Chapter Fifth
"Hark! to the hurried question of despair:
'Where is my child?' and echo answers 'where?'"
– Byron.
"How did you learn all you've been telling me, Ru.?" asked Mildred as they stood side by side watching with interest the Queen Charlotte and her consorts slowly clearing the harbor. "Oh, easily enough; young Wells and I got into talk while you and the others were down in the cabin; I asked questions and he answered 'em. Ah, here he comes," he added looking round, "I'll introduce him for he's a nice fellow, I'm sure, and it's a good thing to have a friend at court; in other words to be in favor with the reigning powers; i. e. the captain and his nearest of kin. My sister, Miss Mildred Keith, Mr. Wells."
"Happy to make your acquaintance, Miss," said the young sailor, gallantly, lifting his hat and bowing low. "Hope you'll enjoy your voyage on the Queen Charlotte. Shall be most happy to do all I can to make the trip pleasant to you."
"Thank you kindly."
He began at once by finding comfortable seats for them where they were sheltered from the sun, and had a good view of the Canada and Michigan shores; and being acquainted with the localities, and their history, and possessed of a ready command of language, he added much to the interest of the scene by the information he imparted; sometimes unsolicited, at others in answer to questions.
When they had passed through Detroit river and so far out into Lake St. Clair that little could be seen but water and sky, he offered to show them over the vessel.
They gladly accepted, enjoyed the tour, and when it was over rejoined the rest of their party just as the cabin passengers were summoned to the supper table.
Mildred was seated between Rupert and Edward Wells; opposite them sat Mr. and Mrs. Sims, the bullying Englishman and his meek-eyed wife, and a bachelor gentleman of pleasing countenance and manners, whom Captain Wells addressed as Mr. Carr. Next them were Captain and Mrs. Jones. There were many more passengers of both sexes, several nationalities, and a variety of ages from infants in arms, up to hoary headed grandparents, but with most of them our story has little or nothing to do.
The two captains, the wife of the one and the son of the other, were polite and genial, the fare was excellent, and every one present seemed disposed to contentment and good humor except Mr. Sims, who turned up his nose at the food, snubbed his wife and scowled at his opposite neighbors; perchance reading too plainly in the frank, youthful countenances their disapproval of him.
Mildred so compassionated the long-suffering wife that, in the course of the evening, seeing her sitting by herself and looking sad and lonely, she drew near and opened a conversation.
Mrs. Sims responded readily.
"Do sit down, Miss," she said, making room for Mildred by her side, "I'm so glad to 'ave some one to speak to, for I gets hawful 'omesick at times."
"Ah, that must be a very trying feeling," Mildred said compassionately. "I know nothing of it myself; for I've never been away from home or mother for a week at a time."
"Well, Miss, you're fortunate."
"Have you been long in the country?"
"It's barely six months, Miss, since I left me father's 'ouse in London. We kept an 'otel there; an' that's 'ow I came to know Mr. Sims; he takin' lodgin' with us while up to London about some business 'e 'ad with the lawyers."
"And are your own family all still in England?"
"Yes, Miss; hevery one; I left 'em all – father, mother, brothers and sisters – for 'im," she answered with a tremble in her voice and wiping her eyes furtively.
"What a shame he should treat you as he does!" was the indignant exclamation that rose to Mildred's lips, but she checked herself in time, and changed it for, "Then I think he ought to be very good to you."
"I 'ope we'll be 'appy, Miss, when we're settled down in a 'ome of our own," remarked the little woman with a half stifled patient sigh. "And indeed it's not 'alf so bad as I expected; I've been hastonished, at finding so many white women in America. I thought when I landed in New York I'd be the honly white woman there. I s'posed all the rest would be Injuns or niggers."
"Indeed! how relieved you must have been on discovering your mistake," remarked Mildred demurely, while her eyes twinkled with suppressed fun.
"That I was, Miss, as you may well believe; it quite reconciled me to the country."
The sun rose brightly the next morning and the young Keiths were early on deck, romping and racing about, fall of the vivacity and mirth usually incident to extreme youth and perfect health.
They were well watched over by their father, Mildred and Rupert, or there is no knowing what wild and dangerous pranks might have been indulged in by Cyril and Don.
The former actually proposed a flying leap from the deck of the Queen Charlotte to that of the steamer and was not at all pleased by the decided veto put upon it by his father.
