Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

Several days were necessary to complete all these arrangements, more especially to equip the ketch in the manner described, and the action of the 3d had taken place even after the Intrepid was ready. Somers made one or two attempts to go in before the night finally selected, but they were abandoned on account of the lightness of the air. At length there were appearances in and about the harbor that induced him to think that the movements of the fire-vessel were distrusted, and, fearful of detection, he decided to go in on the night of the 4th September, if the thing were at all practicable.

Several interviews had taken place between Preble and Somers in the course of the preparations for the attempt. On one occasion the commodore burnt a port-fire in order to ascertain its time, and when it was consumed he asked Somers if he thought the boats could get out of reach of the shells within the few minutes it was burning. “I think we can, sir,” answered Somers. Preble looked intently at the young man a moment and then inquired if he should have the time reduced, or the port-fire made shorter. “I ask for no port-fire at all, sir,” was the reply, firmly but quietly expressed.

After this interview, Somers expressed his determination not to allow himself to be captured. The commodore had felt it to be his duty to point out the great importance of not letting so large an amount of powder fall into the enemy’s hands, the Tripolitans being thought to be short of ammunition, and all the circumstances united had a tendency to increase the feeling of stern determination in the minds of the two officers who were to go in. Both were singularly quiet men in their ordinary habits, perfectly free from any thing like noisy declarations or empty boastings of what they intended to perform, and this simple announcement of their intentions not to be taken, appears to have made a deep and general impression among their brethren in arms.

On the afternoon of the 4th September, Somers prepared to take his final departure from the Nautilus, with a full determination to carry the ketch into Tripoli that night. Previously to quitting his own vessel, however, he fell that it would be proper to point out the desperate nature of the enterprise to the four men he had selected, that their services might be perfectly free and voluntary. He told them he wished no man to accompany him who would not prefer being blown up to being taken; that such was his own determination, and that he wished all who went with him to be of the same way of thinking. The boat’s crew gave three cheers in answer, and each man is said to have separately asked to be selected to apply the match. Once assured of the temper of his companions, Somers took leave of his officers, the boat’s crew doing the same, shaking hands and expressing their feelings as if they felt assured of their fates in advance. This was done in good faith, and yet cheerfully; and, of all the desperate service undertaken by that devoted squadron, none was ever entered on with so many forebodings of the fatal consequences to those concerned in it. Each of the four men made his will verbally; disposing of his effects among his shipmates like those who are about to die with disease.

It would seem that the Constitution’s boat did not join the ketch until it was dusk. When the two crews were mustered, it was found that Mr. Israel had managed to get out of the frigate and to join the party; whether by collusion, or not, it is now impossible to say. Finding him on board, and admiring his determination to make one of the party, Somers consented to his remaining. One account says he was sent by Preble with a final order, but it is hardly probable Somers would have allowed him to remain under such circumstances. He was more likely to be smuggled in by means of the cutter, and to be kept when there was no boat by which he could be sent back. The night of the 4th was not particularly dark, though it could scarcely be accounted clear. The stars were visible, but there was a haze on the water that rendered objects more uncertain than they would otherwise have been. In this respect the light was favorable enough, as the rocks could be seen, while the real character of the ketch would not be so likely to be discovered from the shore. The wind was light, from the eastward, but fair.

Several of Somers’ friends visited him on board the Intrepid before she got under way. Among them were Stewart and Decatur, with whom he had commenced his naval career in the United States. These three young men, then about twenty-six each, were Philadelphia-bred sailors, and had been intimately associated in service for the last six years. They all knew that the enterprise was one of extreme hazard, and the two who were to remain behind felt a deep interest in the fate of him who was to go in. Somers was grave, and entirely without any affectation of levity or indifference, but he maintained his usual tranquil and quiet manner. After some conversation, he took a ring from his finger and breaking it into three pieces gave each of his companions one, while he retained the third himself. As the night shut in, three gunboats were seen at anchor a short distance within the western entrance, by which the Intrepid was to pass, and Decatur, who felt a strong anxiety for the success of his friend, admonished Somers to take care they did not board him, as it was the intention to carry the ketch some distance within them. To this Somers quietly replied that the Turks had got to be so shy he thought they would be more likely to cut and run on his approach, than to advance and meet him.

