You saw but sorrow in its waning form;
A working sea remaining from a storm,
Where now the weary waves roll o’er the deep,
And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.
DRYDEN.
Men accustomed to a warfare like that we have been describing are not apt to be much under the influence of the tender feelings while still in the field. Notwithstanding their habits, however, more than one heart was with Mabel in the block, while the incidents we are about to relate were in the course of occurrence; and even the indispensable meal was less relished by the hardiest of the soldiers than it might have been had not the Sergeant been so near his end.
As Pathfinder returned from the block, he was met by Muir, who led him aside in order to hold a private discourse. The manner of the Quartermaster had that air of supererogatory courtesy about it which almost invariably denotes artifice; for, while physiognomy and phrenology are but lame sciences at the best, and perhaps lead to as many false as right conclusions, we hold that there is no more infallible evidence of insincerity of purpose, short of overt acts, than a face that smiles when there is no occasion, and the tongue that is out of measure smooth. Muir had much of this manner in common, mingled with an apparent frankness that his Scottish intonation of voice, Scottish accent, and Scottish modes of expression were singularly adapted to sustain. He owed his preferment, indeed, to a long-exercised deference to Lundie and his family; for, while the Major himself was much too acute to be the dupe of one so much his inferior in real talents and attainments, most persons are accustomed to make liberal concessions to the flatterer, even while they distrust his truth and are perfectly aware of his motives. On the present occasion, the contest in skill was between two men as completely the opposites of each other in all the leading essentials of character as very well could be. Pathfinder was as simple as the Quartermaster was practised; he was as sincere as the other was false, and as direct as the last was tortuous. Both were cool and calculating, and both were brave, though in different modes and degrees; Muir never exposing his person except for effect, while the guide included fear among the rational passions, or as a sensation to be deferred to only when good might come of it.
“My dearest friend,” Muir commenced — “for ye’ll be dearer to us all, by seventy and sevenfold, after your late conduct than ever ye were — ye’ve just established yourself in this late transaction. It’s true that they’ll not be making ye a commissioned officer, for that species of prefairment is not much in your line, nor much in your wishes, I’m thinking; but as a guide, and a counsellor, and a loyal subject, and an expert marksman, yer renown may be said to be full. I doubt if the commander-in-chief will carry away with him from America as much credit as will fall to yer share, and ye ought just to set down in content and enjoy yoursal’ for the remainder of yer days. Get married, man, without delay, and look to your precious happiness; for ye’ve no occasion to look any longer to your glory. Take Mabel Dunham, for Heaven’s sake, to your bosom, and ye’ll have both a bonnie bride and a bonnie reputation.”
“Why, Quartermaster, this is a new piece of advice to come from your mouth. They’ve told me I had a rival in you.”
“And ye had, man, and a formidible one, too, I can tell you — one that has never yet courted in vain, and yet one that has courted five times. Lundie twits me with four, and I deny the charge; but he little thinks the truth would outdo even his arithmetic. Yes, yes, ye had a rival, Pathfinder; but ye’ve one no longer in me. Ye’ve my hearty wishes for yer success with Mabel; and were the honest Sergeant likely to survive, ye might rely on my good word with him, too, for a certainty.”
“I feel your friendship, Quartermaster, I feel your friendship, though I have no great need of any favor with Sergeant Dunham, who has long been my friend. I believe we may look upon the matter to be as sartain as most things in war-time; for, Mabel and her father consenting, the whole 55th couldn’t very well put a stop to it. Ah’s me! The poor father will scarcely live to see what his heart has so long been set upon.”
“But he’ll have the consolation of knowing it will come to pass, in dying. Oh, it’s a great relief, Pathfinder, for the parting spirit to feel certain that the beloved ones left behind will be well provided for after its departure. All the Mistress Muirs have duly expressed that sentiment with their dying breaths.”
“All your wives, Quartermaster, have been likely to feel this consolation.”
“Out upon ye, man! I’d no’ thought ye such a wag. Well, well; pleasant words make no heart-burnings between auld fri’nds. If I cannot espouse Mabel, ye’ll no object to my esteeming her, and speaking well of her, and of yoursal’, too, on all suitable occasions and in all companies. But, Pathfinder, ye’ll easily understan’ that a poor deevil who loses such a bride will probably stand in need of some consolation?”
“Quite likely, quite likely, Quartermaster,” returned the simple-minded guide; “I know the loss of Mabel would be found heavy to be borne by myself. It may bear hard on your feelings to see us married; but the death of the Sergeant will be likely to put it off, and you’ll have time to think more manfully of it, you will.”