"I think you might let a fellow try, papa," he grumbled, "it would be such fun and I know I could do it."
"No, you couldna," said Don, peeping over the ship's side, "it's a big, big place."
"Come over to the other side of the deck, and stay there," said Mr. Keith, leading them away.
Rupert followed holding Fan by the hand. "What was that? what were they throwing in?" he asked, stopping suddenly at a sound as of a heavy body plunging into the water, while at the same instant a startled cry came from the deck of the Milwaukee.
"A man overboard!"
"A man overboard!" the fearful cry was taken up and repeated on all sides amid the rush of many feet and the quick, sharp imperative words of command.
Almost instantly a boat was lowered and strong arms were pulling with swift, vigorous strokes for the spot, already left far behind, where the splash of the falling body had been heard, and keen eyes were eagerly searching the waste of waters; the crews and passengers of the three vessels crowding the decks and following their movements in breathless anxiety and suspense.
They pulled backward and forward, calling out to the drowning one that help was near.
"Ah, yonder he is at last!" cries a woman's voice in exultant tones; "there he is with his head above water, for I see his hat."
"And they see him too, and are pulling toward him with all their might!"
"Ah, they're up with him! they have him now! hurrah!" and a wild cheer rose from hundreds of throats.
But it died away in a groan.
"It was his hat – only his hat, poor fellow. And they've given it up and are coming back without him!" sighs the woman who had been the first to raise the alarm.
Every face wears a look of sadness for the few moments of silent waiting as the rowers slowly return.
They gain the deck of the Milwaukee; one of them – a lad of nineteen or twenty, a rough, hardy sailor – comes forward with a subdued manner – in strange contrast to his accustomed rude hilarity – lips white and quivering, tears in his manly eyes.
"Mother, mother," he says, low and huskily, drawing near this woman with tottering steps, "don't – don't take it too hard. I – I couldn't bear to see you. I did my best; we all did; but we couldn't find him; and here's his hat. It – it was little Billy."
"My boy! mine! my little one!" she shrieked, and fell fainting into the arms of her elder son.
There was not a dry eye among the spectators, and as the sad story spread to the other vessels many a tremulous tone and falling tear attested the pity and sympathy of those who told the tale and those who listened to it.
"But how did it happen?" queried one and another; and the answer was, "He was jumping back and forth from one vessel to another, and fell in between the Milwaukee and the steamer; and it is conjectured that he must have been struck by the wheel, as he did not come up again."
"And it might have been one of ours," sobbed Mrs. Keith, clasping her babe to her breast, while her eye glanced from one to another of her darlings. "Ah, how frightened I was when I heard the cry. I don't know how I got up the cabin steps! for I thought it was perhaps – "
Tears choked her utterance; tears of mingled gratitude for herself and sorrow for the bereaved mother.
"Yes, it might have been you, Cyril or Don; and think how poor mother's heart would have been broken, and mine too," Mr. Keith added, sitting down and taking one on each knee. "Now do you want to try jumping across like that boy did?"
They shook their heads, gazing up into his face with awe-struck countenances.
The sad event of the morning seemed to have exerted a subduing influence upon all the passengers; it was a very quiet day on board.
The calm continued throughout the day but a breeze sprang up in the night and the vessels parted company.
By daylight the breeze had stiffened into a wind that made the lake very rough; the ship tossed about on the waves with a motion by no means agreeable to the land lubbers in her cabin and steerage; everything not made fast to floor or walls went dashing and rolling from side to side of stateroom or saloon; few of the passengers cared to breakfast, and those who made the attempt had to do so under serious difficulties – table and floor being both inclined planes, sloping now in one direction now in another.
They passed a miserable day, confined to the cabin, for the rain was falling heavily and the great waves would now and then sweep across the deck.
Still the captain assured them the storm was not a bad one and they were in no danger.
By the next day it had abated so that they could seek the outer air, going about without experiencing much difficulty in preserving the centre of gravity; and nearly every one had so far recovered from the deathly sea-sickness as to be able to appear at meals.
Life on shipboard which had seemed quite dreadful during the long hours of the storm, became very tolerable again.
The older people promenaded the deck or sat there with book or work, or merely chatting and looking out upon the restless waters, while the children amused themselves with their plays or in running about exploring every nook and cranny and making acquaintance with the sailors who seemed to enjoy their innocent prattle and merry ways.
