Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/351

100 in the cupola of the prison-house, tolled forth in single and dolorous notes, announcing the awful tidings of death, the crowd in front of the scaffold was immense, but behind, scarcely any persons were collected, in consequence of the ground being damp and marshy and not affording as fine a view of the approaching spectacle as that in front, which, being slightly elevated, gave those farther off as good an opportunity of viewing the scene as those immediately under the scaffold.

As the sheriff motioned him out of the cart, the prisoner, apparently downcast and dejected, slowly rose and ascended the scaffold, but it was only a moment before he had sprung into the midst of the armed force below, and with the strength of a giant, he opposed every endeavor to stop his progress. Life was before him; death was behind. He well knew that if retaken he would be shown no mercy, and it were as well to meet his death from the hands of those around him, as from the instrument of the law. With a tremendous effort, he cleared the soldiery. Immediately, a dozen muskets poured their murderous contents at his person, but he passed the ordeal harmlessly. Struck with astonishment at the suddenness of the effort, the populace remained for a moment inactive, and then, with a loud shout, started in pursuit, but that moment of indecision gave the prisoner the advantage. Nothing could now stop his progress. Once only, a man in advance of the rest threw himself in the path before the criminal, but with a herculean grasp, the liberated convict seized and crushed him to the earth. On and on, he sped. Mile after mile, hill after hill, he passed, but still his pursuers were close behind. Oh, what hopes passed through that wretched being's mind? As with the swiftness of the deer, he fled for life. What resolutions of reform—what deeds of virtue to be done—presented themselves to his imagination! It was a glorious thing to defraud death—to leap from the grave at the moment he felt himself sinking in. But what sight is that that meets his eye? Directly in front of him, he perceives a vast body of fire glowing and burning immediately in his path. The sight causes his energies to slacken; he drops, is nearly exhausted, and his pursuers approach nearer. He hears their shouts, and once more, he springs forward. He draws nearer to that vast body of fire, but, as he approaches, how has the aspect before him changed?Joy! joy! Instead of fire, he now perceives the broad and majestic river, rolling on her downward course, her placid bosom reflecting the beams of the noonday sun, until the whole surface glowed like burnished silver.

In a moment, he was on the bank. Invigorated and cheered by newly-born hopes, his eye ranged the shore in every direction, but not a boat was to be seen. His pursuers were close behind him. But at length, he detected a small skiff that was anchored about twenty yards from the shore, which his anxiety had caused him at first to overlook. Without hesitation, he plunged into the stream and scarcely reached the boat before his pursuers were on the bank. But he was safe from them. Fortunately for him, there was a solitary paddle in the bottom of the boat, and, hastily slipping the rope over the stake to which it was secured, he darted out into the stream. In vain, those congregated upon the shore searched for another boat in which to continue the pursuit; not one was to be found. Maddened with rage at being baffled, at the moment they thought escape was impossible, some sprang into the water to endeavor to reach the convict by swimming, but it was useless. They could not overtake their intended victim. Stopping for one moment, he stood upright in his frail bark and gave a loud laugh of defiance. Then, resuming his seat, he directed his course to the opposite shore. All fear had now fled. Once within the lines of the British possessions in Canada, it would be no difficult matter to secrete himself until a favorable opportunity presented itself for departing to the old world. But those shores he was destined never to reach A more terrible death than that from which he had escaped awaited him.

The part of the river at which the prisoner attempted to cross was one that, unless superior skill was manifested, rendered the boatman liable to extreme danger. It was but a very short distance from the rapids that are generally considered the commencement of the Falls of Niagara. At all seasons, there is a very strong current leading to this point, but at this time, the force of the current was considerably augmented on account of a heavy freshet that had swollen the river to an unusual degree, thereby causing a greater body of water to rush toward the falls. The convict, whose mind was occupied with other thoughts, was not aware of this circumstance until he found himself gradually drawing closer to the terrible descent. At length, however, his eyes were opened to the extent of his danger. He at once perceived that there was no time for deliberation, and using every effort in his power, he applied his oar. For a moment, the boat stood still and then slowly moved up the stream, but before it had proceeded many yards, the paddle that he held in his hand, unable to resist such an unusual pressure, snapped asunder close to the handle. The blade shot far, far from his reach, and beyond all possibility of recovery. Who can tell his emotions at this juncture? In a moment, all the actions of his past life rushed through his mind, the few good deeds vanishing like the morning mist before the many evil ones that now rose up before him in accusation. But one struck more terror into his soul than all the rest. It was the murder of his late victim. He fancied he beheld the sufferer, pale and bloody, rising before him. His flesh crept, his eyes rolled horribly, and his powerful frame quaked and trembled. Nothing could drive that sight away. In vain, he covered his face.