Chapter VII. The Lone Voyager

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　Henry Ware awoke, rubbed his eyes, and looked through thetree trunks at the Mississippi, now wider than ever.

　　"What do you see, Tom?" he asked of Tom Ross, who had keptthe watch.

　　"Nothin' but a black speck fur across thar. It come intosight only a minute ago. Fust I thought it wuz a shadder, then Ithought it wuz a floatin' log, an' now I do believe it's a canoe.What do you make uv it, Henry?"

　　Henry looked long.

　　"It is a canoe," said he at last, "and there's a man in it.They're floating with the stream down our way."

　　"You're right," said Tom Ross, "an' ef I ain't mistook thatman an that canoe are in trouble. Half the time he's paddlin',half the time he's bailin' her out, an' all the time he's makinga desperate effort to git to land."

　　The others were now up and awake, and they gazed withintense interest.

　　"It's a white man in the canoe ez shore ez I'm a livin'sinner!" exclaimed Shif'less Sol.

　　"And it's a question," added Henry, "whether his canoe getsto the bank or the bottom of the river first."

　　"It's a white man and we must save him!" cried Paul, hisgenerous boy's heart stirred to the utmost.

　　They quickly untied their boat and pulled with great strokestoward the sinking canoe and its lone occupant. They werealongside in a few minutes and Henry threw a rope to the man, whocaught it with a skillful hand, and tied his frail craft stoutlyto the side of the strong "Galleon." Then, as Paul reached afriendly hand down to him he sprang on board, exclaiming at thesame time in a deep voice: "May the blessing of Heaven rest uponyou, my children."

　　The five were startled at the face and appearance of the manwho came upon their boat. They had never thought of encounteringsuch a figure in the wilderness. He was of middle age, tall,well-built, and remarkably straight, but his shaven face was thinand ascetic, and the look in his eyes was one of extraordinarybenevolence. Moreover, it had the peculiar quality of seeming togaze far into the future, at it were, at something glorious andbeautiful. His dress was a strange mixture. He wore deerskinleggins and moccasins, but his body was clothed in a long, loosegarment of black cloth and on his head was a square cap of blackfelt. A small white crucifix suspended by a thin chain from hisneck lay upon his breast and gleamed upon the black cloth.

　　Every one of the five instantly felt veneration and respectfor the stranger and Paul murmured, "A priest." The others heardhim and understood. They were all Protestants, but in the deepwilderness religious hatred and jealousy had little hold; uponthem none at all.

　　"Bless you, my sons," repeated the man in his deep,benevolent voice, and then he continued in a lighter tone,speaking almost perfect English, "I do believe that if you hadnot appeared when you did I and my canoe should have both gone tothe bottom of this very deep river. I am a fair swimmer, but Idoubt if I could have gained the land."

　　"We are glad, father," said Paul respectfully, "that we hadthe privilege to be present and help at such a time."

　　The priest looked at Paul and smiled. He liked his refinedand sensitive face and his correct language and accent.

　　"I should fancy, my young friend," he said, still smiling,"that the debt of gratitude is wholly mine. I am PierreMontigny, and, as you perhaps surmise, a Frenchman and priest ofthe Holy Church, sent to the New World to convert and save theheathen. I belong to the mission at New Orleans, but I have beenon a trip, to a tribe called the Osage, west of the Great River.Last night my canoe was damaged by the fierce storm and I startedforth rather rashly this morning, not realizing the extent towhich the canoe had suffered. You have seen and taken a part inthe rest."

　　"You were going back to New Orleans alone, and in a littlecanoe?" said Paul.

　　"Oh, yes," replied Father Montigny, as if he were speakingof trifles. "I always go alone, and my canoe isn't so verylittle, as you see. I carry in it a change of clothing,provisions, and gifts for the Indians."

　　"But no arms," said Henry who had been looking into thecanoe.

　　"No arms, of course," replied Father Montigny.

　　"You are a brave man! About the bravest I ever saw!" burstout Tom Ross, he of few words.

　　Father Montigny merely smiled again.

　　"Oh, no," he said, "I have many brethren who do likewise,and there are as many different kinds of bravery as there aredifferent kinds of life. You, I fancy, are brave, too, though Itake it from appearances that you sometimes fight with arms."

　　"We have to do it, Father Montigny," said Paul in anapologetic tone.

　　The priest made no further comment and, taking him to theshore, with much difficulty they built a fire, at which theyprepared him warm food while he dried his clothing. They had nohesitation in telling him of their errand and of the presence ofAlvarez and his force on the river. Father Montigny sighed.