All the Keiths had suffered from sea-sickness and Mildred was among the last to recover; it was not until towards sunset of the second day that she could be induced to leave her berth and allow her father to assist her up the cabin stairs to the deck.
Here a couch had been prepared for her and the loving hands of mother and aunt busied themselves in making her comfortable. Brothers and sisters gathered rejoicingly around. Mrs. Jones brought a glass of lemonade, Mrs. Sims offered smelling salts, some one else a fan, and presently the two captains and young Wells came up to offer their congratulations on her recovery.
Then Cyril and Don led up and introduced Mr. Carr, the bachelor gentleman with whom they had already formed a firm friendship.
"He's a real nice man, Milly," said Cyril; "knows lots of stories and games and things, and – "
"An' p'ays wis boys," put in Don, "and tan do every fing."
"Yes, he's weal dood," chimed in Fan, "and I likes him."
"Thank you, my little maid," said the gentleman, laughing and stroking her curls. "Now if you could only get your sister to look at me through your spectacles."
"Why, I hasn't dot any 'pectacles!" exclaimed the child, opening her eyes very wide. "Maybe papa buy me some when I dets an old lady. Den I lets Milly 'ook froo."
"That's my good, generous little sister," Mildred said, laughing, "and if I'm so fortunate as to get glasses first, you shall borrow them whenever you wish."
"Now go to your plays, dears, and let sister rest till she feels better," said their mother.
"Please tum wis us, Mr. Tarr," said Don, tugging at that gentleman's coat.
"Don, Don, you must not – "
"Ah, don't reprove him," interposed the gentleman, lifting the child to his shoulder and prancing away with him, while the little fellow shouted with laughter and delight.
"Isn't he a nice man?" cried Zillah and Ada, looking after him, "we all like him ever so much."
"Yes," assented the mother, "but I am very much afraid my children impose upon his good nature."
"Don't let that trouble you, Mrs. Keith; he is surely able to take care of himself. Besides it's quite evident that he enjoys their society as much as they do his," said Edward Wells, taking a seat near Mildred's couch, where he remained chatting in a lively strain with her and the other ladies until it was time for them to retire to the cabin.
Fair weather and favorable winds made the remaining days of the voyage a pleasure till one bright June morning they entered the Straits of Mackinaw and reaching the island of the same name, anchored in front of its fort.
The captain, informing his passengers that the ship would lie there for a day or two, good-naturedly offered to take ashore any or all who would like to go.
Nearly everybody eagerly accepted. The boats put off from the ship, each with a full complement of passengers, whom they landed just under the white walls of the fortress, situate on a bluff one hundred and fifty feet high.
Passing up a flight of stone steps they entered the parade ground. It was smooth, hard and clean as a well swept floor. They walked across and about it, viewing the officers' quarters (on the outside) and the barracks of the men, walked along by the wall, noting how it commanded the harbor and the village of Mackinaw, with its great guns, beside each of which lay a pile of black balls heaped up in pyramidal form.
Then they visited the town, saw some Indians and bought curious little bark baskets ornamented with porcupine quills, blue, red and white, and filled with maple sugar; moccasins, too, made of soft skins and heavily trimmed with bead work, all manufactured by the Indians.
The young Keiths were made happy with a pair of moccasins apiece from their father, bark baskets from their mother and aunt, and unlimited maple sugar from their friend Mr. Carr.
They returned to the ship tired but full of content.
They were as usual early on deck the next morning, a little before the rising of the sun, for they "liked to see him come up out of the water."
"How very still it is! hardly a breath of air stirring," Mildred was saying to her father as Edward Wells drew near the little group, all standing together looking eagerly for the first glimpse of the sun's bright face.
"Yes, we are becalmed," said Mr. Keith.
"And very possibly may be detained here for several days in consequence," added Edward, greeting them with a cheerful good-morning. "In that case we will have an opportunity to explore the island. May I have the pleasure of being your guide in so doing?"
"Do you mean all of us?" queried Cyril.
"Yes, my man; if you will all go?" answered the sailor lad; but the glance of his eye seemed to extend the invitation to Mildred in particular.
"O father, can we? can we?" chorused the children.
"We will see;" he said. "Now watch or you'll miss the sight we left our beds so early for."
