Poor Frank Hallabay he shot fust, because he let he grandfadder out ob he fort, and den ebery ting go bad--berry bad indeed."

"But the curse of Ellen Halloway, Sambo, you must have heard of it surely--even if you were not present at the utterance. Did she not," he continued, finding that the other replied not: "Did she not pray that the blood of my great grandfather's children might be spilt on the very spot that had been moistened with that of her ill-fated husband--and, that if any of the race should survive, it might be only with a view to their perishing in some horrible manner. Was not this the case?"

"Oh yes, Ma.s.sa Geral, berry bad tongue Ellen, affer he lose he husband--but, poor ting, he half mad and no sabby what he say. He time to start for he gun-boat, Ma.s.sa Geral."

The part Sambo had sustained in this short dialogue was a forced one. He had answered almost mechanically, and not altogether without embarra.s.sment, the few queries that were put to him. Nay, so far was he governed by surrounding local influences, that the anguish he would, under other circ.u.mstances, have experienced, at this raking up of recollections he so sedulously avoided, was lost in terror, produced by his near and midnight propinquity to the fatal theatre of death. His only idea now was to leave the spot as quickly as he could.

Gerald had again covered his face with his hands, and appeared to be laboring under strong agitation of mind. At length he started abruptly up, and seizing the light, held it forward, stooping over the bed, as if gazing fixedly on some object within.

"No," he said with vehemence, "it shall never be. That part of the malediction, at least, shall _not_ be accomplished. For once shall the curse of the innocent be unheeded."

The strange action and words of the excited officer, by no means contributed to allay the nervousness of the brave but superst.i.tious negro. He had approached as near as he could to Gerald, without actually touching him, but when he remarked his abrupt movement, and heard the sudden outburst feeling which accompanied it, he half fancied he was apostrophizing some spirit visible only to himself, and shocked and terrified at this idea, he turned away his head.

Sambo's alarm was not to terminate here. Scarcely had he bent his glance upon the window when he beheld two glaring eyes, magnified by his fear into thrice their natural size, fixed intently on that part of the room in which they stood. He attempted to cry out, but the sound was stifled in his throat, and he sank upon his knees, holding up his hands in an att.i.tude of prayer--his teeth chattering, and his eyes fascinated by those which had produced in him this paroxysm of terror. Presently he thought he saw a mouth open, and a row of large and ragged teeth display themselves in a grin of derision. With a desperate effort he broke the spell that seemed to enchain every faculty, and called piteously and imploringly on the name of Gerald. The officer, who had continued gazing on the untenanted bed in deep abstraction, and seeming forgetfulness of all surrounding objects, turned hastily round, and was much concerned to observe the terrified expression of the old man's countenance. Following the direction of his fixed gaze, he looked toward the window for a solution of the cause. At that moment a noise was heard without, as of a falling body. Gerald sprang towards the window, and hastily lifting it, thrust the lamp through; but nothing was visible, neither was there sound of footsteps to be heard.

Before daybreak on the following morning, the poor old negro, whom no living danger could daunt, had given but too alarming evidence that his reason was utterly alienated. His ravings were wild and fearful, and nothing could remove the impression that the face he had beheld was that of the once terrible Wacousta--the same face which had presented itself, under such extraordinary circ.u.mstances, at the window of the Canadian's hut, on the night of the departure of his master, Sir Everard Valletort, and Captain De Haldimer, for Michillimackinac in 1763. Nay, so rooted was this belief, that, with the fervor of that zeal which had governed his whole life and conduct towards each succeeding generation of the family, he prayed and obtained, during a momentary gleam of reason, the promise of the much shocked Gerald, that he would never again set foot within the precincts of these fatal grounds.

