Throughout the short but severe action at the ravines, Boone maintained his ground with great coolness and courage, animating his soldiers by word and deed, until the rout became general, when he found it necessary, to prevent falling into the hands of the enemy, to have recourse to immediate flight. As he cast his eyes around him for this purpose, he saw himself cut off from the ford by the large body of Indians, through whose lines our hero was even then struggling. At this moment he heard a groan which attracted his attention; and looking down, he perceived his son Israel lying on the ground, scarcely five paces distant, weltering in his blood. With all a father's feelings of affection and alarm, he instantly sprung from his horse, and, raising the youth in his arms, darted into the nearest ravine, and made with all speed for the river. A few of the Indians were herein concealed, who discharged their rifles at him as he passed, without injury, and then joined in pursuit. One, a powerful warrior, having outstripped his companions, was rushing upon the old woodsman with his tomahawk, when the latter, with backwoods celerity, instantly raised his rifle and shot him through the body. Finding himself hard pressed, and that his son was already in the agonies of death, the old hunter strained him for the last time to his heart, with choking emotion, pressed his lips to those already growing cold, and then, with a groan of agony, left him to his fate and the scalping-knife of the savage, while he barely made his own escape by swimming the river below the bend. To him this was a mournful day--never to be forgotten--and one that, even long, long years after, could never be mentioned but with tears.
In this action the brother of Boone was wounded; but in company with Isaac Younker, and some three or four others, he succeeded in making his escape.
On the day of the battle, Colonel Logan arrived at Bryan's Station with a command of four hundred and fifty soldiers. On learning that the garrison with their reinforcements had gone the day preceding in pursuit of the Indians, and fearful of some disaster, he resolved on a forced march to give them assistance as soon as possible. For this purpose he immediately set forward on their trail; but had advanced only a few miles, when he met a party of the fugitives returning from the scene of slaughter. They were alarmed and excited, and of course their account of the battle was greatly exaggerated, believing as they did that they were the only escaped survivors. Their report, to say the least, was very startling, allowing that only the half were true; and in consequence, Logan decided on retracing his steps to the station, until he should be able to collect more definite news concerning the fight. Gradually one party after another came dropping in; and by nine o'clock nearly or quite all of the survivors were assembled in the fortress; when it was ascertained that a little over one-third of the party, or between sixty and seventy of those engaged in the battle, were missing. It was a sad night of wailing, and lamentation, and dreadful excitement in the station; for scarcely a family there, but was mourning the loss of some friend or relation. Algernon and Isaac had returned, to the great joy of those most interested in their welfare; but the father-in-law of the latter came not, and there was mourning in consequence.
A consultation between Colonels Logan and Boone, resulted in the decision to march forthwith to the battle-ground. Accordingly every thing being got in readiness, Colonel Logan set out with his command, at a late hour the same night, accompanied by Boone, and a few of the survivors of the ill-fated engagement. Towards morning a halt of three hours was ordered for rest and refreshment: when the line of march was again taken up; and by noon of the day succeeding the battle, the forces arrived upon the ground, where a most horribly repulsive scene met their view.
The Indians had departed on their homeward route, bearing their killed and wounded away from the field of carnage; but the dead and mutilated bodies of the whites still remained where they had fallen, presenting a spectacle the most hideous and revolting possibly to be conceived. In the edge of the stream, on the banks, up the ridge, and along the buffalo trace to the ravines, were lying the bloody and mangled corses of the gallant heroes--who, the day before, full of ardor and life, had rushed on to the battle and an untimely and inglorious death--now swollen, putrid, and in the first stage of decomposition, from the action of the scorching rays of an August sun--surrounded by vultures and crows, and all species of carrion fowl; many of which, having gorged themselves on the horrid repast, were either sweeping overhead in large flocks, and screeching their funeral dirges, or wiping their bloody bills on the neighboring trees. Some of the bodies in the stream had been gnawed by fishes--others by wolves--and all had been so disfigured, by one means and another, that but very few could be recognized by their friends.
"Great Heaven! what a sight!" exclaimed Colonel Logan, as he ran his eye over the scene.
