CHAPTER IV
A SQUALL ON LAKE ONTARIO
“If General Wolfe has suffered a heavy defeat it means a hard blow to our cause,” observed Dave, as the two rowboats glided over the water a short distance from each other.
“You are right,” answered the backwoodsman named Raymond. “Everybody was hoping he would sail right up the St. Lawrence and capture Quebec before the French were up to what he was doing.”
“I don’t think this war is over yet,” put in Gilfoy, a round-faced Irish-American. “Sure, when you sift it down, the French can fight as well as any of us, and they have just as many redskins to help ’em out as we have.”
“I think they have more,” put in Henry. “They have been buying up tribe after tribe with all sorts of presents and bribes—I heard Sir William himself say so.”
“I wish they had sent George Washington to Quebec,” came from Dave. “I don’t think he would have failed.”
“What do you know of Washington?” questioned Silvers.
“I used to work for him—when he was a surveyor for old Lord Fairfax—and I served under him when we marched against Fort Duquesne, at the time Braddock was defeated. It was Washington who saved what was left of us from being shot down like so many rabbits, when the redskins surrounded us in the forest.”
“Well, I know little of Washington, lad. But I do know it is going to take a plucky commander to capture Quebec, which is set up on high rocks like a regular fort,” returned the leader of the expedition.
For the first two hours of their journey they kept fairly close to the shore of the lake, gliding past long stretches of forest which have long since fallen before the axes of the pioneer and the lumberman. Here and there was a rocky cove backed up by sweet-scented shrubs and berry bushes, loaded down with tempting fruit. The morning calls of the birds could be heard, and the occasional howl of a lonely wolf, or the sharp bark of a fox.
“No use in talking,” was Henry’s comment, as he cast a longing eye shoreward. “It’s a regular paradise for game.”
“Then you like hunting, lad?” came from Shamer. “So do I, and nothing would please me better than to land and spend a day running down something big. But duty is duty, and we haven’t even a right to linger here,” and the tall sharpshooter bent his back to the blade he was working, and Henry, who was opposite, did the same.
The sun was now flooding the surface of the lake with a golden sheen and the day promised to be a hot one. Several of the soldiers had laid aside their coats, and now they took off other garments, in order that they might not perspire too freely.
By noon several of the party calculated that they had traveled twenty-four miles, and by a vote it was decided to pull into an inviting cove, where the shade was dense, and rest for half an hour and dispose of the midday meal.
“There is no use of our killing ourselves at the very start,” said Raymond. “We want to save ourselves a little, in case we get into some tight corner and have to row to save our lives.” And the others agreed with him.
The rest and meal on the grassy bank, overhung by the branches of some trees which had likely stood there for a century, came to an end all too soon, and once again they placed their traps in the rowboats and took up the oars. As they glided out onto the lake Silvers gave a look around.
“So far as I can see, not a soul is within sight of us,” he announced. “If there are Indians near they are not showing themselves at the water front.”
Nevertheless, it was not deemed advisable to hug the shore too closely, and they set a course which soon took them at least quarter of a mile from land.
It must be confessed that the rowing was now beginning to tell upon both Dave and Henry. But as they had enlisted to do their full share of the work, neither complained.
“Sure, and it’s no easy job to row hour after hour,” said Gilfoy presently. His experiences with a rowboat had been very limited. “’Twouldn’t be so bad if the sun wasn’t so hot.”
“Some clouds are coming up,” said Shamer a little later. “And by the feeling in the air I shouldn’t be surprised if we had a storm.”
The clouds he mentioned hung low down to the westward, and it was not until about four o’clock in the afternoon that they took a turn and came up with remarkable rapidity. Then followed a rush of cold air which was very pleasant.
“The wind is beginning to blow,” said Henry. “See the whitecaps it is tossing up.”
“The wind is all right, if it doesn’t get too strong,” replied Silvers. “But to my idea we are going to have more than we want of it presently.”
“Yes, and it’s coming now!” cried Shamer. “Look across the lake.”
They did so, and each saw that he was right. The dense clouds had circled around to the northwestward and the wind was coming in short, sharp puffs which piled the whitecaps one over the other. Then came a sudden rush of air which sent the rowboats careening in a dangerous fashion.
“Hi! we can’t stand this!” exclaimed Gilfoy. “Before we know it we’ll all be at the bottom. Let us make for shore.”
“Yes, and we can’t be too quick about it,” added Raymond. “This squall is going to be a heavy one.”
Silvers admitted that they were right, and without delay the two rowboats were headed for shore, at a point where a curving cove seemed to promise safety.
All pulled with a will, yet long before the cove was gained, the squall struck them, sending a shower of spray in all directions and causing each craft to rock violently.
“Oh!” cried Dave, as some water hit him in the ear. “This is as bad as was the storm we struck when we rowed from Oswego to Fort Niagara.”