“I’ll bear up against it; yes, I’ll bear up against it, though my heart-strings crack! And ye might help me, man, by giving me something to do. Ye’ll understand that this expedition has been of a very peculiar nature; for here am I, bearing the king’s commission, just a volunteer, as it might be; while a mere orderly has had the command. I’ve submitted for various reasons, though my blood has boiled to be in authority, while ye war’ battling, for the honor of the country and his Majesty’s rights —”
“Quartermaster,” interrupted the guide, “you fell so early into the enemy’s hands that your conscience ought to be easily satisfied on that score; so take my advice, and say nothing about it.”
“That’s just my opinion, Pathfinder; we’ll all say nothing about it. Sergeant Dunham is hors de combat—”
“Anan?” said the guide.
“Why, the Sergeant can command no longer, and it will hardly do to leave a corporal at the head of a victorious party like this; for flowers that will bloom in a garden will die on a heath; and I was just thinking I would claim the authority that belongs to one who holds a lieutenant’s commission. As for the men, they’ll no dare to raise any objaction; and as for yoursal’, my dear friend, now that ye’ve so much honor, and Mabel, and the consciousness of having done yer duty, which is more precious than all, I expect to find an ally rather than one to oppose the plan.”
“As for commanding the soldiers of the 55th, Lieutenant, it is your right, I suppose, and no one here will be likely to gainsay it; though you’ve been a prisoner of war, and there are men who might stand out ag’in giving up their authority to a prisoner released by their own deeds. Still no one here will be likely to say anything hostile to your wishes.”
“That’s just it, Pathfinder; and when I come to draw up the report of our success against the boats, and the defence of the block, together with the general operations, including the capitulation, ye’ll no’ find any omission of your claims and merits.”
“Tut for my claims and merits, Quartermaster! Lundie knows what I am in the forest and what I am in the fort; and the General knows better than he. No fear of me; tell your own story, only taking care to do justice by Mabel’s father, who, in one sense, is the commanding officer at this very moment.”
Muir expressed his entire satisfaction with this arrangement, as well as his determination to do justice by all, when the two went to the group assembled round the fire. Here the Quartermaster began, for the first time since leaving Oswego, to assume some of the authority that might properly be supposed to belong to his rank. Taking the remaining corporal aside, he distinctly told that functionary that he must in future be regarded as one holding the king’s commission, and directed him to acquaint his subordinates with the new state of things. This change in the dynasty was effected without any of the usual symptoms of a revolution; for, as all well understood the Lieutenant’s legal claims to command, no one felt disposed to dispute his orders. For reasons best known to themselves, Lundie and the Quartermaster had originally made a different disposition; and now, for reasons of his own, the latter had seen fit to change it. This was reasoning enough for soldiers, though the hurt received by Sergeant Dunham would have sufficiently explained the circumstance had an explanation been required.
All this time Captain Sanglier was looking after his own breakfast with the resignation of a philosopher, the coolness of a veteran, the ingenuity and science of a Frenchman, and the voracity of an ostrich. This person had now been in the colony some thirty years, having left France in some such situation in his own army as Muir filled in the 55th. An iron constitution, perfect obduracy of feeling, a certain address well suited to manage savages, and an indomitable courage, had early pointed him out to the commander-in-chief as a suitable agent to be employed in directing the military operations of his Indian allies. In this capacity, then, he had risen to the titular rank of captain; and with his promotion had acquired a portion of the habits and opinions of his associates with a facility and an adaptation of self which are thought in America to be peculiar to his countrymen. He had often led parties of the Iroquois in their predatory expeditions; and his conduct on such occasions exhibited the contradictory results of both alleviating the misery produced by this species of warfare, and of augmenting it by the broader views and greater resources of civilization. In other words, he planned enterprises that, in their importance and consequences, much exceeded the usual policy of the Indians, and then stepped in to lessen some of the evils of his own creating. In short, he was an adventurer whom circumstances had thrown into a situation where the callous qualities of men of his class might readily show themselves for good or for evil; and he was not of a character to baffle fortune by any ill-timed squeamishness on the score of early impressions, or to trifle with her liberality by unnecessarily provoking her frowns through wanton cruelty. Still, as his name was unavoidably connected with many of the excesses committed by his parties, he was generally considered in the American provinces a wretch who delighted in bloodshed, and who found his gre............