The Forge in the Forest

"I am not afraid, Monsieur," she answered quietly. "If anything happens, I know it will not be because you have failed in anything that the bravest and truest of men could hope to do."

"I think that God will help us," said I. That some one greater than ourselves does sometimes help us in such perils, I know, whatever certain hasty men who speak out of a plentiful lack of experience may declare to the contrary. But whether this help be a direct intervention of God himself, or the succour of the blessed saints, or the watchful care of one's guardian spirit, I have never been able to conclude to my own satisfaction. And very much thought have I given to the matter by times, lying out much under the stars night after night, and carrying day by day my life in my hands. However it might be, I felt sustained and comforted as we put out that night. The storm was now so wild that it would have been perilous to face in broad daylight and with a strong man at the bow paddle. Yet I believed that we should win through. I felt that my strength, my skill, my sureness of judgment, were of a sudden made greater than I could commonly account them.

But whatever strength may have been graciously vouchsafed to me that night, I found that I needed it all. The night fell not darkly, but with a clear sky, and the light of stars, and a diffused glimmer from the white crests of the waves. The gale blew right on shore, and the huge roar of the surf thundering in our ears seemed presently to blunt our sense of peril. The great waves now hung above us, white-crested and hissing, till one would have said we were in the very pit of doom. A moment more, and the light craft would seem to soar upward as the wave slipped under it, a wrenching turn of my wrist would drive her on a slant through the curling top of foam, and then we would slide swiftly into the pit again, down a steep slope of purplish blackness all alive with fleeting eyes of white light. The strain upon my wrist, the mighty effort required at each wave lest we should broach to and be rolled over, were something that I had never dreamed to endure. Yet I did endure it. And as for the brave woman in the bow, she simply paddled on, steadily, strongly, without violence, so that I learned to depend on her for just so much force at each swift following crisis. For there was a new crisis every moment, – with a moment's grace as we slipped into each succeeding pit. At last we found ourselves off the cape, – and then well out into the open Strait, yet not engulfed. A little, – just as much as I durst, and that was very little, – I shifted our course toward south. This brought a yet heavier strain upon my wrist, but there was no help for it if we would hope to get beyond the cape. How long we were I know not. I lost the sense of time. I had no faculty left save those that were in service now to battle back destruction. But at last I came to realize that we were well clear of the cape, that the sound of the breakers had dwindled, and that the time had come to turn. To turn? Ay, but could it be done?

It could but be tried. To go on thus much longer was, I knew, impossible. My strength would certainly fail by and by.

"Comrade," said I, – and my voice sounded strange, as if long unused, – "keep paddling steadily as you are, but the moment I say 'change,' paddle hard on the other side."

"Yes, Monsieur!" she answered as quietly as if we had been walking in a garden.

I watched the approach of one of those great waves which would, as I knew, have as vast a fellow to follow upon it. As soon as we were well over the crest I began to turn.

"Change!" I shouted. And Mizpah's paddle flashed to the other side. Down we slanted into the pit. We lay at the bottom for a second, broadside on, – then we got the little craft fairly about as she rose. A second more, and the wind caught us, and completed the turn, – and the next crest was fairly at my back. I drew a huge breath, praising God and St. Joseph; and we ran in toward the hollow of the land before us. That part of the coast was strange to me, save as seen when passing by ship; but I trusted there would be some estuary or some winding, within which we might safely come to land.

The strain was now different, and therefore my nerves and muscles felt a temporary relief; but it was still tremendous. There was still the imminent danger of broaching to as each wave-crest seized and twisted the frail craft. But having the wind behind me, I had of course more steerage way, and therefore a more instant and effective control. We ran on straight before the wind, but a few points off; and with desperate anxiety I peered ahead for some hint of shelter on that wild lee shore. Mizpah, of course, knew the unspeakable strain of wielding the stern paddle in such a sea.

"Are you made of steel, Monsieur?" she presently asked. "I can hardly believe it possible that the strength of human sinews should endure so long."

"Mine, alas, will not endure much longer, comrade," said I.

"And what then?" she asked, in a steady voice.

"I do not know," said I; "but there is hope. I think we have not been brought through all this for nothing."

The roar of the breakers grew louder and louder again, as we gradually neared the high coast which seemed to slip swiftly past on our right hand. It was black and appalling, serried along the crest with tops of fir trees, white along the base with the great gnashing of the breakers. As we ran into the head of the bay, with yet no sign of a shelter, the seas got more perilous, being crowded together and broken so that I could not calculate upon them. Soon they became a mad smother; and I knew my strength for this bout had but little longer to last.

