The Pioneers (39 page)

Benjamin Pump was invariably the coxswain and net caster of Richard's boat, unless the Sheriff saw fit to preside in person; and, on the present occasion, Billy Kirby and a youth of about half his strength were assigned to the oars. The remainder of the assistants were stationed at the drag-ropes. The arrangements were speedily made, and Richard gave the signal to “shove off.”

Elizabeth watched the motion of the bateau as it pulled from the shore, letting loose its rope as it went, but it soon disappeared in the darkness, when the ear was her only guide to its evolutions. There was great affectation of stillness during all these maneuvers, in order, as Richard assured them, “not to frighten the bass, who were running into the shoal waters, and who would approach the light if not disturbed by the sounds from the fishermen.”

The hoarse voice of Benjamin was alone heard issuing out of the gloom, as he uttered, in authoritative tones, “pull larboard oar,” “pull starboard,” “give way together, boys,” and such other dictative mandates as were necessary for the right disposition of his seine. A long time was passed in this necessary part of the process, for Benjamin prided himself greatly on his skill in throwing the net, and, in fact, most of the success of the sport depended on its being done with judgment. At length a loud splash in the water, as he threw away the “staff,” or “stretcher,” with a hoarse call from the steward of “clear,” announced that the boat was returning; when Richard seized a brand from the fire and ran to a point as far above the center of the fishing ground as the one from which the bateau had started was below it.

“Stick her in dead for the Squire, boys,” said the steward, “and we'll have a look at what grows in this here pond.”

In place of the falling net were now to be heard the quick strokes of the oars and the noise of the rope running out of the boat. Presently the bateau shot into the circle of light, and in an instant she was pulled to shore. Several eager hands were extended to receive the line, and both ropes being equally well-manned, the fishermen commenced hauling in with slow and steady drags, Richard standing in the center, giving orders, first to one party, and then to the other, to increase or slacken their efforts, as occasion required. The visitors were posted near him and enjoyed a fair view of the whole operation, which was slowly advancing to an end.

Opinions as to the result of their adventure were now freely hazarded by all the men, some declaring that the net came in as light as a feather, and others affirming that it seemed to be full of logs. As the ropes were many hundred feet in length, these opposing sentiments were thought to be of little moment by the Sheriff, who would go first to one line and then to the other, giving each a small pull in order to enable him to form an opinion for himself.

“Why, Benjamin,” he cried, as he made his first effort in this way, “you did not throw the net clear. I can move it with my little finger. The rope slackens in my hand.”

“Did you ever see a whale, Squire?” responded the steward. “I say that if that there net is foul, the devil is in the lake in the shape of a fish, for I cast it as fair as ever rigging was rove over the quarter-deck of a flagship.”

But Richard discovered his mistake when he saw Billy Kirby before him, standing with his feet in the water, at an angle of forty-five degrees, inclining shorewards and expending his gigantic strength in sustaining himself in that posture. He ceased his remonstrances and proceeded to the party at the other line.

“I see the ‘staffs,' ” shouted Mr. Jones; “gather in, boys, and away with it; to shore with her!—to shore with her!”

At this cheerful sound, Elizabeth strained her eyes and saw the ends of the two sticks on the seine emerging from the darkness, while the men closed near to each other and formed a deep bag of their net. The exertions of the fishermen sensibly increased, and the voice of Richard was heard encouraging them to make their greatest efforts at the present moment.

“Now's the time, my lads,” he cried; “let us get the ends to land, and all we have will be our own—away with her!”

“Away with her, it is,” echoed Benjamin—“Hurrah! Ho-a-hoy, ho-a-hoy, ho-a!”

“In with her,” shouted Kirby, exerting himself in a manner that left nothing for those in his rear to do, but to gather up the slack of the rope which passed through his hands.

“Staff, ho!” shouted the steward.

“Staff, ho!” echoed Kirby, from the other rope.

