Chapter XXX: From Pearl Street to Hudson's River

The sun bathed the dust of Pearl Street wherever it could steal between the layers of the thick-leafed boughs overhead. I lounged on the doorstep of our cozy, red-brick house by the corner of Garden Street, and reread the letter from Master Juggins which the supercargo of the Bristol packet had delivered a half-hour earlier.

My Hart is reejoiced, deare Lad, at ye Ezcelant report of yon
which is come From Governour Burnet. Granny was so Plesed she
sang untill ye Prentises sent word above-stares Beseching a
Treate of ale which ye Swete Soul dispached at once. I have This
Day taken out ye Papers of partnership in Your name, and when
this Reches you ye sign above ye Doore will run as Juggins &
Ormerod.

Murray's discomfitur hath had Exceding Advantageous efects in ye
Citie and ye Marchaunts who Earley did Clamor for ye freedom of
Trade with ye French are now Perceveinge how ye Planne of
Governour Burnet did Sette to their Profit in ye Longe Runne.
Use your Own Judgments, I praye you, in developping ye Provincial
Trade and draw Upon mee at will for what Funds you Maye need.

Grannie and I do send you our Love and Respect and She biddes me
say she Considders 'Twas ye Actte of Godde I was sette Upon in ye
Mincing Lane what time you Came to my Rescue. We desire that you
and Mistress Marjory may Deem ye house in Holbourne your home and
'twould deelight our Eyes might we See you Here. Butte of that
you will bee ye Judges. Ye New World is ye world for Youth, of
that There can bee no Dispute.

I do Enclose ye Miniature of your Mother which an Agente hath
secured from ye Jew on ye Quai de l'Horloge in Paris as you Tolde
mee and Agane do Salute you with Afectionate Regarde and asure
you and your Wife all ye Love that Words may encompass.

I drew the miniature from my pocket and recalled the damp, wintry day in Paris I had made up my mind to quit the Jacobite cause and try my fortune at all risks in England; the pang with which I had abandoned the last link remaining with my dead parents; the rough trip in the smuggler's lugger; the wet landing at night on the dreary Channel coast; the fruitless attempts to enlist the aid of former friends; the hue and cry upstart cousins had raised; the flight to London; the----

"Ha, there, Ormerod!"

I looked up to see the burly figure of Governor Burnet rounding the corner. He waved a handful of papers at me.

"The packet hath brought great news!" he cried.

"What is it, your Excellency?"

"The Lords of Trade have seen the light, ---- 'em! After we had overridden 'em and pounded sense into their thick heads with mallets, by gad! But they are coming around to our view, and for that a humble provincial governor should be thankful, I daresay. Do but hark to this!"

And, standing with legs spread apart in the middle of the paved sidewalk, he read:

"And seeing that the resentment of the Six Nations is so deeply stirred by reason of the tabling of the law, we are resolved that the provincial Government shall have authority to impose the duties upon trade-goods for Canada as before. And his Excellency the governor shall be required to file a complete report of the situation with such addenda, facts and statistics relative to amounts and totals of trade and fluctuations therein in the recent past as may be helpful to their lordships in reaching a final decision in this matter."

He shook the paper with a quaint mixture of derision and satisfaction.

"A final decision, forsooth! The plain truth, Ormerod, is that the protests of the French Court have aroused our merchants at home to a realization of the dangers they ran, and now that Murray is defeated and broken his friends and fellow-plotters have no reason for pushing their intrigue. 'Tis a commentary, indeed, upon the brains we have at Whitehall. I say naught of the City men, who after all can not be expected to be familiar with politics and the interplay of national ambitions.

"There is more of the same tone as that I read, but I will not burden you with it. Do but wait until I write them, as I shall by the first sailing, that the price of beaver is declined again at Montreal to half our quotations at Albany. Aye, and that we are sending into the wilderness country this Summer twice the number of traders who went out last year.

"But I am selfishly occupied with my own interests, Ormerod. Here is a matter which more nearly concerneth yourself."

He produced a large rolled sheet of parchment, imposingly enscrolled, across the top of which ran the legend:

A FREE PARDON

"'Twas bound to come," he rambled on. "Do you go within and show it to Mistress Ormerod."

But Marjory had been listening at the window, and as I opened the door she fell into my arms and clung there, sobbing for the relief that came to both of us with the lifting of the menace which had overhung my life so long.

"There, there," admonished the governor. "Gadslife, what does the girl weep for?"

"Be-be-because--I am--so--happy," answered Marjory,

"Heaven help us, should you weep for grief!" he exclaimed. "And what will you say when I tell you I am come likewise to summon your husband to attend for the first time as a member of the Council!"

His rubicund face gleamed with pleasure at the joy he had inspired in two hearts.

"Tut, tut, 'tis nothing," he pursued his discourse. "I do but serve myself. I have been housecleaning this past Spring. There were rats in the Council who sought to trip me in the days you know of. They are gone. Ormerod should have had a seat ere this but 'twas best to await the pardon."

