The Forge in the Forest: Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, Seigneur de Briart; and How He Crossed the Black Abbé; and of His Adventures in a Strange FellowshipRoberts, Charles G. D., Sir
History
The Forge in the Forest: Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, Seigneur de Briart; and How He Crossed the Black Abbé; and of His Adventures in a Strange Fellowship
Roberts, Charles G. D., Sir
Acadians -- Fiction; Canada -- History -- To 1763 (New France) -- Fiction; Historical fiction
Though we were in a hot haste to get away, it was absolutely necessary
first to bury the dead Indian, lest a hue and cry should be raised that
might involve and delay us. With my paddle, therefore, I dug him a
shallow grave in the soft mud at the edge of the tide, which was then
on the ebb. This meagre inhumation completed, I smoothed the surface
as best I could with my paddle; and then we set off, resting easy in
the knowledge that the next tide would smooth down all traces of the
work.
It was by this close upon sunset, and I felt a little hesitation as to
what we had best do. I had no wish to run through the settlement till
after dark, nor was I anxious to push on against the furious ebb of the
des Saumons, against which the strongest paddlers could make slow
headway. But it was necessary to get out of the creek before the water
should quite forsake us; and, moreover, Mizpah was in a fever of haste
to be gone. She kept gazing about as if she expected the savage to
rise from his muddy grave and point at her. We ran out of the creek,
therefore, and were instantly caught in the great current of the river.
I suffered it to sweep us down for half a mile, having noted on the way
up a cluster of haystacks in an angle of the dyke. Coming to these, I
pushed ashore at once, carried the canoe up, and found that the place
was one where we might rest secure. Here we ate our black bread and
drank new milk, for there were many cattle pasturing on the aftermath,
and some of the cows had not yet gone home to milking. Then, hiding
the canoe behind the dyke, and ourselves between the stacks, in great
weariness we sought our sleep.
There was no hint of dawn in the sky when I awoke with a start; but the
constellations had swung so wide an arc that I knew morning was close
at hand. There was a hissing clamour in the river-bed which told me
the tide was coming in. That, doubtless, was the change which had so
swiftly aroused me. I went to the other side of the stack, where
Mizpah lay with her cheek upon her arm, her hair fallen adorably about
her neck. Touching her forehead softly with my hand, I whispered:--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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