Читать книгу High Towers - Thomas B. Costain - Страница 20

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aul Le Moyne, the fourth of the brothers, arrived at the château late that night. There were six of them, accordingly, to hear mass together at five o’clock the next morning. Father Millet joined them at the door of the chapel as they filed out. “Always remember, my sons,” he said, “that you are special instruments of the Lord’s will. He has selected you to carry out His purpose in this new land. It’s truly a great responsibility which rests on your shoulders. You must never forget that devotion to the cause must come before everything, before pleasure or ease or personal desires, even before the responsibilities you bear as husbands and fathers.”

“Yes, Father Millet,” answered Charles. The others bowed with equal gravity and murmured, “Yes, Father Millet.”

They turned in a body toward the stairs which led to the tower room. The three eldest walked arm in arm, Paul in the center. He was slender of build and a trifle shorter than the others. His features, which were small and finely cut, seemed out of place in the face of a woodsman.

“You’re looking well, M’sieur Little-Bird-Always-in-Motion,” said Charles, glancing down at the diplomat of the family. “I was inclined to fear the effect this last campaign might have on you.”

Paul le Moyne laughed. “The rest of you,” he said, “have been solicitous about me all my life. As far back as I can remember I’ve heard some of you asking, ‘Can Paul stand this?’ or ‘Can he do that?’ Sometimes I get angry about it. I’m as tough as any of the Le Moyne breed, as I’ve given you ample reason to know.” He looked back over his shoulder at the three youngest members of the family. “I’m still amazed at the change in the boys. I swear that both Gabriel and Little Antoine have grown three inches since we’ve been away.”

“Little Antoine,” declared D’Iberville, “will be the tallest of all in the end.” It developed later that he was right. Within a few years the baby of the family had outstripped them all in height although, much to his chagrin, he never succeeded in divorcing himself from the name his brothers had given him when he lay in his cradle of wild cherry wood (which each of them had occupied in turn), that of Little Antoine.

Charles seemed relieved that Paul had professed himself in such good health. “I’ve less of a feeling of guilt in what I must propose——” he began.

D’Iberville applied an affectionate pressure to Paul’s arm. “I knew it,” he said. “Charles the Taskmaster has some mission for you. And from the look on his face I judge it no simple matter.”

“It is not indeed,” affirmed the head of the family. “Not all the pelts from the Ottawa country are coming to us, Paul. We haven’t discovered yet what route is being used but the fact remains that a large share of the trade is going to Beverwyck.^[6] This can’t continue. If we allow this raiding of our territory to go on, they’ll soon be competing with us all over the north.” He frowned uneasily. “I lay the problem in your lap, Paul. I can’t solve it, sitting here in Montreal.”

[6]	Beverwyck had been the Dutch name for Albany and the French still used it.

An equally serious expression had settled on Paul’s face. “I thought we had them barred from the Ottawa for all time.” He gave his head a determined shake. “I must visit my friendly chiefs and find what has been happening up there while I’ve been away.”

“I hesitate to ask it of you so soon,” said Charles. “But there’s no denying that we may lose a large part of our trade if we don’t act quickly. Le diable est dedans.”

“I’ll go at once. All you will have to do,” with a smile, “is make your peace—and mine—with Marie-Madeleine. In fact, I’ll leave it to you, Charles, to break the news to her that I must leave her so soon again. She’ll be very angry, I promise you.” He added after a moment: “It will be no hardship for me. I like the woods. I’ve a very special liking for the Ottawa country. And—I like Indians.”

D’Iberville’s voice boomed out in protest. “You would like them less, my Paul, had you seen poor Twelve-and-One-More lying dead with that arrow in his back.” He crossed himself. “I wept when I stood over the body of the gentle big looby. I swear they shall pay for his death!”

“I too wept,” declared Charles. “Longueuil will never seem the same without Twelve-and-One-More.”

Paul was the gentlest of all the brothers in most respects but he accepted the killing of the baker with a realistic attitude of mind impossible to the others. “What can you expect?” he asked. “The Indians don’t want us here. They’ll fight us to the end for the land which was once all theirs. If our young men had done what this small party of warriors did, we would hail them as heroes. They dropped arrows in half a dozen places. One went through the open door of Old Kirkinhead’s house and pinned one of his ridiculous hats to the wall. Another landed in the courtyard at Chambly. It was their way of warning us that there’s no thought of peace in their minds; and also a small token of contempt. By this time, no doubt, the party is well on its way down the Richelieu.” He raised one of his slender white hands. “It was unfortunate that the baker got in the way of one of the arrows, Charles, but I refuse to fall into a froth of hate because they dared to give our complacent noses a tweak.”

The glower of resentment had not left D’Iberville’s face. “Play the philosopher as much as you like, my little Paul. I still swear that I’ll never consider my old friend’s death squared with them until a score of scalps have been ripped from their mangy skulls. Pro pelle centum!”

De Maricourt said quietly, “It seems to be a difference in viewpoint.”