"A dark and terrible day for Kaintuck," answered Boone, who was standing by his side; and as he spoke, the old hunter turned away his head to conceal his emotion; for his mind reverted to the death of his noble son.
Orders were now given by Colonel Logan, to have the bodies collected, and interred in a manner as decent as circumstances would permit. This being accomplished, he returned with his men to Bryan's Station, and there dismissed them--it not being thought advisable to pursue the enemy further. In this ever memorable battle of Blue Licks, the Kentuckians had sixty killed, twelve wounded, and seven taken prisoners, most of whom were afterwards put to the tortures. As we said before, it was a sad day for Kentucky, and threw the land into mourning and gloom. Colonels Todd and Trigg, and Majors Harlan and McBride, were men beloved and respected in life, and bitterly lamented in death by a long list of true-hearted friends.
The great trace where the battle was fought, is now green with low branching cedars; and a solitary monument near by, informs the curious spectator of the sad disaster of by gone times. The Blue Lick Springs are much resorted to in the summer season by invalids and others, for whose convenience a magnificent hotel stands upon the banks of the lovely and romantic Licking.
A few words more and our general history will be closed. On receiving the intelligence of the battle of Blue Licks, General Clark--who then occupied a fort at the Falls of the Ohio, on the present site of Louisville--resolved upon another expedition to the enemy's country; for which purpose it was proposed to raise an army of one thousand men, who, under their respective commanders, should congregate opposite the mouth of the Licking, on the present site of Cincinnati. The interior and upper country were to rendezvous at Bryan's Station, under the command of Colonels Logan and Floyd; and the lower settlements at the Falls of Ohio, under General Clark; who, on all parties arriving at the grand rendezvous, was to be commander-in-chief of the expedition. One thousand mounted riflemen were raised without a draft, who marched upon the enemy in their own country, destroyed their villages, provisions, and cornfields, took several prisoners, and carried with them so much terror and desolation, that the Indians never sufficiently recovered from the shock to renew hostilities in a formidable body; and the Kentuckians henceforth, save in individual cases, were left unmolested.
On their march they came upon the rear of Girty's party, returning from their successful battle; but an Indian scout gave the renegade and his companions warning in time for them to escape the whites by flight. In this expedition, Colonel Boone volunteered and served as a private; being the last in which the noble old hunter was ever engaged in defence of the settlements of Kentucky. Algernon Reynolds and Isaac Younker were his companions in arms; who, on the dismissal of the troops, returned again to Bryan's Station.
[Footnote 24: It may perhaps add interest to the story, for the reader to know that the foregoing account concerning Reynolds and Captain Patterson, is historically true; as is also the one which follows with regard to Boone and his son.]
CHAPTER XX.
THE FINALE.
Month upon month rolled away, quiet succeeded to the alarm and commotion of war, hostilities between Great Britain and America ceased, and the country both east and west now began to look up from the depression and gloom which h
ad pervaded it during its long and sanguinary struggle for independence. In Kentucky the effect was really invigorating; and the settlers, who for a year past had been driven from their homes in terror and dismay--who had quitted their peaceable farming implements for the destructive weapons of strife and bloodshed--now ventured to return to their desolate firesides, and renew their honest occupations of tilling the soil. Some, however, more predisposed to financiering than their neighbors, sought only speculation; in consequence whereof the Land Offices of the Virginia Commissioners--which opened in November, after the return of the troops under Clark--were daily thronged with applicants for the best locations; whereby was laid the first grand corner-stone of subsequent litigation, disaffection, and civil discord among the pioneers. But with these, further than to mention the facts as connected with the history of the time, we have nothing to do; and shall now forthwith pass on to the finale of our story.
