Part 6 (1/2)
”A skilful thrust!” thought Antoine. ”I never saw a man die so easily.”
The man with the knife crept towards him, and in a moment Antoine felt that the thongs about his ankles and wrists were cut. The man beckoned and stole away; Antoine followed, and then they silently made their way into the thicket--leaving the Indians sleeping in the white starlight, the sentinel looking most peaceful of all.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE THONGS WERE CUT]
”Do you know me, my uncle?” whispered Marc Larocque. ”I tracked you through the snow. Follow me swiftly and quietly.”
Back they hurried to the river, and then began the journey over the ice down to St. Maxime.
”I thought the Iroquois strong and fleet, Marc, but I see that none of them is a match for you! You are a brave fellow, in spite of the monks, and never shall I forget what you have done this night. But I wish you had thrust your knife into the heart of the leader of the Iroquois, an insolent fellow who pulled my cap from my head and laughed at me.
However, I gave him a good buffet between the eyes!”
Soon the old man began to lag behind, and Marc had to grasp his arm to help him; so they ran on through the white winter's night. With ghostly wings the great snowy owl flapped across their path, and the wolf pack halted for a moment to watch them pa.s.s, and then turned away to hunt again for some stray deer or wounded moose.
It was almost dawn when they reached the stockade at St. Maxime. Old Antoine was exhausted, and had hardly strength enough to say to Marc: ”Send a messenger to Quebec to tell the French officer he need not come.
I have found a captain here.”
Marc took him to the seigneury, and he fell into a heavy sleep, from which he did not wake till afternoon. The soldiers were then at their daily drill, and after he had eaten, the old man went out where they were. Tall Lieutenant Noel Duroc was drilling them. Antoine de la Carre gave them all a severe scolding for their carelessness the night before.
”If it were not for my brave nephew,” he said, ”I would surely have been murdered by the Iroquois. Marc, step out from the ranks. I make you captain!”
A shout went up from all the men, but old Antoine silenced it with a gesture. He was looking at Noel Duroc. ”Lieutenant, your face is black and blue; how were you hurt? You were not so yesterday!”
”Last night, seigneur, an old bear gave me a buffet--and a good round blow it was!”
Antoine looked at him hard. ”Lieutenant, you had best let old bears alone!” Then he turned quickly to his nephew. ”Marc, has that messenger yet started for Quebec who was to stop the French officer?”
”He left soon after daybreak this morning.”
”Ah! you were not slow in sending him.” The old man paused, and Noel, who was watching him closely, thought he saw his mouth twitch under the gray beard. ”But never mind; it may be for the best. You shall be captain, my nephew, and you, Noel Duroc, shall be lieutenant, though I think you both rascals. However, no bookman could run as Marc did this morning; and so I know he is not wholly spoiled by the monks.”
”Bravo!” cried Noel Duroc, throwing up his cap. ”Bravo! Here is a right good seigneur who knows what is best for his people; and a kind uncle; and--I'll pledge my word--a great scholar and philosopher too!”
IX
CAPTAIN KIDD
An Overrated Pirate
Of all the pirates whose dreaded top-sails appeared along the coast of America in the old days of the colonies none has left a more grewsome and romantic reputation behind him than Captain William Kidd, the New York s.h.i.+p-master, who was born in 1650. Legends abound of his boldness, his craftiness, and his savage and blood-thirsty disposition, and stories of the immense treasure that he acc.u.mulated, the dreadful murders that he committed in its acquisition, and when and with what ghastly accompaniments he buried it are still told over the firesides of 'longsh.o.r.e hamlets from Maine to the Carolinas.
Fiction has not neglected to turn this pirate's career to its own purpose, and one of Poe's most imaginative and thrilling tales is based upon the discovery on Sullivan's Island, in Charleston Harbor (South Carolina), of a parchment which, on being held to the fire, revealed a cryptogram of Kidd's that led to the discovery of buried wealth amounting to millions of dollars.
It seems almost a pity to tamper with the halo of romance and mystery which posterity has drawn about this worthy's brow, but the fact is that Kidd was an unready, unwise, and vacillating character, and that there was little truth in the romances told about him. Beside such dreadfully famous buccaneers as Blackbeard, Roberts, and Avery he appears a pygmy in his own ”profession,” and his career, when contrasted with theirs, seems colorless and contemptible.
As to the vast riches that he was supposed to have acquired, it is doubtful if in his whole course of piracy he was able to acc.u.mulate more than a hundred thousand dollars. One thing is a.s.sured--the only money that he buried on the coast of America amounted to not more than seventy-five thousand dollars, which he hid on Gardiner's Island, over against New London, and the last penny of this was recovered by Bellamont after Kidd's execution.
During King William's War Kidd, who was a handsome man of somewhat pleasing address, made the acquaintance of Lord Bellamont, the Governor of Barbadoes. The two were in New York at the time of the meeting, and as Kidd was a member of a good family and moved in the limited aristocratic circle of that day, the new acquaintances saw much of each other. Kidd's plausible tongue, fund of anecdote, and agreeable manner impressed the Governor so pleasantly that his liking for the s.h.i.+pman developed into esteem, and esteem into friends.h.i.+p. Through Bellamont's influence Kidd obtained command of a privateer, and a series of lucky events contributed to his reputation, so that when he returned to New York, after his cruise in the Gulf, Bellamont and his other fine friends hailed him with adulation as a conquering hero. He was wined and feted, was toasted by prominent men and n.o.ble dames, and over many a steaming bowl and long-stemmed pipe loosed his glib speech in a way to impress his hearers with a fine notion of his indomitable character. Through the thick clouds of the Virginia tobacco smoke a great idea was born in Bellamont's hazy brain. Complaints were made daily of the pirates that infested the sh.o.r.es of the colonies. These pirates were rich with plunder. True, they were skilful and bold and crafty, but here was a man who by his own confession was more skilful and bolder and craftier than any of them. Then, should Kidd be fitted out with a fine s.h.i.+p and a good crew to chase these pirates and capture them, great glory would come to Bellamont's name, and great good to Bellamont's pocket.