The Trail of the Sword, etc

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TUB TRAIL OF THE SWORD His cheerful Countenance came up between the frownivc Guns, his Hook-Hand RAN OVER THE RAIL, AND IN A MOMENT HE WAS ON THE DECK FACING RADISSON 1 Frontispiece Page aoj THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD WHEREIN IS SET FORTH THE HISTORY OF JESSICA LEVERET, AS ALSO THAT OF PIERRE LE MOYNE OF IBERVILLE, GEORGE GERING, AND OTHER BOLD SPIRITS ; TO- GETHER WITH CERTAIN MATTERS OF WAR, AND THE DEEDS OF ONE EDWARD BUCKLAW, MUTINEER AND PIRATE. BY GILBERT PARKER, AUTHOR OF PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE," " THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE,' " MRS. FALCHION," ETC. TORONTO : THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED. Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight, by Gilbert Parkrr, London, England, in the Office ofthe Minister of Agriculture. DEDICATION Mv Dear Father: Once, many years ago, in a kind of despair, you were impelled to say that I would " never be anything but a rascally lawyer7 This, it may be, sat upon your conscience, for later you turned me gravely towards Paley and the Thirty nine A i-ticles ; and yet I know that in your deepest soldier's heart, you really pictured me, how unavailingly , in scarlet and pipeclay, and with sabre, like yourself in youth and manhood.

In all I disappointed you, for I never liad a b7-ief or a parish, and it was another son of yours who carried on your military hopes. But as some faint apology — / almost dare hope some reco?npense — -for what must have seemed wilfulness, I send you now this story of a British soldier and his " dear maid" ivhich lias for its background the old DEDICATION 4 city of Quebec, whose high ramparts you xvalked first sixty years ago ; and for setting, the beginning of those valiant fightings, which, as I have heard you say, " through God's providence and James Wolfe, gave England her best possession." You will, I feel sure, quarrel with the fashion of my campaigns, and be troubled by my anachronisms ; but I beg you to remember that long ago you gave my young mind much distress when you told that wonderful story, how you, one man, "surrounded" a dozen enemies, and drove them prisoners to headquarters.

" Surrounded " tnayhave been mere lack of precision, but it serves my turn now, as you see. You once were — and I am precise here — a gallant swordsman : there are legends yet of your doings zvith a crack Dublin bully. Well, in the last chapter of this tale you shall find a duel whicli will perhaps recall those early days of this century, when your blood zvas hot and your hand ready. You would be distrustful of the details of this scene, did I not tell you that, though the voice is Jacob's the hand is another's. Swordsmen are not so many now in the army or out of it, that, among them, Mr. Walter Herries Pollock's name will have escaped you : so, if you quarrel, let it be with Esau ; though, having good DEDICATION 5 reason to be grateful to him, that would cause me sorrow. My dear father, you are travelling midway between eighty and ninety years, with great health and cheerfulness ; it is my hope you may top the arch of your good and honourable life with a century keystone.

Chapter I An Envoy Extraordinary One

summer afternoon a tall, good-looking stripling stopped in the midst of the town of New York, and asked his way to the governor's house. He attracted not a little attention, and he created as much astonishment when he came into the presence of the governor. He had been announced as an envoy from Quebec. " Some new insolence of the County Frontenac ! " cried old Richard Nicholls, bringing: his fist down on the table. For a few S is minutes he talked with his chamber-fellow ; then, " Show the gentleman in," he said. In the room without, the envoy from Quebec had stood flicking the dust from his leggings with a scarf. He was not more than eighteen, his face had scarcely an inkling of moustache, but he had an easy upright carriage, with an air of self-possession, the keenest of grey eyes, a strong pair of shoulders, a look of daring about his rather large mouth, which lent him a manli ness well warranting his present service.

He had been left alone, and the first thing he had done was to turn on his heel and examine the place swiftly. This he seemed to do mechanically, not as one forecasting danger, not as a spy. In the curve of his lips, in an occasional droop of his eyelids, there was a suggestion of humour : less often a quality of the young than of the old. For even in the late seventeenth century, youth took itself seriously at times. Presently, as he stood looking at the sunshine through the open door, a young girl came into the lane of light, waved her hand, with a little laugh, to someone in the distance, and stepped Through the oten Door a Young Girl came into the Lane of Light. inside. At first she did not see him. Her glances were still cast back the way she had come. The young man could not follow her glance, nor was he anything curious.

