At length Tec.u.mah, finding that the minister was firm, set off, keeping himself concealed as much as possible among the trees, and made his way to his canoe. He had scarcely pushed off from the sh.o.r.e, when he saw several people rushing down to the beach. They had, he guessed rightly, been sent to capture him. There was no boat near at hand or they would have pursued him, though had they done so, his light canoe would quickly have left them astern.

On landing, he found his father and several other chiefs. He narrated to them what had occurred, but, greatly to his disappointment, he found that they objected to do anything which might put an end to the peaceable terms on which they had hitherto lived with the French. They had seen how the Portuguese treated the Indians who opposed them, and they dreaded, they said, the vengeance of the white men.

Tec.u.mah was indignant. The white men who now were in the ascendency were no longer deserving of their friendship, he argued. By treachery and deceit they had overcome those who were their proper leaders, and they were even now about to put them to a cruel death. Tuscarora was grieved that his son's friends should suffer; but he could not for their sakes risk the safety of his tribe. Again Tec.u.mah addressed them with all the eloquence of which he was master. "If," he observed, "they were treacherous towards their own people, they would surely be more likely to ill-treat their dark-skinned allies should it at any time be to their interest to do so, and it would be better to strike a blow at once and prevent them from doing harm, rather than allow them, after they had cut off all those who were worthy of confidence, to destroy us." Tec.u.mah saw that he was winning many to his side, and persevered. At length one of the chiefs proposed that he should be allowed to go over with a select body of men, and rescue the prisoners.

To this Tuscarora agreed, and Tec.u.mah was obliged to content himself with this plan, trusting that no harm would be done in the mean time to the count and his daughter.

Some hours had pa.s.sed when, as Tec.u.mah was eagerly waiting on the beach for the moment fixed for the expedition to set out, he saw a canoe paddling down the harbour. He recognised it as one of those sent up the estuary to keep watch and to give timely notice of the approach of an enemy. As the occupant leapt on sh.o.r.e, he exclaimed--

"Haste! haste! The Portuguese and Tuparas, and several other tribes in alliance with them, are on the war-path. They have hundreds of canoes, and they will soon after nightfall attack the island unless they first land and try to destroy us."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

CAPTURE OF THE FORT.

Constance and her father, rudely dragged from their home, were hurried off to the fort. No allowance was made for the weakness of her s.e.x, and no pity was shown her by the savage priests, who, supposing that she was not aware of her husband's escape, endeavoured still more to wound her feelings by telling her that he was condemned to death, and that, unless she and her father recanted, they would meet with the same fate.

"Silence, priest, silence! It is cowardly and unmanly to speak thus to my daughter," exclaimed the count. "Add not insult to the injury you have already inflicted. We have broken no laws; we have done harm to no one; and we find ourselves treated as if we were the vilest of malefactors."

The count's address had no effect upon the priest, who took a cruel pleasure in annoying them. Such is ever the character of the emissaries of Rome when they are in the ascendency and are opposed; when in the minority, they are humble and meek, plausible and silver-tongued; and when there are none to oppose them, haughty, indolent, sensual, and self-indulgent. Such they have been in all ages and in every country, with the exception of the devoted Jesuit slaves, who have gone forth to carry their spurious gospel into heathen lands.

On arriving at the fort, the mockery of a trial was gone through; the priest's myrmidons swore to having seen Constance reading the Bible, and that, as the crime had been committed on the count's property, he was therefore equally guilty. Having been a lawyer in his youth, the count was able to defend himself, and had a jury of twelve honest men been present, he would have undoubtedly been acquitted; but, unhappily, that system being unknown among the French, he had no such advantage. The governor and the priest, exasperated at Nigel's escape, grossly abused him, and interrupted him with shouts and execrations whenever he especially pointed to the proofs of his innocence. The count, of course, defended Constance, and argued that she was but listening to her husband, whom she was bound to obey, and was therefore guiltless.

"It is false!" exclaimed the priest, starting up; "her duty to the Church is above all others. It was for her to denounce her husband rather than to listen to him. Such heretical notions as yours, Count de Tourville, must be destroyed. The Church would lose her authority and power were they to prevail."