It was eight o’clock in the evening before the Intrepid lifted her anchor; the Argus, Vixen and Nautilus weighing and standing in, in company. The night was sufficiently advanced to cover this movement, and all four vessels stood down towards the rocks under their canvass. The last person who left the ketch was Lieut. Washington Reed, then first of the Nautilus. This officer did not quit his commander until it was thought necessary for him to rejoin the vessel of which he was now in charge. When he went over the side of the Intrepid, all communication between the gallant spirits she contained and the rest of the world ceased. At that time every thing seemed propitious; Somers was cheerful, though calm; and perfect order and method prevailed in the little craft. The leave-taking was affectionate and serious with the officers, though the common men appeared to be in high spirits. This was about nine o’clock.

The Argus and Vixen lay off at a little distance from the rocks to attack the galleys or gunboats, should either attempt to follow the party out on their retreat, while the Nautilus shortened sail and accompanied the ketch as close in as was deemed prudent, with the especial intention of bringing off the boats. Lieut. Reed directed the present Com. Ridgely, then one of the Nautilus’ midshipmen,[2] to watch the ketch’s movements with a night-glass; and, as this order was strictly complied with, it is almost certain that this officer was the last person of the American squadron who saw the vessel. It was thought she was advancing slowly to the last moment, though the distance and the obscurity render this fact a little doubtful.

Preble had directed the Siren to weigh and stand in, shortly after the other vessels left him, and in obeying the orders he received Capt. Stewart kept more in the offing than the vessels which preceded him. As the direction of the western entrance and the inner harbor were known, every eye in this brig was riveted on that quarter in silent suspense. It was not long before the enemy began to fire at the ketch, which, by this time, was quite near the batteries, though the reports were neither rapid nor numerous. At this moment, near ten o’clock, Capt. Stewart and Lieut. Carrol were standing in the Siren’s gangway looking intently towards the place where the ketch was known to be, when the latter exclaimed, “Look! see the light!” At that instant a light was seen passing and waving, as if a lantern were carried by some person in quick motion along a vessel’s deck. Then it sunk from view. Half a minute may have elapsed when the whole firmament was lighted with a fiery glow, a burning mast, with its sails, was seen in the air, the whole harbor was momentarily illuminated, the awful explosion came, and a darkness like that of doom succeeded. The whole was over in less than a minute; the flame, the quaking of towers, the reeling of ships, and even the bursting of shells, of which most fell in the water, though some lodged on the rocks. The firing ceased, and from that instant Tripoli passed the night in a stillness as profound as that in which the victims of this frightful explosion have lain from that fatal hour to this.

The Nautilus showed lights in hopes to guide the retreating boats to her side; all eyes in the squadron looked in vain for the expected signal; a moaning gun occasionally was heard from the frigate, a fitting knell for such a disaster; but in vain. No one ever came back from the ill-fated Intrepid to relate the history of her loss. The Argus, Vixen and Nautilus hovered near the rocks until the sun arose, but nothing was discovered to throw any light on the manner in which the ketch was lost. The gun-boats anchored near the pass had been moved; one, it was thought, had entirely disappeared, and two or three more were hauled ashore as if shattered.

In the American squadron the opinion was general that Somers and his determined companions had blown themselves up to prevent capture. In the absence of certainty, facts were imagined to render such a desperate step probable if not necessary. It was supposed that gunboats had advanced to board the ketch, and that Somers had fired the train in preference to falling into the hands of the Tripolitans, or allowing them to get possession of the powder. Such appears to have been the opinion of Com. Preble, who reported as much to the government; and the country, receiving its impressions from this source, has long entertained the same idea. A few, however, of the more thoughtful have always doubted, and subsequent discoveries have rendered these doubts more and more probable.