Young as he was, he could enjoy a fine picture. There was a pretty demureness in the girl's manner, a warm piquancy in the turn of the neck, and a delicacy in her gestures, which to him, fresh from hard hours in the woods, was part of some de lightful Arcady — though Arcady was more in his veins than of his knowledge. For the young seigneur of New France spent far more hours with his gun than with his Latin, and knew his bush-ranging vassal better than his tutor ; and this one was too complete a type of his order to reverse its record. He did not look to his scanty lace, or set himself seemingly ; he did but stop flicking the scarf held loose in his fingers, his foot still on the bench. A smile played at his lips, and his eyes had a gleam of raillery. He heard the girl say in a soft, quaint voice, just as she turned towards him, " Foolish boy !

" By this he knew that the pretty picture had for its inspiration one of his own sex. She faced him, and gave a little cry of sur prise. Then their eyes met Immediately he made the most elaborate bow of all his life, and she swept a graceful courtesy. Her face was slightly flushed that this stranger should have seen, but he carried such an open, cordial look that she paused, instead of hurrying into the governor's room, as she had seemed inclined to do. In the act the string of her hat, slung over her arm, came loose, and the hat fell to the floor. Instantly he picked it up and returned it. Neither had spoken a word. It seemed another act of the light pantomime at the door. As if they had both thought on the instant how droll it was, they laughed, and she said to him naively: "You have come to visit the governor?

You are a Frenchman, are you not?" To this in slow and careful English, " Yes," he replied ; " I have come from Canada to see his excellency. Will you speak French ? " "If you please, no," she answered, smiling; " your English is better than my French. But I must go." And she turned towards the door of the governor's room. " Do not go yet," he said. " Tell me, are you the governor's daughter?" She paused, her hand at the door. " Oh no, she answered ; then, in a sprightly way — " are you a governor's son ? " " I wish I were," he said, " for then there'd be a new intendant, and we'd put Nick Perrot in the council." " What is an intendant ? " she asked, " and who is Nick Perrot ? " " Bien ! an intendant is a man whom King Louis appoints to worry the governor and the gentlemen of Canada, and to interrupt the trade.

Nicolas Perrot is a. fine fellow, and a great coureur du bois, and helps to get the governor out of troubles to-day, the intendant to morrow. He is a splendid fighter. Perrot is my friend." He said this, not with an air of boasting, but with a youthful and enthusiastic pride, which was relieved by the twinkle in his eyes and his frank manner "Who brought you here?" she asked de murely. "Are they inside with the governor?" He saw the raillery ; though, indeed, it was natural to suppose that he had no business with the governor, but had merely come with some one. The question was not flattering. His hand went up to his chin a little awkwardly. She noted how large yet how well-shaped it was, or, rather, she remembered afterwards. Then it dropped upon the hilt of the rapier he wore, and he answered with good self-possession, though a little hot spot showed on his cheek : " The governor must have other guests who are no men of mine ; for he keeps an envoy from Count Frontenac long in his anteroom."

The girl became very youthful indeed, and a merry light danced in her eyes and warmed her cheek. She came a step nearer. " It is not so ? You do not come from Count Frontenac — all alone, do you ? " " I'll tell you after I have told the governor," he answered, pleased and amused. " Oh, I shall hear when the governor hears," she answered, with a soft quaintness, and then vanished into the governor's chamber. She had scarce entered when the door opened again, and the servant, a Scotsman, came out to say that his excellency would receive him. He went briskly forward, but presently paused. A sudden sense of shyness possessed him. It was not the first time he had been ushered into vice regal presence, but his was an odd position. He was in a strange land, charged with an embassy which accident had thrust upon him.

Then, too, the presence of the girl had with drawn him for an instant from the imminence of his duty. His youth came out of him, and in the pause one could fairly see him turn into man. He had not the dark complexion of so many of his race, but was rather Saxon in face, with rich, curling, brown hair. Even in that brave time one might safely have bespoken for him a large career. And even while the Scotsman in the doorway eyed him with distant depreca tion, — as he eyed all Frenchman, good and bad, ugly or handsome, — he put off his hesitation and entered the governor's chamber. Colonel Nicholls came forward to greet him, and then suddenly stopped, astonished. Then he wheeled upon the girl. " Jessica, you mad cap ! " he said in a low voice. She was leaning against a tall chair, both hands grasping the back of it, her chin just level with the top.