Inexpressibly grieved as Gerald was at this sad and unexpected termination to his adventure, he had no time to linger near his unfortunate servant. The expedition was to set out in a few hours, and he had too completely bent his mind upon accompanying it to incur the slightest chance of a disappointment. Leaving the faithful and unfortunate creature to the care of his uncle's family, by every member of whom he was scarcely less loved than by himself, he took the ferry to the opposite sh.o.r.e within an hour after daybreak, and made such speed that, when Henry came down to breakfast he found, to his surprise, his brother already there.

During his ride, Gerald had had leisure to reflect on the events of the preceding night, and bitterly did he regret having yielded to a curiosity which had cost the unfortunate Sambo so much. He judged correctly that they had been followed in their nocturnal excursion, and that it was the face of some prying visitant which Sambo's superst.i.tious dread had transformed into a hideous vision of the past. He recalled the insuperable aversion the old man had ever entertained to approach or even make mention of the spot, and greatly did he blame himself for having persisted in offering a violence to his nature, the extent of which had been made so fearfully obvious. It brought no consolation to him to reflect that the spot itself contained nought that should have produced so alarming an effect on a mind properly const.i.tuted. He felt that, knowing his weakness as he did, he ought not to have trifled with it, and could not deny to himself, that in enforcing his attendance, with a view to obtain information on several points connected with the past, he had been indirectly the destroyer of his reason. There had been a season when the unhappy sailor would have felt a sorrow even deeper than he did, but Gerald was indeed an altered being--too much rapt in himself to give heed to others.

The painful nature of his reflections, added to the fatigue he had undergone, had given to his countenance a more than usually haggard expression. Henry remarked it and inquired the cause, when his brother, in a few brief sentences, explained all that had occurred during his absence. Full of affection as he was for the old man, and utterly unprepared for such a communication, Henry could not avoid expressing deep vexation that his brother, aware as he was of the peculiar weakness of their aged friend, should have been inconsiderate enough to have drawn him thither. Gerald felt the reproof to be just, and for that very reason grew piqued under it. Pained as he was at the condition of Sambo, Henry was even more distressed at witnessing the apparent apathy of his brother for the fate of one who had not merely saved his life on a recent occasion, but had evinced a devotedness--a love for him--in every circ.u.mstance of life, which seldom had had their parallel in the annals of human servitude. It was in vain that he endeavored to follow the example of Gerald, who, having seated himself at the breakfast table, was silently appeasing an appet.i.te such as he had not exhibited since his return. Incapable of swallowing his food, Henry paced up and down the room, violently agitated and sick at heart. It seemed to him as if Sambo had been a sort of connecting link between themselves and the departed parents; and now that he was suddenly and fearfully afflicted, he thought he could see in the vista of futurity a long train of evils that threw their shadows before, and portended the consummation of some unknown, unseen affliction, having its origin in the incomprehensible alienation of his brother's heart from the things of his early love.

While he was yet indulging in these painful thoughts, the firing of a gun from the harbor--the signal for the embarkation of the troops--brought both Gerald and himself to a sense of other considerations. The latter was the first to quit the house. "Henry," he said, with much emotion, "G.o.d bless you. It is possible that, as our service lies in different lines, we shall see but little of each other during this expedition. Of one thing, however, be a.s.sured--that although I am an unhappy man, I am anything but dead to feeling.--Henry," he continued pressing his hand with warmth, "think not unkindly hereafter of your poor brother Gerald." A long embrace, in which each, although in silence, seemed to blend heart with heart, ensued, and both greatly relieved, as they always were after this generous expansion of their feelings, separated forthwith whither their respective duties summoned them.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Seldom has there been witnessed a more romantic or picturesque sight than that presented by a warlike expedition of batteaux moving across one of the American lakes, during a season of profound calm. The uniform and steady pull of the crew, directed in their time by the wild chaunt of the steersman, with whom they ever and anon join in full chorus--the measured plash of the oars into the calm surface of the water--the joyous laugh and rude, but witty, jest of the more youthful and buoyant of the soldiery, from whom, at such moments, although in presence of their officers, the trammels of restraint are partially removed--all these, added to the inspiriting sight of their gay scarlet uniforms, and the dancing of the sunbeams upon their polished arms, have a tendency to call up impressions of a wild interest, tempered only by the recollection that many of those who move gaily on, as if to a festival--bright in hope as though the season of existence were to last for ever--may never more set eye upon the scenes they are fast quitting, with the joyousness produced by the natural thirst of the human heart for adventure, and a love of change.