A long table had been moved into the tower room with an armchair at the head and five smaller ones at each side. The brothers went to their places without any question. Their father had occupied the chair at the head at all family conferences during his lifetime and it had never been used since. Charles took the seat to the right of it. The one next to him remained unoccupied as it had belonged to the second son Jacques, the Sieur de Ste. Hélène, who had died gallantly in the defense of Quebec against the English fleet nine years before. D’Iberville lowered himself into the third chair and Paul took the fourth. The last one on that side, which had belonged to François, killed while fighting the Oneidas at Repentigny, remained vacant.

Directly across the table from Charles was an empty seat but this was not due to death. It belonged to Joseph, the Sieur de Sérigny, who was bringing the ships out from France to keep the rendezvous with D’Iberville at Newfoundland. The second chair was empty also, however, the most tragic gap of all, for here the brave Louis had sat. He had thus been across the table from D’Iberville. The other members of the family could remember the nods and smiles of affection which had always been exchanged by the pair. As usual the sight of the empty space across from him caused the famous brother to subside at once into an unhappy silence.

The next three chairs were taken in order by Jean-Baptiste, Gabriel, and Antoine.

“It was our father’s custom to begin with a prayer,” said Charles, lowering his head. The others did the same and for several moments the room was filled with the low murmurs of its six occupants. The seigneur then leaned back in his chair and gazed in front of him with a somber air. “I call these meetings as seldom as possible,” he said, “because they serve as reminders of the losses we’ve had. There are times, however, when it’s absolutely necessary for us to put our heads together; and such is the case at the moment. We face today a problem of the utmost importance.”

The seigneur broke off and raised some sheets of paper from in front of him. “But first I have financial reports for you. Our trading ventures have all turned out well; so well, in fact, that we would soon all be very rich men if we could go on without any interruption. Here I have the financial position of each of the inheritances set up for us and of the general fund in which we all hold shares. The general fund has become much larger than I thought possible on the last occasion when we were together in this room.”

“The problem facing us today,” he went on after clearing his throat, “is the need which has arisen for a large expenditure—in fact an enormous outlay of funds which may very well undo all the careful financial planning and building of the past ten years. It will eat up the general fund and cut more or less deeply into our personal inheritances. Pierre and I have discussed it at full length. We realize that we may jeopardize the prosperity of the Le Moyne family—but that it must be done!”

Silence fell on the room. Paul le Moyne’s face gave no indication of his reaction to this unexpected news but it was clear that the younger brothers were surprised and excited.

Despite the earliness of the hour it was stiflingly hot in the room. All the windows had been thrown open but the curtains hung limply at the sides, without the slightest hint of a breeze to stir them.

“How unbearably hot it is!” exclaimed Paul suddenly. “Or perhaps the nature of your announcement, Charlot, has caused my temperature to rise in this way. I—I am disturbed, I confess. Are you trying to frighten us, brother?”

“No,” answered Charles. “I’m in no way overestimating the risks.”

The Seigneur of Longueuil placed his hands together on the table and studied them for several moments. “I am a man of business,” he said finally. “I’ve been directly responsible for the handling of the family funds—and I may fairly say for the prosperity in which you’ve all shared. It shocks me to bring this question before you. My mind rebels at the taking of such—such monumental risks! It’s against my nature.” He spoke with deep feeling. His hands had become so tightly locked that the strain on the knuckles could be noticed. “But after long hours of consideration I see no other course open to us. You all heard what Father Millet said this morning. There is one consideration which must outweigh all matters of personal welfare and happiness.” He turned abruptly to D’Iberville. “You go on with it, Pierre. It will save time if you explain the situation.”

D’Iberville made it clear at once that he did not share the hesitations which weighed so heavily on the head of the house. He smiled around the circle of expectant faces with full confidence. To him the situation was quite simple. There was something to be done: why not, therefore, proceed to the doing of it without discussion or fear of consequences? He sat forward in his chair and began to speak in a brisk voice.

“We’re to have the ships for the Mississippi venture. After talking with Monsieur de Mariat, I’m convinced the King will provide them. And so we must plan accordingly. The great chance we’ve looked forward to, the chance to shape a continent and hoist the fleur-de-lis over all the west, is to be ours! I think you’ll agree that nothing must be allowed to stand in the way of our success.”

The faces of the three younger brothers left no doubt that they were entirely in accord with this but Gabriel was the only one of the trio who dared interrupt. “Nothing, Pierre, nothing!” he cried excitedly. “We mustn’t allow points of wealth and security to stand in the way.”

“That’s the spirit!” said D’Iberville appreciatively. Then he frowned as he began to speak of difficulties. “But the King’s consent isn’t the end of our troubles. Rather, it’s the start. If we leave the fitting out of the ships to the ministers at Versailles and the naval contractors, we can be sure the expedition will be a failure!” His eyes began to glow belligerently. “Those thieves, those wretched prig-pennies, who deserve no better fate than to bless the world with their heels”—a slang expression for hanging—“would send us out with casks of foul water and rotting meat and biscuit crawling with weevil. The muskets would be rusty discards, the gunpowder no better than mealed niter with sulphur and charcoal instead of properly corned powder. There wouldn’t be a pound of brass in our guns. There would be no proper implements for the settlers, no proper seed, no supplies.”

