Erskine Dale—Pioneer

by John Fox

  XXII

  Dawned 1781.

  The war was coming into Virginia at last. Virginia falling would thrusta great wedge through the centre of the Confederacy, feed the Britisharmies and end the fight. Cornwallis was to drive the wedge, and neverhad the opening seemed easier. Virginia was drained of her fighting men,and south of the mountains was protected only by a militia, for the mostpart, of old men and boys. North and South ran despair. The soldiers hadno pay, little food, and only old worn-out coats, tattered linenoveralls, and one blanket between three men, to protect them fromdrifting snow and icy wind. Even the great Washington was near despair,and in foreign help his sole hope lay. Already the traitor, Arnold, hadtaken Richmond, burned warehouses, and returned, but little harassed, toPortsmouth.

  In April, "the proudest man," as Mr. Jefferson said, "of the proudestnation on earth," one General Phillips, marching northward, pausedopposite Richmond, and looked with amaze at the troop-crowned hillsnorth of the river. Up there was a beardless French youth oftwenty-three, with the epaulets of a major-general.

  "He will not cross--hein?" said the Marquis de Lafayette. "Very well!"And they had a race for Petersburg, which the Britisher reached first,and straightway fell ill of a fever at "Bollingbrook." A cannonade fromthe Appomattox hills saluted him.

  "They will not let me die in peace," said General Phillips, but hepassed, let us hope, to it, and Benedict Arnold succeeded him.

  Cornwallis was coming on. Tarleton's white rangers were bedevilling theland, and it was at this time that Erskine Dale once more rode Fireflyto the river James.

  The boy had been two years in the wilds. When he left the Shawnee campwinter was setting in, that terrible winter of '79--of deep snow andhunger and cold. When he reached Kaskaskia, Captain Clark had gone toKentucky, and Erskine found bad news. Hamilton and Hay had takenVincennes. There Captain Helm's Creoles, as soon as they saw theredcoats, slipped away from him to surrender their arms to the British,and thus deserted by all, he and the two or three Americans with him hadto give up the fort. The French reswore allegiance to Britain. Hamiltonconfiscated their liquor and broke up their billiard-tables. He let hisIndians scatter to their villages, and with his regulars, volunteers,white Indian leaders, and red auxiliaries went into winter quarters. Oneband of Shawnees he sent to Ohio to scout and take scalps in thesettlements. In the spring he would sweep Kentucky and destroy all thesettlements west of the Alleghanies. So Erskine and Dave went for Clark;and that trip neither ever forgot. Storms had followed each other sincelate November and the snow lay deep. Cattle and horses perished, deerand elk were found dead in the woods, and buffalo came at nightfall toold Jerome Sanders's fort for food and companionship with his starvingherd. Corn gave out and no johnny-cakes were baked on long boards infront of the fire. There was no salt or vegetable food; nothing but theflesh of lean wild game. The only fat was with the bears in the hollowsof trees, and every hunter was searching hollow trees. The breast of thewild turkey served for bread. Yet, while the frontiersmen remainedcrowded in the stockades and the men hunted and the women made clothesof tanned deer-hides, buffalo-wool cloth, and nettle-bark linen, andboth hollowed "noggins" out of the knot of a tree, Clark made hisamazing march to Vincennes, recaptured it by the end of February, andsent Hamilton to Williamsburg a prisoner. Erskine plead to be allowed totake him there, but Clark would not let him go. Permanent garrisons wereplaced at Vincennes and Cahokia, and at Kaskaskia. Erskine stayed tohelp make peace with the Indians, punish marauders and hunting bands, sothat by the end of the year Clark might sit at the Falls of the Ohio asa shield for the west and a sure guarantee that the whites would neverbe forced to abandon wild Kentucky.

  The two years in the wilderness had left their mark on Erskine. He wastall, lean, swarthy, gaunt, and yet he was not all woodsman, for hisborn inheritance as gentleman had been more than emphasized by hisassociation with Clark and certain Creole officers in the Northwest, whohad improved his French and gratified one pet wish of his life since hislast visit to the James--they had taught him to fence. His mother he hadnot seen again, but he had learned that she was alive and not yet blind.Of Early Morn he had heard nothing at all. Once a traveller had broughtword of Dane Grey. Grey was in Philadelphia and prominent in the gaydoings of that city. He had taken part in a brilliant pageant called the"Mischianza," which was staged by Andre, and was reported a close friendof that ill-fated young gentleman.

  After the fight at Piqua, with Clark Erskine put forth for old JeromeSanders's fort. He found the hard days of want over. There was not onlycorn in plenty but wheat, potatoes, pumpkins, turnips, melons. Theytapped maple-trees for sugar and had sown flax. Game was plentiful, andcattle, horses, and hogs had multiplied on cane and buffalo clover.Indeed, it was a comparatively peaceful fall, and though Clark pleadwith him, Erskine stubbornly set his face for Virginia.

  Honor Sanders and Polly Conrad had married, but Lydia Noe was still firmagainst the wooing of every young woodsman who came to the fort; andwhen Erskine bade her good-by and she told him to carry her love to DaveYandell, he knew for whom she would wait forever if need be.

  There were many, many travellers on the Wilderness Road now, and ColonelDale's prophecy was coming true. The settlers were pouring in and thelong, long trail was now no lonesome way.

  At Williamsburg Erskine learned many things. Colonel Dale, now ageneral, was still with Washington and Harry was with him. Hugh was withthe Virginia militia and Dave with Lafayette.

  Tarleton's legion of rangers in their white uniforms were scourgingVirginia as they had scourged the Carolinas. Through the James Rivercountry they had gone with fire and sword, burning houses, carrying offhorses, destroying crops, burning grain in the mills, laying plantationsto waste. Barbara's mother was dead. Her neighbors had moved to safety,but Barbara, he heard, still lived with old Mammy and Ephraim at RedOaks, unless that, too, had been recently put to the torch. Where, then,would he find her?