She had told the governor that Count Frontenac had sent him a lame old man, and that, enemy or none, he ought not to be kept waiting, with arm in sling and bandaged head. Seated at the table near her was a grave member of the governor's council, William Drayton by name. He lifted a reproving finger at her now, but with a smile on his kindly face, and " Fie, fie, young lady ! " he said, in a whisper. Presently the governor mastered his surprise, and seeing that the young man was of birth and quality, extended his hand cordially enough, and said, "I am glad to greet you, sir"; and motioned him to a seat. " But, pray, sit down," he added, " and let us hear the message Count Frontenac has sent. Meanwhile we would be favoured with your name and rank." The young man thrust a hand into his doublet and drew forth a packet of papers.

As he handed it over, he said in English, — for till then the governor had spoken French, having once served with the army of France, and lived at the French Court, — " Your excellency, my name is Pierre le Moyne of Iberville, son of Charles le Moyne, a seigneur of Canada, of whom you may have heard." (The governor nodded.) " I was not sent by Count Frontenac to you. My father was his envoy : to debate with you our trade in the far West and our dealings with the Iroquois." " Exactly," said old William Drayton, tapping the table with his forefinger; "and a very sound move, upon my soul." " Ay, ay," said the governor, "I know of your father well enough. A good fighter and an honest gentleman, as they say. But pro ceed, Monsieur le Moyne of Iberville." " I am called Iberville," said the young man simply.

Then, " My father and myself started from Quebec with good Nick Perrot, the coureur du bois" — " I know him too," the governor interjected — "a scoundrel worth his weight in gold to your Count Frontenac." "For whose head Count Frontenac has offered gold in his time," answered Iberville, with a smile. " A very pretty wit," said old William Dray ton, nodding softly towards the girl, who was casting bright, quizzical glances at the youth over the back of the chair. Iberville went on, " Six days ago we were set upon by a score of your Indians, and might easily have left our scalps with them ; but, as it chanced, my father was wounded, I came off scot-free, and we had the joy of ridding your excellency of half a dozen rogues." The governor lifted his eyebrows and said nothing. The face of the girl over against the back of the chair had become grave.

" It was in question whether Perrot or I should bear Count Frontenac's message. Perrot knew the way, I did not ; Perrot also knew the Indians." "But Perrot," said the governor bluffly, "would have been the letter-carrier; you are a kind of ambassador. Upon my soul, yes, a sort of ambassador ! " he added, enjoying the idea ; for, look at it how you would, Iberville was but a boy, " That was my father's thought and my own," answered Iberville coolly. " There was my father to care for till his wound was healed and he could travel back to Quebec, so we thought it better Perrot should stay with him. A Le Moyne was to present himself, and a Le Moyne has done so." The governor was impressed more deeply than he showed. It was a time of peace, but the young man's journey among Indian braves and English outlaws, to whom a French scalp was a thing of price, was hard and hazardous.

His reply was cordial, then his fingers came to the seal of the packet ; but the girl's hand touched his arm. " I know his name," she said in the governor's ear, " but he does not know mine." The governor patted her hand, and then rejoined, " Now, now, I forgot the lady ; but I cannot always remember that you are full fifteen years old." Standing up, with all due gravity and courtesy, "Monsieur Iberville," he said, "let me present you to Mistress Jessica Leveret, the daughter of my good and honoured and absent friend, the Honourable Hogarth Leveret." So the governor and his councillor stood shoulder to shoulder at one window, debating Count Frontenac's message ; and shoulder to shoulder at another stood Iberville and Jessica Leveret. And what was between these at that moment — though none could have guessed it — signified as much to the colonies of France and England, at strife in the New World, as the deliberations of then* elders.

Chapter II The Threat Of

A RENEGADE IBERVILLE was used to the society of women. Even as a young lad, his father's notable place in the colony, and the freedom and gaiety of life in Quebec and Montreal, had drawn upon him a notice which was as much a promise of the future as an accent of the present And yet, through all of it, he was ever better inspired by the grasp of a common soldier, who had served with Carignan-SalieVes. or by the greeting and gossip of such woodsmen as Du Lhut, Mantet, La Durantaye, and, most of all, his staunch friend Perrot, chief of the coureurs du bois. Truth is, in his veins was the strain of war and adventure first and before all. Under his tutor, the good Pere Dollier de Casson, he had never endured his classics, save for the sake of Hector and Achilles and their kind ; and his knowledge of English, which his father had pressed him to learn, — for he himself had felt the lack of it in dealings with Dutch and English traders, — only grew in proportion as he was given Shakespeare and Raleigh to explore.