On the second day of its departure from Malden, the expedition, preceded by the gun-boats, entered the narrow river of the Miami, and, the woods on either sh.o.r.e being scoured by the Indians, gained without opposition the point of debarkation. Batteries having, under great difficulties, been erected on the right bank, immediately opposite to and about six hundred yards from the American fort, which had been recently and hurriedly constructed, a heavy and destructive fire was, on the morning of the third day, opened from them, supported by the gun-boats, one of which, commanded by Gerald Grantham, had advanced so close to the enemy's position as to have diverted upon herself the fire which would else have been directed to the demolition of a British battery, hastily thrown up on the left bank. The daring manifested by the gallant sailor was subject of surprise and admiration at once to friends and foes; and yet, although his boat lay moored within musket shot of the defences, he sustained but trifling loss. The very recklessness and boldness of his advance had been the means of his preservation; for, as almost all the shots from the battery flew over him, it was evident he owed his safety to the difficulty the Americans found in depressing their guns sufficiently to bear advantageously upon the boat, which, if anch.o.r.ed fifty yards beyond, they might have blown out of the water.

The limits of our story will not admit of a further detail of the operations of this siege. The object was foiled, and the expedition was re-embarked and directed against Fort Sandusky, a post of the Americans situated on the river of that name, and running also into Lake Erie.

Here, once more, was the British artillery landed, while, under a heavy fire from the fort, the troops advanced within range, to take possession of an eminence whereon it was intended to erect the batteries. Two days were pa.s.sed in incessant cannonading, but, as at the Miami, without making the slightest impression. Finding all idea of a practicable breach hopeless, it was at length resolved that an attempt at a.s.sault should be made; and, with this view, the troops were, on the afternoon of the second day, ordered to hold themselves in immediate readiness.

In consequence of the shallowness of the river, it had been found necessary to moor the gun-boats at a point considerably below, and out of sight of the fort. Gerald Grantham had obtained permission to leave his command, and take charge of one of the batteries, which, however, he relinquished on the day of the a.s.sault, having successfully pet.i.tioned to be permitted to join the attack as a volunteer. In the dress of a grenadier soldier, disabled during the siege, he now joined the party of animated officers, who, delighted at the prospect of being brought once more in close contact with their enemies, after so many wearing days of inaction--were seated at a rude but plentiful repast in Captain Cranstoun's tent, and indulging in remarks which, although often uttered without aim or ill-nature, are as often but too bitter subject of after self-reproach to those who have uttered them. Of those who had originally set out on the expedition, the only officer of the Forty-first Regiment absent was Henry Grantham, who, having been slightly wounded at the Miami, had, much against his inclination, been ordered back to Amherstburg, in charge of the sick and wounded of the detachment, and this so suddenly, that he had not had an opportunity of taking leave of his brother.

"Ha! Gerald, my fine fellow," exclaimed Captain Molineux, as the youth now joined their circle, "so you have clapped on the true harness at last. I always said that your figure became a red jacket a devilish deal better than a blue. But what new freak is this? Had you not a close enough berth to Jonathan in the Miami, without running the risk of a broken head with us to-day in his trenches?"

"No such good luck is there in store for my juniors, I fancy," replied Grantham, swallowing off a goblet of wine which had been presented to him--"but if I do fall, it will be in good company. Although the American seems to lie quietly within his defences, there is that about him which promises us rather a hot reception."

"So much the better," said Villiers; "there will be broken heads for some of us. Who do you think we have booked for a place to the other world?"

