Book 2: Roger's Rangers.
Chapter 1: A Day Of Vengeance.
To the west! to the west! to the west!
Such was the watchword of the band of sturdy Rangers who set forthfrom Pennsylvania to the defence of the hapless settlers.
They were but a handful of bold spirits. It was little they couldhope to accomplish in attempting to stem the tide of war; but theirpresence brought comfort to many an aching heart, and nerved many alonely settler to intrench and defend his house and family, insteadof giving way to utter despair.
There was work for the little band to do amongst these scatteredholdings. John Stark urged upon such settlers as had the courage toremain to build themselves block houses, to establish some sort ofcommunication with one another, to collect arms and ammunition, andbe ready to retire behind their defences and repel an attack. Forthe moment the Indians seemed glutted with spoil and with blood,and were more quiet, although this tranquillity was not to bereckoned upon for a day. Still, whilst it lasted it gave abreathing space to many harassed and desperate settlers; and Fritzcould give them many valuable hints as to the best method ofintrenching themselves in block houses. He had seen so many ofthese upon his long journey, and understood their constructionwell.
Everywhere they found the people in a state of either deepdespondency or intense exasperation. It seemed to them that theyhad been basely deserted and betrayed by their countrymen, whoshould have been prompt to send to their defence; and although thearrival of the Rangers, and the news they brought of future help,did something to cheer and encourage them, it was easy to see thatthey were deeply hurt at the manner in which their appeals had beenmet, and were ready to curse the Quakers and the Assembly who hadcalmly let them be slaughtered like brute beasts, whilst theywrangled in peaceful security over some disputed point with theGovernor.
"Are you Rogers' men?" was a question which the Rangers met againand again as they pursued their way.
"No," they would answer; "we know of no Rogers. Who is he, and whyis his name in all men's mouths?"
This question was not always easy to get answered. Some said onething and some another; but as they pursued their western way, theyreached a settlement where more precise information was to be had.
"Have you not heard of Robert Rogers, the New Hampshire Ranger?Well, you will hear his name many times before this war is closed.He has gathered about him a band of bold and daring spirits. He haslived in the forest from boyhood. He has been used to dealings withboth English and French settlers. He speaks the language of both.But he is stanch to the heart's core. He is vowed to the service ofhis country. He moves through the forests, over the lakes, acrossthe rivers. None can say where he will next appear. He seemseverywhere--he spies upon the foe. He appears beneath the walls oftheir forts, snatches a sleepy sentry away from his post, andcarries him to the English camp, where information is thus gleanedof the doings of the enemy. He and his band are here, there, andeverywhere. We had hoped to have seen them here by this. ColonelArmstrong sent a message praying him to come and help him to attacka pestilent nest of savages which is the curse of his life. We hadhoped you were the forerunners of his band when you appeared. Butin these troublous times who can tell whether the messenger everreached his destination?"
"But if we are not Rogers' men, we are Rangers of the forest,"cried Stark, who was leader of the party. "We can fight; we aretrained to the exercise of arms. We will push on to this ColonelArmstrong, and what aid so small a band can give him that we willgive."
"He will welcome any help from bold men willing to fight," was theanswer they got. "Pray Heaven you be successful; for we all go interror of our lives from the cruelty of Captain Jacobs. If he wereslain, we might have rest awhile."
"Captain Jacobs?"
"So they call him. He is a notable Indian chieftain. Most likelythe French baptized him by that name. They like to be called bysome name and title which sounds like that of a white man. He livesat the Indian town of Kittanning, on the banks of the Allegheny,and he is upheld by the French from Fort Duquesne and Venango. Theysupply him with the munitions of war, and he makes of our lives aterror. Colonel Armstrong has been sent by the Governor to try tofall upon him unawares, and oust him from his vantage ground. Ifthe town were but destroyed and he slain, we might know a littleease of mind."
The eyes of the Rangers lighted with anticipation. This was thefirst they had heard of real warfare. If they could lend a hand tosuch an expedition as this, they would feel rewarded for all theirpains and toil.
"Captain Jacobs, Captain Jacobs!" repeated Charles, with a gleam inhis sombre eyes; "tell me what manner of man this Captain Jacobsis."
