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
"Sartinly!" sing-songed the captain; and in a twinkling the supplies
were in the boat. "Now go, and God speed ye!"
I slipped a piece of gold into his hand, and was off. But frightened
as he was, he was honest, and in half a minute he called me back.
"Here is your silver," came the queer, high voice over the rail. "You
have overpaid me three times," and I saw his long arm reaching out to
me.
"Keep it," I snapped. "We are in more haste to be gone than you to get
rid of us."
In five minutes more the woods enfolded us, and the little _Osprey_ was
hid from our view. I walked violently in my wrathful disappointment,
till at last Mizpah checked me. "If the good soldier," said she,
"might advise his captain, which would be, of course, intolerable, I
would dare to remind you of what you have said to me more than once
lately. Is not this pace too hot to last, Monsieur?" And stopping,
she leaned heavily on her musket.
"Forgive me," I exclaimed, flinging myself down on the moss. "And what
a fool I am to be angry, too, just because those poor bumpkins wouldn't
take up our quarrel."
The look of gratitude which Mizpah gave me for that little phrase, "our
quarrel," made my heart on a sudden strong and light. Presently we
resumed our journey, going moderately, and keeping enough inland to
avoid the windings of the coast. The little _Osprey_ we never saw
again; but months later, when it came to my ears that a fishing vessel
of Plymouth had been taken by the Indians that autumn while
storm-stayed at Merigomish, and her crew all slain, I felt a qualm of
pity for the poor lads whose selfish fears had so misguided them.
Chapter XIX
The Camp by Canseau Strait
It was perhaps to their encounter with the _Osprey_ we owed it that we
saw no more of our pursuers. At any rate we were no further
persecuted. After two days of marching we felt safe to light fires.
We shot partridges, and a deer; and the fresh meat put new vigour into
our veins. We came to the beginning of the narrow strait which severs
Ile Royale from the main peninsula of Acadie; and with longing eyes
Mizpah gazed across, as if hoping to discern the child amid the trees
of the opposite shore. At last, I could but say to her:--
"We are a long, long way from Philip yet, my comrade; were we across
this narrow strait, we would be no nearer to him, for the island is so
cut up with inland waters, many, deep, and winding, that it would take
us months to traverse its length afoot. We must push on to Canseau,
for a boat is needful to us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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