The matter was under discussion at the breakfast table and afterward, and it was decided that all might go ashore, but that the walk under contemplation was too long for the little ones.
Ada Keith was the youngest of that family who was permitted to go; but others joined them and Edward found himself at the head of quite a party of explorers.
Ada came back looking heated, weary and troubled. "O mother," she cried, with tears in her eyes, "we saw a cave where some Frenchmen were hiding from the Indians and got smoked to death; the Indians did it by building a fire at the cave's mouth, because they couldn't get at them to kill them some other way. Oh, I'm so afraid of the savages; do persuade father to take us all back to Ohio again!"
The mother soothed and comforted the frightened child with caresses and assurances of the present peaceable disposition of the Indians, and at length succeeded in so far banishing her fears that she was willing to proceed upon her journey.
However, the calm continuing, nearly a week passed and many excursions had been made to the island before they could quit its harbor.
At length one day directly after dinner, a favorable wind having sprung up, the good ship weighed anchor and pursuing her westward course passed out of the straits into Lake Michigan.
All night she flew before the wind and when our friends awoke the following morning she rode safely at anchor in the harbor of Chicago.
Though a large city now, it was then a town of less than five thousand inhabitants.
This was the port of the Queen Charlotte and her passengers must be landed, her cargo discharged.
It was with feelings of regret on both sides that her officers and the Keiths parted; Edward Wells taking an opportunity to say in an undertone to Mildred that he hoped they would sometime meet again.
St. Joseph, on the opposite side of the lake, was the next port whither the Keiths were bound. A much smaller vessel carried them across.
They had a rough passage, wind and rain compelling them to keep closely housed in a little confined cabin, and were glad to reach the town of St. Joseph; though they found it but a dreary spot, no grass, no trees, the hotel a large, barn-like, two story building, with the hot summer sun streaming in through its windows without hindrance from curtain or blind; for the rain ceased about the time of their arrival and the sun shone out with fervid heat during the two or three days that they were detained there, resting the Sabbath day and awaiting the arrival of their household goods before ascending the St. Joseph river, on which Pleasant Plains, their final destination, was situated.
There were no railroads in that part of the country then, nor for many years after; I think there was no stage route between the two places; there were no steamers on the river; the best they could do was to take a keel-boat.
The rain had ceased and the sun shone brightly on the rippling, dancing waters of the lake and river, on the little town and the green fields and forests of the adjacent country, as they went on board the keel-boat Mary Ann, and set out upon this the last stage of their long journey.
The boatmen toiled at their oars and the Mary Ann moved slowly on against the current, slowly enough to give our travelers abundance of time to take in the beauties of the scenery; which they, the older ones at least, did not fail to do.
Much of it was unbroken forest, but they passed sometimes a solitary clearing with its lonely log cabin, sometimes a little village. The river flowed swiftly along, clear and sparkling, between banks now low, now high, green to the water's edge.
The sun was nearing the western horizon as, at last, the boat was run in close to shore and made fast, with the announcement, "Here we are, strangers; this here's the town of Pleasant Plains."
Chapter Sixth
"Nor need we power or splendor,
Wide hall or lordly dome;
The good, the true, the tender,
These form the wealth of home."
– Mrs. Hale.
Pleasant Plains considered itself quite a town. It stood high above the river on two plains, the upper familiarly known as the "Bluff." It was laid out in very wide, straight streets, crossing each other at right angles; there were perhaps two hundred dwelling houses, principally frame, but with a goodly proportion of log cabins and a respectable sprinkling of brick buildings.
The county seat, it had its court-house and jail; there were some half dozen stores where almost everything could be had, from dress goods to butter and eggs, and from a plowshare to a fine cambric needle; two taverns, as many blacksmith, shoemaker, and carpenter shops, a flouring mill and a bakery.
Also two churches belonging to different denominations; both frame structures, of extremely plain and unpretentious architecture, with bare walls, uncurtained windows, rough, uncarpeted floors, and rude hard benches in lieu of pews.
No thought of architectural beauty or even of comfort and convenience, beyond that of mere protection from the weather, seemed to have entered the minds of any of the builders here; the houses were mere shells; with no cupboards or closets or the slightest attempt at ornamentation.