Month upon month, as we said before, had rolled away, spring had come, and with it had departed many of those who had occupied Bryan's Station during the siege of August; but still, besides the regular garrison and their families, a few of the individuals who had sought refuge therein, yet remained; among whom we may mention Mrs. Younker, Ella, Isaac and his wife, and so forth. Algernon, too--by the entreaty of his friends, and contrary to his previous calculations, and what he considered his duty--had been induced to defer his departure until the opening of spring. Possibly there might have been a secret power, stronger than the mere entreaties of others, which had prevailed over his resolution to depart; but further the records say not. Be that as it may, the extreme limit of time which he had set for remaining, was now nearly expired; and he was, at the moment when we again present him to the reader, engaged in conversation with Ella on the painful subject. Suddenly he was startled by the information that a stranger in the court desired to speak with him.
"A stranger!" exclaimed Algernon, in surprise; and as he spoke, his face became very pale, his lips quivered, and his hands trembled. Turning upon Ella a look of agony, which seemed to say, "I am an arrested felon," he wheeled upon his heel, and followed the messenger in silence; while she, knowing the cause of his agitation, and fearful of the worst, sunk almost lifeless upon a seat.
As Algernon passed out of the cottage, he beheld, in the center of the common, a well dressed, good-looking individual, who was standing on the ground and holding by the bridle a horse, which, as well as the rider himself, appeared both travel-stained and weary. Approaching the stranger with a firm step, but with a pale countenance and throbbing heart, he said:
"I understand, sir, you have business with me."
"Your name, then," returned the other, quietly, "I presume to be Algernon Reynolds?"
"The same."
"You are, too, I infer, a native of ----, Connecticut, and son of Albert Reynolds of that place?"
"Again right," answered Algernon, in a voice which, in spite of himself, was a little tremulous.
"Then, sir," rejoined the stranger, with a satisfied air, "I may say that I have business with you, and of vast importance. A long chase you have led me, i' faith; and weeks of travel have you cost me; so you may rest assured that I am happy in finding you at last."
"Proceed!" said Algernon, compressing his lips, as one whose mind is made up for the worst. "Proceed, sir. I know your mission."
"The deuce you do!" replied the other, in astonishment; "then you must have a very remarkable faculty for divining secrets. I rather guess you are mistaken though," he added, as he drew forth a couple of letters from a side pocket; "but these will inform you whether you are or not."
Seizing the proffered letters with trembling eagerness, Algernon hastily glanced at their superscription; then, breaking the seals, he devoured their contents with the utmost avidity; while the stranger stood noting the varying expressions of his handsome countenance, with a quiet smile. At first his pale features seemed flushed with surprise--then became radiant with joy--and then gradually saddened with sorrow; yet a certain cheerfulness prevailed over all--such as he had not exhibited for many a long month. As he finished a hasty perusal of the epistles, he turned to the stranger, grasped his hand, and, shaking it heartily, while tears of joy filled his eyes, exclaimed:
"I _was_ mistaken, sir--God be thanked! God bless you too, sir! for being the messenger of peace between myself and conscience. Excuse me. Tarry a moment, sir, and I will send some one to take charge of your weary beast, and show yourself a place of rest and refreshment."
As he spoke, Algernon darted away toward the cottage. Observing Isaac, he ran to and caught him by the hand:
"Isaac," he said, in a gay tone, while his eyes sparkled with delight, "wish me joy! I have good news. I--but stay; I forgot; you know nothing of the matter. Oblige me, though, by showing yonder gentleman and his beast due hospitality;" and wringing his hand, he sprung into the apartment where Ella was sitting alone, leaving Isaac staring after him with open mouth, and wondering whether he were in his right senses or not.
"Ella!" he exclaimed, wildly, as he suddenly appeared before her with a flushed countenance: "Ella, God bless you! Listen. I--I am free! I am no longer a criminal, thank God! These, Ella--these!" and he held aloft the letters with one hand, and tapped them nervously with the other.
The next moment his features grew pale, his whole frame quivered, and he sunk upon a seat, completely overcome by the nervous excitement produced by the sudden transition from despair to hope and freedom.
Ella was alarmed; and springing to him, she exclaimed:
"For Heaven's sake! Algernon, what is the matter?--what has happened?--are you in your senses? Speak!--speak!"
"Read!" answered he, faintly, placing the letters in her hand: "Read, Ella--read!"
