CHAPTER IV.
It was only by dint of many reiterated questions that I elicited from the poor scared children the truth of what had occurred. The spot where they had landed was a strip of level sward a few hundred yards in width between the river and the forest behind. Here they had played games, run races, and enjoyed themselves with a hundred childish sports, till just before sundown a loud hoot was heard from the neighbouring trees. When they turned round startled to discover what might be the source of the sound, they were horrified to see emerging from the wood two monstrous engines, far larger, they declared, and far more elaborate than any of those that had besieged Jefferson City, bearing directly down upon them. Too terrified to move, they gazed open-mouthed, till Aurelia, who not only retained her presence of mind, but in an instant had taken her resolution, shouted, "Run for the boats, children, run," at which the spell was broken, and they all stampeded like a troop of wild ponies. On reaching the bank, however, some of the boldest turned round to look behind. They saw that Aurelia had by gesticulations and shouts drawn off the pursuit of the machines on herself, and was now running towards the wood, hotly chased, and doubling again and again like a hare, but rapidly losing strength and drawing closer every moment to the terrible arms of steel which clutched the air in furious grasp at their victim. And then they saw no more, for their comrades in the boats, and the boats' crews as well, screamed to them to take their places or they would row off without them. They had, however, no sort of doubt that the chase could have lasted but a short time longer, and that only a few minutes after they had turned away my brave girl had met her fate. At least she had met it not unworthily. She had deliberately sacrificed her life, but had saved her young charge, and, bitter as was my grief, I could even then thank God that He had given my child grace to win the crown of martyrdom.
I would not, however, proceed on our journey while the remotest hope was left. We could do nothing that night, except display lights at our mast heads, but with the break of day I sent a party in one of the boats to explore. Of course I had to let poor Gell, who had scarcely spoken since he heard the news, and looked ten years older, take charge of this crew, but indeed he had much ado to get together a crew at all. With the alarm of the previous night all the old terror had revived in redoubled force. It was only after much entreaty that I got half-a-dozen of the fathers whose children had been saved to volunteer to look for their saviour. Even then they would not go on shore. They rowed Gell thither, and promised to wait while he landed and tried to discover what had occurred. Everything confirmed the children's tale. Here were the deep wheel-tracks, winding about in complex curves; here and there the mark of a little foot, which he recognised only too well. Presently the tracks entered the wood, still continuing their devious course, with sudden turns round large trees where the poor girl had tried to evade their approach. Had there been but one she might have escaped, but as the monsters assailed her from both sides at once there was little possibility of out-manœuvring them.
At last he found some actual relics of the final struggle. The footsteps were close together; the wheel-tracks circled round and converged; and there, close beside a great tree, were some scraps of stuff and feathers, which he recognised as being portions of her hat and shawl. It appeared that this tree was Aurelia's last resource. Here she had, it seemed, evaded them two or three times by doubling rapidly round it, till, her strength becoming exhausted, they had simultaneously made a rush and torn her to pieces where these relics were found.
Returning to the boat, Gell found that he was deeper in the wood than he had imagined, and would have had some trouble in finding his way but for a pocket compass he carried with him. He brought the poor fragments, which were all that remained of my dear girl, and which we have treasured as the early Christians used to treasure the blood of their martyrs. The sudden shock and grief for her loss turned my black hair quite grey in a week, and for her dear sake Gell long remained a bachelor.
Our own dangers were not at an end, and this time they came from a quarter whence they were not expected. The best part of the day had been consumed in Gell's search, but now we knew the worst it was useless and unadvisable to continue lying off the same spot, so we proceeded late in the afternoon to drop gently down towards New Orleans. We were still some three miles above that city when the sun went down, but its last rays showed us a sight that filled us with surprise and excitement, for steaming up to meet us was a large fleet of river boats, stemming the strong current with their powerful engines, and slowly, but surely, advancing up stream. What was the meaning of this? Had another township determined, like ourselves, to commit their fortunes to the water? Had the citizens of New Orleans taken to their boats, and were they wandering in search of a new home? And if so, why were they going upwards, into the heart of the Continent, whence all others had fled?
Full of misgivings, and scarcely daring to entertain the thought that was forming in my mind, I judged it well to take all precautions. First I stopped the boats, and drew them quietly under the shelter of the wooded bank. Then I signalled "all lights out," then "silence"; injunctions which were promptly obeyed. This prompt obedience was our salvation.
For as the flotilla approached I perceived by means of the lights they carried, that my fear was not groundless, These were no vessels of human workmanship. The obscure process of development had not confined its marvellous action to engines of terrestrial type, but had produced broods of aquatic monsters to dispute with us the kingdom of the sea. I foresaw that even in the remotest island of the Pacific we could no longer he assured of safety.
The rapid fall of night, and the great breadth of the mighty river saved us from the observation of this new foe. I watched the vessels narrowly as they passed. Each appeared to be armed with arms, or 'feelers,' of immense length, with which they continually swept the surface of the water before them, as though in search of prey, but really, as I imagine, to remove snags and obstacles from their course. As soon as they had fairly passed us, I gave orders to unmoor, and with only sufficient steam to give us steerage way we floated silently down to the furthermost wharves of the dark and silent city. Fortunate indeed was it for us that we had a sufficiency of river pilots, who knew every sandbank sawyer and creek from New Orleans to St. Louis, and from St. Louis to St. Paul or Omaha. By their advice, we slipped up a retired creek three-quarters of a mile below the city, where we trusted to remain out of sight and knowledge of the foe.
The night passed quietly away. We had every reason to suppose that New Orleans, like the other cities on the river, was deserted. Not a light had been observed in its numberless buildings as we had floated past on the previous evening. Willing however to assure myself of the fact, I sent an exploring party under Gell to see if there were still any relics of its human occupants. There was, indeed, another and more important duty they had to undertake. It was no part of my plan to wait at New Orleans till idleness and panic had demoralized our little band, nor was I inclined, by staying on American soil an hour longer than necessary, to risk the danger of discovery and attack. My design, communicated to Gell and Aurelia alone, was to find some ship or ships of the United States' Navy in the dockyards, and to sail at the first possible moment for the Sandwich Islands. The native population of these fertile isles had long died out, and they were now occupied only by a few white and half-breed farmers.
On the return of Gell's party I learnt—first, that the city was (as I had supposed) quite deserted; secondly, that there were several ships of war lying in the docks and river, which though in view of the latest improvements considered obsolete, were fine roomy sea-going vessels, and, so far as they could judge, in sufficiently good order to put to sea. I did nothing more that day, but next morning before daybreak I sent him again with all our engineers with instructions to select the two vessels which he thought most suitable and easiest to get out of the river without observation, and to put their engines and appliances in working order. The voyage we proposed to undertake was a dangerous venture. For though our engineers were familiar with river steamers, and our pilots knew every yard of the Mississippi, they were quite unaccustomed to ocean-going ships, quite ignorant of the coast and sea-pilotage, and what was worst, we had not a single seaman amongst us. As for navigation I had a theoretical knowledge of that science, but it is obvious that starting under such conditions for a voyage of some thousands of miles our chance of safely reaching our destination was exceedingly problematical. Indeed, looking back upon the probabilities of the case, it seems to me it must have ended in disaster, had not Fortune at last played us a good turn, as welcome as it was unexpected.
It was the fourth morning after our arrival at New Orleans, when as we were cleaning decks we heard the sound of a signal gun at no great distance. Climbing to a look-out station I had established near our anchorage we were surprised to see a man-of-war of the corvette class steaming slowly up the river with the old Stars and Stripes flying at her main, and the signal for a pilot at the fore. If we did not stop them her crew would rush into the jaws of destruction. Calling to me a pilot and four men we hastily put out into the river to meet her. When we got out on board she proved to be the U.S. sloop of war "Roanoke," which has been commissioned two years before for an exploring cruise in the South Pacific. Her Commander had died on the homeward voyage, and she was now in charge of Lieut. Winthrop E. Danvers, a native (as it happened) of New Orleans.
The tale we had to tell was of so extraordinary a character that I cannot be surprised that Lieut. Danvers, his officers, and men entirely declined to listen to us. That the Continent they had left so short a time before teeming with humanity should have been completely depopulated, and that by a horde of steam-engines, seemed to them so ridiculous a story that they were uncertain whether to tar and feather us for rogues and liars, or to clap us into irons for lunatics. At last becoming nettled at their incredulity I said, "Well, Lieutenant, come and see for yourself." After a short conference with the others he entered a boat accompanied by three or four of his crew, each of them with a revolver stuck ostentatiously into his belt, for the truth was they suspected some trick, and that we were going to take them into an ambuscade of smugglers or pirates.
We rowed towards the creek where our vessels lay. I noticed Lieut. Danvers fingering his revolver as we approached the suspicious looking spot, but when on a sudden he caught sight of our vessels between the trees that masked them, he drew it and presenting it at my head vowed he would shoot me if we rowed a yard further. I replied coolly, "Why, sir, I intended to take you first to see our fugitives, who would have told you the same tale as I. But if you are afraid of a trap we will go to the city first, then you will be amply satisfied. Pull up stream, men;" and I turned the boat's head and we proceeded towards the town. As we neared the wharves we passed the two vessels on which our engineers were hammering away at the machinery.
"So much for your story," said the officer; "why you told us just now there was not a man left in New Orleans, or in the United States, I think you said. And I hear workmen busy on board the first vessel we come to."
"Yes," said I, "we have sent them on board to get them ready for our flight. Would you like to ask them yourself?" So saying we drew alongside the ironclad, hailed it, and William Gell looked over the bulwarks.
"Gell" I cried in answer to his look of surprise, "this is Lieut. Danvers, commanding the U. S. sloop of war 'Roanoke.' I have told him of the deplorable condition of this city and the whole country. He finds my story quite incredible. Please tell him the real state of things."
"The real state of things? Well first, there is not a man woman or child in the city of New Orleans. Secondly, excepting ourselves, there is not to the best of my belief a man woman or child in the whole of the States. Thirdly, by to-morrow night, if he chooses to stay here he will be the only human being left on this Continent. We have got the vessels ready, Sir, and propose to light the fires at once, with your approval."
"Right, William; you had best let the vessels drop down to the creek as soon as they can start, and we will get our folks on board the first thing to-morrow morning."
The Lieutenant was evidently staggered by the vigorous confirmation Gell had given to my story. But judging it best to let him see for himself I took the boat to the nearest wharf, where we landed and walked through street after street in perfect silence. I noticed that he seemed to be in search of some particular house, which he could not easily find. At last following him we turned into a quiet road which formed a cul-de-sac, where he stopped before a small but neat looking house marked "No. 16." The door was open; he entered. As he passed through room after room he seemed overcome with emotion. At last he went into one where he found a young woman's hat and gloves, the sight of which caused him to burst into tears.
"They are hers," he sobbed. "Forgive me, Sir, for not at once believing your story. I see now that it is only too true. For all these months I have looked forward to my return and to our meeting, and to think it should be like this!" and the poor fellow sobbed afresh.
He took the gloves, placed them in his breast and softly we left the room. As we returned to the wharf he told me the whole story. He had been engaged to be married, nay the date was fixed, when he was suddenly offered the position of First Lieutenant on board the "Roanoke," and after much hesitation the marriage was postponed till his return. His grief and disappointment were extreme, and it was with a view to alleviating them that I told him of the grievous loss to William Gell and myself of our beloved Aurelia, which though it had occurred so few days before, seemed to belong to the dim and distant past. When we reached the boat he was calm, but in the deepest dejection.
On the return journey I tried to rouse him by discussion of our plans. I begged him and his crew to accompany us. I pointed out the impossibility of remaining on this deserted country, the need we were in of able seamen, and the various reasons that had led me to select the Sandwich Islands as our future home. He listened and assented to all I said, but without enthusiasm. When we reached the Roanoke the officers and men were amazed at the alteration in their commander. However he calmly told them that my tale was only too true; that any of the officers who wished to see for themselves might do so, and that I had convinced him that the best course was to unite with us and seek a new home in some remote island.
I tried to converse with him about taking some of his crew on hoard our other vessels, but he seemed unable to fix his attention on business and at last recommended me to his subordinates, who were Lieut. Dana, a youth of about nineteen, and the warrant officers. With them I arranged that we should leave New Orleans the next day; that my people should be distributed on board the three vessels, and the crew of the Roanoke likewise; that I should be the head of the whole party, and that the officers of the Roanoke should have the sole charge of the navigation.