"I am so happy I know not what to do," protested Marjory, wiping her eyes. "But, oh, see who comes!"

We followed her pointing finger; and there, striding between the ordered house-fronts of Pearl Street, exactly as I had seen him the first time we met, came Ta-wan-ne-ars, the eagle's feather slanting from his scalp-lock, the wolf's head of his clan insignia painted on his naked chest. His grave face was smiling. His right arm was raised in salute.

"_Qua_, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go! _Qua_, friends! Ta-wan-ne-ars greets you."

"You are just arrived?" I asked.

"This hour landed, brother, from the river-sloop."

"Have you any frontier news?" questioned the governor, alert as always for tidings of his distant dominions.

"Only news of peace. The frontier is quiet. The Doom Trail is closed. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and To-do-da-ho say to Ga-en-gwa-ra-go that the French have forgotten the threats they made. The Covenant Chain was too strong for them, and so long as the English and the People of the Long House keep their hands clasped the peace will endure."

"I told the French that the People of the Long House had the right to destroy a force which assailed their interests," responded the governor. "And his Majesty my King sent word to the French King that my words were straight."

"Ga-en-gwa-ra-go is a friend to the Great League," rejoined the Seneca. "His fame as a truth-teller and a covenant-keeper has gone broadcast. The far tribes are traveling to Albany to offer their allegiance and friendship to him. The fur-trade is once more under control of the English and the Long House."

"We have waited long for you to visit us, brother," I said. "Now that you have come we shall make you stay many moons."

His smile became sad.

"It can not be. Ta-wan-ne-ars comes to say good-bye."

"Good-bye?"

"Yes, brother. Have you forgotten the search for my Lost Soul!"

"But she is dead!"

"She is with Ata-ent-sic."

"What is this that you speak of?" demanded the governor.

And we told him the story of Ga-ha-no, while the sunshine mottled the dust of Pearl Street and the life of the little town droned sleepily under the trees.

Master Burnet drew a deep breath when the tale was finished.

"You really believe you may find this Land of Lost Souls out there"--he motioned over the scattered house-tops toward Hudson's River--"beyond the setting sun?"

"The ancient tales of my people say that I may," replied Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"And why not?" returned the governor. "God alone--and I say it with all fitting reverence--knows what lies beyond the wilderness country.

"Go, Ta-wan-ne-ars. Seek your Lost Soul. Even if you do not find the shadow land of Ata-ent-sic, you may find wonders that your people and mine have never dreamed of."

"Yes," said the Seneca. "Ta-wan-ne-ars will go. What is life but a search? Some men seek scalps. Some men seek beaver-pelts. Some men seek honors as leaders and orators. Some men seek truth.

"Ta-wan-ne-ars seeks his Lost Soul. He has no fear. He will go through Da-ye-da-do-go-war, the Great Home of the Winds, where Ga-oh, the Wind Spirit, dwells. He will go through Ha-nis-ka-o-no-geh, the Dwelling-Place of the Evil-Minded. He will go to the world's end if the Great Spirit will but guide his footsteps."

"Oh, I pray that you may find what you seek," cried Marjory, the tears in her eyes again. "But sure, you will stay with us a little while?"

"I will go at once, Sister Ne-e-ar-go-ye"--he called her the Bear in memory of her exploit in rescuing us from the False Faces--"now that I have seen my white friends."

"Stay with us a while," she pleaded.

"You would not ask me if you knew how my heart hungered for her whom I have lost," he answered.

"Then go," said Marjory quickly. "And God bless you."

"_Hi-ne-a-weh_,[1] O, my sister. It is time. I have been delayed overlong. There were many things for Ta-wan-ne-ars to do before he could go. The affairs of the Long House required attention. The guard of the Western Door must be secured.. But from this day I shall turn my face to the setting sun, and the hunger in my heart will be satisfied--if the Great Spirit wills it, as I think He does."

[1] I thank you.

He would not step indoors for food, but insisted on walking back toward the Broad-Way with Master Burnet and me. At the Bowling Green we encountered Peter Corlaer. His huge belly waggled before him with the energy of his pace, and he was quite out of breath.

"Ha, Peter," the governor hailed him. "Well met, indeed. What hath earned us this honor?"

"I heardt Ta-wan-ne-ars was here," he panted. "I followedt him down rifer from Fort Orange."

"What does Corlaer wish?" asked Ta-wan-ne-ars.

The big Dutchman stammered and gurgled with embarrassment.

"I go with you," he gasped after much effort.

"But you know not whither I go," said Ta-wan-ne-ars.

"Wherefer you go. Idt does not matter."

"I go to the Land of Lost Souls."

"_Ja_, that's all righdt," returned Corlaer. "I go with you."

"Take him, Ta-wan-ne-ars," advised the governor. "'Tis a friend you may depend upon who will follow you a week's journey for the privilege of securing your assent to the risking of his life in your service."