Among the American prisoners in Tripoli was a surgeon’s mate of the name of Cowdery, now the oldest surgeon in the navy, who was permitted to go very much at large in the town, his professional services being found useful. From this gentleman, from Capt. Bainbridge’s private journal, and from other sources equally credible, the following interesting facts have been obtained, leaving no question of their accuracy.

In the first place, neither the works, the town, nor the Tripolitans themselves, appear to have suffered any injury by the explosion. Captain Bainbridge, in his journal, where he speaks of this explosion, says:—“which unfortunate scheme did no damage whatever to the Tripolitans; nor did it appear even to heave them into confusion.” The bashaw, being desirous of ascertaining how many Americans had been lost in the explosion, offered a dollar for each body that could be discovered. This produced the desired effect, and by the 6th, the dead were all brought up. The bottom of the ketch had drifted among the rocks, on the north side of the round battery, which is near the western entrance, and there it grounded. In the wreck, two bodies were found. The Constitution’s cutter, or the six-oared boat, had drifted on the beach, a short distance to the westward of the town. One body was in it. Six more bodies were found on the shore to the southward, and the remaining four were discovered floating in the harbor. This makes the entire number of the thirteen who were lost in the ketch. Captain Bainbridge describes the six dead whom he saw as “being so much disfigured, it was impossible to recognize any known feature to us, or even to distinguish an officer from a seaman.” Those six bodies were the two found in the wreck, and the four floating in the harbor. But Mr. Cowdery was more successful. He selected three of the bodies as those of officers, being guided by some fragments of dress still remaining on them, and still more by the delicate appearance of their hands. As this was just the number of the officers who were actually lost, and the Americans in Tripoli were then entirely ignorant of the character of the party sent in, it leaves scarcely a doubt that this gentleman decided accurately. Indeed, if the palms of the hands were not much injured, it would not be easy to make a mistake in such a matter; and any portions of the dress would be almost as safe guides. The ten seamen were buried on the beach, outside the town and near the walls; while the three officers were interred in the same grave, on the plain beyond, or a cable’s length to the southward and eastward of the castle. Small stones were placed at the four corners of this last grave, to mark its site; but they were shortly after removed by the Turks, who refused to let what they conceived to be a Christian monument, disfigure their land. Here, then, lie the remains of Somers, and his two gallant friends; and it might be well to instruct the commander of some national cruiser to search for their bones, that they might be finally incorporated with the dust of their native land. Their identity would at once be established by the number of the skeletons, and the friends of the deceased might find a melancholy consolation in being permitted to drop a tear over the spot in in which they would be finally entombed.

The facts related leave little doubt that Com. Preble was mistaken in, at least, a portion of his conjectures. That no Turks suffered, is shown by the direct testimony of Captain Bainbridge’s journal, a record made at the time, and that, too, under circumstances which will not well admit of mistakes. This truth is also corroborated by other convincing testimony. Those who saw the explosion, saw no signs of any vessel near the ketch at the time it occurred, nor were the vestiges of any wreck, but that of the Intrepid, to be seen in the harbor. The officer who saw the ketch to the last moment, by means of the glass, is not understood to have seen any thing near her, and the thirteen bodies found, the precise number of the Americans known to have been lost, go to confirm the fact. It adds value to the testimony, too, that a written memorial of this very number of the dead was made, before the prisoners in Tripoli had any information concerning the force of the party sent in from the squadron.

