Elsie's Journey on Inland Waters

CHAPTER IX

The sun was just peeping above the horizon, the yacht moving swiftly and steadily onward as Lucilla stepped from the companion-way upon the deck, the next morning, having obtained permission the night before to do so in case the quiet movements of the vessel made it certain she would run no such risk as she had the previous day.

Her father was pacing the deck, and so near that he took her hand the moment she appeared.

"My early bird, as usual! Good-morning, daughter mine," he said in tender tones as he bent down and bestowed upon her the caress she never failed to receive from him when first they met at the beginning of a new day.

"Good-morning, dear, dear papa, yesterday's saver of my life," she returned, in moved tones, putting her arms about his neck and pressing her lips to his again and again. "Oh, father, surely I belong to you more than ever now!"

"You are my very own, one of my chief treasures," he said, in response to that. "God bless my darling and have her ever in His kind care and keeping!" He clasped her hand tenderly in his as he spoke, and for a while they paced the deck together.

"Oh, where are we, papa?" she asked, gazing from side to side in eager curiosity. "This wide expanse of water cannot be the Welland Canal?"

"No, we passed through that in the night, and are now in Lake Ontario."

"Oh, I am glad we are so far on our journey," she said, "and the water is so quiet that it seems a very suitable place in which to spend this sweet Sabbath day."

"I think so, if only we try to spend it aright."

"I do intend to," she responded. "And we shall have our usual service in the morning; we younger ones a Bible lesson with papa in the afternoon, won't we?"

"I think so," he said. "I certainly expect to give my own children a Bible lesson, and we will not shut out any who may choose to take a part in it. That would be very selfish, would it not?"

"Yes, sir! yes, indeed! I think so, for you always make a Bible lesson very interesting as well as instructive."

"I am glad my daughter finds it so," he said, smiling down upon her.

They moved silently back and forth for a few minutes, Lucilla apparently in deep thought, her father watching with keen and loving interest the changeful expression of her features.

"What is it, daughter? Of what are you thinking?" he asked at length.

"About the narrow escape of yesterday, papa," she answered, lifting to his a face full of solemn awe. "I was asking myself, as I have many times since my narrow escape of yesterday morning, Was I ready for heaven? Would I have gone there if I had been drowned without time to think and prepare to meet my Judge? Oh, father, can anyone be saved without time to think and repent of every wrong thought and feeling, and asking God's forgiveness for it? And how would it be possible to do all that while struggling for your life?"

"Daughter," he said in tender tones, "are you not forgetting these sweet words of Holy Writ: 'He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life?' Take notice, it is not shall have, but hath. It is not only the sins already committed which God forgives for Jesus' sake when He adopts us for His own, but those also which in His omniscience He sees that we will be guilty of before the work of sanctification is finished. If we are truly His, they are all forgiven in advance. He says: 'I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father which gave them me is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. I and my Father are one.' In another place he says, 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word and believeth on Him that sent me hath everlasting life and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.' The one important question is, are we really His? Have we accepted His offered salvation and given ourselves entirely to Him? If that be so we have no cause for anxiety or fear; for the Lord knoweth them that are His, and will never suffer any real evil to befall them. Death will be but going home to Him, and that with all the sin taken away and we made perfect in holiness, no want of conformity to His holy will left in us."

"Yes, papa, but – "

"But what, daughter?"

"Oh, if I should be mistaken in thinking that I really belong to Him! Papa, how can I know it?"

"Have you any doubt that you are mine?"

"No, indeed, papa, not the slightest."

"But how do you know it?"

"Because you have told me so again and again; and besides, I have only to look in the glass to see that I have your features, that I resemble you about as much in looks as a young girl can resemble a – "

"Middle-aged man," he added, finishing the sentence for her as she paused with an earnest, loving look up into his face.

"And the Bible tells us," he continued, "that 'Whom He did foreknow He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son.' If we are really His, we will, in a greater or less degree, resemble Him and will be changed into the same image from glory to glory."

"Do you see anything of His image in me, papa?" she asked anxiously, humbly.

"I am glad, very glad to be able to say that I think I do, daughter," he replied joyously, tenderly. "For years past I have watched you very closely, constantly praying God to bless my efforts to train you up in the way you should go, and bring you to Him, and I am very happy to say that for a long while now I have seen that you were striving earnestly to overcome your faults and live as a true disciple of Christ. And had you been snatched from me in that sudden way, while the loss of my dear child would have been terrible to me, I should not have mourned as those without hope; but should now be looking forward to a happy meeting with you in that blessed land where sin and sorrow and death are unknown."

"Thank you, dear papa, oh, thank you very much!" she said, with emotion. "If I am a Christian it is because you have taken almost infinite pains to make me such, to point me to Christ and lead the way; the way that you made plainer to me than anyone else ever did."

"Give all the glory and praise to God, my darling," he responded, in moved tones. "It has been my daily, earnest prayer, that He would give me wisdom for the work of bringing my children to Him and bless my efforts, and I think my petition has been granted. When you see a work laid to your hands for which you feel incompetent, ask help from on high, remembering and pleading His gracious promise – 'If any of you lack wisdom let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering.' Never forget that last clause. God knows the heart, and it will be useless for us to plead with Him a promise which we do not really believe."

"Yes, papa; surely that would be insulting to even a human creature. Oh, pray for me, that I may have strong faith and never, never doubt one word of God's promises, or threats either, and that I may be always ready for whatever He sends. Oh, I can never thank Him enough for giving me such a good, kind, praying, Christian father!"

"And I have great reason for gratitude for the dear children he has bestowed upon me," her father responded, pressing the hand he held, "and for the hope that we will spend a blessed eternity together in that land where sin and sorrow are unknown."

"Yes, papa, what a delightful thought that is! and yet I cannot help feeling glad to stay a little longer here in this world. Oh, this is such a lovely morning and the view is as new to me as it is enchanting, for, as you know, in going to Chicago we passed over this part of the route in the night, so that I saw nothing of the scenery."

"Well, I think you may enjoy it to the full to-day," he returned, "and that some time in the afternoon you will get a sight of the Thousand Islands; though, by the way, counting all, big and little, there are fifteen hundred or more."

"Then we won't stop at all of them?"

"Hardly," he answered with a smile. "They fill the river for twenty-seven miles along its course. Most of them are mere rocky islets, covered generally with stunted hemlocks and cedar trees down to the water's edge. Some are square miles in extent and others only a few yards."

"And how wide is the river where they are, papa?"

"It varies from two to nine miles in width. Canoes and small boats may pass safely among all the islands, and there is a deep channel for steamboats and large vessels which, having a rocky bottom, never varies in depth or position."

"Do they belong to our country or to Canada, papa? I ought to know, but, if I ever did, I have forgotten."

"The boundary line, which was determined in 1818, passes among them. Grindstone, Carleton, and Wells are the names of the largest of those belonging to the United States, and Grand and Howe of those belonging to Canada."

"And there are a good many stories connected with them, are there not, papa?"

"Yes; perhaps one of these days we will hunt them up; for I know that my children – to say nothing of older people – are fond of stories."

"Especially when told by our father, who is sure to make them interesting," she said, with an upward glance into his face that spoke volumes of love and admiration.

"Ah, such, it seems, is the opinion of my partial eldest daughter, who can see nothing in her father but what is good and admirable."

"A weakness equally shared by his wife," remarked a clear, sweet voice in their rear.

They turned quickly at the sound, the captain exclaiming, as he let go his daughter's hand, put an arm about Violet, bent down and kissed her tenderly, "This is a most agreeable surprise, my dearest, for I left you, at least, so I thought, fast asleep. I moved as quietly as I could, not wishing to disturb your slumbers."

"As you always do move on such occasions, my best and dearest of husbands," she responded, returning his caresses. "You made no noise, but somehow I happened to wake just as you closed the door, and thinking I would secure for myself the rare treat of an early walk with my – better half, I left my berth promptly and began my toilet. So here I am, to spoil Lu's private morning interview with the almost idolized father she considers her peculiar property at this hour of the day."

"Ah!" he returned laughingly, "I put it the other way. She is my property, yet hardly more so than my lovely young wife."

"Yes; you and I belong to each other, and Lu can say the same to you," laughed Violet. "Can't you, Lu?"

"So I think, Mamma Vi," returned Lucilla, "and though probably you are nearer and dearer to him than I, you cannot say as I can, that you have his blood in your veins and have belonged to him ever since you were born."

"No," acknowledged Violet, "but I can say I belong to him of choice, you only of necessity."

"Oh, that doesn't matter!" laughed Lucilla; "since if I had the privilege of choosing, I should be all the same his very, very own. That is, if he would have me," she added, with a look of ardent affection up into her father's face, and laying her hand upon his shoulder.

"There is no question about that, dear child," he said, putting his arm round her waist again. "Since the day I first heard of your birth there has not been one in which I have not thanked God for this good gift of His to me," he concluded, with a fond caress.

"So you see you have no need to be jealous even of me, Lu," Violet said, with pleased look and smile.

"No, I am not, Mamma Vi, not in the least; for I would far rather be papa's daughter than his wife. But, I suppose, you would rather have him to yourself for a while now, so I will go down – "

"No, no, Lu dear, stay here with us," interrupted Violet, while the captain drew his daughter a little closer, saying, "Stay where you are. Cannot I have and enjoy you both at once?"

"Oh, I'm glad enough to be allowed to stay, if you both want me," exclaimed Lucilla, with a pleased little laugh. "But I thought I had had my turn and was afraid I'd be in the way now."

"When I find you in the way I shall not hesitate to give you an order to go below," her father said, with a look of amusement.

Then, taking her hand in his and giving the other arm to Violet, he resumed the interrupted promenade of the deck till they were joined by the children and older members of the family party.

Then came the summons to the breakfast table. All were in excellent spirits, greatly enjoying the pleasant change from yesterday's storm to the lovely weather of to-day. Most of the day was spent upon the deck holding the Sabbath services usual with them there, then in reading and conversation suited to the sacred time, or in gazing out over the waters, watching the passing vessels, and as they steamed from the lake into the St. Lawrence River and pursued their way among the islands there, gazing upon them with interest and curiosity.

"Are we going to stop at any of them, papa?" asked Grace.

"I think not," he replied. "We are in some haste to reach Montreal, as we hope to find letters there from the home folks."

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "I am hoping to hear from my boys – Harold and Herbert – that they have arrived safely at home; also for some news from all the other dear ones in that vicinity."

"And we hope it will be all good news," added Captain Raymond cheerily.

"And we will send despatches and letters to some of them, that all may be apprised of our safety thus far," added his wife.

"Yes, indeed," said Violet. "By the way, I wonder where our bride and groom are by this time? I wish we might come across them and persuade them to travel in the Dolphin again. We would only have to crowd a little as before, to make room for them."

"And none of us would object to that, I think," remarked Rose.

"I, for one, am decidedly of the opinion that it would pay," said Lucilla. "Don't you think so, father?"

"Yes; I have always found their society enjoyable," Captain Raymond replied to that. "And I hope they have found ours agreeable enough to need but little urging to accept our invitation."

"Perhaps we may come upon them in Montreal," remarked Grace. "Papa, is it not the largest city of Lower Canada?"

"Yes; the largest in British America."

"Where is it, papa?" asked little Elsie.

"On the left bank of this – the St. Lawrence River, 200 miles below Lake Ontario; 160 above Quebec, which will be our next stopping place."

"Will we get there to-day, papa?" asked Elsie.

"No," he replied. "To-day is nearly gone, daughter. See, the sun is setting, and you and Neddie will be going presently to your beds, to have a good night's sleep, I hope, and be ready to enjoy to-morrow's visit to Montreal."

CHAPTER X

The drip, drip of rain was the first sound that greeted Lucilla's ears on awaking the next morning. She started up in her berth and listened. The Dolphin was not moving.

"Oh, we must be anchored at Montreal, and it's raining," she said to herself. "There will not be much sight-seeing for us to-day, I'm afraid. Dear, dear! I hope we won't have to hurry away without seeing anything. Though in that case, perhaps papa will bring us here again next year."

She did not linger long over her toilet, and was soon with her father on the deck.

"Oh, papa!" she exclaimed, after the usual morning greetings had been exchanged, "aren't you sorry it has turned out a rainy day?"

"A bright one would seem pleasanter to us, as we had planned to do some sight-seeing," he replied, "but let us remember who sends the changes of the weather, that He knows what is best for us, and that we may safely trust in His knowledge, power, and love for us?"

"Yes, papa, that is how I ought to feel about it, and I will try to," she said, a sweet smile replacing the slight frown that had marred the beauty of her face for the moment.

"I think," he went on presently, "that it is not going to be a lasting rain. Probably showery for some hours, which we can spend with advantage in a short review of the history of Montreal, and considering what parts of it are most worthy of our attention; for we cannot take time to visit every locality."

"Oh, what a nice idea, papa! It quite comforts me!" she cried, looking up into his face with a bright, glad smile, "I do think I have just the very best, kindest, wisest father – "

"There, there! that will do!" he said, stopping her flow of words with a kiss full upon her lips. "I am afraid my eldest daughter is a decided flatterer."

"Oh, papa, the truth isn't flattery, is it?" she asked with a roguish look up into his eyes.

"Ah! but silly young things, like my daughter Lucilla, oftentimes have vivid imaginations. But to change the subject, Montreal, you know, is historic ground."

"Yes, sir; I remember that the first white man who visited it was Jacques Quartier or Cartier, a French navigator. And didn't he discover the Gulf and River St. Lawrence? and give them those names?"

"Yes; and named the place here Mount Royal – in honor of his king, Francis I. The city is built upon an island thirty miles long and twelve wide, and upon the site of a noted Indian village called Hochelaga. Cartier's visit was paid in 1535. In 1640 a white settlement was gathered there. The Indians, friendly at first, afterward became jealous, then hostile. The whites at first defended their town with a stockade and slight bastions, but later with a strong wall of masonry fifteen feet high, with battlements and six gates."

"What an old, old town it is!" exclaimed Lucilla. "Did it become a large city very quickly, papa?"

"No; its growth was gradual, but when in the middle of the last century hostilities were begun between the French and English colonies, Montreal was an important frontier town. It was threatened by the English under Amherst in 1759, and in the autumn of the next year passed out of the possession of the French into that of the English."

"And they have kept it ever since?"

"Yes; though our people invaded it in 1775, after the capture of Forts St. John and Chambly."

"Oh, yes, sir! under Montgomery and Arnold, wasn't it?"

"The first attack was under Ethan Allen, and was made a month earlier than the taking of those forts," replied the captain. "Montgomery had sent him to arouse the people in favor of the rebellion, as our cause was then styled by our foes. Allen was active and brave, and soon had gathered 25 °Canadians to his standard. He wrote, Lossing tells us, to Montgomery, that within three days he would join him, with at least 500 armed Canadians, in laying siege to St. John's.

"He was marching up the east side of the St. Lawrence when he fell in with Major Brown, at the head of an advanced party of Americans and Canadians, and Brown proposed that they should make a joint attack upon Montreal; telling Allen it was weak and defenceless. Allen agreed and they made their arrangements. Allen was to get canoes and cross the river below the city with his troops, while Brown was to cross above with 200 men, and they were to attack the city simultaneously.

"But for some unexplained reason Brown failed to keep his part of the agreement, and Allen's party made the attack alone.

"It was at night, a rough, windy night, that they, 8 °Canadians and 30 Americans, crossed the river, and they had so few canoes that three crossings were necessary to carry the whole party over. That was safely accomplished by daylight, at which time Allen expected to hear Brown's signal, telling him that he too had crossed with his men. But the signal was waited for in vain. He did not come at all.

"Allen would have retreated if the boats could have carried all over at once; as it was, he placed guards on the roads to prevent people from carrying the news of his presence into the city. But in spite of that precaution the inhabitants somehow became aware of it, and soon troops were seen issuing from the gates. They consisted of a force of 40 British regulars, 20 °Canadians, and a few Indians.

"Two to one of the Americans, if not more!" exclaimed Lucilla.

"Yes," said her father, "but so brave were our men that they fought for an hour and three-quarters before they would surrender. At last, however, they all deserted but 28, 7 of whom were wounded, and Allen agreed to surrender upon being promised honorable terms."

"The prisoners were marched to Montreal and well treated until General Prescott got them in his custody, when he behaved toward them in the most brutal manner. Learning that Allen was the man who captured Ticonderoga, he flew into a rage, threatened him with a halter, and ordered him to be bound hand and foot in irons and placed on board the war schooner Gaspee. A bar of iron eight feet long was attached to his fetters, his fellow-prisoners were fastened together in pairs with handcuffs, and all were thrust into the lowest part of the ship, where they were allowed neither bed nor seat."

"Oh, papa! what a monster of cruelty that Prescott must have been!" exclaimed Lucilla. "Was he not the same Prescott who had command of the British troops in Rhode Island some two years later?"

"The very same; a most unfit man for such a position as he held then and there. A cowardly wretch, a petty tyrant, with a callous heart, a narrow mind, and utterly destitute of benevolence or charity."

"But what became of Allen finally, papa? If I ever knew, I have forgotten."

"He was kept for five weeks in that deplorable condition, at Montreal, on board the Gaspee; then the vessel was sent down to Quebec, and he was put on board of another vessel, where he was treated humanely. He was sent to England to be tried for treason, and landed at Falmouth, where his grotesque garb attracted a great deal of attention. He was afterward sent to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and thence to New York, where, in May 1778, he was exchanged for Colonel Campbell."

"There is not nearly so much to be seen here as in Quebec, is there, papa?" she asked.

"No," he replied, "and we will not stay very long here, but will spend more of our time there."

"Oh, papa, didn't General Montgomery come to Montreal some time after the events you have been telling of?"

"Yes; after the fall of St. John's. Carleton knew the place was weak, and at once retreated on board of one of a number of small vessels lying in the river, as did General Prescott, several officers, and 120 private soldiers. But Montgomery, as soon as he was aware that they were trying to flee, sent Colonel Baston with continental troops, cannon, and armed gondolas to the mouth of the Sorel, where they were posted so advantageously that the British fleet could not pass, so were compelled to surrender. But Carleton escaped, in a boat with muffled oars, past the American post to Three Rivers, from which place he soon reached Quebec in safety."

"What a pity! I wish the Americans had been more watchful!" exclaimed Lucilla.

"They were watchful in their guard boats," replied her father, "but a dark night and secret way were in Carleton's favor. They secured Prescott, who certainly richly deserved to be made prisoner and treated far worse than he was, but that was by no means the loss to the British that the taking of Carleton would have been, for Prescott's conduct on many occasions made him a disgrace to their army. But we have had a long talk, and there is the call to breakfast."

In spite of the drip and splash of the rain outside the faces that surrounded the breakfast table were bright and cheery.

"There will be no going ashore to-day, I presume," remarked Grandma Elsie, when the blessing had been asked, and the filling of plates and coffee cups had begun.

"I do not despair of it, mother," returned the captain, in cheerful tones. "It does not seem to me like a settled rain. I think it will clear by noon, and that then we can go about the city and its environs in carriages."