The Legends of Lake on the Mountain (12 page)

Chapter 22

Battles Are Won in the Mind

“George! Run!” said John. He wondered where Moll had gone.

Home, I hope.

The man was an exceptionally fast swimmer. As he emerged from the water, John could see, even in the fading light, that it was Darius Marshall. Clad only in a thin, green, short-sleeved shirt and shorts, he rushed toward George even before he was out of the water. George pivoted away and ran along the beach toward the edge of the mountain. But within seconds, Darius closed the gap and reached out to grab him. His hand closed on George's shirt.

But not for long. From the direction of the saw mill an immense, bearded man rushed toward Darius and seized him in a bear hug.

“It's Mr. Pitman!” John said to Lou as they reached the shoreline in the raft. Darius struggled but the saw mill operator was too powerful. John and Lou could see their older sister running from the saw mill toward them. Obviously Moll had gone to get help, John realized.

John, George, Moll and Lou turned their attention on the still-struggling Darius Marshall. Nathaniel shoved him to the ground and held him using one knee and both of his tree-trunk-sized arms.

“Go get your father and any other men you can find,” he growled.

John nodded but before he could act he heard a series of clicks in the gathering dark. “Don't move, boy.”

The voice was cold. Authoritative. John froze as he saw a long gun pointed at him. “You,” the same man said to Nathaniel. “Get off him – now.” He pointed the gun at the saw mill operator.

Other men emerged from the shadows of the forest, rifles aimed at Nathaniel Pitman and John, Moll and George. They wore knives strapped to their belts and were dressed in green and brown. John counted eight more men besides Darius Marshall. Judging by the way they moved, John was certain they were soldiers.

The burly saw mill operator rose to his feet and released Darius, who leaped from the ground and wiped his brow with his forearm. He laughed and rubbed his thinning, wet hair with his hands. His face was now dirty but his smile was as wide as John had ever seen. Blood began to spill out of his mouth where he had been hurt in the scuffle. He spit on the ground in front of Nathaniel Pitman.

“What a grip, yes siree,” he said. He glared through his twitching smile. John was still trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

“Why did you do it?” asked John. “Why did you create that…thing out there?” John glanced at the darkened lake. “And who are they?”

Darius smirked. “They're soldiers of the United States of America.” The soldiers stood stiffly with their backs to the edge of the mountain.

“And even they didn't think it would work,” Darius said. “Look around, John. Battles are won in the mind, aren't they?” He tapped his head. “I have to say, for a Brit I was surprised you would challenge like that. Out in the middle of a supposedly haunted, dark lake.” He sighed and wrung the water out of the front of his shirt. “I think you've gone and wrecked my little creature's neck.”

John realized Darius sounded different now – he had an accent he didn't recognize. “I thought you were a friend,” said John.

“Changed my mind. Is that allowed in your Upper Canada, son? Or does the Family Compact control that too? You see, once you started talking politics with me, I knew you were like all the rest.”

“The Tories – or anyone else – didn't make you frighten everyone away from Stone Mills,” said Moll. “And no one is making you point guns at us – except you,” said George.

Darius began to pace in front of them, keeping his distance from Nathaniel Pitman, even though there were eight men pointing guns to protect him. “What you people don't understand is that it takes sacrifice to build a democracy. It takes courage,” he said.

Hearing no reply he pounded his open palm. “It takes sweat and dedication,” he shouted.

“And it takes a coward to point guns at children,” said Nathaniel. John wondered if the saw mill operator would end up getting them all killed.

“I don't go out of my way to harm people,” said Darius. His grin was lopsided now. “But when stumbling neighbours and prying, law enforcement types come calling, then it leaves a man no choice.”

John swallowed. “You're the one…you killed Mr. Rightmyer and Constable Ogden!”

Darius sighed. “Did I? Oh, it's possible, son. Interfering, they were. Very nosy. My cabin was set up as my base, you see. That's not for outsiders to poke around at, especially Brits.”

Darius spun around and faced one of the men working for him. “How many people are left in this pathetic village?”

“Very few. At last check even the British colonel seems to have left. From what we've seen, the only ones remaining are the Macdonald's…”

John, Moll and Lou all looked at one another. “…the shipbuilder, Solomon Brook. Him,” the soldier said, nodding to Nathaniel. “The general store owner. And there's a handful of farmers left on the perimeter.”

“Hannah,” Darius said. He sounded less hostile than he had a moment ago. “Now there's a woman who would understand all of this.”

He paused as if deep in thought. In the encroaching shadows, John thought he saw calm on Darius' face and wondered if he was having a change of heart. He motioned all of the soldiers to gather around him, except for one. The lone, American soldier kept his gun pointed at Nathaniel who stood only a few feet away.

