Elsie's Journey on Inland Waters

CHAPTER XVIII

The next morning proved bright and fair, as lovely a day as one could desire; no cloud in the sky save the light fleecy ones that are not the presage of a storm. Our friends in the cottages gathered about their breakfast tables in rare good spirits, in spite of the fact that Walter was to leave them that day, by the evening boat, for his first experience of life away from home and mother.

The lad appeared in high spirits, partly real but partly only assumed, to hide the sinking of heart that at times oppressed him at the thought of so long a separation from her who had been almost all the world to him from babyhood till now, when he began to consider himself on the very verge of manhood.

She saw it if no one else did, and her tender mother heart ached for her "baby boy." For herself too, that she must do without him and his loving caresses, for months, and know that he was exposed to many a trial and temptation from which mother love could not shield him. But oh, there was comfort in the thought that her best Friend was his also, and would still be as near as ever to both mother and son; still to them, as to all His children, the Hearer and Answerer of prayer.

"Well, what is to be done to-day?" asked Rosie, when the meal had fairly begun.

"I propose a visit to 'Tonomy Hill' for one thing," said Captain Raymond, addressing his remark to the company in general.

"Where is that, and what particular claim has it upon our attention?" queried Mr. Dinsmore in return.

"It is about a mile and a half north of Newport," replied the captain. "Tonomy is an abbreviation of Miantonomoh, the name of a Narragansett sachem whose seat it was in early times. It is a rocky eminence and the commanding site of a small fort or redoubt during the Revolutionary war. It is said to be the highest land upon the island except Quaker Hill, which you will remember we saw toward the northern end as we sailed round on Saturday."

"Ah, yes! where the battle was fought between the British and our forces under Greene and Sullivan."

"Is there anything to be seen there – on Tonomy Hill – but the ruin of the little fortification?" asked Rosie.

"Yes," replied the captain. "The hill is 270 feet above the bay, and from it we may obtain a fine view on all sides. On the south and west the city and harbor of Newport, and many islands in the harbor with the remains of fortifications – Canonicut, with its ruined fort, for one. Ah, I am forgetting that you saw all from the Dolphin the other day! Still we could not from there take in the whole view at once as we may from the hill top.

"Looking oceanward beyond the city, we can see Fort Adams; and, with a spy-glass, the dim outline of Block Island; beyond it in the Atlantic, perhaps, if your eyes are good, a faint view, a little more to the eastward, of the nearest shore of Martha's Vineyard; also of some of the islands in Buzzard's Bay.

"On the east can be seen Warren and Bristol, and the top of Mount Hope, the throne of King Philip. To the north there will be a good view of Narragansett Bay and the towns along its shores."

"Indeed, captain, you make it seem very well worth while to go there," observed Mrs. Dinsmore.

"I think that when we get there and look about and around, upon all that is to be seen, you will be still better convinced of it," returned the captain. "In addition to what I have already mentioned we can look upon a large part of the cultivated fields of this island, and find them rich in natural productions as well as in historical associations."

"Oh, let us go by all means!" exclaimed Violet. "Perhaps our little folks might not care for it, or might find the climb up the hill too fatiguing, but they can be left in the yacht or carriage, whichever the trip is made in."

"Oh, mamma!" exclaimed little Elsie, "I should very much rather go up that hill with the rest of you, if you will only let me!"

"Well, dear, I should like to let you do as you prefer, but, of course, it must be just as your papa says," replied Violet, smiling down affectionately into the eager, pleading little face.

"And papa says you may go if you wish to," said the captain, in his kind, pleasant tones.

"Me too, papa?" asked Ned eagerly.

"Yes, you too, if you wish to, son," replied his father. "I think even my baby boy will enjoy the drive, the climb up the hill, and the lovely view from its top."

"We are going to drive, are we, papa?" queried Lucilla.

"Yes; I have ordered carriages from Newport to be here by nine o'clock; so that all who wish can drive. But should anyone prefer the yacht it is at their service. Also, it will be welcome to any who desire a sail afterward."

After a little more talk, first among themselves, then along with the occupants of the other cottage, it was decided that all would take the drive to Tonomy Hill and see the view; then some would drive elsewhere, others would board the yacht and have a sail.

The engaged vehicles were already at hand, and in a few minutes the entire company of adults and children were on the way to Tonomy Hill.

All, old and young, greatly enjoyed the drive, and the captain was plied with questions about this object and that. The windmills particularly interested little Elsie and Ned. Their father explained what they were, and why there were so many of them, that they were made necessary by the absence of streams sufficiently strong to turn water-wheels, and, of one standing at the junction of the main road and the lane leading to the Hill, he remarked: "That is an old, old one, built years before the Revolutionary War. At the time of the war it and the dwelling-house near by were owned by a man named Hubbard. He was one of the many Americans whom Prescott turned out of their houses, to take shelter in barns and other miserable abiding places, while his soldiers took possession of their comfortable homes."

"What a shame!" exclaimed Ned. "Papa, I'm glad we don't have those bad fellows here now."

"So am I," replied his father. "We ought to thank God every day for making us so free, and giving us this dear land of our own. I hope my boy will always remember to do so."

Reaching the top of the hill, they found the view from it all that the captain had said. Calling attention to it, now on this side, now on that, he named the different towns and other objects worthy of particular attention. Mount Hope was one, and again he spoke of it as the former home of King Philip.

"Papa," said Elsie, "who was he? I thought we never had any king in our country."

"The Indians used to have them, and he was king of one of their tribes," was the reply.

"Is there a story about him, papa?" she asked.

"Yes. Would you like to hear it?"

"Oh, yes, sir! yes, indeed! you know I always like stories."

"Yes; even if they are rather sad; as this one is. But if you wish, I will tell you a little about it now; perhaps more at another time."

"Oh, tell it all, if you please, Brother Levis," said Rosie. "I don't believe any one of us would object to hearing it."

Several of the others joined in the request, and the captain, ever ready to oblige, began at once.

"His original name was Metacomet, but he is frequently spoken of as King Philip and also as Pometacom. His father was Massasoit, whose dominions extended from this Narragansett Bay to Massachusetts. Massasoit took two of his sons, Metacomet and Wamsutta, to Plymouth and asked that English names might be given them. His request was granted, one being called Philip and the other Alexander.

"Upon the death of the father, Alexander became chief in his stead, but soon died suddenly, of poison, it was supposed, and Philip became chief or king in his stead. He was a bright, enterprising man; sagacious, brave, and generous. He soon perceived that his people were being robbed by the whites, who took possession of the best lands, and killed off the game and the fish upon which the Indians had been used to subsist.

"Philip's tribe was known as the Wampanoags, or Pokanokets, and their principal village was there upon Mount Hope. They, and other tribes as well, felt that they had been greatly injured by the whites, and planned an offensive alliance against them.

"Philip began his war preparations by sending the women and children of the tribe away from Mount Hope to the Narragansetts for protection. Then he warned some of the whites with whom he was friendly of the coming storm, that they might seek places of safety, and, when they were gone, bade his followers swear eternal hostility to the whites.

"A dreadful war followed, beginning on the 24th of June, 1675, and lasting for more than a year. The whites suffered a great deal, but the Indians still more. Particularly the Narragansetts, who were treated with great cruelty because they had given shelter to the Wampanoags and their families.

"They had a fort on an elevation of three or four acres surrounded by a swamp, studded with brambles and thick underbrush. There were three thousand Indians in it – mostly women and children. The whites surprised them, burned their palisades and straw-covered wigwams, and the poor creatures were burned, suffocated, butchered, frozen, or drowned. Six hundred warriors and a thousand women and children were killed, and all the winter provision of the tribe destroyed. Their chief, Canonchet, escaped then, but was captured and killed the next summer.

"It was on the 12th of the next August that a renegade Indian guided a large party of white men to the camp of the Wampanoags. The Indians were asleep, King Philip among them. After the first shot or two he woke, sprang to his feet, gun in hand, and tried to escape, but, as he stumbled and fell in the mire, was shot dead by a treacherous Indian. His death ended the war."

"Poor fellow!" sighed Grace. "He was certainly treated with great injustice and cruelty. I don't see how the whites could be so blind to the fact that the Indians had the best right to this country, and that it was wicked to rob them of their lands."

"Self-interest is apt to have a very blinding influence," said her father. "And I am afraid we must acknowledge that the whites were the first aggressors, in their grasping seizure of so much of the land of which the Indians were the original and rightful possessors."

All having now looked their fill, they returned to their carriages and drove to other points of interest, one of them Whitehall, the old residence of Bishop Berkeley. It was a place that all cared to see, especially a room in it formerly occupied by the dean, where was a fireplace, ornamented with Dutch tiles, placed there by the dean himself.

"Oh, how old they must be!" exclaimed Grace.

"Yes, not much, if at all, under two hundred years old," said Walter. "It sometimes seems odd how much longer things may last than people."

"In this world, you mean," said his grandfather; "but do not forget that man is immortal, and must live somewhere to all eternity."

"And Bishop Berkeley is no doubt spending his eternity in a far lovelier paradise than that with which he was familiar in this world," remarked Mrs. Travilla.

"Yes, indeed! 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,'" quoted Evelyn softly, thinking of the dear father who had left her for the better land years ago.

CHAPTER XIX

Dinner was ready to be put upon the table when the party reached again their temporary home, and their long drive had given each one an appetite that made the meal most enjoyable. They rested upon the porches for a short time after leaving the table, then set out for a walk to the beach, Walter at his mother's side, Violet, the captain, and their two little ones near at hand. These were at some distance in the rear of the young girls, who had started for the beach a few minutes earlier.