Nor is there sufficient reason for supposing that the Americans blew themselves up, on this occasion. That Somers went in with a full determination to put in force this desperate expedient in the event of its becoming necessary to prevent capture, is beyond dispute; but there is no proof of the existence of the necessity. To suppose the _match_ would have been applied, except in the last emergency, is to accuse him who did it, with a want of coolness; a virtue that Captain Somers possessed in an eminent degree; and this emergency could hardly have existed without some of the enemy having been near enough to suffer by the explosion. The whole party was accustomed to fire, and it is scarcely possible that they could have been driven to this desperate step, by means of injury received in this manner, as they always had their boats for a flight, when required. There was a vague rumor that most of the bodies found had been perforated by grape-shot, and a conjecture was made that the survivors fired the train, in order to prevent the Turks from getting possession of the powder. But the report can be traced to no sufficient authority, and it is not probable that so many would have suffered in this way as to prevent the unhurt from using the boats and the train in the mode originally contemplated. But one man was found in the Constitution’s cutter, and he, doubtless, was the boat-sitter, who lost his life at his post. This indicates any thing but hurry or alarm.

It is also certain that the splinter-room was not lighted, as its flame would have been both quick and bright; and, with a thousand anxious eyes on watch, it could not fail to have been seen. This circumstance goes further to show, that no gunboat or galley could have been approaching the ketch at the time she exploded, one of the purposes of these splinters being to keep the enemy aloof, through the dread of a fire-vessel. To suppose a neglect of using the splinter-room, in a case of necessity, would be to accuse the party of the same want of coolness as is inferred by the supposition of their blowing themselves up when no foe was near. Both were morally impossible, with such a man as Somers. Admitting that no Tripolitan vessel was near the Intrepid, and still insisting that the train was fired by the Americans, no reason can be given why the preparations for the safety of the latter’s crew, should not have been used. The Constitution’s cutter was found with its keeper alone in it, but of the Siren’s boat we have no account. The latter was probably alongside the ketch and destroyed; it may have been sunk by a falling shell; or it may have been privately appropriated to himself by some Turk. That no one was in it, however, is shown by the twelve bodies that were found out of the boats; for, if manned, and a few yards from the ketch, the crew would have been blown into its bottom, and not into the water.

Abandoning the idea that the Intrepid was intentionally blown up, by Somers and his party, we have the alternatives of believing the disaster to have been the result of the fire of the enemy, or the consequences of an accident. The latter is possible, but the former appears to us to be much the most probable. The light seen by Captain Stewart and Lieutenant Carrol, taken in connection with the circumstance that the explosion occurred immediately after, and apparently at that precise spot, is certainly an incident worthy of our consideration, though it is not easy to see how this light could have produced the calamity. Accidents are much less likely to happen on board such a vessel, than on ordinary occasions, every care being taken to prevent them. As the intention was to fire the splinters, all caution was doubtless used to see that no loose powder was lying about, and that the flames should not communicate with the train, except at the right moment, and in the proper manner. Still an accident from this source _may_ have occurred, through some unforeseen agency. If this light was really on board the ketch it was probably carried from aft, where it had been kept under the eye of the officers, to the main-hatch in order to kindle the splinters, a step that it was about time to take. Commodore Preble, in his official letter, adverts to the circumstance that this splinter-room had not been set on fire when the ketch blew up, as a proof that the party had been induced to act on an emergency; for he always reasoned as if they blew themselves up; believing that the Intrepid was surrounded, and that many of the enemy were killed. Reasoning on the same circumstance, with the knowledge we now possess that no Turks were near, or that any suffered, and it goes to show that the explosion occurred at a moment when it was not expected by Somers, who would not have neglected to fire this room, in any ordinary case. If the accident had its rise on board the ketch, it probably occurred in the attempt to take this preliminary step.

