第112章
- The Pathfinder
- Margaret Mayhew
- 1063字
- 2016-03-02 16:32:17
All that day the wind hung to the southward, and the cutter continued her course about a league from the land, running six or eight knots the hour in perfectly smooth water.Although the scene had one feature of monotony, the outline of unbroken forest, it was not without its in-terest and pleasures.Various headlands presented them-selves, and the cutter, in running from one to another, stretched across bays so deep as almost to deserve the name of gulfs.But nowhere did the eye meet with the evidences of civilization; rivers occasionally poured their tribute into the great reservoir of the lake, but their banks could be traced inland for miles by the same outlines of trees; and even large bays, that lay embosomed in woods, communicating with Ontario only by narrow outlets, ap-peared and disappeared, without bringing with them a sin-gle trace of a human habitation.
Of all on board, the Pathfinder viewed the scene with the most unmingled delight.His eyes feasted on the end-less line of forest, and more than once that day, notwith-standing he found it so grateful to be near Mabel, listen-ing to her pleasant voice, and echoing, in feelings at least, her joyous laugh, did his soul pine to be wandering be-neath the high arches of the maples, oaks, and lindens, where his habits had induced him to fancy lasting and true joys were only to be found.Cap viewed the prospect differently; more than once he expressed his disgust at there being no lighthouses, church-towers, beacons, or road-steads with their shipping.Such another coast, he pro-tested, the world did not contain; and, taking the Ser-geant aside, he gravely assured him that the region could never come to anything, as the havens were neglected, the rivers had a deserted and useless look, and that even the breeze had a smell of the forest about it, which spoke ill of its properties.
But the humors of the different individuals in her did not stay the speed of the _Scud:_ when the sun was setting, she was already a hundred miles on her route towards Oswego, into which river Sergeant Dunham now thought it his duty to go, in order to receive any communications that Major Duncan might please to make.With a view to effect this purpose, Jasper continued to hug the shore all night; and though the wind began to fail him towards morning, it lasted long enough to carry the cutter up to a point that was known to be but a league or two from the fort.Here the breeze came out light at the northward, and the cutter hauled a little from the land, in order to obtain a safe offing should it come on to blow, or should the weather again get to be easterly.
When the day dawned, the cutter had the mouth of the Oswego well under the lee, distant about two miles; and just as the morning gun from the fort was fired, Jasper gave the order to ease off the sheets, and to bear up for his port.At that moment a cry from the forecastle drew all eyes towards the point on the eastern side of the outlet, and there, just without the range of shot from the light guns of the works, with her canvas reduced to barely enough to keep her stationary, lay the _Montcalm_, evidently in waiting for their appearance.
To pass her was impossible, for by filling her sails the French ship could have intercepted them in a few min-utes; and the circumstances called for a prompt decision.
After a short consultation, the Sergeant again changed his plan, determining to make the best of his way towards the station for which he had been originally destined, trusting to the speed of the _Scud_ to throw the enemy so far astern as to leave no clue to her movements.
The cutter accordingly hauled upon a wind with the least possible delay, with everything set that would draw.
Guns were fired from the fort, ensigns shown, and the ramparts were again crowded.But sympathy was all the aid that Lundie could lend to his party; and the _Mont-calm_, also firing four or five guns of defiance, and throwing abroad several of the banners of France, was soon in chase under a cloud of canvas.
For several hours the two vessels were pressing through the water as fast as possible, making short stretches to windward, apparently with a view to keep the port under their lee, the one to enter it if possible, and the other to intercept it in the attempt.
At meridian the French ship was hull down, dead to leeward, the disparity of sailing on a wind being very great, and some islands were near by, behind which Jas-per said it would be possible for the cutter to conceal her future movements.Although Cap and the Sergeant, and particularly Lieutenant Muir, to judge by his language, still felt a good deal of distrust of the young man, and Frontenac was not distant, this advice was followed; for time pressed, and the Quartermaster discreetly observed that Jasper could not well betray them without running openly into the enemy's harbor, a step they could at any time prevent, since the only cruiser of force the French possessed at the moment was under their lee and not in a situation to do them any immediate injury.
Left to himself, Jasper Western soon proved how much was really in him.He weathered upon the islands, passed them, and on coming out to the eastward, kept broad away, with nothing in sight in his wake or to leeward.
By sunset again the cutter was up with the first of the islands that lie in the outlet of the lake; and ere it was dark she was running through the narrow channels on her way to the long-sought station.At nine o'clock, however, Cap insisted that they should anchor; for the maze of islands became so complicated and obscure, that he feared, at every opening, the party would find themselves under the guns of a French fort.Jasper consented cheerfully, it being a part of his standing instructions to approach the station under such circumstances as would prevent the men from obtaining any very accurate notions of its posi-tion, lest a deserter might betray the little garrison to the enemy.