"Mother," said Walter, "I should like very much to see that dear old lady Cousin Molly talks about; also the old Revolutionary house she lives in. Do you think we might call there without seeming to intrude?"

"Really I do not know," replied Mrs. Travilla. "If Molly were only here she could judge better than I."

"Perhaps she is there," suggested Walter. "I noticed that she started a little ahead of the girls."

"So she did," said Violet, overhearing their talk, "and I think she is probably there now, for she was telling me last evening that she felt anxious that you, Walter, should see her dear old lady before leaving to-night. Ah! and yonder they both are at the gate of the house now."

"Then I would suggest that you three hasten on, leaving me to follow more slowly with the children. It would hardly do to overwhelm the old lady with so large a company at once," said the captain, and they promptly carried out his suggestion. Mrs. Barker and Molly were standing by the front gate chatting as they came up.

"Ah, here they are, Mrs. Barker!" said Molly; "my cousins, Mrs. Travilla, her daughter, Mrs. Raymond, and her son Walter. He is the lad I was telling you of, who starts for college to-night, and was very desirous to see you and your revolutionary house before going."

"And to hear all you can tell me about its experiences in those days, Mrs. Barker, if you will be so kind," added Walter, with a polite bow and his most insinuating smile.

"I shall be happy to tell and show all I can to you and your mother and sister," replied the old lady, leading the way toward the house, her guests following.

She took them over the greater part of it, telling them what rooms had been occupied by the Hessians, and what by the family while the unwelcome intruders were there. They were much interested in all she told them, and admired her housekeeping, everything being in beautiful order. She told them the Mr. Barker of those days was a true patriot, in fact, a spy working for the American cause, and when their call was finished and they were taking their departure, she went with them to the gate, and pointing out a ledge of rock on the farther side of the valley, beyond the cottages they were occupying, told them that in revolutionary times that was a part of the large tract of land owned by Isaac Barker; that, in those days, instead of the stone wall now running along its edge overlooking the water, there was a rail fence; and that Isaac Barker was in the habit of signalling the patriot troops encamped on an island opposite, whenever there was an important item of news for them, and that he did so by alterations in the fence, made under his supervision by the unsuspecting Hessians.

"Oh, that was good!" cried Walter; "but did the British never catch him at it?"

"No, never," she replied. "If they had, his life would not have been worth much."

"You must think a great deal of this old house," said Walter, turning and looking it over with admiring eyes. "If it were mine I wouldn't give it for any of the grand palaces built in these later days."

"Nor would I," she said. "Come and see it again; it and me; if you care to do so."

"Thank you; I should enjoy doing so, but I leave to-night for college."

"Ah? I am glad for you; for a good education is worth more than money or almost any other earthly thing."

"So I think, because it will enable me, or anyone who has it, to be more useful in the world."

"That is a right feeling," she said; then turning to the ladies gave them a warm invitation to call again any day, as they passed on their way to the beach.

"Thank you, Mrs. Barker," said Grandma Elsie. "It is quite likely we may do so, for we have greatly enjoyed our chat with you."

"And will be glad to have you return our call, if you can conveniently do so, while we linger in your neighborhood," added Violet.

Arrived at the beach, Violet joined her husband and the young folks there, but her mother and Walter passed on up the cliff, the lad saying laughingly that he wanted another peep into Purgatory before leaving the neighborhood; but, as his mother well understood, a bit of private chat with her was the chief object he had in view.

They took a peep into the chasm, then wandered away a little and sat down side by side upon a ledge of rock. Looking at him with her own loving smile, she laid her hand in his. He clasped it tightly, while unbidden tears sprang to his eyes.

"Mother," he said low and tremulously, "my own dear mother! You are almost all the world to me. I think no other fellow had so dear and sweet a mother as mine. I don't know how I shall ever stand it to pass weeks and months without a sight of your dear face."

"Ah, you will soon learn to do without me," she said, between a sigh and a smile. "But I do not believe my dear baby boy will ever cease to love his mother, or to try to make her happy by a faithful attendance to all his duties. But oh, above all, try to please and honor the God of your fathers whose servant you profess to be. Begin every day with an earnest supplication for strength to perform every duty and resist every temptation."

"It is my fixed purpose to do so, mother dear, and I know you will be ever helping me with your prayers," he answered earnestly. "Oh, what a blessing it is to have a praying, Christian mother! And I know that you will write to me often, and that your dear letters will be a great help to me in my efforts to resist temptation and keep in the strait and narrow path."

"I hope so," she said; "also that my dear youngest son will never learn to conceal things from his mother, but will write me freely of all that concerns him, never doubting my love or my interest in it all, for his dear sake."

"Doubt your dear love, mother? No, never for one moment! Oh, it will be hard to part from you to-day, even though I hope to see you again before you go home!"

"Yes, I expect to give you a call at the college, to see that my dear son is made as comfortable as possible, and to take a view of his room and all his surroundings, that I may be able to picture him in my mind's eye at his studies, recitations, and sports."

"Just as I can see my loved mother in every room of the dear home at Ion, or the other one at Viamede, should you go there at any time without me," he returned, making a determined effort to speak lightly. "It seems a little hard to start off without you, mother; but as Cousin Cyril has kindly promised to go with me, I shall do very well, especially with the knowledge that I am to see you again in a few days."

"Yes," she said, "and you will like those New Jersey relatives of his, who are more distantly related to us, when you become acquainted with them, as I hope you will at some not very distant day."

"The uncle he is expecting to visit there is a brother of Cousin Annis, is he not?" asked Walter.

"Yes."

"Then I should think she and her husband, Cousin Ronald, would go with Cousin Cyril."

"I think they will follow a few days hence, when we start for home," she answered.

Just at that moment they were startled by a wild shriek, as of one in great peril or affright, instantly followed by a sound as of a heavy body plunging into the water. Both started to their feet, Walter exclaiming, "Oh, mother! someone must have fallen into that dreadful deep chasm they call Purgatory! Oh, what can we do?"

"Nothing," she answered, with a laugh that sounded slightly hysterical. "See! Cousin Ronald and several of the others have come up the hill unnoticed by us."

"Oh! I think it was rather too bad for him to startle you so, mamma dear!" exclaimed Walter.

"Yes, I must acknowledge that it was," returned Mr. Lilburn, who had now drawn near enough to overhear the remark. "Pardon me, Cousin Elsie; I really did not intend to give you such a fright; for I deemed it likely you would know at once that it was I and none other."

"As I probably should, had I been aware of your vicinity," she returned, in a pleasant tone; "but my boy and I were so engrossed with our talk that we did not perceive your approach. I think Walter and I must now go back to the cottage and see to the packing of his trunk."

"Cannot I do that, mamma?" queried Violet.

"Thank you, daughter, I have no doubt you could, but I have a fancy for the job myself," was the pleasant-toned reply. "Besides, your place is with your husband and little ones, who, I think, would find it agreeable and beneficial to remain here on the beach for another hour or so."

"I haven't unpacked much since we came here, mother," remarked Walter, as they walked away together, "so that it will not be a long job to get my things in my trunk, but I am glad you came away so early with me, as it gives us time and opportunity for another private chat."

"Yes, my dear boy, that was my principal object in proposing this early return, but I hope for many another pleasant chat with my dear youngest son in the years to come," his mother responded cheerfully.

"I haven't seen quite all the places in and about Newport or Middletown that I should take an interest in examining," remarked Walter. "But I presume I may hope to come again some day?"

"Oh, yes; possibly a good many times in the course of a few years; though there are many other places in our great, beautiful country that are quite as well worth visiting, and far better worth seeing than some noted resorts in Europe. I want my sons and daughters to appreciate their own country," she went on, her sweet face lighting with enthusiasm, "with all that is beautiful and valuable in it, as well as its free institutions – religious, civil, and political."

"I think I do, mamma," he said, with a smile. "You have brought up all your children to admire and love their own land, believing it the best and greatest country in all the wide world."

"Yes, and yet, alas! there is a vast deal of wickedness in it," she sighed; "wickedness, error, superstition, and vice, which we should make it our life work to try to root out."

"As I truly intend to, mamma. But are not most of the ignorant and vicious those who have come in from foreign lands?"

"A very great many – a very large majority no doubt are," she answered; "and yet there are many ignorant and vicious ones who are native born; not a few of them being the children of natives. Some of the Tories of revolutionary times were even worse than savages. 'The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked,' applies to the whole of Adam's fallen race, and each one of us needs to pray, 'Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.'"

"I feel that I do, mother, but you have always seemed to me so perfect that it is difficult to realize that it can be so with you," said the lad, turning upon her eyes filled with ardent love and admiration.

"That is doubtless because your eyes are blinded by filial love, my dear boy," she returned, with her sweet and loving smile.

They presently reached the house, and Walter set about his packing, under his mother's supervision, which made the work seem but a pleasant pastime. It did not take long and, seated together in one of the porches, they had time before the return of the others for a confidential chat, such as Walter dearly loved to have with his mother.

Then came the call to supper, and the meal was scarcely over when the hack was announced as at the door; there were hasty leave-takings, his mother's the last for Walter. She strained him to her heart with some whispered words of love, while he embraced her with ardent affection, and in a moment more he was in the hack, with Mr. Keith by his side, and they were driving rapidly away toward the city to take the night train for New York.