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
"Come, comrade, the tide has turned!" Whereupon she sat up quietly, as
if this were for her the most usual of awakenings, and began to arrange
her hair. I went out upon the shadowy marsh and soon accomplished a
second theft of new milk, driving the tranquil cow which furnished it
into the corner behind the stacks, that our dairy might be the more
conveniently at hand. Our fast broken (and though I hinted nought of
it to Mizpah, I found black bread growing monotonous), I carried the
canoe down to the edge of the tide. But Mistress Mizpah's daintiness
revolted at the mud, whereupon she took off her moccasins and stockings
before she came to it, and I caught a gleam of slim white feet at the
dewy edge of the grass. When I had carried down the paddles, pole, and
baggage, I found her standing in a quandary. She could not get into
the canoe with that sticky clay clinging to her feet, and there was no
place where she could sit down to wash them. Carelessly enough (though
my heart the while trembled within me), I stretched out my hand to her,
saying:--
"Lean on me, comrade, and then you can manage it all right."
And so it was that she managed it; and so indifferently did I cast my
eyes about, now at the breaking dawn, now at the swelling tide, that I
am sure she must have deemed that I saw not or cared not at all how
white and slender and shapely were her feet!
In few minutes we were afloat, going swiftly on the tide. The sky was
all saffron as we slipped through the settlement, and a fairy glow lay
upon the white cottages. The banks on either hand took on the
ineffable hues of polished nacre. To the door of one cottage, close by
the water, came a man yawning, and hailed us. But I flung back a mere
"_Bon jour_," and sped on. Not till the settlement was out of sight
behind us, not till the cross on the spire of the village was quite cut
off from view, did I drop to the even pace of our day-long journeying.
When at length we got beyond the influence of the tide, des Saumons was
a shallow, sparkling, singing stream, its bed aglow with ruddy-coloured
rocks. Here I laid aside my paddle and thrust the canoe onwards by
means of my long pole of white spruce, while Mizpah had nought to do
but lean back and watch the shores creep by.
At the head of tide we had stopped to drink and to breathe a little.
And there, seeing an old man working in front of a solitary cabin, I
had deemed it safe to approach him and purchase a few eggs. After this
we kept on till an hour past noon, when I stopped in a bend of the
river, at the foot of a perpendicular cliff of red rock some seventy or
eighty feet in height. Here was a thicket wherein we might hide both
the canoe and ourselves if necessary. The canoe I hid at once,
that--being a matter of the more time. Then we both set ourselves to
gathering dry sticks, for it seemed to me we might here risk the luxury
of a fire, with a dinner of roasted eggs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account