　　"It is a matter of great regret," he said, "that Louisianahas passed from the hands of my nation into those of Spain.France is now allied with your colonies, but Spain holds aloof.She fears you and perhaps with reason. Every country, if itspeople be healthy and vigorous, must ultimately be owned by thosewho live upon it."

　　"Do you know this Alvarez?" asked Henry.

　　"Yes, a man of imperious and violent temper, one who, withall his courage, does not recognize the new forces at work in theworld. He thinks that Spain is still the greatest of nations,and that the outposts of your race, who have reached thebackwoods, are nothing. It is we who travel in the great forestswho recognize the strength of the plant that is yet so young andtender."

　　The priest sighed again and a shade of emotion passed overhis singularly fine face.

　　"Alvarez would be glad to commit the Spanish forces inAmerica to the cause of your enemies," he resumed, "and he isbold enough to do any violent deed at this distance to achievethat end. In fact, he is already allied with the renegade andthe Indians against you and began war when he seized one of you.Perhaps it is just as well that you are going to New Orleans,since Bernardo Galvez, the Spanish Governor, is a man ofdifferent temper, young, enthusiastic, and ready, I think, tolisten to you."

　　While the priest was talking by the fireside Shif'less Sol,Long Jim, and Tom Ross slipped away. They hauled his canoe outon dry land, and with the tools that they had found on "TheGalleon" quickly made it as good as ever. They also quietly putsome of their own stores in the canoe, and then returned it tothe water.

　　"0' course, he won't go comf'tably with us in our boat toNew Or-lee-yuns," said Shif'less Sol. "He'll stick to his canoean' stop to preach to Injuns who mebbe will torture him to death,but he has my respeck an' ef I kin do anything fur him I want todo it."

　　"So would I," said Jim Hart heartily. "I'm a pow'ful goodcook ez you know, Sol, bein' ez you've et in your time more'n ahundred thousand pounds uv my victuals, an' I'd like to cook himall the buffaler an' deer steak he could eat between here an' NewOr-lee-yuns, no matter how long he wuz on the way."

　　"An' me," said Tom Ross simply, wishing to add his mite,"I'd like to be on hand when any Injun tried to hurt him. ThatInjun would think he'd been struck by seven different kinds uvlightnin', all at the same time."

　　The fire was built on a hillock that rose above the flood.It had been kindled with the greatest difficulty, even by suchexperienced woodsmen as the five, but, once well started, itconsumed the damp brush and spluttered and blazed merrily.Gradually a great bed of coals formed and threw out a temperate,grateful heat. All were glad enough, after the storm and thecold and the wet, to sit around it end to feel the glow upontheir faces. It warmed the blood.

　　The hill formed an island in the flood and "The Galleon" andthe canoe were tied to trees only thirty or forty feet away. Farto the west extended the great sweep of the river and around themthe flooded forest was still dripping with the night's rain.

　　"I think I'm willin' to rest a while," said Shif'less Sol."That wuz a pow'ful lively time we had last night, but thar wuzenough o' it an' I'd like to lay by to-day, now that our friend'scanoe hez been fixed."

　　Father Montigny glanced up in surprise.

　　"My canoe repaired!" he said. "I don't understand."

　　"'Twas only a little job fur fellers like us," said theshiftless one." She's all done, an' your canoe, ez good ez new,is tied up thar alongside o' our 'Gall-yun.'"

　　"You are very good to me," said the priest raising his handsslightly in the manner of benediction, "and I suggest, since wehave a comfortable place here, that we remain on this littleisland until tomorrow. Do you know what day it is?"

　　"No," replied Paul, "to tell you the truth, Father Montigny,we've been through so much and we've had to think so hard ofother things that we've lost count of the days. I'd scarcelyknow how to guess at it."

　　"It's the Holy Sabbath," said Father Montigny. "You, I haveno doubt, belong to a church other than mine, but the wildernessteaches us that we're merely traveling by different roads to thesame place. We six are alone upon this little spot of ground ina great river flowing through a vast desolation. Surely we canbe comrades, too, and give thanks together for the mercy that istaking us through such great dangers and hardships."

　　"We're like Noah and his family after the ark landed,"whispered Shif'less Sol to Henry, in a tone that was far fromirreverence. But Paul said aloud:

　　"I'm sure that we're all in agreement upon that point,Father Montigny. We do not have to hasten and we'll remain hereon the island in a manner proper to the day."