The men rushed to the water's edge, some seizing the upper rope, and some the lower, or lead rope, and began to haul with great activity and zeal. A deep semicircular sweep of the little balls that supported the seine in its perpendicular position was plainly visible to the spectators, and, as it rapidly lessened in size, the bag of the net appeared, while an occasional flutter on the water announced the uneasiness of the prisoners it contained.

“Haul in, my lads,” shouted Richard. “I can see the dogs kicking to get free. Haul in, and here's a cast that will pay for the labor.”

Fishes of various sorts were now to be seen, entangled in the meshes of the net, as it was passed through the hands of the laborers; and the water, at a little distance from the shore, was alive with the movements of the alarmed victims. Hundreds of white sides were glancing up to the surface of the water, and glistening in the firelight, when, frightened at the uproar and the change, the fish would again dart to the bottom, in fruitless efforts for freedom.

“Hurrah!” shouted Richard; “one or two more heavy drags, boys, and we are safe.”

“Cheerily, boys, cheerily!” cried Benjamin; “I see a salmon trout that is big enough for a chowder.”

“Away with you, you varmint!” said Billy Kirby, plucking a bullpout from the meshes, and casting the animal back into the lake with contempt. “Pull, boys, pull; here's all kinds, and the Lord condemn me for a liar, if there an't a thousand bass!”

Inflamed beyond the bounds of discretion at the sight, and forgetful of the season, the wood chopper rushed to his middle into the water and began to drive the reluctant animals before him from their native element.

“Pull heartily, boys,” cried Marmaduke, yielding to the excitement of the moment, and laying his hands to the net, with no trifling addition to the force. Edwards had preceded him; for the sight of the immense piles of fish that were slowly rolling over on the gravelly beach had impelled him also to leave the ladies, and join the fishermen.

Great care was observed in bringing the net to land, and, after much toil, the whole shoal of victims was safely deposited in a hollow of the bank, where they were left to flutter away their brief existence in the new and fatal element.

Even Elizabeth and Louisa were greatly excited and highly gratified by seeing two thousand captives thus drawn from the bosom of the lake, and laid prisoners at their feet. But when the feelings of the moment were passing away, Marmaduke took in his hands a bass that might have weighed two pounds, and after viewing it a moment, in melancholy musing, he turned to his daughter, and observed:

“This is a fearful expenditure of the choicest gifts of Providence. These fish, Bess, which thou seest lying in such piles before thee, and which by tomorrow evening will be rejected food on the meanest table in Templeton, are of a quality and flavor that, in other countries, would make them esteemed a luxury on the tables of princes or epicures. The world has no better fish than the bass of Otsego: it unites the richness of the shad
¹⁷
to the firmness of the salmon.”

“But surely, dear sir,” cried Elizabeth, “they must prove a great blessing to the country, and a powerful friend to the poor.”

“The poor are always prodigal, my child, where there is plenty, and seldom think of a provision against the morrow. But if there can be any excuse for destroying animals in this manner, it is in taking the bass. During the winter, you know, they are entirely protected from our assaults by the ice, for they refuse the hook; and during the hot months they are not seen. It is supposed they retreat to the deep and cool waters of the lake, at that season; and it is only in the spring and autumn, that, for a few days, they are to be found around the points where they are within the reach of a seine. But, like all the other treasures of the wilderness, they already begin to disappear before the wasteful extravagance of man.”

“Disappear, 'duke! disappear!” exclaimed the Sheriff; “if you don't call this appearing, I know not what you will. Here are a good thousand of the shiners, some hundreds of suckers, and a powerful quantity of other fry. But this is always the way with you, Marmaduke; first it's the trees, then it's the deer, after that it's the maple sugar, and so on to the end of the chapter. One day you talk of canals through a country where there's a river or a lake every half-mile, just because the water won't run the way you wish it to go; and the next, you say something about mines of coal, though any man who has good eyes like myself—I say with good eyes—can see more wood than would keep the city of London in fuel for fifty years; wouldn't it, Benjamin?”