"Ma foi!" exclaimed the count; "in that case no husband can venture to trust his wife with the slightest secret. It would not be confided to her keeping, but to that of the confessor. For that reason, and many others, we repudiate the system you, for your own ends, are anxious to maintain. I advise those who are husbands never to tell to their wives words they would not have known where the system prevails."

"Silence! Count de Tourville," exclaimed the priest, foaming with rage, "you shall answer for these insulting words."

The count, it must be confessed, regretted having touched on the subject, as it was like throwing pearls to swine; but he felt for the moment that he might shield his daughter by drawing the anger of the priests on himself.

The mockery of a trial came to a conclusion, and the governor, who had taken upon himself the office of judge and inquisitor-general, found the count and his daughter guilty of the crimes with which they were charged, and condemned them both to death. In consequence of Nigel's escape, the priest begged that they might be kept for safe custody in the prison within the fort; the same wretched place in which Nigel had first been confined, and utterly unfit for the reception of any female.

Poor Constance shuddered as she was led into it. Her father begged that he might send to his house for such necessaries as his daughter required, but his request was roughly refused. It was not without difficulty even that he obtained some matting, and a few armfuls of rushes on which she might rest.

"Lie down, my child," said the count to Constance, when they were at length left alone. "We will not altogether despair, but look to Him who is always ready to protect us. You require rest; and we know not what we may have to go through."

Constance obeyed her father, while he continued pacing up and down the narrow s.p.a.ce allowed him, to collect his thoughts. He harboured no ill-feeling towards his persecutors, but, following the example of his Master, he prayed for their forgiveness, while he looked forward with joy, rather than fear, to the time when he should be welcomed into His presence. He knew, too, that his beloved daughter, should her life be taken, would bear him company to that home where their Saviour had gone before to prepare a place for all those who love Him.

The night pa.s.sed on. Constance was sleeping. Still the count felt no desire to lie down and rest. The whole fort seemed wrapped in silence, except when the voice of a distant sentry reached his ear. The silence was suddenly broken by a shot fired from the fort. Others followed in rapid succession. Then arose loud shouts and shrieks, and the Indian warwhoop rising above all others. Constance started from her slumbers, and clung to her father. The noises grew louder and louder.

"The fort is attacked. The enemy are scaling the walls!" exclaimed the count. "Both parties are fighting desperately. Constance, there is hope for us, for even the Portuguese would scarcely wish to injure those who are unable to oppose them."

The sounds of strife increased. The count could with difficulty judge how the fight was going. Supporting his daughter on his arm, he awaited the issue. The great guns roared, the bullets rattled, and presently there came an uproar which showed that the a.s.sailants had gained the fort, and the shriek and cries of the combatants, and other sounds of a desperate struggle, approached their prison. Just at that juncture the warwhoops of apparently a fresh party burst forth within the fort. The count recognised the cry as that of the Tamoyos. On they came from the opposite side of the fort, and the battle seemed to rage hotter than ever. In the midst of the fierce turmoil the door of their prison was burst open, and Tec.u.mah, leaping in, seized Constance in his arms, while a companion took charge of the count, and hurried him off.

"I promised to save you or perish," said the Indian. "We had a hard matter to enter the fort, and it will be no less difficult to escape; but I have succeeded thus far, and trust to place you in safety."

These words were uttered hurriedly, as Tec.u.mah, surrounded by a faithful band, was fighting his way across the fort, in all parts of which a furious battle was raging; the Portuguese and their Indian allies, the Tuparas, having forced an entrance, being engaged with the French and Tamoyos, who were struggling desperately for life.

Bullets were whizzing and arrows flying in all directions; the fierce shouts and shrieks of the combatants sounding above the clash of steel and the rattle of musketry. Numbers and discipline favoured the Portuguese, who had well trained their native allies, while the French mistrusted each other, and had but little confidence in the natives, who, however, were gallantly doing their utmost to a.s.sist them, headed by their brave chief, Tuscarora. Tec.u.mah and his faithful band had but one object in view, to rescue Constance and her father. Like a wedge, with their most stalwart warriors in the van, they fought their way through the ma.s.s of foes entering the fort towards the outlet which had allowed the latter ingress. Several of their number fell; scarcely one escaped a wound. Still Constance was untouched. Often they were almost overwhelmed. Still on they went, their track marked by the bodies of their foes, and many of their own party. The gateway was reached.