But the Intrepid may have been blown up, by means of a shot from the enemy. This is the most probable solution of the catastrophe, and the one which is the most consoling to the friends of the sufferers, and which ought to be the most satisfactory to the nation. Commodore Preble says, “on entering the harbor several shot were fired at her (the Intrepid) from the batteries.” The western entrance, in or near which the ketch blew up, is within pistol shot of what is called the Spanish fort, or, indeed, of most of the works on and about the mole. Even the bashaw’s castle lies within fair canister range of this spot, and, prepared as the Turks were for any desperate enterprise on the part of the Americans, nothing is more probable than that they jealously watched the movements of a vessel that was entering their harbor after dark, necessarily passing near, if not coming directly from the American squadron. These batteries may even have been provided with hot shot, for any emergency like this. Gunboat No. 8, Lieutenant Caldwell, was blown up in the attack of the 7th August, and that very circumstance would probably induce the Turks to make a provision for repeating the injury. A cold shot, however, might very well have caused the explosion. The breaking of one of the shells on deck; the collision with a bolt, a spike or even a nail in passing through the hull, may have struck fire. It is possible a shot passed through the splinter-room, and exposed the powder of the train, and that in running below with a lantern to ascertain what damage had been done, the accident may have occurred. The moving light seen by the present Commodore Stewart, would favor such a supposition; though it must be remembered this light may also have been on board some vessel beyond the ketch, or even on the shore.

Only one other supposition has been made concerning this melancholy affair. It has been thought that the ketch grounded on the rocks, in the western entrance, and was blown up there, to prevent the enemy from getting possession of her powder. That the Intrepid may have touched the rocks is not improbable, the pass being laid down in the most accurate chart of the harbor, as less than eighty fathoms wide, with shoal water on each side, the visible rocks being more than double that distance asunder; but grounding does not infer the necessity of blowing up the ketch’s crew. To suppose that Somers would have destroyed himself through mortification, at finding his vessel on shore, is opposed to reason and probability; while it is doing gross injustice to a character of singular chivalry and generosity to believe he would have sacrificed his companions to any consideration so strictly selfish.

In this case, as in all others, the simplest and most natural solution of the difficulty is the most probable. All the known facts of the case, too, help to sustain this mode of reasoning. Those who saw the ketch, think she was advancing to the lost moment, while it is agreed she had not reached, by several hundred yards, the spot to which it was the intention to carry her. By the chart alluded to, one recently made by an English officer of great merit, it is about eleven hundred yards from the western entrance to the bashaw’s castle, and about five hundred and fifty to the inner harbor, or galley mole. Here, close to windward of the enemy’s vessels, Somers intended to have left the ketch, and there is no doubt she would have drifted into their midst, when the destruction must have been fearful. God disposed of the result differently, for some wise purpose of his own, rendering the assailants the sole victims of the enterprise. It is only by considering the utter insignificance of all temporal measures, as compared with what lies beyond, that we can learn to submit to these dispensations, with a just sense of our own impotency.

All agree that the Intrepid blew up, in or quite near to the western entrance. This was the result of direct observation; it is proved by the fact that portions of the wreck and some of the shells fell on the rocks, and by the positions in which the Constitution’s cutter and the bottom of the ketch were found. With the wind at the eastward, the wreck could not have “grounded on the _north_ side of the rocks, near the round battery,” as is stated in Commodore Bainbridge’s private journal, had the Intrepid been any distance _within_ the entrance; nor would the Constitution’s boat have drifted past the intervening objects to the westward. The wind had probably a little northing in it, following the line of coast, as is usual with light airs, and, as is shown by the wreck’s touching on the _north_ side of the rocks, all of which goes to prove, from an examination of the chart, as well as from the evidence of those who were present, that the accident occurred quite near the place stated. Occurring so far out, with nothing near to endanger the party, it leaves the moral certainly that the explosion was the result of accident, and not of design; or, if the latter, of an attempt of the enemy to destroy the Intrepid.

Thus perished Richard Somers, the subject of our memoir, and one of the “bravest of the brave.” Notwithstanding all our means of reasoning, and the greatest efforts of human ingenuity, there will remain a melancholy interest around the manner of his end, which, by the Almighty will, is forever veiled from human eyes in a sad and solemn mystery. In whatever way we view the result, the service on which he went was one of exceeding peril. He is known to have volunteered for it, with readiness; to have made his preparations with steadiness and alacrity; and, when last seen, to have been entering on its immediate execution, with a calm and intrepid serenity. There was an ennobling motive, too, for undertaking so great a risk. In addition to the usual inducements of country and honor, the immediate liberation of Bainbridge and his brave companions was believed to depend on its success. Exaggerated notions of the sufferings of the Philadelphia’s crew prevailed in the squadron before Tripoli, as well as in the country, and their brethren in arms fought with the double incentive of duty and friendship. Ten minutes more would probably have realized the fondest hopes of the adventurers, but the providence of God was opposed to their success, and the cause, if it is ever to be known to man, must abide the revolutions that await the end of time, and the commencement of eternity.

In person, Somers was a man of middle stature—rather below than above it—but stout of frame; exceedingly active, and muscular. His nose was inclining to the aquiline, his eyes and hair were dark, and his whole face bore marks of the cross of the French blood that was said to run in his veins. It is a remarkable circumstance in the career of this distinguished young officer, that no one has any thing to urge against him. He was mild, amiable and affectionate, both in disposition and deportment, though of singularly chivalrous notions of duty and honor. It has been said by a writer who has had every opportunity of ascertaining the fact, that when a very young man he fought three duels in one day—almost at the same time—being wounded himself in the two first, and fighting the last, seated on the ground, sustained by his friend Decatur. Although such an incident could only have occurred with very young men, and perhaps under the exaggerations of a very young service, it was perfectly characteristic of Somers. There was nothing vindictive in these duels. He fired but once at each adversary—he wounded the last man—and was himself, in a physical sense, the principal sufferer. The quarrels arose from his opponents imputing to him a want of spirit for not resenting some idle expression of Decatur’s, who was the last man living to intend to hurt Somers’ feelings. They loved each other as brothers, and Decatur proved it, by offering to fight the two last duels for his friend, after the latter had received his first wound. But Somers fought for honor, and was determined that the men who doubted him, should be convinced of their mistake. Apart from the error of continuing the affairs after the first injury, and the general moral mistake of supposing that a moral injury can be repaired in this mode at all, these duels had the chivalrous character that should ever characterize such meetings, if meetings of this nature are really necessary to human civilization.

Although it is scarcely possible that a warm-hearted young man, like Somers, should not have felt a preference for some person of the other sex, it is not known that he had any serious attachment when he lost his life. Glory appears to have been his mistress, for the time being at least, and he led no one of this nature behind him to mourn his early loss. He died possessed of a respectable landed property, and one of increasing value; all of which he bequeathed to the only sister mentioned.

Somers was thought to be an expert seaman, by those who were good judges of such qualifications. As a commander he was mild, but sufficiently firm. His education, without being unusual even in his profession at that day, had not been neglected, though he would not probably have been classed among the reading men of the service. A chivalrous sense of honor, an unmoved courage, and perfect devotion to the service in which he was engaged, formed the prominent points of his character, and as all were accompanied by great gentleness of manner and amiability of feeling, he appears to have been equally beloved and respected. The attachment which existed between him and Decatur had something romantic about it. They were rivals in professional daring, while they were bosom friends. As we have already said, it is by no means improbable that the exploits of Decatur induced Somers, through a generous competition, to engage in the perilous enterprise in which he perished, and on which he entered with a known intention of yielding up his life, if necessary to prevent the enemy’s obtaining the great advantage of demanding ransom for his party, or of seizing the powder in the ketch.

Congress passed a resolution of condolence with the friends of the officers who died in the Intrepid, as well as with those of all the officers who fell before Tripoli. Of these brave men, Somers, on account of his rank, the manner of his death, and his previous exploits, has stood foremost with the country and the service. These claims justly entitle him to this high distinction. Among all the gallant young men that this war first made known to the nation, he has always maintained a high place, and, as it is a station sealed with his blood, it has become sacred to the entire republic.