“Why, for that, Squire,” said the steward, “Lon'on is no small place. If it was stretched an end, all the same as a town on one side of a river, it would cover some such matter as this here lake. Tho'f I dar'st to say, that the wood in sight might sarve them a good turn, seeing that the Lon'oners mainly burn coal.”

“Now we are on the subject of coal, Judge Temple,” interrupted the Sheriff, “I have a thing of much importance to communicate to you; but I will defer it until tomorrow. I know that you intend riding into the eastern part of the Patent, and I will accompany you, and conduct you to a spot where some of your projects may be realized. We will say no more now, for there are listeners; but a secret has this evening been revealed to me, 'duke, that is of more consequence to your welfare than all your estate united.”

Marmaduke laughed at the important intelligence, to which in a variety of shapes he was accustomed, and the Sheriff, with an air of great dignity, as if pitying his want of faith, proceeded in the business more immediately before them. As the labor of drawing the net had been very great, he directed one party of his men to commence throwing the fish into piles, preparatory to the usual division, while another, under the superintendence of Benjamin, prepared the seine for a second haul.

FALCONER

 

WHILE the fishermen were employed in making the preparations for an equitable division of the spoil, Elizabeth and her friend strolled a short distance from the group, along the shore of the lake. After reaching a point to which even the brightest of the occasional gleams of the fire did not extend, they turned, and paused a moment, in contemplation of the busy and lively party they had left, and of the obscurity, which, like the gloom of oblivion, seemed to envelop the rest of the creation.

“This is indeed a subject for the pencil!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Observe the countenance of that wood chopper, while he exults in presenting a larger fish than common to my cousin Sheriff; and see, Louisa, how handsome and considerate my dear father looks, by the light of that fire, where he stands viewing the havoc of the game. He seems melancholy, as if he actually thought that a day of retribution was to follow this hour of abundance and prodigality! Would they not make a picture, Louisa?”

“You know that I am ignorant of all such accomplishments, Miss Temple.”

“Call me by my Christian name,” interrupted Elizabeth; “this is not a place, neither is this a scene, for forms.”

“Well, then, if I may venture an opinion,” said Louisa, timidly, “I should think it might indeed make a picture. The selfish earnestness of that Kirby over his fish would contrast finely with the—the—expression of Mr. Edwards's face. I hardly know what to call it; but it is—a—is—you know what I would say, dear Elizabeth.”

“You do me too much credit, Miss Grant,” said the heiress; “I am no diviner of thoughts, or interpreter of expressions.”

There was certainly nothing harsh, or even cold, in the manner of the speaker, but still it repressed the conversation, and they continued to stroll still further from the party, retaining each other's arm, but observing a profound silence. Elizabeth perhaps conscious of the improper phraseology of her last speech, or perhaps excited by the new object that met her gaze, was the first to break the awkward cessation in the discourse, by exclaiming:

“Look, Louisa! we are not alone; there are fishermen lighting a fire on the other side of the lake, immediately opposite to us; it must be in front of the cabin of Leatherstocking!”

Through the obscurity, which prevailed most immediately under the eastern mountain, a small and uncertain light was plainly to be seen, though, as it was occasionally lost to the eye, it seemed struggling for existence. They observed it to move, and sensibly to lower, as if carried down the descent of the bank to the shore. Here, in a very short time, its flame gradually expanded, and grew brighter, until it became of the size of a man's head, when it continued to shine a steady ball of fire.

Such an object, lighted as it were by magic, under the brow of the mountain, and in that retired and unfrequented place, gave double interest to the beauty and singularity of its appearance. It did not at all resemble the large and unsteady light of their own fire, being much more clear and bright, and retaining its size and shape with perfect uniformity.

There are moments when the best regulated minds are more or less subjected to the injurious impressions which few have escaped in infancy; and Elizabeth smiled at her own weakness, while she remembered the idle tales which were circulated through the village at the expense of the Leatherstocking. The same ideas seized her companion, and at the same instant, for Louisa pressed nearer to her friend, as she said in a low voice, stealing a timid glance towards the bushes and trees that overhung the bank near them: