MONSIEUR VIOLET (FISCLE PART-IV), FREDERICK MARRYAT [easy novels to read .txt] 📗

Would Go To The Fort Of The

Yankees And Say To Them, 'Go To The Wigwams Of The Comanches, And You

Will See The Scalps Of Your Friends Hanging Upon Long Poles.' But We Did

Not Care For We Knew It Was Not True.

 

 

 

"A Long Time Passed away, When The Evil Spirit Of The Cad Does Whispered

To Them To Come To The Villages Of The Comanches While They Were

Hunting, And To Take Away With Them All That They Could. They Did So,

Entering The War-Path As Foxes And Owls, During Night. When They

Arrived, They Found Nothing But Squaws, Old Women, And Little Children.

Yet These Fought Well, And Many Of The Caddoes Were Killed before They

Abandoned their Lodges. They Soon Found Us Out In the Hunting-Ground;

And Our Great Chief Ordered me To Start With Five Hundred warriors, And

Never Return Until The Caddoes Should Have No Home, And Wander Like Deer

And Starved wolves In the Open Prairie.

 

 

 

"I Followed the Track. First, I Burnt Their Great Villages In the Cross

Timbers, And Then Pursued them In the Swamps And Cane-Brakes Of The

East, Where They Concealed themselves Among The Long Lizards Of The

Water (The Alligators). We, However, Came Up With Them Again, And They

Crossed the Sabine, To Take Shelter Among The Yankees, Where They Had

Another Village, Which Was Their Largest And Their Richest. We Followed,

And On The Very Shores Of Their River, Although A Thousand Miles From

Our Own Country, And Where The Waters Are Dyed with The Red clay Of The

Soil, We Encamped round Their Wigwams And Prepared to Conquer.

 

 

 

"It Was At The Gloomy Season, When It Rains Night And Day; The River Was

High, The Earth Damp, And Our Young Braves Shivering, Even Under Their

Blankets. It Was Evening, When, Far To The South, Above One Of The

Windings Of The Stream, I Saw A Thick Black Smoke Rising as A Tall Pine

Among The Clouds, And I Watched it Closely. It Came Towards Us; And As

The Sky Darkened and Night Came On, Sparks Of Fire Showed the Progress

Of The Strange Sight. Soon Noises Were Heard, Like Those Of The

Mountains When The Evil Spirits Are Shaking Them; The Sounds Were Awful,

Solemn, And Regular, Like The Throbs Of A Warrior'S Heart; And Now And

Then A Sharp, Shrill Scream Would Rend The Air And Awake Other Terrible

Voices In the Forest.

 

 

 

"It Came, And Deer, Bears, Panthers Were Passing among Us, Madly Flying

Before The Dreaded unknown. It Came, It Flew, Nearer And Nearer, Till We

Saw It Plainly With Its Two Big Mouths, Spitting Fire Like The Burning

Mountains Of The West. It Rained very Hard, And Yet We Saw All. It Was

Like A Long Fish, Shaped like A Canoe, And Its Sides Had Many Eyes, Full

Of Bright Light As The Stars Above.

 

 

 

"I Saw No One With The Monster; He Was Alone, Breaking The Waters And

Splashing Them With His Arms, His Legs, Or His Fins. On The Top, And It

Was Very High, There Was A Square Lodge. Once I Thought I Could See A

Man In it, But It Was A Fancy; Or Perhaps The Soul Of The Thing,

Watching From Its Hiding-Place For A Prey Which It Might Seize Upon.

Happily It Was Dark, Very Dark, And Being In a Hollow Along The Banks,

We Could Not Be Perceived; And The Dreadful Thing Passed.

 

 

 

"The Caddoes Uttered a Loud Scream Of Fear And Agony, Their Hearts Were

Melted. We Said Nothing, For We Were Comanches And Warriors; And Yet I

Felt Strange, And Was Fixed to Where I Stood. A Man Is But A Man, And

Even A Red-Skin Cannot Struggle With A Spirit. The Scream Of The

Caddoes, However, Frightened the Monster; Its Flanks Opened and

Discharged some Tremendous Anim Tekis (Thunders) On The Village. I Heard

The Crashing Of The Logs, The Splitting Of The Hides Covering The

Lodges, And When The Smoke Was All Gone, It Left A Smell Of Powder; The

Monster Was Far, Far Off And There Was No Trace Of It Left, Except The

Moans Of The Wounded and The Lamentation Of The Squaws Among

The Caddoes.

