The Plowshare and the Sword Part 40

"Excellency, the Indian woman has shown us a way over the cliff,"

exclaimed a voice beside La Salle. "That way, says she, we shall encounter no opposition."

"I will myself make the trial," La Salle answered. "Do you in the meantime win this pa.s.s."

"She says also that we must hasten, because these men are holding the pa.s.s while their comrades free the s.h.i.+p from the ice."

Penfold fought on, grim to the end, but his sword had lost its deadliness and his arm was growing numb. His comrades aided him as best they could, but they too were acting upon the defensive, because some of the more daring soldiers had scaled the slippery sides of the pa.s.s in a futile endeavour to drag them down. The old man groaned and tottered as the light failed gradually from his eyes.

"Let it be said of me," he gasped, "that I gave them half an hour."

Voices roared in his ears, like the waves of a stormy sea about to close over his head.

"Strike! He is spent. Strike him down."

There followed an onward rush. Over the old man's failing body sped the bitterness of death.

He felt a sword in his side, another in his shoulder, and at the pain he revived like an old lion, and roared and plunged forward, feeling his way with his point, until he found his striker's heart, and then he shouted with all the strength that was left:

"Stand up in my stead, comrade! I have made a good fight, and accounted for the best. They shall run before us yet. To me, comrade!

Ha! St. Edward and St. George!"

With that last shout he fell, deep into the red snow, his old body spouting blood, and so died like a valiant man of Berks, with his sword fast held, and his grey head set towards the foe.

Hough hurled back a soldier, who had clambered up the cliff to dislodge him, and would have flung himself down to stop the way, when on a sudden a tall figure slid down the side opposite him, and stood immediately to defy the body of men sweeping through like an inundating wave, wielding his sword with calm, nervous strength, his keen eyes starting from a thin, brown face.

Then Hough's courage gave way, and sinking to his knees, while the enemy rushed through, he cried aloud. Death had no terror for him; but the spectacle of that cold man, whom for an instant he had seen, fighting in the raw light of the dawn, then thrown down and trodden under foot, made him s.h.i.+ver to the heart.

"The Lord encompa.s.ses us with the spirits of our friends," he cried, knowing that it was Jesse Woodfield who already lay hacked and bruised and buried in the snow of the defile.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

THE GRAIN OF MUSTARD SEED.

The Acadians swept towards the bay, but their governor was not with them. La Salle had gone alone over the cliffs, along the way which Onawa had revealed, and he went not unseen. The Kentishman followed, searching out each footprint in the snow. Once again the priest was destined to take up the sword, before a.s.suming the mantle of spiritual power. As he pa.s.sed among the pines the loneliness of the place began to make him fear, and when he stopped with a curse, because he knew not which way to turn, he seemed to behold the sword of his dream flas.h.i.+ng like lightning between the mitre and himself. And while halting he heard perplexing shouts, lessening, receding, and growing faint, as his men rushed down upon their foes.

Hearing those shouts Upcliff looked up from the field of ice, and his heart for an instant ceased when he saw that the enemy had gained the pa.s.s.

"Now, men of Somerset," he shouted, "let our bird fly right soon, or we shall never sight England again."

"We can do no more than our best, captain," growled the sailor Jacob Sadgrove. "My arms are near dead with work."

"Out!" cried Madeleine, sweeping forward. "Out, and make room for a woman."

She caught up the axe which the grumbler had dropped, and, lifting her brave arms, attacked the barrier of ice with never a thought of fear, until the sailor returned glumly to his work for shame.

"Only a few more yards," the deceiving girl cried, throwing back her flushed face. "Look not behind. To regard work closely is to fear it.

Attack boldly, and it is done. See how the s.h.i.+p struggles to be free!

Soon we shall fly through the open water, with the wind in our sails.

Then shall you rest, and it shall delight you to remember the work."

So she called, laughing and singing at intervals, and running here and there to encourage the toilers, a faithful angel of hope, while the axes rang more strongly and the men cast side-glances towards the foe and swore breathlessly at their impotence.