Gerald made no answer, but his look and manner implied that he understood himself to be the party thus favored.

"Not so," returned Villiers, "we can't afford to spare you yet--besides, the death of a blue jacket can in no way benefit us. What's the use of 'a b.l.o.o.d.y war and a sickly season,' that standard toast at every West India mess, if the juniors are to go off, and not the seniors?--Cranstoun's the man we've booked."

"Captain Cranstoun, I have the honor of wishing you a safe pa.s.sage, and speedy promotion in Heaven," said Middlemore, draining off his gla.s.s.

"Devilish good port this of yours! By the bye, as you have a better _port_ in view, you cannot do better than a.s.sign over what is left of this to me."

"Thank you, Mr. Middlemore," returned Cranstoun, drily yet good-humoredly, "yet as you are attached to my division, you will perhaps run just the same risk; and as, perhaps, you will not require more wine than we have taken to-day, I will pledge you in a last cup a safe pa.s.sage to Heaven, where I trust you will find credit for better qualities than you possess as a punster."

"What," asked Gerald, with an unfeigned surprise, when the laugh against Middlemore had subsided, "and is it really in his own wine that you have all been thus courteously pledging Captain Cranstoun's death?"

"Even so," said Middlemore, rallying and returning to the attack, "he invited us all to lunch in his tent, and how could we better repay him for opening his hampers, than by returning his _spirit scot-free_ and _unhampered_ to Heaven?"

"Oh, oh, oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed St. Clair, stopping his ears and throwing up his eyes; "surely, Mr. Middlemore, if you are not shot this day, it must be that you were born to be hanged--no man can perpetrate so horrible a pun, and expect to live."

"I'm hanged if I am, then," returned the other; "but, talking of being shot--is there another shot in the locker, Cranstoun---another bottle of port?"

"The shot that is reserved for you, will bring you acquainted with another locker than Cranstoun's, I suspect," said Villiers, "one Mr.

David Jones's locker--hit there, eh?"

The low roll of a m.u.f.fled drum suddenly recalled the party from their trifling to considerations of a graver interest. It was the signal for forming the columns of attack. In a moment the tone, the air of ribaldry, was exchanged for a seriousness that befitted the occasion--and it seemed as if a momentary reproach pa.s.sed over the minds of those who had most amused themselves at the expense of Cranstoun, for each, as he quitted the tent, gave his extended hand to his host, who pressed it in a manner to show all was forgiven.

The English batteries had been constructed on the skirt of the wood surrounding the fort, from which latter they were separated by a meadow covered with long gra.s.s, about six hundred yards across at the narrowest point. Behind these the columns of attack, three in number, were now rapidly and silently formed. To that commanded by Captain Cranstoun, on the extreme left, and intended to a.s.sault the fort at the strongest point, Gerald Grantham had attached himself, in the simple dress, as we have observed, of a private soldier, and armed with a common musket. In pa.s.sing, with the former officer, to take his position in front of the column, he was struck by the utter want of means for executing with success the duty a.s.signed to the several divisions. Each column was provided with a certain number of axemen, selected to act as pioneers; but not one of the necessary implements was in a condition to be used: neither had a single fascine or ladder been provided, although it was well known that a deep ditch remained to be pa.s.sed before the axes, inefficient as they were, could be brought into use.

"Such," said Captain Cranstoun, with a sneer of much bitterness, "are the pitiful things on which hang the lives of our brave fellows. No doubt the despatches will say a great deal about the excellent arrangements for attack--but if you do not fall, Gerald, I hope you will make a proper representation of the affair. As you belong to the other service, there is little fear the General can hurt your promotion for merely speaking the truth. A General, indeed!--who'll say Fortune is not blind to make a General of such as he?"