 

 

 

"I And My Young Men Soon Recovered our Senses; We Entered the Village,

Burnt Everything, And Killed the Warriors. They Would Not Fight; But As

They Were Thieves, We Destroyed them. We Returned to Our Own Villages,

Every One Of Us With Many Scalps, And Since That Time The Caddoes Have

Never Been A Nation; They Wander From North To South, And From East To

West; They Have Huts Made With The Bark Of Trees, Or They Take Shelter

In The Burrows Of The Prairie Dogs, With The Owls And The Snakes; But

They Have No Lodges, No Wigwams, No Villages. Thus May It Be With All

The Foes Of Our Great Nation."

 

 

 

This An Historical Fact. The Steamboat "Beaver" Made Its First

Exploration Upon The Red river, Some Eighty Miles Above The French

Settlement Of Nachitochy, Just At The Very Time That The Comanches Were

Attacking The Last Caddoe Village Upon The Banks Of The Red river. These

Poor Savages Yelled with Terror When The Strange Mass Passed thus Before

Them, And, Either From Wanton Cruelty Or From Fear Of An Attack, The

Boat Fired four Guns, Loaded with Grape-Shot, Upon The Village, From

Which They Were Not A Hundred yards Distant.

 

 

 

The Following Is A Narrative Of Events Which Happened in the Time Of

Mosh Kohta (Buffalo), A Great Chief, Hundreds Of Years Ago, When The

Unfortunate "La Salle" Was Shipwrecked upon The Coast Of Texas, While

Endeavouring To Discover The Mouth Of The Mississippi. Such Records Are

Very Numerous Among The Great Prairie Tribes; They Bear Sometimes The

Ossianic Type, And Are Related every Evening During The Month Of

February, When The "Divines" And The Elders Of The Nation Teach To The

Young Men The Traditions Of Former Days.

 

 

 

"It Was In the Time Of A Chief, A Great Chief, Strong, Cunning, And

Wise, A Chief Of Many Bold Deeds. His Name Was Mosh Kohta.

 

 

 

"It Is A Long While! No Pale-Faces Dwelt In the Land Of Plenty (The

Translation Of The Indian Word 'Texas'); Our Grandfathers Had Just

Received it From The Great Spirit, And They Had Come From The Setting Of

The Sun Across The Big Mountains To Take Possession. We Were A Great

Nation--We Are So Now, We Have Always Been So, And We Will Ever Be. At

That Time, Also, Our Tribe Spread All Along The Western Shores Of The

Great Stream Mississippi, For No Pale-Face Had Yet Settled upon It. We

Were A Great People, Ruled by A Mighty Chief; The Earth, The Trees, The

Rivers, And The Air Know His Name. Is There A Place In the Mountains Or

The Prairies Where The Name Of Mosh Kohta Has Not Been Pronounced

And Praised?

 

 

 

"At That Time A Strange Warlike People Of The Pale-Faces Broke Their Big

Canoes Along Our Coasts Of The South, And They All Landed on The Shore,

Well Armed with Big Guns And Long Rifles, But They Had Nothing To Eat.

These Were The 'Mahamate-Kosh-Ehoj' (The French); Their Chief Was A Good

Man, A Warrior, And A Great Traveller; He Had Started from The Northern

Territories Of The Algonquins, To Go Across The Salt Water In far

Distant Lands, And Bring Back With Him Many Good Things Which The

Red-Skins Wanted:--Warm Blankets To Sleep Upon, Flints To Strike A Fire,

Axes To Cut The Trees, And Knives To Skin The Bear And The Buffalo. He

Was A Good Man, And Loved the Indians, For They Also Were Good, And Good

People Will Always Love Each Other.

 

 

 

"He Met With Mosh Kohta; Our Warriors Would Not Fight The Strangers, For

They Were Hungry, And Their Voices Were Soft; They Were Also Too Few To

Be Feared, Though Their Courage Seemed great Under Misfortune, And They

Would Sing and Laugh While They Suffered. We Gave Them Food, We Helped

Them To Take From The Waters The Planks Of Their Big Canoe, And To Build

The First Wigwam In which The Pale-Faces Ever Dwelt In texas. Two Moons

They Remained hunting The Buffalo With Our Young Men, Till At Last Their

Chief And His Bravest Warriors Started in some Small Canoes Of Ours, To

See If They Could Not Enter The Great Stream, By Following The Coast

Towards The Sunrise. He Was Gone Four Moons, And When He Returned, He

Had Lost Half Of His Men, By Sickness, Hunger, And Fatigue; Yet Mosh

Kohta Bade Him Not Despair; The Great Chief Promised the Pale-Faces To

Conduct Them In the Spring To The Great Stream, And For Several More

Moons We Lived all Together, As Braves And Brothers Should. Then, For

The First Time Also, The Comanches Got Some Of Their Rifles, And Others

Knives. Was It Good--Was It Bad? Who Knows? Yet The Lance And Arrows

Killed as Many Buffaloes As Lead And Black Dust (Powder), And The Squaws

Could Take Off The Skin Of A Deer Or A Beaver Without Knives. How They

Did It, No One Knows Now; But They Did It, Though They Had Not Yet Seen

The Keen And Sharp Knives Of The Pale-Faces.

