Part 44 (1/2)

The spelling was not very good, and there was a redundancy of capital letters; yet Hamilton understood it all; and it was very difficult for him to conceal his haste to attend the proposed conference. But he was afraid to go to the church--the thought chilled him. He could not face Father Beret, who would probably be there. And what if there should be evidences of the funeral?--what if?--he shuddered and tried to break away from the vision in his tortured brain.

He sent a proposition to Clark to meet him on the esplanade before the main gate of the fort; but Clark declined, insisting upon the church.

And thither he at last consented to go. It was an immense brace to his spirit to have Helm beside him during that walk, which, although but eighty yards in extent, seemed to him a matter of leagues. On the way he had to pa.s.s near the new position taken up by Beverley and his men.

It was a fine test of nerve, when the Lieutenant's eyes met those of the Governor. Neither man permitted the slightest change of countenance to betray his feelings. In fact, Beverley's face was as rigid as marble; he could not have changed it.

But with Oncle Jazon it was a different affair. He had no dignity to preserve, no fine military bearing to sustain, no terrible tug of conscience, no paralyzing grip of despair on his heart. When he saw Hamilton going by, bearing himself so superbly, it affected the French volatility in his nature to such an extent that his tongue could not be controlled.

”Va t'en, bete, forban, meurtrier! Skin out f'om here! beast, robber, murderer!” he cried, in his keen screech-owl voice. ”I'll git thet scelp o' your'n afore sundown, see 'f I don't! Ye onery gal-killer an'

ha'r buyer!”

The blood in Hamilton's veins caught no warmth from these remarks; but he held his head high and pa.s.sed stolidly on, as if he did not hear a word. Helm turned the tail of an eye upon Oncle Jazon and gave him a droll, quizzical wink of approval. In response the old man with grotesque solemnity drew his buckhorn handled knife, licked its blade and returned it to its sheath,--a bit of pantomime well understood and keenly enjoyed by the onlooking creoles.

”Putois! coquin!” they jeered, ”goujat! poltron!”

Beverley heard the taunting racket, but did not realize it, which was well enough, for he could not have restrained the bitter effervescence.

He stood like a statue, gazing fixedly at the now receding figure, the lofty, cold-faced man in whom centered his hate of hates. Clark had requested him to be present at the conference in the church; but he declined, feeling that he could not meet Hamilton and restrain himself.

Now he regretted his refusal, half wis.h.i.+ng that--no, he could not a.s.sa.s.sinate an enemy under a white flag. In his heart he prayed that there would be no surrender, that Hamilton would reject every offer. To storm the fort and revel in butchering its garrison seemed the only desirable thing left for him in life.

Father Beret was, indeed, present at the church, as Hamilton had dreaded; and the two duelists gave each other a rapier-like eye-thrust.

Neither spoke, however, and Clark immediately demanded a settlement of the matter in hand. He was brusque and imperious to a degree, apparently rather anxious to repel every peaceful advance.

It was a laconic interview, crisp as autumn ice and bitter as gallberries. Colonel Clark had no respect whatever for Hamilton, to whom he had applied the imperishable adjective ”hair-buyer General.” On the other hand Governor Hamilton, who felt keenly the disgrace of having to equalize himself officially and discuss terms of surrender with a rough backwoodsman, could not conceal his contempt of Clark.

The five men of history, Hamilton, Helm, Hay, Clark and Bowman, were not distinguished diplomats. They went at their work rather after the hammer-and-tongs fas.h.i.+on. Clark bluntly demanded unconditional surrender. Hamilton refused. They argued the matter. Helm put in his oar, trying to soften the situation, as was his custom on all occasions, and received from Clark a stinging reprimand, with the reminder that he was nothing but a prisoner on parole, and had no voice at all in settling the terms of surrender.

”I release him, sir,” said Hamilton. ”He is no longer a prisoner. I am quite willing to have Captain Helm join freely in our conference.”

”And I refuse to permit his acceptance of your favor,” responded Clark.

”Captain Helm, you will return with Mr. Hamilton to the fort and remain his captive until I free you by force. Meantime hold your tongue.”

Father Beret, suave looking and quiet, occupied himself at the little altar, apparently altogether indifferent to what was being said; but he lost not a word of the talk.

”Qui habet aures audiendi, audiat,” he inwardly repeated, smiling blandly. ”Gaudete in illa die, et exultate!”

Hamilton rose to go; deep lines of worry creased his face; but when the party had pa.s.sed outside, he suddenly turned upon Clark and said:

”Why do you demand impossible terms of me?”

”I will tell you, sir,” was the stern answer, in a tone in which there was no mercy or compromise. ”I would rather have you refuse. I desire nothing so much as an excuse to wreak full and b.l.o.o.d.y vengeance on every man in that fort who has engaged in the business of employing savages to scalp brave, patriotic men and defenseless women and children. The cries of the widows and the fatherless on our frontiers require the blood of the Indian partisans at my hands. If you choose to risk the ma.s.sacre of your garrison to save those despicable red-handed partisans, have your pleasure. What you have done you know better than I do. I have a duty to perform. You may be able to soften its nature. I may take it into my head to send for some of our bereaved women to witness my terrible work and see that it is well done, if you insist upon the worst.”

Major Hay, who was Hamilton's Indian agent, now, with some difficulty clearing his throat, spoke up.

”Pray, sir,” said he, ”who is it that you call Indian partisans?”

”Sir,” replied Clark, seeing that his words had gone solidly home, ”I take Major Hay to be one of the princ.i.p.als.”

This seemed to strike Hay with deadly force. Clark's report says that he was ”pale and trembling, scarcely able to stand,” and that ”Hamilton blushed, and, I observed, was much affected at his behavior.

”Doubtless, if the doughty American commander had known more about the Governor's feelings just then, he would have added that an awful fear, even greater than the Indian agent's, did more than anything else to congest the veins in his face.”