It was not an usual thing for Cranstoun to express himself thus in regard to his superiors; but he was really vexed at the idea of the sacrifice of human life that must attend this wantonness of neglect and imbecility of arrangement. He had moreover taken wine enough, not in any way to intoxicate, but sufficient to thaw his habitual caution and reserve. Fearless as his sword, he cared not for his own life; but, although a strict officer, he was ever attentive to the interests of his men, who in their turn, admired him for his cool, unflinching courage, and would have dared anything under the direction of their captain.

It was evident that the contempt of the sailor for the capacity of the leader, to whom it was well known all the minute arrangements were submitted, was not one whit inferior to what was entertained by the brave and honest Cranstoun. He, however, merely answered, as they both a.s.sumed their places in front, and with the air of one utterly indifferent to these disadvantages.

"No matter, Cranstoun, the greater the obstacles we have to contend against, the more glorious will be our victory. Where you lead, however, we shall not be long in following."

"Hem! since it is to be a game of follow-my-leader," said Middlemore, who had now joined them, "I must not be far behind. A month's pay with either of you I reach the stockade first."

"Done, Middlemore, done," eagerly replied Cranstoun, and they joined hands in confirmation of the bet.

This conversation had taken place during the interval occupied by the movements of the right and centre columns along the skirt of the wood, to equidistant points in the half circle embraced in the plan of attack.

A single blast of the bugle now announced that the furthermost had reached its place of destination, when suddenly a gun--the first fired since noon from the English batteries--gave the signal for which all were now prepared.

In the next minute the heads of the several columns debouched from the woods, and, the whole advancing in double quick time, with their arms at the trail, moved across the meadow in the several directions a.s.signed them. The s.p.a.ce to be traversed by Captain Cranstoun's division was considerably the shortest of the three; but, on the other hand, he was opposed to that part of the enemy's defences where there was the least cover afforded to an a.s.sailing force.

Meanwhile there was an utter repose in the fort, which for some moments induced the belief that the Americans were preparing to surrender their trust without a struggle, and loud yells from the Indians, who, from their cover in the rear, watched the progress of the troops with admiration and surprise, were pealed forth as if in encouragement to the latter to proceed. But the American Commander had planned his defence with skill. No sooner had the several columns got within half musket shot, than a tremendous fire of musketry and rifles was opened upon them from two distinct faces of the stockade. Captain Cranstoun's division, being the nearest, was the first attacked, and suffered considerably without attempting to return a shot. At the first discharge, the two leading sergeants, and many of the men, were knocked down; but neither Cranstoun, nor Middlemore, nor Grantham, were touched.

"Forward men, forward," shouted the former, brandishing his sword, and dashing down a deep ravine, that separated them from the trenches.

"On, my gallant fellows, on!--the left column for ever!" cried Middlemore, imitating the example of his captain, and, in his eagerness to reach the ditch first, leaving his men to follow as they could.

Few of these, however, needed the injunction. Although galled by the severe fire of the enemy, they followed their leaders down the ravine with a steadiness worthy of a better result; then climbing up the opposite ascent, under a shower of bullets, yet, without pulling a trigger themselves, made for the ditch their officer had already gained.

Cranstoun, still continuing in advance, was the first who arrived on the brink. For a moment he paused, as if uncertain what course to pursue, then, seeing Middlemore close behind him, he leaped in, and striking a blow of his sabre upon the stockade, called loudly upon the axemen to follow. While he was yet shouting, a ball from a loop-hole not three feet above his head, entered his brain, and he fell dead across the trench.

"Ha! well have you won your wager, my n.o.ble Captain," exclaimed Middlemore, putting his hand to his chest, and staggering from the effects of a shot he had that instant received. "You are indeed the _better_ man" (he continued, excited beyond his usual calm by the circ.u.mstances in which he found himself placed, yet unable to resist his dominating propensity, even at such a moment,) "and deserve the palm of honor this day. Forward, men, forward! axemen, do your duty.--Down with the stockade, my lads, and give them a bellyful of steel."