"The end!" said I; "but we may win through! I will catch you when the crash comes." And some blind prayer, I know not what, kept repeating and repeating in the inward silence of my soul. New strength seemed then to flow upon nerve and sinew, – and I descried, almost ahead of us, a space of smooth and sloping beach up which the seas rushed without rock to shatter them.

"This is our chance," I shouted. A wave came, smoother and more whole than most, and paddling desperately I kept awhile upon the crest of it. Then like a flash it curled thinly, rolled the canoe over, and hurled us far up on the beach. Half blinded, half stunned, and altogether choking, I yet kept my wits; and catching Mizpah by the arm, I dragged her violently forward beyond reach of the next wave. Dropping her without a word, I turned back, and was just in time to catch the rolling canoe. It, too, I succeeded in dragging to a place of safety; but it was so shattered and crushed as to be useless. The muskets, however, were in it; for I had taken care to lash them under the bars before leaving the shelter of the inlet.

The remnants of the canoe I hauled far up on the beach, and then I returned to Mizpah, who lay in utter exhaustion just where I had dropped her, so close to the water's edge that she was splashed by the spray of every wave.

"Come, comrade," I said, lifting her gently. "The saints have indeed been kind to us." But she made no reply. Leaning heavily upon me, and moving as if in a dream, she let me lead her to the edge of the wood, where the herbage began behind a sort of windrow of rocks. There, seeing that the rocks shut off the wind, I released her, and dropping on the spot, she went at once to sleep. Then I felt myself suddenly as weak as a baby. I had no more care for anything save to sleep. I tried to pluck a bunch of herbage to put under Mizpah's head for a pillow; but even as I stooped to gather it, I forgot where I was, and the tide of dreams flowed over me.

Chapter XVIII

The Osprey, of Plymouth

It must have been a good two hours that I slept. I woke with a start, with a sense of some duty left undone. I was in an awkward position, half on my side amid stones and underbrush, my arms clasping the bundle of herbage which I had meant for Mizpah's pillow. The daylight was fairly established, blue and cold, though the sun was not yet visible. The gale hummed shrilly as ever, the huge waves thundered on the trembling beach, and all seaward was such a white and purple hell of raving waters that I shuddered at the sight of it. Mizpah was still sleeping. As I looked at her the desire for sleep came over me again with deadly strength, but I resisted it, rushing down to the edge of the surf, and facing a chill buffet of driven spume. I took another glance at the canoe. It was past mending. The two muskets were there, but everything else was gone, washed away, or ground upon the rocks. After much searching, however, to my delight I found a battered roll of bacon wedged into a cleft. Pouncing upon this, I bore it in triumph to Mizpah.

"Wake up, comrade," I cried, shaking her softly. "We must be getting away."

The poor girl roused herself with difficulty, and sat up. When she tried to stand, she toppled over, and would have fallen if I had not caught her by the arms. It was some minutes before she could control the stiffness of her limbs. At last the whipping of the wind somewhat revived her, and sitting down upon a rock she looked about with a face of hopeless misery.

"Eat a little," said I, gently, "for we must get away from here at once, lest our enemies come over the hills to look for us."

But she pushed aside the untempting, sodden food which I held out to her.

"Whither shall we go?" she asked heavily. "The canoe is wrecked. How can we find my boy? Oh, I wish I could die!"

Poor girl! my heart ached for her. I knew how her utter and terrible exhaustion had at last sapped that marvellous courage of hers; but I felt that roughness would be her best tonic, though it was far indeed from my heart to speak to her roughly.

"Shame!" said I, in a voice of stern rebuke. "Have you struggled and endured so long, to give up now? Will you leave Philip to the savages because a canoe is broken? Where is your boasted courage? Why, we will walk, instead of paddling. Come at once."

Even this rebuke but half aroused her. "I'm so thirsty," she said, looking around with heavy eyes. By good Providence, there was a slender stream trickling in at this point, and I led her to it. While she drank and bathed her face, I grubbed in the long grasses growing beside the stream, and found a handful of those tuberous roots which the Indians call ground-nuts. These I made her eat, after which she was able to endure a little of the salt bacon. Presently, she became more like herself, and began to grieve at the weakness which she had just shown. Her humiliation was so deep that I had much ado to comfort her, telling her again and again that she was not responsible for what she had said when she was yet but half awake, and in the bonds of a weariness which would have killed most women. I told her, which was nothing less than true, that I held her for the bravest of women, and that no man could have supported me better than she had done.

We pushed our way straight over the height of land which runs seaward and ends in Cape Merigomish. Our way lay through a steep but pleasant woodland, and by the time the sun was an hour high we had walked off much of our fatigue. The tree tops rocked and creaked high above us, but where we walked the wind troubled us not.