It is a proof of the estimation in which this regretted officer is held, that several small vessels have since been called after him. Perry had a schooner, which was thus designated, under his orders on the memorable 10th September, 1813; and a beautiful little brig has lately been put into the water on the seaboard, which is called the Somers. In short, his name has passed into a watchword in the American navy; and as they who are first associated with the annals of a nation, whether in connection with its institutions, its arms, its literature, or its arts, form the germs of all its future renown, it is probable it will be handed down to posterity, as one of the bright examples which the aspiring and daring in their country’s service will do well to imitate.

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[1] There are so many modes for evading the simplest provisions of a written constitution, when power feels itself fettered, that it is not easy to say in what manner the difficulties of this case were got over. The reduction law said that there should be only nine captains, thirty-six lieutenants, and one hundred and fifty midshipmen _during peace_, and, as the country was at war with Tripoli in 1804, there was a show of plausibility in getting over the force of this particular enactment. Still the appointments of the commanders were not to fill vacancies, under any common sense construction of their nature; and, even admitting that political ingenuity could torture the law of Congress to build four vessels like those actually put into the water, into an obligation to appoint proper persons to command them, these appointments could have no validity after the termination of the next session of the Senate. Of the _facts_ of the case we believe there can be no doubt.

[2] Mr. Ridgely signed a letter to Preble just two months later as a lieutenant. He may possibly have been promoted at the time the Intrepid went in.

* * * * *

WINTEMOYEH.

A LEGEND OF MACKINAW.

BY GEORGE H. COLTON.

The incident related in the following lines is recorded of a young British officer, commanding at Fort Mackinaw, soon after the French war. His name was Robinson; and the cliff, from which the enraged Indian sprung with his daughter, rising to three hundred feet above the water, is called, to this day, Robinson’s Folly. They had been married about two weeks when the tragical event took place.

How glorious, gleaming o’er the wave,
Whereon the evening sun is shining,
With woods, and bannered fortress brave,
And chalky cliff, and scallop cave,
And vines o’er gray old rocks entwining,
Proud Mackinaw uplifts her form,
Unchanged by years of sun and storm!
Borne from afar, around her feet
The purple waters murmuring meet;
In milder beauty’s dimpling smiles
Rise, near, her deep-born sister isles,
And, winding wild, with forests green,
Low banks, and lonely coves unseen,
Stretch wide away, on either hand,
Shores fair as an enchanted land.

Ah, me! there is no spot of earth,
Though brightest with the smile of God,
Where’er the human heart hath birth,
Or human foot hath trod,
That doth no deed of terror know,
Or thought of unrecorded wo!
Nor ever hath the evening sun
Looked forth the rounded world upon,
And witnessed in no lovely place
Some scene of sin or dark distress!

Of all the sons of Tarke[3] none
In battle braver deeds had done,
Or mightier in the council sat
Where chieftains joined the deep debate,
Than proud Peechiki. He had trod
With Pontiac on the path of blood;
With Pontiac had at every chance
Still struggled for the love of France;
With Pontiac in the battle’s crash
Hewed down the hated Sagaunash;[4]
And when his last the Ottowa breathed,
To stern Peechiki was bequeathed
A hidden hatred—such as burns
Where Ætna’s heart to ashes turns.

But suddenly a terror came,
A swift disease of fearful name.
All whom he loved, or could have wept,
One hour beheld to darkness swept—
All but his youngest, fairest child,
On which the mother dying smiled,
Sweet Wintemoyeh, sweetest flower,
Lone lingerer in his rifled bower,
The loveliest far of Tarke’s daughters
Beside St. Mary’s rushing waters.

And now beyond their empty home
No more the mourning sire would roam,
But all his moody hours employ
In hovering near his only joy.
So sweet to gaze upon her face,
Why should his foot the wild deer trace?
So light her step green leaves among,
Why should he seek the warrior throng?
Or where could tones so soft and clear
Make music to his aged ear?
Oh! thus to love can only be
Refined, absorbing misery!