Soon the girl laughed up at him. " I have been a great traveller," she said, " and I have ears. I have been as far west as Albany and south to Virginia, with my father, who, perhaps you do not know, is in England now. And they told me everywhere that Frenchmen are bold, dark men, with great black eyes and very fine laces and wigs, and a trick of bowing and making foolish compliments ; and they are not to be trusted, and they will not fight except in the woods, where there are trees to climb. But I see that it is not all true, for you are not dark, your eyes are not big or black, your laces are not much to see, you do not make compliments" — " I shall begin now," he interrupted. " — you must be trusted a little, or Count Frontenac would not send you, and — and — tell me : would you fight if you had a chance ?

" No one of her sex had ever talked so to Iber ville. Her demure raillery, her fresh, frank im pertinence, through which there ran a pretty air of breeding, her innocent disregard of formality, all joined to impress him, to in terest him. He was not so much surprised at the elegance and cleverness of her speech, for in Quebec girls of her age were skilled in languages and arts, thanks to the great bishop, Laval, and to Marie of the Incarnation. In response to her a smile flickered upon his lips. He had a quick fierce temper, but it had never been severely tried ; and so well used was he to looking cheerfully upon things, so keen had been his zest in living, that, where himself was concerned, his vanity was not easily touched. So, looking with genial dryness, "You will hardly believe it, of course," he said, " but wings I have not yet grown, and the walking is bad 'twixt here and the Chateau St. Louis."

" Iroquois traps," she suggested, with a smile. "With a trick or two of English footpads," was his reply. Meanwhile his eye had loitered between the two men in council at the farther window and the garden, into which he and the girl were looking. Presently he gave a little start and a low whistle, and his eyelids slightly drooped, giving him a handsome sulkiness. "Is it so?" he said be tween his teeth," Radisson — Radisson, as I live!" He had seen a man cross a corner of the yard. This man was short, dark-bearded, with black, lanky hair, brass earrings, and buckskin leggings, all the typical equipment ofthe French coureur du bois. Iberville had only got one glance at his face, but the sinister profile could never be forgotten. At once the man passed out of view. The girl had not seen him, she had been watching her companion.

Presently she said, her fingers just brushing his sleeve, for he stood eyeing the point where the man had disappeared : " Wonderful 1 you look now as if you would fight. Oh, fierce, fierce as the governor when he catches a French spy." He turned to her and, with a touch of irony, " Pardon ! " he retorted. " Now I shall look as blithe as the governor when a traitor deserts to him." Of purpose he spoke loud enough to be heard by the governor and his friend. The governor turned sharply on him. He had caught the ring in the voice, that rash enthusiasm of eager youth, and, taking a step towards Iberville, Count Frontenac's letter still poised in his hand, " Were your words meant for my hearing, monsieur?" he said. "Were you speaking of me or of your governor ? " " I was thinking of one Radisson a traitor, and I was speaking of yourself, your excellency."

The governor had asked his question in French, in French the reply was given. Both the girl and Councillor Drayton followed with difficulty. Jessica looked a message to her comrade in ignorance. The old man touched the governor's arm. " Let it be in English if monsieur is willing. He speaks it well." The governor was at work to hide his anger: he wished good greeting to Count Frontenac's envoy, and it seemed not fitting to be touched by the charges of a boy. " I must tell you frankly, Monsieur Iberville," he said, "that I do not choose to find a sort of challenge in your words ; and I doubt that your father, had he been here, would have spoke quite so roundly. But I am for peace and happy temper when I can. I may not help it if your people, tired of the governance of Louis of France, come into the good ruling of King Charles.

As for this man Radisson : what is it you would have ? " Iberville was now well settled back upon his native courage. He swallowed the rebuke with grace, and replied with frankness, " Radisson is an outlaw. Once he attempted Count Frontenac's life. He sold a band of our traders to the Iroquois. He led your Hollanders stealthily to cut off the Indians of the west, who were coming with their year's furs to our mer chants. There is peace between your colony and ours — is it fair to harbour such a wretch in your court-yard? It was said up in Quebec, your ex cellency, that such men have eaten at your table." During this speech the governor seemed choleric, but a change passed over him, and he fell to admiring the lad's boldness. "Upon my soul, monsieur," he said "you are council, judge, and jury all in one; but I think I need not weigh the thing with you, for his excellency, from whom you come, has set forth this same charge," — he tapped the paper, — " and we will not spoil good fellowship by threshing it now."

He laughed a little ironically. " And I promise you," he added, "that your Radisson shall neither drink wine nor eat bread with you at my table. And now, come, let us talk awhile together ; for, lest any accident befal the packet you shall bear, I wish you to carry in your memory, with great distinctness, the terms of my writing to your governor. I would that it were not to be written, for I hate the quill, and I've seen the time I would rather point my sword red than my quill black." By this the shadows were falling. In the west the sun was slipping down behind the hills, leaving the strong day with a rosy and radiant glamour, that faded away in eloquent tones to the grey, tinsel softness of the zenith. Out in the yard a sumach bush was aflame. Rich tiger-lilies thrust in at the sill, and lazy flies and king bees boomed in and out of the window.