　　Father Montigny glanced at the five in turn and the rare,beautiful smile lighted up his face. He read every thought oftheirs in their open countenances, and he knew that they were inthorough accord with him. But Paul, as usual, appealed to himmost of all - the deeply spiritual quality in the lad was evidentto the priest and reader of men.

　　Father Montigny took a little leather-bound book from underhis black robe and stood up. The others stood up also. Then thepriest read a prayer. It was in Latin and the five - Paulincluded - did not understand a word of it, but not a particle ofits solemnity and effect was lost on that account.

　　It was to Paul, in many ways, the most impressive scene inwhich he had ever taken part, the noble, inspired face of thepriest, the solemn words, and no other sound except the peacefulmurmur made by the flowing of the great river. They seemed asmuch alone on their little hill as if they stood on a coralisland in the south seas.

　　Nature was in unison with the rite. A brilliant sun cameout, the dripping trees dried fast, and, under the blue sky, theyellow of the river took on a lighter hue.

　　After the prayer they resumed their seats by the fire, whichthey left at intervals only to get something from the boat or tobring the dryest wood that they could find for the replenishingof the fire. Paul and Shif'less Sol went together on one of thetrips for firewood.

　　"He is shorely a good man," said the shiftless one noddingin the direction of the priest, "but don't you think, Paul, he'sundertook a mighty big job, tryin' to convert Injuns?"

　　"Undoubtedly," replied Paul, "but that is the purpose towhich he has devoted his life. He does good, but it seems a pityto me too, Sol, that he goes on such missions. In the end he'llfind martyrdom among some cruel tribe, and he knows it."

　　While Father Montigny, like others of his kind, expectedmartyrdom and willingly risked it, his spirits were darkened byno shadow now. Not one of the five was more cheerful than he,and he gave them all the news at his command.

　　"And I am glad," he continued, "that you are going to NewOrleans. You are really messengers of peace and, unofficialheralds though you are, you may save more than one nation fromgreat trouble."

　　The five were deeply gratified by his words. If they hadneeded any encouragement in their selfchosen task they would havereceived it now.

　　"Since you are returning to New Orleans, Father Montigny,"said Paul, "why don't you go with us in our big boat? It is farsafer and more comfortable than a canoe."

　　Father Montigny shook his head.

　　"It is a kind offer," he replied, "but I cannot accept it.I leave you to-morrow at the mouth of a river on our right as wedescend. There is a small village of peaceful Indians severalmiles up that stream and I wish to stay with them a day or two.I and my canoe have traveled many thousands of miles together andwe will continue."

　　They would have repeated the offer, but they saw that he wasnot to be moved and they talked of other things. The rest was,in truth, welcome to all, as the labors and dangers of the nighthad been a severe strain upon their nerves and strength, and theyluxuriated before the fire while the peaceful day passed. Henrynoticed that the water was still rising, and that the mass offloating debris was also increasing.

　　"It's been a tremendous rain," he said, "and it's extendedfar up. It must have been raining on all the great rivers thatrun into the Mississippi on either side, away off there in thenorth. It's going to be a mighty big flood, and this hill itselfwill go under."

　　"You're right," said Shif'less Sol. "It's a mighty big riverany time but is shorely gittin' to be like a sea now."

　　They walked back to the little party by the fire. The dayhad considerable coolness in it after the rain, and the warmthwas still welcome. Little was left for them to do and they stillluxuriated in rest. Like all woodsmen in those times who werecompelled to endure long and most strenuous periods of toil anddanger, they knew how to do nothing when the time came, and letNature recuperate the tired faculties.

　　The brilliant sun shone on the river, the muddy waters weregilded with gold. The east turned to rose, then to red, andafter that came the shadows. The mellow voice of the priest waslifted in a solemn Latin hymn. His song carried far over thedarkening waters, and Paul, under its influence, felt more deeplythan ever the immense majesty of the scene. Red light from thesunken sun still lingered over the longest of rivers, but theshadows now covered all the eastern shore. Through theincreasing night the firelight on the little island twinkled likea beacon, but for the time being, they were careless who saw it.The hymn died away in a last long echo, the red light was whollygone, darkness was over everything, and they prepared for a longnight of sleep. The next morning they started together, the bigboat and the little canoe. Every one of the five offered topaddle the canoe for Father Montigny as far as they were goingtogether, but he smilingly declined.

　　"No," he said, "my good canoe and I have been closelyassociated too long to be separated now, nor must I be spoiled.I see that you have put fresh stores in the canoe, and I acceptthem. You have good hearts, as I knew when I first saw you."

　　The five would not put up their sail while they were incompany, and "The Galleon" and the canoe drifted together untilthey reached the mouth of the river up which the peaceful Indianvillage lay. There Father Montigny gave them his blessing andbade them farewell. They held their own boat in the currentwhile they watched him paddle with strong arms up the tributarystream. He stopped at the first curve, lifted his paddle in alast salute, which they returned with their own lifted oars, andthen he passed out of sight.

　　"We may never see him again," said Paul - but Paul could notread the future.

　　Then they set their sail, swung into the middle of thestream and swept forward on their great journey. But the meetingwith the priest had a strong influence upon every one of them.

　　"He is sure to suffer a violent death some time or other,"said Paul, "and he knows it, but it never makes him gloomy.There are other French priests like him, too, boys, goingthousands of miles, alone and unarmed, over this vast continent."

　　"'Pears to me that we are wrong when we talk about theFrench bein' dancin' masters an' sech like," said Shif'less Sol."My father fit in the great French war up thar along the Canadyline an' in Canady, an' he says the French wuz ez good fightersez anybody. Besides, they took naterally to the woods, makin'fust rate scouts an' hunters, an' ef that ain't proof o' thestuff that's in people, nothin' is."

　　This day upon the waters was one of unbroken peace. Theflood, as Henry had predicted, continued to rise, spreading farinto the woods and out of sight. Now and then some portion ofthe shore, eaten into continually by the powerful stream, wouldgive way and fall with a sticky sigh into the river. Uprootedtrees floated in the current or became wedged in the forest. Butthe sunlight remained undimmed and they began to grow familiarwith the river. It was a friend now, bearing them whither theywould go.

　　About noon they saw two deer marooned on an island made bythe flood, and they shot one of them for the sake of the freshmeat.

　　Now ensued a long journey, unbroken by danger, but full ofinterest. They came near enough once or twice to ascertain thatthe Spanish force was just ahead of them, but they saw no chanceto secure the precious maps and plans or interfere in any otherway with the dangerous project of Alvarez, and they waitedpatiently.

　　The flood began to subside, but it was a mighty river yet,and would still be so when all the flood was gone. They passedthe mouths of great rivers to right and to left, but they did notknow their names, nor whence they came. The air grew much warmerand they were very glad indeed now that they had the sail, which,allied with the current, carried them on as fast as they wished.

　　Shif'less Sol lay lazily under the sail, his limbs relaxed,and his face a picture of content.

　　"I could float on an' on forever," he said sleepily, "an' Idon't care how long it takes to git to New Or-lee-yuns. I thinkI'm goin' to like that place. I saw a trapper once who had beenthar, an' he said you could be jest ez lazy an' sleepy ez youwished an' nobody would blame you - they kinder look upon it ezthe right thing, an' that suits me. He said them Spaniards an'French had orange trees about. You could lay in your bed, reacha han' out o' the window, pull an orange off the tree, suck it,an' then go back to sleep without ever havin' disturbed thecover. I never seed an orange, but I know it's nice."

　　The same day they rowed the boat a few miles up a small butdeep and very clear river that emptied into the Mississippi fromthe east. Their object was to fish, the greater river itselfbeing too muddy for the succulent kind that they wished. Theincomparable "Galleon" had also been supplied with fishingtackle, and in a short time they caught a splendid supply ofblack bass and perch, which proved to be very fine and toothsome.As their boat floated back from the smaller stream into theMississippi, Shif'less Sol heaved a deep sigh.

　　"What's the matter, Sol?" asked Paul.

　　"I wuz thinkin' o' Christopher Columbus," replied Shif'lessSol. "Ef it wuzn't that I'd be dead now, I wish I'd been withhim. I do enjoy sailin' on an' discoverin' lands an' waters thatain't yet got no name to 'em. It looks funny to me that wewuzn't discovered sooner, when we've always been here, butColumbus has all my respeck an' admiration cause he done it whenthe others didn't."

　　"That shorely wuz a man," said Tom Ross, his eyes lightingup. "I've heard the tale how he kep' tryin' an' tryin' to git aship an' couldn't, an' at last the Spanish lady pulled off herearrings an' finger rings an' bracelets an' said: 'Here, Chris,these, these are my jewels, take 'em, trade 'em fur the best shipthar is in the market, an' discover Ameriky.' An' then he gothis ship, an' kep' sailin' on an' on, an' the sailors they beganto git skeered an' then more skeered. They're afraid they'regoin' to drop off on the other side uv the world an' they go toChris an' say: 'Thar ain't no sech continent ez Ameriky an' wegoin' to discover it. We're goin' to turn right 'round an' gostraight back to Spain.'