Constance felt Tec.u.mah stagger. A fear seized her that he had received a wound; but no cry escaped him, and, recovering himself, he bore her onwards. Scarcely had they emerged into the open, when they encountered a fresh party of the Portuguese. The Tamoyos halted for a moment to draw their bows, and not a shaft failed to pierce a foe, the shower of bullets, which came in return, pa.s.sing mostly over their heads.

"On! on!" shouted Tec.u.mah, though his voice no longer rang with its usual clear tone.

Constance observed with grief that he was faint and hoa.r.s.e. His band, obeying him, turned round and shot their arrows as they advanced.

Scarcely, however, had they moved forward, when the Portuguese, seeing the handful of men opposed to them, fiercely charged their ranks, Tec.u.mah and only a few of the warriors surrounding him, having got some way in advance, escaping the onslaught; the rest, who had the count in charge, were compelled to halt, in a vain endeavour to withstand their overwhelming foes. The darkness enabled Tec.u.mah, and the few who remained by him, to push on without being observed.

"On! on!" again cried Tec.u.mah. "The rest will follow when they have driven back our enemies."

"Oh, my father! my father! Where is he?" exclaimed Constance.

Tec.u.mah did not answer her.

Making their way towards the sh.o.r.e, they reached it at length.

"Where are the canoes?" exclaimed Tec.u.mah, looking along the beach where they had been left hauled up.

His companions dispersed on either side to look for them. Their cries told what had happened. Some had been sent adrift, and others had been battered in, and utterly destroyed by a band of Tuparas, as the Tamoyos truly surmised.

"We must make our way to the spot where they have left their canoes,"

exclaimed Tec.u.mah; and he again attempted to lift up Constance, who had earnestly entreated to be placed on the ground.

The din of battle still sounded as loud as ever, and the rattle of musketry was heard close at hand. It was evident that the combatants were approaching the sh.o.r.e.

"On! on!" again cried Tec.u.mah; and, lifting up Constance, he was staggering forward, when, faint from loss of blood, he sank on the ground.

At that moment an Indian rushed out of the wood behind them. "Fly! fly!

our enemies are at hand. All, all have been cut to pieces. I alone have escaped."

His arm, as he spoke, dropped by his side, while the blood flowed rapidly from his head, giving evidence of the truth of his a.s.sertion.

Constance was kneeling down, trying to staunch the blood flowing from Tec.u.mah's wound. He raised himself on one arm.

"Think not of me," he said, "but endeavour, with my faithful friends, who will accompany you, to find concealment among the rocks."

"We cannot leave you," answered Constance; "better to yield ourselves prisoners, than to allow you to perish alone."

"You know not the nature of our enemies," said Tec.u.mah, faintly; "they spare no one. Fly, fly, while there is time."

The sounds of fighting were drawing rapidly nearer. All prospect of escape seemed cut off. Constance gazed up for a moment from the task at which she was engaged. Bullets were striking the branches of the trees a short distance from them. Her heart sank with grief. She felt the probability that her father had been cut off with the rest of the brave Tamoyos. Just then one of the Indians exclaimed, "See, see! a canoe approaches." Constance cast a glance across the waters, and caught a glimpse of a canoe emerging from the darkness. It rapidly approached the beach. The shouts of the Indians showed that friends were on board.

Their hails were answered. In another moment Nigel leapt on sh.o.r.e.

Tec.u.mah recognised him.

"Save her first--care not for me," he exclaimed.

Nigel was not likely to disobey such a command, and, taking Constance in his arms, he bore her to the canoe.

"Oh, save our brave friend," she cried, as she pressed her lips to her husband's, who immediately sprang back to the beach, and, listening not to Tec.u.mah's request to be allowed to die where he lay, he carried him, with the a.s.sistance of the Indians who still had strength to exert themselves, to the canoe.