But cloudy years were gathering fast,
And ere they should their shadows cast
Upon his grave, the sole, fair flower
He would might grace some chieftain’s bower.
And when, to woo her for his bride,
The Children-of-the-Reindeer’s pride,
Great Assiboin, his love gifts bore:
From far Superior’s farthest shore,
The father gave her youthful age,
With joy, to be his heritage.
For who like him could hunt the roe?
Who track so fast a flying foe?
Whose feet by lake and lonely glen
So oft had led his dauntless men
From Mississippi’s haunted cave
To Saskatchawan’s gloomy wave?
Beloved by one so brave as he
How happy would her portion be!

In truth, he was a warrior bold,
But wedded, ugly, fierce and old,
To maiden’s heart a terror, were
No brighter image worshiped there:
And ah! the maid had chanced to see
A face that lived in memory!
The wild flowers of the early spring
Her gentle hands were gathering,
When lo! before her gazing stood
A pale-face in the leafy wood.
And as she looked upon him there,
So young, so proud, so nobly fair,
A thrill of strange emotion stole
In tremblings through her timid soul.

Yet turned she not—and then he took
His seat beside her, where the brook
Ran rippling o’er its pebbly bed;
And soft and earnest things he said
With broken words and many a sign
That only Love could e’er divine.
He was a white man—hated race!
But ah! what looks, what winning grace!
And who such gentle words could say?
Her simple heart was stol’n away!

The hideous bridegroom comes at last—
The feast is gorged—the night is past—
At morn behold the father lie
In writhing, wildered agony!
He hastes the nuptials that his eyes
May see her blest before he dies:
Alas! her father’s couch of pain!
But how with such a spouse remain?
Poor girl! how sad the lot that laid
Such choice upon a guileless maid!
She trembles—flees—that gentle being—
Her lover clasps her—trembling—fleeing.

An April day was hers—so brief,
With tears and sunshine, joy and grief.
Upon the island’s lofty verge,
That overhangs the chiding surge,
Within a sylvan bower, arrayed
Of cedars green and woven shade,
In festive mirth with comrades boon,
The lover sat, from radiant noon
Till shadowy eve: and by him smiled
Fair Wintemoyeh, now beguiled
Of thought by melting music wild;
Love keeping watch in her dark eye,
How fast the speaking moments fly!

Now sank the sun, but lingering gave
Last looks of love each rising wave,
That wooed his smile—when suddenly
A rifle rang, and, bounding high
In baffled rage, as, with a yell,
By death-bolt at the lover sped,
Another than his victim fell,
The father, minister of dread,
Whom wrath had rescued from the dead,
Dashed through the revel—seized his child—
Yelled in her frighted ear “defiled!”
At one stride bore her to the ledge,
Then, turning darkly on the edge,
His clenched hand shook. The lover sprung
To save his love. With whoop and whirl,
Far from the cliff exulting flung,
The savage bore the wretched girl;
And as to every gazing eye
They gleamed, like meteor hurled from high,
Wild rose through mid air to the sky
_His_ cry of triumph, _hers_ of terror:
Down, down, careering, headlong borne,
Dashed on the rocks, disjointed, torn,
The chieftain found his vengeance sworn,
The maid atoned her first, last error.
The waves, the broken rocks that lave,
Received them to a restless grave,
Whose mangled forms, unclasping never,
Move with the moving tide forever.

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[3] “_Tarke_,” _the crane_, was the totem, or animal chosen as the head and symbol of a Chippewa tribe, formerly resident along the St. Mary.

[4] “Sagaunash” is the Indian for “English.”

* * * * *

DE PONTIS.

A TALE OF RICHELIEU.

BY THE AUTHOR OF “HENRI QUATRE; OR THE DAYS OF THE LEAGUE.”

(Continued from page 141.)