The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — Volume 1Richardson, Major (John)
History
The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — Volume 1
Richardson, Major (John)
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Fiction; War stories
"A low tapping against the door of the hut, which although
evidently intended to be subdued, was now, in the silence
of night, distinctly audible; while our whispers, on the
contrary, mingled as they were with the crisping sound
of the waves rippling on the sands were, at that distance,
undistinguishable. It was evident that I had erred in
my original conjecture. Had it been Desborough himself,
living alone as he did, he would not have knocked for
admission where there was no one to afford it, but would
have quietly let himself in. It could then be no other
than a visiter--perhaps a spy from the enemy--and the
same to whom we had given chase.
"From the moment that the tapping commenced, Sambo and
I stood motionless on the shore, and without trusting
our voices again, even to a whisper. In a little time we
heard the door open, and the low voice of Desborough in
conversation with another. Presently the door was shut,
and soon afterwards, through an imperfectly closed shutter
on the only floor of the hut, we could perceive a streak
of light reflected on the clearing in front, as if from
a candle or lamp, that was stationary,
"'I tink him dam rascal dat man, Massa Geral;' at length
ventured my companion. "I 'member long time ago,' and he
sighed, "'when Sambo no bigger nor dat paddle, one berry
much like him. But, Massa Geral,' Missis always tell me
nebber talk o' dat.'
"'A villain he is, I believe, Sambo, but let us advance
cautiously and discover what he is about.'
"We now stole along the skirt of the forest, until we
managed to approach the window, through which the light
was still thrown in one long, fixed, but solitary ray.
It was however impossible to see who were within, for
although the voices of men were distinguishable, their
forms were so placed as not to be visible through the
partial opening.
"The conversation had evidently been some moments commenced.
The first words I heard uttered, were by Desborough.
"'A Commissary boat, and filled with bags of goold eagles,
and a fiftieth part ourn, if we get her clean slick
through to Detroit. Well, drot me, if that aint worth
the trial. Why didn't they try it by land, boy?'
"'I reckon, father, that cock wouldn't fight. The Injuns
are outlyin' every where to cut off our mails, and the
ready is too much wanted to be thrown away. No, no: the
river work's the safest I take it, for there they little
expect it to come.'
"The voice of the last speaker, excited in me a strong
desire to see the face of Desborough's visiter. Unable,
where I stood, to catch the slightest view of either, I
fancied that I might be more successful in rear of the
hut. I therefore moved forward, followed by Sambo, but
not so cautiously as to prevent my feet from crushing a
fragment of decayed wood, that lay in my path.
"A bustle within, and the sudden opening of the door
announced that the noise had been overheard. I held up
my finger impressively to Sambo, and we both remained
motionless.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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