CHAPTER XIX "UNKNELLED, UNCOFFINED, AND UNKNOWN" "The sea is still and deep, All things within its bosom sleep! A plunge, a bubble, and no more." ORDON'S heart beat high with triumph. He had not asked for a recompense-he would have done that later, but this greathearted Lord of the Soil had pledged him a dukedom. 66 the "Great Cæsar!" he whispered, inwardly, chief has promised of his own will, and he will not break his word. Deucedly fortunate I am not dealing with a white man, else I'd not be certain before a contract was drawn in black and white with quill and parchment; but in dealing with this red Indian the land is as surely my own as if the bond had been signed, sealed and delivered." Unconsciously he had admitted a truth that has held good since the hour a European foot pressed the soil in the primeval forests of America. "The white brother shall dwell in peace with the red men over whom Wyandance is king, for when Heather Flower comes again to her father's lodge, then shall the land be the white chief's for his own; Wyandance will place the totem of the Grand Sachem. to the parchment that the white brother shall make according to the custom of his people," spoke the chief, as if in reply to the secret musings of the treacherous visitor. "Look ye, lad-your eyes are keener than mine— see you aught of a boat? Is not the Captain yon in the distance?" the Major inquired, turning to Wyancombone, who was standing at a little distance, a silent witness to the transaction between his sire and the Major. "The eyes of Wyancombone are like the eagle's. He has seen the white man's canoe, it brings the white chief and so many of his people," returned the youth, raising his right hand and the index finger of his left. "The Captain with a half-dozen of his henchmen; they are on their way to help the Montauks bury their dead," explained Gordon. Numbers of warriors were gathered upon the beach and grouped beneath the shelter of the trees, conversing at intervals, and as the boat came near they began a dismal death-song, echoed by the mournful wail of the squaws, the sound fairly chilling the blood of the guilty listener. The boat touched the landing, the white men stepped ashore. Captain Gardiner and Guy Kingsland met the sorrowing chief with extended hand; he took the Captain's hand in his own, but paid no attention to the Lieutenant, other than a muttered word. He had not forgotten the part the young man played in winning the heart of the young princess, although his pride would not allow him to proclaim the fact; besides, he cared not to put the hypocrite on his guard. It was a gruesome task, composing those stark forms for burial. The Montauks, where they had fallen in defense of their princess, were wrapped in their blankets, laid in a line, and then the search for the dead, scattered in the recesses of the forest, began. One by one they were brought forth, and beneath the shade of a group of oaks the graves were hollowed, Captain Gardiner, Major Gordon, the serving men, and even Guy Kingsland using the spades the party had brought from the Isle of Wight; and in the trenches thus prepared the Montauks laid their dead brothers and the innocent maidens, women, and little children who had fallen in the dreadful massacre. With their weapons in their hands, the warriors were seated to rest in their graves, the maidens, in their gala attire, were lowered tenderly, the garlands they had woven and the withered flowers they had plucked laid upon their pulseless bosoms. There was deathly silence broken only by the soft fall of the earth upon the uncoffined forms as the white men performed their office. When all was over, Wyandance moved to the head of the long line of graves, and in obedience to a wave of his hand the warriors fell back. The stricken chief stood alone, and with his right arm stretched over the grave thus vented his grief and voiced the sorrow of his people: "Listen, my brothers: Our hearts are very sore, and the eyes of our women and children are heavy with weeping for our dead warriors slain by our enemies not in battle, but when we had laid away our weapons to make our hearts glad; when the Heather Flower would go to the lodge of To-cus to carry the sunshine that would live there always to gladden his heart. "Listen! Who is the enemy of the Montauks who told the Narragansetts when to strike them, when we had buried the tomahawk and forgotten war in the hope to live in peace?" The chieftain paused, while his eagle eye was riveted on the faces of the white men, as if he would read there any sign of a criminal knowledge; instinctively the Major and Kingsland bit their lips and reddened faintly, each comprehending that the sternbrowed chief more than half-suspected their complicity in the crime. After a slight pause the sorrowing Sachem continued: "Listen! Our traditions tell us that long ago when we were not a numerous people, the Narragansetts demanded tribute of us and we refused to pay it. They invaded our country, burned our wigwams, slew our braves in battle, and drove us from our hunting grounds. But when we had joined forces with our three brother tribes, the Narragansetts, in turn, had to show the sole of the foot in the place of the white of the eye, and we were left to live in peace in all our borders. Then, later, the Pequots came and made war upon us, and we were made to pay tribute to them. "At length a daughter of the Iroquois came to the wigwam of a Montauk and we were about to form an alliance with the Mohawks, the ancient enemies of the Pequots, when the pale-faces came with soft and cooing words, and we were their friends. When the Mohawks saw this they left us alone to be despoiled by our friends and murdered by our enemies. "Listen, my children: The Great Spirit is angry with the Montauks because we have been the white man's friend and have remained in peace at home when the Pequots and Narragansetts would induce us to go upon the war-path that our tomahawks might drink the white man's blood. For this the Great Spirit caused the eyes of the Montauks to be heavy 1 and dim on Shag-a-nock hill, that they did not see Nin-e-croft, in his war canoes, coming to carry the daughter of Wyandance, we know not where. For the moment the Sachem's composure nearly forsook him, but with kingly grace and bearing he controlled and stilled the storm that raged within his heaving bosom, and snatching, with impatient hand, the toga from his head, he stood erect, his matchless form dilating with righteous anger, his fierce eyes kindling and flashing as the lightning plays upon the storm-cloud's crest, as he continued: "Listen, my brothers: Swear by the Great Spirit, swear by the earth, sea, sun and sky, by the bones of your fathers, that they who betrayed us to the Narragansetts, that they who struck the blow that has sent so many Montauks to the happy hunting grounds, our brothers whose bodies are here hidden in the earth to-day, that we may not look upon them again, that they who have robbed our wigwams of the bravest warriors, shall die! Swear by the bodies of our dead maidens, women and children, that they who took Heather Flower from us, from her home and all she loved, shall be food for the sea-wolves, the wolf and panther, and that the deed can only be washed out by the blood of our enemies!" A deep, guttural murmur of approval came from the assembled Montauks. At the head of his warriors the stern chief retraced his steps, his eyes kindled with ferocity, his brow darkening as he stood beside the remains of the Narragansetts who had fallen in the strife. His fingers worked nervously about the haft of his knife, telling more plainly than words could have done of the vengeful feelings in his breast. 1 Shag-a-nock.-End of the land. "Nin-e-croft.-Ninigret. |