Nor was their unsightliness concealed by vines, trees, or shrubbery; almost every one of the beautiful monarchs of the forest once adorning the locality had been ruthlessly felled, and a stump here and there was all that was left to tell of their former existence.
As the keel of the Mary Ann grated on the gravelly shore, a tall figure in rough farmer attire came springing down the bank, calling out in tones of unfeigned joy, "Hello, Keith! Come at last – wife, children, and all; eh? I'm glad to see ye! Never was more delighted in my life."
And the speaker catching Mr. Keith's hand in his shook it with hearty good will, then treating the rest of the party in like manner, as with his and Mr. Keith's assistance, each in turn stepped from the boat.
Mr. George Ward was an old client and friend of Mr. Keith's, who had been long urging this removal.
"I declare I wish I lived in town for a few days now," he went on, "but we're three mile out on the prairie, as you know, Keith. I have my team here, though, and if you like to pile into the wagon, all of you, I'll take you home with me, as it is."
The hospitable invitation was declined with thanks.
"There are quite too many of us, Mr. Ward," Mrs. Keith said, smilingly, "and we want to get into a house of our own just as soon as possible."
"Ah yes, so your husband wrote me; and I've been looking round for you. But the best that's to be had will seem a poor place to you, Mrs. Keith, after what you've left behind in Lansdale."
"I suppose so, but of course we must expect to put up with many inconveniences and probably some hardships even, for the first few years," she answered, cheerfully.
"I'm afraid that's so, but I hope you'll find yourselves paid for it in the long run. Now shall I take you to the Union Hotel? You can't, of course, get into your own house to-night.
"Here, let me carry you, bub," picking up Cyril, "the soil's real sandy here and makes heavy walking."
"If, as I presume from your recommendation of it, it is your best house of entertainment," Mr. Keith said, in reply to the question.
"Yes, sir, there's only one other, and it's a very poor affair," returned Mr. Ward, leading the way.
Mrs. Prior, the landlady, a pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman, with kind, motherly manners, met them at the door with a welcome nearly as hearty as that of their old time friend.
"I'm glad to see you," she said, bustling about to wait upon them, "We've plenty o' room here in town for the right sort o' folks, and glad to get 'em."
She had taken them into her parlor, the only one the house afforded.
The furniture was plain – a rag carpet, green paper blinds, a table with a rod and black cover, windsor chairs, two of them rocking chairs with chintz-covered cushions, the rest straight-backed and hard; on the high wooden mantel shelf an old-fashioned looking-glass, a few shells and two brass candlesticks; these last bright as scouring could make them.
"I'm afraid it must seem but a poor place to you, ladies," she continued, pushing forward a rocking chair for each. "And you're dreadful tired, ain't you? with your long journey. Do sit down and rest yourselves."
"You are very kind, and everything looks very nice indeed," Mrs. Keith answered, looking up at her with a pleased smile as she accepted the offered seat, and began untying her baby's bonnet strings.
"Indeed, I, for one, didn't expect to find half as good accommodations out in these western wilds," remarked Aunt Wealthy, glancing round the room. "I thought you had no floors to your carpets."
"No floors? oh yes; rather rough to be sure; – carpenters here don't make the best of work; and I think sometimes I could a'most plane a board better myself – but to get the carpets is the rub; we mostly make 'em ourselves and the weavin's often done so poor that they don't last no time hardly. Soil's sandy, you see, and it cuts the carpets right out."
"They say this country's hard on women and oxen," put in Mr. Ward, "and I'm afraid it's pretty true."
"Now don't be frightening them first thing, Mr. Ward," laughed the landlady. "Come, take off your things and the children's, ladies, and make yourselves to home. Here, just let me lay 'em in here," she went on, opening an inner door and revealing a bed covered with a patch-work quilt.
"You can have this room if you like, Mrs. Keith; I s'pose you'd prefer a downstairs one with the baby and t'other little ones? There is a trundle bed underneath that'll do for them.
"And the rest of you can take the two rooms right over these. They're all ready and you can go right up to 'em whenever you like. Is there anything more I can do for you now?"
The query was answered in the negative.
"Then I'll just excuse myself," she said; "for I must go and see to the supper; can't trust girls here."
She passed out through another door, leaving it ajar.
"That's the dining-room, I know, Fan, 'cause I see two big tables set," whispered Cyril peeping in, "and there's not a bit of carpet on the floor. Guess they're cleanin' house."