　　"Chris says in the knowin'est manner like a father talkin'to his child. 'Thar is sech a continent ez Ameriky, an' it's abig one, too. It's layin' over thar straight to the west, an'it's full uv big lakes an' big rivers an' big mountains an' redInjuns that fight with bows an' arrers, and b'ars an' buffalersan' deer an' panthers an' all things fine, jest waitin' fur us.Thar's whar we're goin'.' And the sailors say more uppish thanever: 'No, we ain't, we ain't goin' to discover Ameriky, tharain't no sech place, we're goin' right back to Spain.' Then akinder funny look comes into Chris's eye. He reaches fur hislong rifle, an' he draws a bead on the foremost uv them sailors,the feller that speaks fur 'em all, an' he says, droppin' thatfatherly manner an' speakin' up sharp an' snappy: 'I reckin we'reeither goin' to discover Ameriky, or go right back to Spain,which is it?'

　　"An' that foremost sailor, the one that speaks fur 'em all,sees the funny look in Chris's eye, an' he thinks, too, he kinsee clean down the barrel uv that long rifle to whar the bulletis layin', an' he answers right off: 'We're goin' to discoverAmeriky'; an' shore enough they did, this fine, big continent,full uv big lakes an' big rivers an' big mountains an' red Injunsthat fight with bows an' arrers an' b'ars an' buffalers an' deeran' panthers an' all things fine."

　　"I didn't know Tom Ross had sech a gift o' gab," saidShif'less Sol. "He stirs me all up, he makes me want to hev somelady buy a ship fur me an' start me out to discoverin'continents. Do you think, Paul, thar's any lady who would sellher earrings an' finger rings fur me ez that Spanish one did furColumbus?"

　　"But think, Sol, what a chance you've got whether there isor not," said Henry Ware. "America is discovered but not much ofit is explored. There's enough here to keep you roaming aboutfor the next fifty or sixty years."

　　"That's so," said the shiftless one brightening up. "Whatam I growlin' about, when here's a river, mebbe ten thousandmiles long that we know next to nothin' 'bout, an' buffalers an'b'ars an' panthers an' deer to shoot, an' red Injuns to fight ezlong ez I live. After all, we're shorely mighty lucky to live atthe time we do, ez I've said before. Do you think thar'll everbe any times hereafter as interestin' ez ourn, Paul?"

　　"I can't say," replied Paul with a smile, "but they're notlikely to be as interesting to us."

　　They went on their way, and the air became still warmer.Moreover; it grew heavy and oppressive, and the spring rains wereresumed with great violence. They had worked meanwhile on theirtarpaulin, enlarging and strengthening it with skins which theyhad allowed to dry on the boat, and they rested, sheltered andsecure, as they floated along.

　　Although Frenchmen had gone up and down the river longbefore, they felt like genuine explorers. So little was known ofthe mighty stream that they regarded every stretch and turn withkeen interest. It was not beautiful now, a vast, brown floodflowing between low and changing shores, but in its size andloneliness it had a majesty peculiarly its own.

　　Wild geese and wild ducks flew over the river in abundance,and they were so little used to man that often they passed near"The Galleon." The fowling pieces proved useful again, as thefive were able to sit in comfort on their boat and shoot geeseand ducks for their needs. Some were of kinds that they hadnever seen before, but all proved to be good eating, and theywere welcome.

　　Jim Hart also exercised his ingenuity in a very usefulmanner. In the prow of the boat, but under the tarpaulin, hespread a layer of mud about two inches thick. Protected from therain, it soon dried, forming a hard, impervious, brick-likecovering for the bottom of the boat, and upon this he built asmall smothered fire of dry sticks, a supply of which they keptin the boat. Here Jim, with all the skill and delicacy of agastronomic artist, would cook their wild ducks and wild geese,and, considering the limited area and resources for the exerciseof his favorite occupation, he did extremely well. Nor was itany longer necessary for them to run in to the shore and worry inthe dripping forest with wet wood.

　　"It ain't like that stove we built the time we wuz on theha'nted islan'," Long Jim would say, "but it's a heap sightbetter than nothin'."

　　"It shorely is," said Shif'less Sol. "You ain't much accountfor anything, Jim, but you kin cook a leetle bit."

　　Long Jim smiled contentedly.