Ella hesitated a moment on the propriety of complying with his request, but a moment only; and the next she turned to one of the epistles. It was from the father of Algernon, and ran as follows:
"DEAR SON:--If in the land of the living, return as speedily as possible to your afflicted and anxious parents, who are even now mourning you as dead. You can return in safety; for your cousin, whom you supposed you had fatally wounded, recovered therefrom, and publicly exonerated you from all blame in the matter. He is now, however, no more--having died of late. Elvira, his wife, is also dead. She died insane. As a partial restitution for the injury done you, your cousin has made you heir, by will, to all his property, real estate and personal, amounting, it is said, to over twenty thousand dollars. Your mother is in feeble health, caused by anxiety on your account. For further information, inquire of the messenger who will bear you this.
Your affectionate father, ALBERT REYNOLDS." Nov. 12th, 1782.
The other epistle was from a lawyer, informing Reynolds of his acquisition to a large amount of property, by a will of his late cousin; and that he, the said lawyer, being executor thereof, required the presence of him, the said Reynolds, or his proxy forthwith.
"I knew it: I felt that all would yet be well: I told you to hope for the best!" cried Ella, as she concluded the letter, her eyes moist with tears, and her face beaming like the sun through a summer shower.
"God bless you, dearest Ella--you did indeed!" exclaimed Reynolds, suddenly, bounding from his seat and clasping her in his arms. "You did indeed tell me to hope--and you told me truly;" and he pressed kiss after kiss, again and again, upon her sweet lips, with all the wild, trembling, rapturous feelings of a lover in his first ecstasy of bliss, when he has surmounted all obstacles, and gained the heart of the being he loves.
"Now, dearest Ella," continued Algernon, when the excitement of the moment had been succeeded by a calmer, though not less blissful mood: "Now, dearest Ella, I am free--my sacred oath binds me no longer--and now can I say, with propriety, that I deeply, solemnly, and devotedly love you, and you alone. I am not rich; but I have enough of this world's goods to live in ease, if not in splendor. Will you share with me, and be partner of my lot, be it for good or ill, through life? My
heart you have had long--my hand I now offer you. Say, dearest, will you be mine?"
Ella did not speak--she could not; but she looked up into his face, with a sweet, modest, affectionate smile; and her dark, soft, beautiful eyes, suffused with tears, wherein a soul of love lay mirrored, gave answer, with a heart-felt eloquence surpassing words.
"I understand you, Ella," said Algernon, with emotion. "You are mine--mine forever!" and h e strained her trembling form to his heart in silence--a deep, joyful and holy silence--that had in it more of Heaven than earth.
* * * * *
It was a mild, lovely day in the spring of 1783. Earth had donned her green mantle, and decorated it with flowers of every hue and variety. The trees were in leaf and in bloom; among whose soft, waving branches, gay birds from the sunny south sung most sweetly; and nature seemed every where to rejoice. In the court of Bryan's Station was a large concourse of people--many of whom were from a distance--and all assembled there to witness the solemn ceremony which was to unite Algernon Reynolds and Ella Barnwell forever; for who shall say the holy marriage rite is not eternally binding in the great Hereafter. There were congregated both sexes and all ages, from the infant to the hoary headed veteran of eighty winters. There were assembled youth and manhood, whose names have since graced the historic page, and whose deeds have stamped them benefactors of their race and nation. All were in order, and silent, and the scene was most solemnly impressive. On the right and left of the bride and groom and their attendants, stood, promiscuously, the general spectators of both sexes. In front was drawn up the garrison, in three platoons, under arms, in compliment to the noble bravery of our hero at the battle of Blue Licks.
Never did Algernon appear more noble than now--never did Ella look more beautiful; as, pale and trembling, she seemed to cling to his arm for support. The ceremony was at length begun and ended, amid a deep and breathless silence. As the last words, "_I pronounce you man and wife_," died away upon the air, the first platoon advanced a pace and fired a volley--the second and third followed--and then arose a soft bewitching strain of music; during which the friends of the newly married pair came forward to offer their congratulations, and wishes for their long life and happiness.
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