The Lady of Fort St. John by Mary Hartwell Catherwood
Chapter 1 AN ACADIAN FORTRESS.
At the mouth of the river St. John an island was lashed with drift, and tide-terraces alongshore recorded how furiously the sea had driven upon the land. There had been a two days' storm on the Bay of Fundy, subsiding to the clearest of cool spring evenings. An amber light lay on the visible world. The forest on the west was yet too bare of leaf buds to shut away sunset.
A month later the headlands would be lined distinctly against a blue and quickening sky by freshened air and light and herbage. Two centuries and a half later, long streaks of electric light would ripple on that surface, and great ships stand at ease there, and ferry-boats rush back and forth. But in this closing dusk it reflected only the gray and yellow vaporous breath of April, and shaggy edges of a wilderness. The high shores sank their shadows farther and farther from the water's edge.
Fort St. John was built upon a gradual ascent of rocks which rose to a small promontory on the south side of the river. There were four bastions guarded with cannon, the northeast bastion swelling above its fellows in a round turret topped with battlements. On this tower the flag of France hung down its staff against the evening sky, for there was scarcely any motion of the air. That coast lay silent like a pictured land, except a hint of falls above in the river. It was ebb tide; the current of the St. John set out toward the sea instead of rushing back on its own channel; and rocks swallowed at flood now broke the surface.
A plume of smoke sprang from one bastion, followed by the rolling thunder of a cannon shot. From a small ship in the bay a gun replied to this salute. She stood, gradually clear of a headland, her sails hanging torn and one mast broken, and sentinel and cannoneer in the bastion saw that she was lowering a boat. They called to people in the fortress, and all voices caught the news:-
"Madame has come at last!"
Life stirred through the entire inclosure with a jar of closing doors and running feet.
Though not a large fortification, St. John was well and compactly built of cemented stone. A row of hewed log-barracks stood against the southern wall, ample for all the troops La Tour had been able to muster in prosperous times. There was a stone vault for ammunition. A well, a mill and great stone oven, and a storehouse for beaver and other skins were between the barracks and the commandant's tower built massively into the northeast bastion. This structure gave La Tour the advantage of a high lookout, though it was much smaller than a castle he had formerly held at La Hève. The interior accommodated itself to such compactness, the lower floor having only one entrance, and windows looking into the area of the fort, while the second floor was lighted through deep loopholes.
A drum began to beat, a tall fellow gave the word of command, and the garrison of Fort St. John drew up in line facing the gate. A sentinel unbarred and set wide both inner and outer leaves, and a cheer burst through the deep-throated gateway, and was thrown back from the opposite shore, from forest and river windings. Madame La Tour, with two women attendants, was seen coming up from the water's edge, while two men pushed off with the boat.
She waved her hand in reply to the shout.
The tall soldier went down to meet her, and paused, bareheaded, to make the salutation of a subaltern to his military superior. She responded with the same grave courtesy. But as he drew nearer she noticed him whitening through the dusk.
"All has gone well, Klussman, at Fort St. John, since your lord left?"
"Madame," he said with a stammer, "the storm made us anxious about you."
"Have you seen D'Aulnay?"
"No, madame."
"You look haggard, Klussman."
"If I look haggard, madame, it must come from seeing two women follow you, when I should see only one."
He threw sharp glances behind her, as he took her hand to lead her up the steep path. Marie's attendant was carrying the baby, and she lifted it for him to look at, the hairs on her upper lip moved by a good-natured smile. Klussman's scowl darkened his mountain-born fairness.
"I would rather, indeed, be bringing more men to the fort instead of more women," said his lady, as they mounted the slope. "But this one might have perished in the stockade where we found her, and your lord not only misliked her, as you seem to do, but he held her in suspicion. In a manner, therefore, she is our prisoner, though never went prisoner so helplessly with her captors."
"Yes, any one might take such a creature," said Klussman.
"Those are no fit words to speak, Klussman."
He was unready with his apology, however, and tramped on without again looking behind. Madame La Tour glanced at her ship, which would have to wait for wind and tide to reach the usual mooring.
"Did you tell me you had news?" she was reminded to ask him.
"Madame, I have some news, but nothing serious."
"If it be nothing serious, I will have a change of garments and my supper before I hear it. We have had a hard voyage."
"Did my lord send any new orders?"
"None, save to keep this poor girl about the fort; and that is easily obeyed, since we can scarce do otherwise with her."
"I meant to ask in the first breath how he fared in the outset of his expedition."
"With a lowering sky overhead, and wet red clay under-foot. But I thanked Heaven, while we were tossing with a broken mast, that he was at least on firm land and moving to his expectations."
They entered the gateway, Madame La Tour's cheeks tingling richly from the effort of climbing. She saluted her garrison, and her garrison saluted her, each with a courteous pride in the other, born of the joint victory they had won over D'Aulnay de Charnisay when he attacked the fort. Not a man broke rank until she entered her hall. There was a tidiness about the inclosure peculiar to places inhabited by women. It added grace even to military appointments.
"You miss the swan, madame," noted Klussman. "Le Rossignol is out again."
"When did she go?"
"The night after my lord and you sailed northward. She goes each time in the night, madame."
"And she is still away?"
"Yes, madame."
"And this is all you know of her?"
"Yes, madame. She went, and has not yet come back."
"But she always comes back safely. Though I fear," said Madame La Tour on the threshold, "the poor maid will some time fall into harm."
He opened the door, and stood aside, saying under his breath, "I would call a creature like that a witch instead of a maid."
"I will send for you, Klussman, when I have refreshed myself."
"Yes, madame."
The other women filed past him, and entered behind his lady.
The Swiss soldier folded his arms, staring hard at that crouching vagrant brought from Beausejour. She had a covering over her face, and she held it close, crowding on the heels in front of her as if she dared not meet his eye.
* * *
Chapter 1 AN ACADIAN FORTRESS.
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Chapter 2 LE ROSSIGNOL.
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Chapter 3 FATHER ISAAC JOGUES.
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Chapter 4 THE WIDOW ANTONIA.
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Chapter 5 JONAS BRONCK'S HAND.
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Chapter 6 THE MENDING.
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Chapter 7 A FRONTIER GRAVEYARD.
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Chapter 8 VAN CORLAER.
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Chapter 9 THE TURRET.
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Chapter 10 AN ACADIAN POET.
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Chapter 11 MARGUERITE.
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Chapter 12 D'AULNAY.
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Chapter 13 THE SECOND DAY.
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Chapter 14 THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN POWERS.
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Chapter 15 A SOLDIER.
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Chapter 16 THE CAMP.
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Chapter 17 AN ACADIAN PASSOVER.
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Chapter 18 THE SONG OF EDELWALD.
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