Something out of the sunset, out of the glorious freshness and primal majesty ofthe new land, diffused through the room where those four people stood, and made them silent. Presently the governor drew his chair to the table, and motioned Councillor Drayton and Iberville to be seated. The girl touched his arm. "And where am I to sit?" she asked demurely. Colonel Nicholls pursed his lips and seemed to frown severely on her. "To sit? Why, in your room, mistress. Tut, tut, you are too bold. If I did not know your father was coming soon to bear you off, new orders should be issued. Yes, yes, e'en as I say," he added, as he saw the laughter in her eyes. She knew that she could wind the big mannered soldier about her finger. She had mastered his household, she was the idol of the settlement, her flexible intelligence, the flush of the first delicate bounty of womanhood had made him her slave.

In a matter of vexing weight he would not have let her stay, but such deliberatings as he would have with Iberville could well bear her scrutiny. He reached out to pinch her cheek, but she deftly tipped her head and caught his outstretched fingers. " But where am I to sit ? " she persisted. " Anywhere, then, but at the council-table," was his response, as he wagged a finger at her and sat down. Going over she perched herself on a high stool in the window behind Iberville. He could not see her, and, if he thought at all about it, he must have supposed that she could not see him. Yet she could ; for against the window - frame was a mirror, and it reflected his face and the doings at the board. She did not listen to the rumble of voices. She fell to studying Iberville. Once or twice she laughed softly to herself.

As she turned to the window a man passed by and looked in at her. His look was singular, and she started. Something about his face was familiar. She found her mind feeling among far memories, for even the past of the young stretches out interminably. She shuddered, and a troubled look came into her eyes. Yet she could not remember. She leaned slightly for ward, as if she were peering into that bygone world which, may be, is wider than the future for all of us — the past. Her eyes grew deep and melancholy. The sunset seemed to brighten around her all at once, and enmesh her in a golden web, burnishing her hair, and it fell across her brow with a peculiar radiance, leaving the temples in shadow, softening and yet lighting the carmine of her cheeks and lips, giving a feeling of life to her dress, which itself was like dusty gold.

Her hands were caught and clasped at her knees. There was something spiritual and exalted in the picture. It had, too, a touch of tragedy, for something out of her nebulous past had been reflected in faint shadows in her eyes, and this again, by strange, delicate processes, was expressed in every line of her form, in all the aspect of her face. It was as if some knowledge were being filtered to her through myriad atmos pheres of premonition ; as though the gods in pity foreshadowed a great trouble, that the first rudeness of misery might be spared. She did not note that Iberville had risen, and had come round the table to look over Councillor Drayton's shoulder at a map spread out. After standing a moment watching, the councillor's finger his pilot, he started back to his seat. As he did so he caught sight of her still in that poise of wonderment and sadness.

He stopped short, then glanced at Colonel Nicholls and the councillor. Both were bent over the map, talking in eager tones. He came softly round the table, and was about to speak over her shoulder, when she drew herself up with a little shiver and seemed to come back from afar. Her hands went up to her eyes. Then she heard him. She turned quickly, with the pageant of her dreams still wavering in her face ; smiled at him distantly, looked towards the window again in a troubled way, then stepped softly and swiftly to the door, and passed out. Iberville watched the door close and turned to the window. Again he saw, and this time nearer to the window, Radisson, and with him the man who had so suddenly mastered Jessica. He turned to Colonel Nicholls. "Your excellency," he said, "will you not let me tell Count Frontenac that you forbid Radisson your purlieus?

For, believe me, sir, there is no greater rogue unhanged, as you shall find some day to the hurt of your colony, if you shelter him." The governor rose and paced the room thoughtfully. " He is proclaimed by Fron tenac?" he asked. " A price is on his head. As a Frenchman I should shoot him like a wolf where'er I saw him ; and so I would now were I not Count Frontenac's ambassador and in your excellency's presence." "You speak manfully, monsieur," said the governor, not ill-pleased; "but how might you shoot him now? Is he without there?" At this he came to where Iberville stood, and looked out. " Who is the fellow with him ? " he asked. "A cut-throat scoundrel, I'll swear, though his face is so smug," said Iberville. "What think you, sir?" turning to the councillor, who was peering between their shoulders.