Littlepage Manuscripts: Satanstoe, The Chainbearer & The Redskins (Complete Edition)
are willing to invest the sums they annually do in wild lands.”
“Every man who is at his ease in his moneyed affairs, Corny, feels a disposition to make some provision for his posterity. This estate, if kept together, and in single hands may make some descendant of mine a man of fortune. Half a century will produce a great change in this colony; at the end of that period, a child of Anneke’s may be thankful that his mother had a father who was willing to throw away a few thousands of his own, the surplus of a fortune that was sufficient for his wants without them, in order his grandson may see them converted into tens, or possibly into hundreds of thousands.”
“Posterity will, at least, owe us a debt of gratitude, Mr. Mordaunt; for I now see that Mooseridge is not likely to make either Dirck or myself very affluent patroons.”
“On that you may rely. Satanstoe will produce you more than the large tracts you possess in this quarter.”
“Do you no longer fear, sir, that the war, and apprehension of Indian ravages, may drive your people off?”
“Not much at present, though the danger was great at one time. The war may do me good, as well as harm. The armies consume everything they can get—soldiers resembling locusts, in this respect. My tenants have had the commissaries among them; and, I am told, every blade of grass they can spare—all their surplus grain, potatoes, butter, cheese, and, in a word, everything that can be eaten, and with which they are willing to part, has been contracted for at the top of the market. The King pays in gold, and the sight of the precious metals will keep even a Yankee from moving.”
About the time this was said, we came in sight of the spot Herman Mordaunt had christened Ravensnest; a name that had since been applied to the whole property. It was a log building, that stood on the verge of a low cliff of rocks, at a point where a bird of that appellation had originally a nest on the uppermost branches of a dead hemlock. The building had been placed, and erected, with a view to defence, having served for some time as a sort of rallying point to the families of the tenantry, in the event of an Indian alarm. At the commencement of the present war, taking into view the exposed position of his possessions on that frontier,—frontier as to settlement, if not as to territorial limits,—Herman Mordaunt had caused some attention to be paid to his fortifications; which, though they might not have satisfied Mons. Vauban, were not altogether without merit, considered in reference to their use in case of a surprise.
The house formed three sides of a parallelogram, the open portion of the court in the centre, facing the cliff. A strong picket served to make a defence against bullets on that side; while the dead walls of solid logs were quite impregnable against any assault known in forest warfare, but that of fire. All the windows opened on the court; while the single outer door was picketed, and otherwise protected by the coverings of plank. I was glad to see by the extent of this rude structure, which was a hundred feet long by fifty in depth, that Anneke and Mary Wallace would not be likely to be straitened for room. Such proved to be the fact; Herman Mordaunt’s agent having prepared four or five apartments for the family, that rendered them as comfortable as people could well expect to be in such a situation. Everything was plain, and many things were rude; but shelter, warmth and security had not been neglected.
Chapter XXI
“And long shall timorous fancy see
The painted chief and pointed spear;
And Reason’s self shall bow the knee
To shadows and delusions here.”
—Freneau
It is not necessary to dwell on the manner in which Herman Mordaunt and his companions became established at Ravensnest. Two or three days sufficed to render them as comfortable as circumstances would permit; then Dirck and I bethought us of proceeding in quest of the lands of Mooseridge. Mr. Worden and Jason both declined going any further; the mill-seat, of which the last was in quest, being, as I now learned, on the estate of Herman Mordaunt, and having been for some time the subject of a negotiation between the pedagogue and its owner. As for the divine, he declared that he saw a suitable ‘field’ for his missionary labour where he was; while, it was easy to see, that he questioned if there were fields of any sort, where we were going.
Our party, on quitting Ravensnest, consisted of Dirck and myself, Guert, Mr. Traverse, the surveyor, three chain-bearers, Jaap or Yaap, Guert’s man, Pete, and one woodsman or hunter. This would have given us ten vigorous and well-armed men, for our whole force. It was thought best, however, to add two Indians to our number, in the double character of hunters and runners, or messengers. One of these red-skins was called Jumper, in the language of the settlement where we found them; and the other Trackless; the latter sobriquet having been given him on account of a faculty he possessed of leaving little or no trail in his journeys and marches. This Indian was about six-and-twenty years of age, and was called a Mohawk, living with the people of that tribe; though, I subsequently ascertained that he was, in fact, an Onondago 34 by birth. His true name was Susquesus, or Crooked Turns; an appellation that might or might not speak well of his character, as the Turns’ were regarded in a moral, or in a physical sense.
“Take that man, Mr. Littlepage, by all means,” said Herman Mordaunt’s agent, when the matter was under discussion. “You will find him as useful, in the woods, as your pocket-compass, besides being a reasonably good hunter. He left here, as a runner, during the heaviest of the snows, last winter, and a trial was made to find his trail, within half an hour after he had quitted the clearing, but without success. He had not gone a mile in the woods, before all traces of him were lost, as completely as if he had made the journey in the air.”
As Susquesus had a reputation for sobriety, as was apt to be the case with the Onondagoes, the man was engaged, though one Indian would have been sufficient for our purpose. But Jumper had been previously hired; and it would have been dangerous, under our circumstances, to offend a red-man, by putting him aside for another, even after compensating him fully for the disappointment. By Mr. Traverse’s advice, therefore, we took both. The Indian or Mohawk name of Jumper, was Quissquiss, a term that, I fancy, signified nothing very honourable or illustrious.
The girls betrayed deep interest in us, on our taking leave; more, I thought, than either had ever before manifested. Guert had told me, privately, of an intention, on his part, to make another offer to Mary Wallace; and I saw the traces of it in the tearful eyes and flushed cheeks of his mistress. But, at such a moment, one does not stop to think much of such things; there being tears in Anneke’s eyes, as well as in those of her friend. We had a thousand good wishes to exchange; and we promised to keep open; the communication between the two parties, by means of our runners semi-weekly. The distance, which would vary from fifteen to thirty miles, would readily admit of this, since either of the Indians would pass over it, with the greatest ease to himself, in a day, at that season of the year.
After all, the separation was to be short, for we had promised to come over and dine with Herman Mordaunt on his fiftieth birth-day, which would occur within three weeks. This arrangement made the parting tolerable to us young men, and our constitutional gaiety did the rest. Half an hour after the last breakfast at Ravensnest saw us all on our road, cheerful, if not absolutely happy. Herman Mordaunt accompanied us three miles; which led him to the end of his own settlements, and to the edge of the virgin forest. There he took his leave, and we pursued our way with the utmost diligence, for hours, with the compass for our guide, until we reached the banks of a small river that was supposed to lie some three or four miles from the southern boundaries of the patent we sought. I say, ‘supposed to lie,’ for there existed then, and, I believe, there still exists much uncertainty concerning the land-marks of different estates in the woods. On the banks of this stream, which was deep but not broad, the surveyor called a halt, and we made our dispositions for dinner. Men who had walked as far and as fast as we had done, made but little ceremony and for twenty minutes every one was busy in appeasing his hunger. This was no sooner accomplished, however than Mr. Traverse summoned the Indians to the side of the fallen tree on