"Where are we going?" asked Mizpah, by and by – somewhat tremulously for she still had in mind my censure.

"Why, comrade," said I, in a cheerful, careless manner of speech, a thousand miles away from the devotion in my heart, – "my purpose is to push straight along the coast to Canseau. There we will find a few of your country-folk, fishermen mostly, and from them we will get a boat to carry us up the Bras d'Or."

"But what will become of Philip, all this time?" she questioned, with haggard eyes.

"As a matter of fact," I answered, "I don't think we will lose much time, after all. If we still had the canoe, we would be storm-bound in the bay back there till the wind changes or subsides – and it may be days before it does the one or the other. As it is, the worst that has befallen us is the loss of our ammunition and our bread. But we will make shift to live, belike, till we reach Canseau."

"Oh, Monsieur," she cried, in answer, with a great emotion in her voice, "you give me hope when my despair is blackest. You seem to me more generous, more brave, more strong, than I had dreamed the greatest could be. What makes you so good to an unhappy mother, so faithfully devoted to a poor baby whom you have never seen?"

"Tut, tut!" said I, roughly; "I but do as any proper minded man would do that had the right skill and the fitting opportunity. Thank Marc!" But I might have told her more if I had let my heart speak truth.

"I know whom to thank, and all my life long will I pray Heaven to bless that one!" said Mizpah.

Thus talking by the way, but most of the way silent, we came at length over Merigomish and down to the sea again, fetching the shore at the head of a second bay. This was all in a smother and a roar, like that we had just left behind. As we rounded the head of it, we came upon a little sheltered creek, and there, safe out of the gale, lay a small New England fishing schooner. I knew her by the build for a New Englander, before I saw the words OSPREY, PLYMOUTH, painted in red letters on her stern.

"Here is fortune indeed!" said I, while a cry of gladness sprang to Mizpah's lips. "I'll charter the craft to take us up the Bras d'Or."

The little ship lay in a very pleasant idleness. The small haven was full of sun, the green, wooded hills sloping softly down about it and shutting off all winds. The water heaved and rocked; but smoothly, stirred by the yeasty tumult that roared past the narrow entrance. The clamour of the surf outside made the calm within the more excellent.

Several gray figures of the crew lay sprawling about the deck, which we could see very well, by reason of the steepness of the shore on which we stood. In the waist was a gaunt, brown-faced man, with a scant, reddish beard, a nose astonishingly long and sharp, and a blue woollen cap on the back of his head. He stood leaning upon the rail watching us, and spitting contemplatively into the water from time to time.

We climbed down to the beach beside the schooner, and I spoke to the man in English.

"Are you the captain?" I asked civilly.

"They do say I be," he answered in a thin, high, sing-song of a voice. "Captain Ezra Bean, Schooner Osprey, of Plymouth, at your sarvice." And he waved his hand with a spacious air.

I bowed with ceremony. "And I am your very humble servant," said I, "the Sieur de Briart, of Canard by Grand Pré. We were on our way to Canseau, but have lost our canoe and stores in the gale. We are bold to hope, Captain, that you will sell us some bread, as also some powder and bullets. We did not lose our little money, Heaven be praised!"

Knowing these New Englanders to be greedy of gain, but highly honest, I made no scruple of admitting that we had money about us.

"Come right aboard, good sirs!" said the captain; and in half a minute the gig, which floated at the stern, was thrust around to us, and we clambered to the deck of the Osprey, where crew and captain, five in all, gathered about us without ceremony. The captain, I could see at once, was just one of themselves, obeyed when he gave orders, but standing in no sort of formal aloofness. Cold salt beef, and biscuit and cheese, and tea, were soon set before us, and as we made a hasty meal they all hung about us and talked, as if we had been in one of their home kitchens on Massachusetts Bay. As for Mizpah, who felt little at ease in playing her man's part, she spoke only in French, and made as if she knew no word of English. Captain Ezra Bean had some French, but no facility in it, and a pronunciation that was beyond measure execrable.

But at last, being convinced that they were honest fellows, I spoke of chartering the Osprey, and in explanation told the main part of our story, representing Mizpah as a youth of Canard. But, alas, I had not read my men aright. Honest they were, and exceeding eager to turn an honest penny, – but they had not the stomach for fighting. When they found that a war party of Micmacs was in chase of us, they fell into a great consternation, and insisted on our instant departure.

At this I was all taken aback, for I had ever found the men of New England as diligent in war as in trade. But these fellows were in a shaking terror for their lives and for their ship.

"Why, gentlemen," I said, in a heat, "here are seven of us, well armed! We will make short work of the red rascals, if they are so foolhardy as to attack us."