The hard lines of the Seneca's stern face were softened by a rare glow of feeling.

"Ta-wan-ne-ars never doubted Corlaer, Ga-en-gwa-ra-go," he answered, squeezing Peter's hand in his. "He would not ask any to go with him because the peril is great. But he will be glad to have Peter by his side. We will take the first boat which leaves."

"One is sailing from der Whale's Headt wharf," suggested Peter.

"Good. Then we will say good-bye here."

"No, no, we will accompany you to the wharf," said the governor. "Where are you from, Peter?"

"I was in der Shawnees' country when I heardt Ta-wan-ne-ars was going upon a long journey alone. So I go to De-o-nun-da-ga-a, andt from there to Fort Orange andt here."

"Have you heard aught of Black Robe since the burning of La Vierge du Bois?"

"He was in der country of der Miamis this Spring, they saidt."

"And Murray?"

"_Nein_, Murray is nefer spoken of. Der French would hafe none of him. They saidt he sailed from Quebec for der Hafana."

"So are the mighty fallen," mused the governor as we strolled along. "A few short months ago he was more powerful than I in the province. Today he is nobody."

"Beg yer pardons, sirs," wheezed a voice behind us, "but the tapman at the Whale's Head Tavern yonder said as how one o' ye was Master Ormerod."

The speaker was a tarry, grizzled sailor-man, with three fingers slashed off his left hand. He touched his cap knowingly, and ranged up beside us.

"I am Master Ormerod," I told him.

"Ah, yessir. Thanky, sir."

He eyed me keenly.

"It's the face and the figger, right enough. I'd ha' knowed you anywheres."

"Where have I seen you before!" I inquired with surprize.

"Never laid eyes on me, you ain't, sir--nor me on you," he returned promptly.

"What is it you want then?"

I reached into my pocket, thinking perhaps the man was a beggar. 'Twas my lucky day, I reflected, and 'twould be churlish to deny help to one in want.

"I won't be refusin' o' a pan o' rum like," he responded with a grin. "But my business was to give ye this."

And he produced from the inside of his jacket an oblong package wrapped in canvas.

"Here y'are, sir."

He thrust it into my grasp, fisted the shilling I offered him and made off at speed into a convenient alley. I called after him, but he only cast a look over his shoulder and took to his heels.

"Examine the package," said the governor. "'Tis a queer gift a man will not wait to see appraised."

Beneath the canvas was a wrapping of oiled silk, and within that one of heavy linen. As this fell away our eyes were blinded by a dazzling heap of red and white stones linked with bars of gold.

"A necklace of rubies and diamonds," opined Master Burnet. "Spoil of the Indies."

A slip of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. The writing was in brown ink, faded by dampness, but fully legible--a bold, flowing script. It ran:

From One who shal bee Namelesse, a Gentleman of goode Estate and
Name, who is now Under a Cloude but will Yette recover fromme 'ye
slings and Arrowes of Outrageous fortune.' Take this so Mistress
Ormerod maye not bee Portionlesse. There is More where this came
from.

"I'll wager there is," pronounced the governor. "Master Murray hath turned pirate. I would I had that tarry breeks who scurried hence, and we might screw some information from him. But New York town is a favorite haunt of his breed, and he will disappear without trouble."

"What shall I do with it?" I asked in bewilderment.

Ta-wan-ne-ars and Peter joined in the governor's hearty roar of amusement.

"Why, even accept it," quoth Master Burnet. "The villain has tricked you so you can do naught else. 'Tis an extraordinary rogue."

So I pocketed the gems, and we walked out upon the wharf where the sloop _River Queene_ lay with her moorings slack.

"Tumble aboard, my masters," shouted the captain. "There's a fair breeze and the tide is flowing."

"Good-bye," said Ta-wan-ne-ars. "Ga-en-gwa-ra-go and O-te-ti-an-i will be always in the thoughts of Ta-wan-ne-ars."

"Goodt-by," mumbled Corlaer.

"Good-bye for a while," retorted the governor. "We shall be ready to welcome you with rejoicing when you return with a brave tale to tell us."

"Good-bye," I called, and my voice choked.

I raised my right arm in the Iroquois gesture of greeting and farewell. Ta-wan-ne-ars answered in kind, motionless as a bronze statue against the dirty gray expanse of the sail. The sloop dropped her moorings and glided out into the current.

In ten minutes Peter's face was a broad white blotch at the foot of the mast and Ta-wan-ne-ars was a darker blur beside him. They sailed on into the eye of the setting sun.

"'Tis the very spirit of this land, Ormerod," observed Master Burnet as we watched. "Having finished one adventure, they seek a fresh trial of their resource and daring. Ah, well, 'tis for you and me to take their precept and strive to sharpen our wits upon some homely adventures of our own. All of us may not seek the Land of Lost Souls, but each of us may find a worth-while task upon his doorstep."