 

 

 

"However, It Was Not Long Time Before Many Of The Strangers Tired of

Remaining So Far From Their Wigwams: Their Chief Every Morning Would

Look For Hours Towards The Rising Of The Sun, As If The Eyes Of His Soul

Could See Through The Immensity Of The Prairies; He Became Gloomy As A

Man Of Dark Deeds (A Medecin), And One Day, With Half Of His Men, He

Began A Long Inland Trail Across Prairies, Swamps, And Rivers, So Much

Did He Dread To Die Far From His Lodge. Yet He Did Die: Not Of Sickness,

Not Of Hunger, But Under The Knife Of Another Pale-Face; And He Was The

First One From Strange Countries Whose Bones Blanched without Burial In

The Waste. Often The Evening Breeze Whispers His Name Along The Swells

Of The Southern Plains, For He Was A Brave Man, And No Doubt He Is Now

Smoking With His Great Manitou.

 

 

 

"Well, He Started. At That Time The Buffalo And The Deer Were Plentiful,

And The Men Went On Their Trail Gaily Till They Reached the River Of

Many Forks (Trinity River), For They Knew That Every Day Brought Them

Nearer And Nearer To The Forts Of Their People, Though It Was Yet A Long

Way--Very Long. The Pale-Face Chief Had A Son With Him; A Noble Youth,

Fair To Look Upon, Active And Strong: The Comanches Loved him. Mosh

Kohta Had Advised him To Distrust Two Of His Own Warriors; But He Was

Young And Generous, Incapable Of Wrong Or Cowardice; He Would Not

Suspect It In others, Especially Among Men Of His Own Colour And Nation,

Who Had Shared his Toils, His Dangers, His Sorrows, And His Joys.

 

 

 

"Now These Two Warriors Our Great Chief Had Spoken Of Were Bad Men And

Very Greedy; They Were Ambitious Too, And Believed that, By Killing

Their Chief And His Son, They Would Themselves Command The Band. One

Evening, While They Were All Eating The Meal Of Friendship, Groans Were

Heard--A Murder Had Been Committed. The Other Warriors Sprang Up; They

Saw Their Chief Dead, And The Two Warriors Coming Towards Them; Their

Revenge Was Quick--Quick As That Of The Panther: The Two Base Warriors

Were Killed.

 

 

 

"Then There Was A Great Fight Among The Pale-Face Band, In which Many

Were Slain; But The Young Man And Some Other Braves Escaped from Their

Enemies, And, After Two Moons, Reached the Arkansas, Where They Found

Their Friends And Some Makota Conayas (Priests--Black-Gowns). The

Remainder Of The Band Who Left Us, And Who Murdered their Chief, Our

Ancestors Destroyed like Reptiles, For They Were Venomous And Bad. The

Other Half Of The Pale-Faces, Who Had Remained behind In their Wood

Wigwams, Followed our Tribe To Our Great Villages, Became Comanches, And

Took Squaws. Their Children And Grandchildren Have Formed a Good And

Brave Nation; They Are Paler Than The Comanches, But Their Heart Is All

The Same; And Often In the Hunting-Grounds They Join Our Hunters,

Partake Of The Same Meals, And Agree Like Brothers. These Are The Nation

Of The Wakoes, Not Far In the South, Upon The Trail Of The Cross

Timbers. But Who Knows Not The Wakoes?--Even Children Can Go To Their

Hospitable Lodges."

 

 

 

This Episode Is Historical. In the Early Months Of 1684, Four Vessels

Left La Rochelle, In france, For The Colonization Of The Mississippi,

Bearing Two Hundred and Eighty Persons. The Expedition Was Commanded by

La Salle, Who Brought With Him His Nephew, Moranget. After A Delay At

Santo Domingo, Which Lasted two Years, The Expedition, Missing The Mouth

Of The Mississippi, Entered the Bay Of Matagorda, Where They Were

Shipwrecked. "There," Says Bancroft In his History Of America, "Under

The Suns Of June, With Timber Felled in