"Well, wife, I'll have to leave you for a little, I must see to the landing of our goods," said Mr. Keith, taking his hat. "Will you go along, Ward?"
"And let us go up and look at our rooms, girls," said Mildred to her sisters. "Mayn't we, mother?"
"Yes, go and make yourselves neat for the supper table."
They came back reporting bare floors everywhere, of boards none too well planed either, but everything scrupulously clean.
"Then we may well be content," said their mother. The gentlemen returned and the guests were presently summoned, by the ringing of a bell on top of the house, to the supper table, which they found furnished with abundance of good, wholesome well-cooked food.
And they were really able to make a very comfortable meal, despite the presence of deli ware, two-pronged steel forks, and the absence of napkins.
"What about the goods, Stuart?" asked Mrs. Keith on their return to the parlor.
"I have had them carted directly to the house; that is, I believe the men are at it now."
"The house?"
"The one Ward spoke of. I have taken it. It was Hobson's choice, my dear, or you should have seen it first."
"Can I see it now?"
"Why, yes, if you choose; it won't be dark yet for an hour. If you and Aunt Wealthy will put on your bonnets, I'll take you round."
"Ada and me, too, father?" cried Zillah eagerly.
"And Fan and Don and me?" chorused Cyril.
"You couldn't think of going without your eldest son;" said Rupert, looking about for his hat.
Mrs. Keith turned an inquiring eye upon her husband.
"Is it far?"
"No; even Fan can easily walk it. Let them come. You, too, Mildred," taking the babe from her arms. "I'll carry baby."
"We'll make quite a procession," laughed the young girl. "Won't the people stare?"
"What if they do? who of us cares?"
"Not I!" cried Rupert, stepping back from the doorway with a commanding wave of the hand, "Procession will please move forward Mr. Keith and wife taking the lead, Miss Stanhope and Miss Keith next in order, Zilly and Ada following close upon their heels, the three inseparables after them, while Marshal Rupert brings up the rear to see that all are in line."
Everybody laughed at this sally while they promptly fell into line as directed, passed out upon the sidewalk and pursued their way through the quiet streets.
People did stare to be sure, from open doors and windows, some asking, "Who are they?" others answering "New comers and they've got a big family to support."
Some remarked that they were nice looking people; while others shook their heads wisely, or dubiously, and said they "expected they were real stuck up folks; – dressed so dreadful fine."
However, the subjects of these charitable comments did not overhear, and therefore were not disturbed by them.
"Do you see that yellow frame yonder, wife?" Mr. Keith asked as they turned a corner.
"With the gable-end to the street and two doors in it, one above and one below?"
"The same."
"It looks like a warehouse."
"That's what it was originally intended for; but finding it not available for that purpose, the owner offered it for rent."
"And is it the one you have rented?"
"Yes; a poor place to take you to, my dear but, as I told you, it was Hobson's choice."
"Then we'll make the best of it and be thankful."
"What a horrid old thing!" remarked Mildred in an undertone, heard only by Aunt Wealthy.
"We'll hope to find the inside an improvement on the out," was the cheerful rejoinder.
"It has need to be, I should say!" cried the girl as they drew near. "Just see! it fronts on two streets and there's not a bit of a space separating it from either; doors open right out on to a sand bank."
"That's what was made by digging the cellar," said Rupert.
"There's a big yard at the side and behind," said Zillah.
"Something green in it, too," added Ada, whose sight was imperfect.
"Nothing but a crop of ugly weeds," said Mildred, ready to cry as memory brought vividly before her the home they had left with its large garden carpeted with green grass, adorned with shrubbery and filled with the bloom of summer flowers.
The June roses must be out now and the woodbine – the air sweet with their delicious perfume – and they who had planted and tended them, so far away in this desolate looking spot.
"Not a tree, a shrub, a flower or a blade of grass!" she went on, sighing as she spoke.
"Never mind, we'll have lots of them next year, if I plant every one myself," said Rupert.
The last load of their household goods had just been brought up from the river, the men were carrying in the heavy boxes and setting them down upon the floor of the front room. The door stood wide open and they all walked in.
"Not a bit of a hall!" exclaimed Mildred, "not a cupboard or closet; nothing but four bare walls and two windows each side of the front door."