"Get you aboard, la.s.s," said Upcliff, loosening his cutla.s.s. "Here is work for men. My lads, we shall make a good fight for country and faith, and die, if G.o.d will, like true men facing odds. Now we are taken on both sides."

He pointed to the north-west. Out of the gloom of dawn and the fog-wreaths, which ever haunt the Nova Scotian banks, sailed a full-rigged man-of-war beating against the breeze. It was the provision s.h.i.+p making for the settlement now that the helmsman could see to steer between the rocks.

"Nothing but a miracle can serve," quoth the skipper. "And the age of miracles is past."

"Have but faith, and the miracle shall yet be wrought," cried Madeleine, her magnificent confidence strong within her, even in that hour when a less bold spirit would have seen the doors of a heretic's prison reopening. "G.o.d shall yet make a way for us to escape. I know we are not doomed. Help me, captain, and you sailors, with your faith.

We are never to be taken. We are to escape from our enemies, and G.o.d shall give to us the victory."

Upcliff smiled sadly as he gazed at the radiant face of the prophetess, shaking his grizzled head as he muttered:

"May the good Lord bless you, girl. You send us forth strong to fight."

Then again he faced his men and formed them in line; and when they stood ready to receive the enemy, every man his cutla.s.s in hand, the master cried out strongly:

"Let no man surrender. For such the French have a gallows. Lads, we shall, by G.o.d's grace, leave a deep mark on yonder little army before the s.h.i.+p comes nigh. See you how slowly she labours down? She can scarce make headway against the tide, and the breeze freshens every minute. Now for a bold stand, a stern struggle, and may the Lord have mercy on us all."

Stout Somerset throats answered him with a cheer. They had exercised their privilege of grumbling over the uncongenial work of cutting a way for their s.h.i.+p through the ice-field while their compatriots fought upon the cliffs; but not a man drew back from the prospect of that hopeless battle.

The Acadians struggled down the long hill, floundering in the soft snow, and, halting upon the flat, drew up in the form of a crescent.

There were signs of unwillingness among the settlers, due in part to the reputation gained in those days by Englishmen of never shrinking from a struggle to the death. They were also perturbed by the absence of La Salle, whom they had not seen since Woodfield had been overwhelmed and left for dead in the defile.

While the French thus hesitated, Upcliff and his impetuous men were for advancing to the attack; but Madeleine came before them, and in a strained voice, altogether unlike her usual tones, implored the skipper not to move towards the sh.o.r.e.

"Do not leave the ice," she cried. "I charge you go not beyond the ice."

"The maid has surely lost her wits," muttered Upcliff.

"See the eyes of her!" whispered Jacob Sadgrove to his nearest companion. "Have seen a horse look so, when he knows of somewhat coming, and would speak of it if he might."

A roar broke the morning fog. The s.h.i.+p had fired to encourage her allies. The ball splashed into the black water far from the gallant _Dartmouth_, which quivered and shook her sails in furious helplessness.

"Swear to me that you will not leave the ice-field," cried Madeleine.

"Ay, if you wish it," said Upcliff; adding bluntly: "May die as well here as yonder. Stand together, lads. They come!"

"Oh, why so long?" prayed Madeleine, bending upon the snow. "It is time for the miracle. I know we are to be saved, but it is terrible to wait. I know that not a hair upon the head of any of these men shall be harmed; but they know it not, and they prepare for death because they cannot see. Oh, G.o.d, send us now the miracle!"

"Stand firm!" shouted Upcliff. "Let them make the charge, and we shall smite them as they stumble in the snow."

He spoke, and straightway a mighty report rang along the sh.o.r.e. The ice on which the men planted their resolute feet quivered and heaved.

The attackers halted and drew back; the attacked stared at one another in superst.i.tious wonderment. No smoke drifted behind. The guns upon the s.h.i.+p had not spoken. But the echoes of that dry, sharp sound still crashed among the cliffs.