luxurious ease of her father's house for the more sober accommodation of her husband's barrack-rooms. True, these were comfortably furnished, but still they had that primness which belongs ever to the quarters of a soldier; but from the moment of casting her destiny, she had determined in every sense to be a soldier's wife, and to inure herself from the first to the plainness incident to the condition.

All she had transferred to the fort was her music and her books; and if at any moment caprice or inclination led her to desire a change, it was but to get up a little party, such as their limited social circle would permit, and transfer the amus.e.m.e.nts of the day to her father's more inviting mansion, where the servants had from herself learned all the art of management. Lively in disposition in the extreme, Mrs. Elmsley loved to promote the comfort of others; and as her husband possessed an equally happy temperament, they contributed not a little to enliven the circle of which, in point of gaiety, they might be said to be the centre.

The owner of the establishment himself--Mr. McKenzie--was fond of good living, and having arrived at an age when continued prosperity permitted a relaxation from the toils of the earlier and cooler portions of the day, loved to indulge after dinner in a large arm-chair, placed in a veranda that overlooked the fort and country around, and where the light air from the lake, waving through the branches of the thin trees, swept with refres.h.i.+ng coolness along the broad corridor. He generally smoked the fragrant herbs of the Indians, mixed with tobacco, and sipped the delicious clarets with which his cellar was stocked, and which he kept, not for sale or barter, but for the exclusive use of himself and friends.

Immediately after Winnebeg had left Captain Headley, he made his way to the mansion of Mr. McKenzie, whom he found, as usual, sitting in his veranda, enjoying his pipe and wine after dinner. The greeting was that of old friends long separated. They had known each other from their youth; and, while the Indian entertained the highest respect for the character and opinions of Mr. McKenzie, the latter in turn reposed the most unbounded confidence in the sincerity and integrity of the chief.

"Well, Winnebeg, my old friend, where do you come from? Where have you been all this time? I thought you had deserted us altogether.

But I recollect now; Captain Headley sent you with despatches to Detroit. What news do you bring back? But first try a gla.s.s of claret. Harry!"--calling out to a son of one of his voyageurs, who acted in his household in the capacity of his private servant--"bring another chair and a wine-gla.s.s."

"Yes, come from Detroit, Missa Kenzie," replied the Indian gravely, as he seated himself, took his tomahawk from his side, filled it, and began to smoke; "bring him bad news for you--for all."

"How is this, Winnebeg?" exclaimed his listener, putting down the gla.s.s which he had raised to his lips. "What bad news do you mean?"

"Leave him all dis," he observed, as he swept his hand towards the fort and the outhouses and buildings containing Mr. McKenzie's property--the profits of a long life pa.s.sed in a region to which he had become attached from very habit.

"Leave what! my property? I do not understand you, Winnebeg; speak out! What are you driving at, man? What necessity is there for all this?"

"English fight him Yankee now--big war begun. By by English come, take him Chicago!"

"The war begun!" said Mr. McKenzie, rising in astonishment from his seat; "do you mean to say, Winnebeg, that the English and Americans are actually at war? that they have been fighting at Detroit? How do you know it?"

"How him know it?" returned the chief; "look here, Winnebeg fight him English," and baring his thigh, just below the left hip, he showed the scar of a superficial flesh wound still encrusted with blood.

"Where did you get that, Winnebeg, and how long since?"

"Two week," he replied, holding up as many fingers, "near Canard Bridge, close, to Malden, Canada--General Hull angry--say Winnebeg no business fight--carry him despatches."

"General Hull! How long has General Hull been there? Where, then, is Colonel Miller, of the fourth regiment, who commanded the other day?"

"Colonel Miller Detroit too; but Hull big officer--great chief--come with plenty sogers--send Winnebeg with despatch to Gubbenor here."

"Indeed! This is important; I must hasten to see Captain Headley, and learn from him the contents. Alas! my good friend Winnebeg, this news may, and I fear will, be the cause of my utter ruin. Of course, you have no idea of what the despatch contains?"

"Yes, Missa Kenzie, Winnebeg know. Winnebeg wish to speak to you about despatch--say go directly to Fort Wayne."

"The troops ordered to Fort Wayne, and all we possess left wholly unprotected. This is indeed a calamity," said the trader, raising his hand to his now thoughtful brow.

"You no take him goods on pack-horses to Fort Wayne?" remarked the Indian inquiringly.

"Impossible, Winnebeg! I might take a few packages of peltries, but the great bulk must be left behind; yet it seems to me folly to go to Fort Wayne. We shall be cut off before we get there."

"Just so," returned Winnebeg. "See him Gubbenor, Missa McKenzie; tell him not go. Stay here--fort strong--plenty powder--plenty guns--you tell him so."

"Most a.s.suredly I will; and if he adopts the most prudent course, he will remain. With your strong force without and ours within, we may have a fair chance with any force that may be brought against us, whereas heaven only knows what may not be the result if we attempt so long a march through the wilderness, alive with Indians in the interest of the British. Good by, Winnebeg; you will excuse me, I am sure, for there must be no time lost in consulting with Captain Headley. Make yourself at home, and call out to Harry for anything you may want. That claret will not hurt you after your long journey; it is pleasant to the taste, and not very strong."

"Tankee, Ma.s.sa Kenzie; Winnebeg go to Pottowatomie camp--not been dere yet. Gubbenor say no tell him Ingins war begun till hold council to-morrow. Winnebeg sure him know it free, four days."

"Why, do you think that, Winnebeg, since there has been no intelligence of the kind since your arrival?"

"See him plenty Pottowatomie here in Detroit while Winnebeg wait for despatches."

"Indeed; but they may not have returned."

"Don't know--maybe no, maybe yes."

"Well, to-morrow the matter will be no secret, Winnebeg; and some decision will no doubt be added. In the meantime, you will be able to learn whether anything is known in the encampment of this unwelcome news, and, if so, what your people think of it."

"Kenzie," said the chief, taking and warmly grasping the trader's hand, "all Pottowatomies tink like Winnebeg--no go to Fort Wayne."

CHAPTER XI.

When Mr. McKenzie entered the fort, it was with a clouded brow and an oppressed heart. At the gate he met his son-in-law, Lieutenant Elmsley, who, while burning with impatience to be near and console his unfortunate friend, was without the power to leave his post, and in his vexation and annoyance, kept pacing rapidly up and down in front of the guard-house.

"What is the matter, Elmsley--what disturbs you so unusually?"

"Can you ask, sir," said the officer, "or have you not heard the dreadful news?"

"Yes, I have heard it, but did not suppose it had as yet been generally known."

"The whole garrison knows it. It could not be concealed. The poor fellow rushed like a madman to announce it. He fell fainting to the ground, and was carried to his room, where, even at this moment, Mrs. Headley and Margaret are attending him."

"Attending whom?" demanded Mr. McKenzie with an air of astonishment, "and to what are you alluding?"

"Why, Ronayne, of course; to whom do you allude if not to him? Have you not heard that, while riding out with his wife and Von Voltenberg this afternoon, they were intercepted by a party of hostile Indians, and poor Maria taken prisoner."