“Don’t say a word—it’s a regular Niagara in itself!” gasped Henry, as a downpour of rain followed the gust of wind.
“We can be thankful we are not further out on the lake,” came from Raymond. “Now then, all together, and we’ll soon be safe!”
They bent to the oars with a will, two in each boat rowing and the third steering. Another gust hit them, giving them a second ducking, and now followed a veritable cloud-burst of rain. But in a few minutes the cove was gained, and they glided under some overhanging branches and thick bushes.
“We are well out of that!” said Henry, when he could catch his breath. “Just listen to the wind whistle!”
“It won’t last,” said Silvers. “In an hour from now the sun will be shining as brightly as ever.”
The wind whistled through the treetops, but down close to the water the breeze did not touch them, and only a few drops of rain entered the rowboats. Luckily they had covered their stores and ammunition with tarpaulins, so no damage was done in that direction.
“This is something we didn’t bargain for, eh?” came from Raymond. “Had we been far out on the lake the chances are we should have been swamped.”
As the leader of the little expedition had said, the squall did not last, and in exactly three-quarters of an hour after it began the clouds shifted, the sun came out, and the rain ceased as if by magic.
“Now, men, we must make up for time lost,” said Silvers. “We’ve all had a pretty good rest.”
“This squall has changed its course, but I’ll wager a mug of cider it comes back by sundown,” said Gilfoy.
“And I say the same,” added Shamer.
“In that case we want to get as far as possible before it does come back,” came from Henry. “The little breeze that is still blowing is in our favor.”
Once again the two rowboats were headed down the lake, and each stroke sent the craft shooting on their course. The water was still a trifle rough, but what they lost by this was more than made up by the breeze behind them.
“The air puts new life into a fellow,” said Dave. “I feel fresher than I did when we started after dinner.”
By sundown another ten or twelve miles had been covered. The wind had now veered around and was blowing strongly from the northeast. The sky looked heavy, and despite their best efforts it was impossible to make headway down the lake.
“We’ll have to go ashore for the night,” said Silvers. “More than likely the wind will die down during the night.”
After their varied experiences of the day, Dave and Henry were not sorry to leave the oars and take it easy in a sheltered spot picked out by the leader of the expedition. After a careful survey of the location, to make certain that no enemies were near, a tiny camp-fire was lit in a hollow, and over this were broiled some fish which Henry and Raymond caught.
Silvers had been ordered to keep a constant guard both on the lake and on the land by Sir William Johnson, and when it came time to lie down to sleep he divided the night into watches of an hour and a half each, so that all might share in the duty and yet get the benefit of sufficient rest for the next day’s work.
Henry was on guard from half-past ten until midnight, when Dave relieved him.
“Have you seen anything?” asked Dave, as he arose and stretched himself, for he had been sleeping soundly.
“Nothing at all,” answered his cousin, in a whisper, so as not to arouse the others. “It looks to me as if a guard is unnecessary; but we have got to obey orders.”
But little more was said, and in a few minutes Henry was sleeping peacefully, on a mossy bank close to Raymond the backwoodsman. Dave took up his musket and began to walk around the camp, to awaken himself still more, for he was yet drowsy.
The fire had been allowed to die down, for in spite of the storm nobody seemed to desire the heat, and all had been wet a hundred times before.
After a walk lasting several minutes, and feeling that all was safe, Dave sat down on a fallen tree trunk to meditate. His thoughts were scattered, but presently centered on home. In his mind’s eye he could see the big living room of the cabin, with its immense open chimney, its rude furnishings, and its neatly sanded floor. In the easy chair in a corner sat his crippled cousin, Rodney, doing some work that did not require his moving about, and close at hand was his Aunt Lucy, also busy, and with a sweet face not easily forgotten. And then he fancied he could hear a shout from without, and he could see his aunt catch up the gun behind the door in alarm. But the gun fell from her hands when she saw it was her husband and Dave’s father approaching, with faithful old Sam Barringford and little Nell. And then he fancied he saw little Nell give a leap straight into her mother’s arms and then into the arms of Rodney.
“I’d like to be there when she gets home,” he thought. “I know Aunt Lucy’s cheeks will be wet with tears of joy. And they’ll all be glad and the neighbors will come in and there will be a regular jubilee, and——”
Dave stopped his dreamings and leaped to his feet. A noise in the brushwood back of the camp had reached his ears. Holding his musket ready for use, he strained his eyes to pierce the darkness, but he could see nothing.
“Strange,” he thought, after a pause. “I am sure I heard something. It must have been a night bird or——Ha!”
He shut his teeth hard. Something was certainly there—a dark form, moving slowly along, close to the ground. But whether it was man or beast he could not tell, until the form suddenly arose, and then he made out that it was an Indian!