John strained to hear as the other seven soldiers leaned on their rifles and listened to Darius.

“Round up all of the villagers, except Hannah,” Darius said. “Tonight we rid ourselves of those who stand in the way of freedom.”

The men nodded. “I didn't think this would work,” said one. Darius placed his hand on his shoulder. “We're going to show the Brits how to run a country, if it's the last thing…”

Before Darius could finish, men with long guns swarmed over the ridge of the mountain. They raised their rifles at the American soldiers. John felt a surge of excitement.

A platoon of British soldiers!

“Put down your weapons!” yelled one. “Now!” ordered another. The last man to appear, wearing his signature red coat, was Lieutenant Colonel Macpherson. The American soldiers realized they were outnumbered and outflanked by the British soldiers. All of the U.S. soldiers except for the one guarding Nathaniel, John, Moll and Lou quickly surrendered their weapons. “Colonel Macpherson!” John beamed.

Before one of the colonel's soldiers could take action on the remaining U.S. soldier, the armed American swung his rifle toward the line of British infantrymen.

Chapter 23

Of Monsters and Men

Before the American gunman's rifle could go off, a British soldier aimed and fired. The American grabbed the top of his shoulder where he had been grazed and fell to his knees. He looked up with a snarl and reached for his fallen weapon. Before he could pick it up, the massive boot of Nathaniel Pitman crushed his hand.

“Ahhhh!” The soldier's scream was louder than when the bullet had hit him. Nathaniel reached down, snatched the rifle up, and handed it to the colonel.

Darius, strands of dark hair hanging about one side of his face, smiled in fierce spasms. “You're too late, old man.” He turned to the colonel and grinned through blood-stained teeth.

“The word has already gone out. Soon this ghost village will be overrun by American soldiers.” He laughed and spit a wad of blood in front of the colonel's feet.

The retired officer moved his moustache with his lips and stared down at Darius without flinching. “I assume you're referring to the schooner you had waiting off Waupoos Island, on its way to Oswego?” John watched Darius' face fall.

“It was intercepted about thirty miles from shore by a British sloop. Its small crew was taken prisoner. Just like you will be.”

Darius wilted further and fell silent. The colonel made sure John, Moll, Lou and George were safe and thanked Nathaniel for his intervention. He explained that their parents were staying at home until the area was secured. John told his uncle about the lake creature and how it had been an artificial creation of Darius Marshall's to scare people away.

“But what I don't understand is why would someone from here want to scare people away so American soldiers could attack?”

“He's not from here,” said the colonel. “He's an American citizen – from Kentucky – a decorated exsoldier who fought for the U.S. in the War of 1812. But he's been on the run from the U.S. army ever since he shot and killed four British soldiers long after the Treaty of Ghent was signed. He never let go of the war and wasn't following orders – not the mark of a good soldier, to say the least. But we knew he might still command loyalty of some of the men from his unit.”

“You told us we were working for President Adams!” said one of the American soldiers. “On a covert mission,” he added, straining against the arms of the two British soldiers who held him.

The colonel scoffed. “President Adams wouldn't know him unless he was looking at a list of vigilantes.” Darius flipped his thinning, brown hair back that hung in front of his eyes. “My country lost sight of what was important. When President Madison was in power, during the war, he would have understood.”

The colonel wiped his brow and as John watched him he wondered how difficult this mission had been for his aging uncle to endure. “How did you know who he really was?” asked John.

“We didn't have a description so it took me awhile to piece it together,” said his uncle. “It was a lot of discussions with neighbours. But once I learned the backgrounds of people here and stacked it up with pieces I learned from the U.S. government, it began to add up. The lake serpent threw me off. But learning from the U.S. that he was a renowned strategist and considered unorthodox in his battle methods… well, I wondered if they were connected.”

Darius spoke. “This whole continent should have been American by now. Only the British could have created this place in their arrogant, insufferable way.”

John watched his uncle give a lopsided grin. “You can pretend it's all politics,” said the colonel, “but a lot of this was personal, too. Meaning your wife, of course.”

Darius raised his head. “We came here to make a new life,” he said in a whisper.

Moll looked at the colonel, confused. “Both of them came to Upper Canada?”

Her uncle nodded. “He and his wife, Sophia, learned to hide their accents well. They adapted – had to, since they fled to York once the U.S. Army came after him.” Darius spoke to the ground. “Only six months here and Sophia was already being taken from me by the Family Compact. By Edgar.” He looked up. “Do you see? The Tories took that away. They took Sophia away from me.”

“You can't blame your failed marriage on the Tories,” said the colonel.