“It’s always been like this,” he went on. “La Salle was given the shoddiest support, and he failed and died. Get this firmly in your minds, my brothers. The settlers they send us will be a poor lot—weaklings and culls and cropped-heads from the prisons. They’ll die quickly if they have to depend on the supplies the government will give us.”

He nodded his head vigorously. “Our efforts will end in failure if we don’t load the ships with everything that will be needed—at our own expense.”

Nothing more was said for a moment and then Charles took up the burden of explanation. “I have on this sheet an estimate of what the cost will be. The total is—colossal. It will exhaust our balances and strain our credit. I suggest that each of you look this sheet over before we discuss the matter any further.”

Jean-Baptiste spoke up at once. “I, for one, have no need to look at the figures. All I require to know is that you, Charles and Pierre, are convinced that we must do this. I give my vote now. I agree to the plan.”

Gabriel said in a voice which, consciously or not, was an imitation of D’Iberville: “I agree, of course. What do I care about money!” He cared a great deal but at the moment he did not believe so.

Antoine echoed his two older brothers. “I agree!” he cried, nodding his head and smiling.

Charles asked in a sober tone of voice, “Do you realize fully that your personal inheritances may be wiped out? That you may have to go into the woods as traders, if things go wrong with us, or even open stores as our father did?”

“We understand the risk,” answered Jean-Baptiste, “and we’re ready to take it.”

Charles looked across D’Iberville at Paul. Little-Bird-Always-in-Motion was not living up to the name the Indians had given him. He was making no motion at all. His eyes were gazing straight ahead and it was clear he was giving the problem the most intense consideration.

“Well, Paul?”

“It’s a heavy gamble,” declared the Sieur de Maricourt. “We may throw all we possess into it and still share the fate of La Salle. All that we’ve worked so hard to acquire may go at one cast of the dice.... Oh, I agree. It’s just that I can’t voice my acquiescence with the enthusiasm of the three starry-eyed knights-errant across the table. Like you, Charles, I find this a duty which carries deep regrets with it.” He paused and sighed. “Well, I agree. Go as far as you like, Pierre. We can’t conquer the wilderness with empty hands. Credit my tardiness in speaking to the natural regrets of a man who must cancel at once his order for imported black slate for the new wing of his house and who will undoubtedly have to sell some prized pieces of silver—if the consent of a certain charming lady can be obtained to such a sacrifice.”

“Bless you, Paul!” exclaimed Charles. “I knew you would be with us, shoulder to shoulder. Is this another explanation I must make for you to Marie-Madeleine?” He looked along the line of faces. “Then it is settled.”

“It is settled,” repeated D’Iberville. He drew a gusty sigh of satisfaction. “I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Now I can sail for Mort Bay with an easy mind, knowing that after we are through there we can begin the task of winning a continent!”

The scraping of feet under the table announced the belief of the younger members of the family that the meeting had come to an end. The seigneur raised a restraining hand, saying that there were other matters to discuss. He began to speak of minor concerns: the investments which had been made with various companies of coureurs de bois, the matter of repairs to the stores and warehouses, the hiring of crews for the river boats. These points discussed and settled, he gathered the sheets in front of him into an orderly pile.

“There are two personal matters,” he stated. He turned somewhat reluctantly in the direction of Gabriel. “I understand you’ve been gambling lately, and losing more than you can afford. You’ve had to borrow from—from some of your brothers. You’ve been getting into bad company. I’m sure the rest will agree with me that this must stop at once. The name of Le Moyne must not be tarnished. And now, of course, you won’t be able to afford the losses.”

Gabriel flushed angrily. It was clear that an insubordinate retort was on the tip of his tongue. He thought better of it, however, and answered in a suppressed tone, “Yes, Charles.”

“Now we have a decision about the future of Antoine. It’s my feeling he should be trained in a knowledge of Indian ways and languages. You’ll be needing assistance, Paul. Antoine has an aptitude for it and he’s agreeable. Isn’t that so, Antoine?”

“Yes, Charles,” answered the boy eagerly.

“Antoine, in fact, has a great aptitude. He has a turn for languages. He can even speak some English. You needn’t snort, Pierre, it will be useful to him and to us.” The head of the family gave another questing look up and down the line. “Well, then, I think the meeting is over.”

Paul and the three boys left the room. As each passed, D’Iberville gave him an energetic thump on the back, saying in a heartfelt voice, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Charles had remained beside the chair at the head of the table. His eyes were filled with tears. “M’sieur Charles,” he said, turning in the direction of the hat on the wall, “you’ve had many reasons to be proud of these fine sons of yours. But never more than now!”