“And then I realized,” said Darius, “that the Family Compact took everything away from everyone. I realized it wasn't about me. That I had to set the people here free.”

“I find it interesting that a man headed to prison is making a speech about freedom,” said the colonel.

Darius' etched smile faded some as he studied his feet. Then he looked at the colonel. “Reformers are not alone, old man. There are people – like Mackenzie – who will carry on. You'll see – change is coming.”

“Why does change have to happen all at once?” asked John. “Just because I'm a British subject – and I'll die a British subject some day – doesn't mean we can't grow. Not everything happens overnight.” Darius shook his head. “I did the right thing.” “If you really want to do the right thing, you'll tell them where Mr. Rightmyer and Constable Ogden are,” said John.

A soft, female voice rose from the edge of the lake. “Darius?”

Everyone turned and saw the slender outline of Hannah Pringle. The moon had risen above the tree line, cutting shards of light across her anxious face. “You're responsible for all of this?”

“Hannah…” the ex-soldier began. His eyes softened as hers hardened.

“I believed in you…believed in what you stood for,” she said. “But I didn't know you were capable of this.” She dabbed at her eyes with a white cloth.

“Did you believe in him enough to create
The Stone Mills Reformer
?” asked Moll. All eyes turned to Moll. “I saw her the other day with ink on her neck. I wasn't sure that it was ink at the time. Then later I realized she was likely the only one in the village, other than farmers, who had the space to hold a printing press,” she said, referring to her large, back shed.

Hannah gave a shrug and a weak smile. “That old printing press...I figured it would be a good way to help along the reform effort. Reformers aren't popular though now, are they? Thought I'd best keep that to myself. When you startled me that day out back,” she said to Moll, “I wondered if you'd figure it out.”

“It was you?” asked Darius. “You mean you did that for me?”

Hannah didn't answer. Instead she turned and watched the small, lapping lake a few feet to her right. At the edge of the water, the broken creature's neck washed ashore at her feet.

“I suppose I did do it for you. Of course, I didn't know you were a monster – did I?”

***

The next morning word travelled like it always does. From family to family, friend to friend, business to business and every other possible combination of folks passing on the news. Stone Mills was back to normal, according to the official and unofficial word.

Anson Rightmyer and Constable Ogden were rescued from Darius Marshall's hidden cabin, shaken but alive. Lieutenant Colonel Macpherson had gone back to Kingston the same night, with all the British soldiers and his nine, American prisoners in tow. Before he left he had quickly dropped off an injured sparrow they had found inside the cabin for Moll and Lou to look after.

Many people had approached John, George, Moll and Lou to thank them, congratulate them and to get them to retell the entire story. John was usually the one who took over at this part. It was George's observation that John's serpent in the story kept getting larger with every retelling, but few seemed to notice or mind.

Around the supper table that night, the talk was still about the events of the previous evening. But there was something John still didn't understand. “So the colonel didn't come because of the news sheet at all?” he asked his mother and father.

Helen shook her head while she sliced a loaf of bread. “I guess that was only an interesting coincidence. Who knew it could be Hannah Pringle involved in that?”

“Even though Donald's retired I have to admit he knows this area well,” said Hugh. “I wondered how the other British soldiers got here. Turns out he spoke to the Kingston garrison commander who agreed to dispatch soldiers to the area to respond to any conflict if the colonel required. They were close enough to get here in time, but not so close to alert suspicion.”

“And Darius Marshall wasn't even his real name?” asked Moll. “That's what the colonel said when we left the top of the mountain last night.”

“Sure, he would have dropped his real name in order to hide out for as long as he did,” said Hugh. “Who knows what his real name is? Doesn't matter much now – he'll either be in jail for life or more likely be hanged back in the U.S.” John swallowed and exchanged glances with Moll and Lou.

By the time the day was over, John felt happy to crawl into his bed and blow out his oil lamp. He pulled his sheet up to his neck just as he heard a light rap at his door. “Come in,” said John.

His mother stood in his bedroom doorway holding one of the lit candles she and Moll often made together. Her great shadow behind her flickered and filled his room. “That was a courageous thing you did, going after your sister,” said Helen. “I know I wasn't happy at first, with you taking off like that. But it was a brave thing.”

“Lou was the brave one,” said John. “She wanted to see for herself, whether or not there was a creature in the lake.” He paused. “I just didn't want…”

“You didn't want what?” Helen urged.

“I didn't want to lose her in such a terrible way. Like James,” said John.

John watched his mother's eyes well up. She reached out with her free hand and steadied the one that held the lit candle.

“One day…well, you just mark my words, John Macdonald. You'll make more than an ordinary man.”