"I have seen him once--a giant in height, painted in vermilion, andcarrying always in his hand a mighty spear, which they say none buthe can wield. His eyes roll terribly, and upon his brow is astrange scar shaped like a crescent--"
"Ay, ay, ay; and in his hair is one white tuft, which he hasbraided with scarlet thread," interposed Charles, panting andtwitching in his excitement.
"That is the man--the most bloodthirsty fire eater of all theIndian chiefs. Could the country but be rid of him, we might sleepin our beds in peace once more, instead of lying shivering andshaking at every breath which passes over the forest at night."
"Let us be gone!" cried Charles, shaking his knife in a meaning andmenacing fashion; "I thirst to be there when that man's record isclosed. Let me see his end; let me plunge my knife into his blackheart! There is another yet whom my vengeance must overtake; butlet me fall upon this one first."
"Was he one of the attacking party that desolated your homestead?"asked Stark, as they moved along in the given direction, after abrief pause for rest and refreshment.
"Ay, he was," answered Charles grimly. "I could not forget thatgigantic form, that mighty spear, that scar and the white tuft! Hestood by, and laughed at my frantic struggles, at the screams ofthe children, at the agony of my gentle wife. A fiend from the pitcould not have been more cruel. But the hour is at hand when itshall be done to him as he has done. His hand lighted the wood pilethey had set against the door of the house. Let him suffer a likefate at our hands in the day of vengeance!"
Spurred on by the hope of striking some well-planted blow at theheart of the enemy, the hardy band of Rangers pushed their waythrough the forest tracks, scarcely pausing for rest or sleep, tillthe lights of a little camp and settlement twinkled before them inthe dusk, and they were hailed by the voice of a watchful sentinel.
"Friends," cried Stark, in clear tones--"Rangers of theforest--come to the aid of Colonel Armstrong, hoping to be in timefor the attack on Kittanning."
"Now welcome, welcome!" cried the man, running joyfully forward;and the next minute the little band was borne into the camp by ajoyful company of raw soldiers, who seemed to feel a great sense ofsupport even from the arrival of a mere handful.
"Rogers' Rangers are come! the Rangers are come!" was the wordeagerly passed from mouth to mouth; and before the newcomers couldmake any explanation, they found themselves pushed into afair-sized building, some thing in the form of a temporaryblockhouse, and confronted with the Colonel himself, who receivedthem with great goodwill.
"You are from Captain Rogers?" he said; "is one of you that notableman himself?"
Stark stepped forward to act as spokesman, and was shaken warmly bythe hand.
"Rangers we are, but not of Rogers' company," he said. "Indeed,when we started forth from Philadelphia to the succour of thedistressed districts, we had not even heard the name of Rogers,though it is now familiar enough.
"We heard, however, that you were in need of the help of Rangers,and we have come with all haste to your camp. We wish for nothingbetter than to stand in the forefront of the battle against thetreacherous and hostile Indians. Although not of Rogers' training,you will not find us faint of heart or feeble of limb. There are adozen of us, as you see, and we will fight with the best that wehave."
"And right welcome at such a moment," was the
cordial answer, "forthe men I have with me are little trained to warfare; and thoughthey will follow when bravely led, they are somewhat like sheep,and are easily thrown into confusion or turned aside from the way.Tonight you shall rest and be well fed after your march, and on themorrow we will make a rapid secret march, and seek to fall upon thefoe unawares."
The Rangers were as hungry as hunters, and glad enough to sit downonce more to a well-spread table. The rations were not luxurious asto quality, but there was sufficient quantity, which to hungry menis the great matter. The Colonel sat with them at table, heard allthey had to tell of the state of the country from Philadelphiawestward, and had many grim tales to tell himself of outrages andlosses in this district.
"We lost Fort Granville at harvest time, when the men were forcedto garner their crops, and we had to send out soldiers to protectthem. The French and Indians set upon the Fort, and though it wasgallantly defended by the lieutenant in charge, it fell into theirhands. Since then their aggressions have been unbearable. CaptainJacobs has been making the lives of the settlers a terror to them.We have sent for help from the colony, with what success you know.We have sent to the Rangers under Rogers, and had hoped to bereinforced by them.
"But if he cannot help us, it is much to have stout-hearted friendscome unexpectedly to our aid. Have you seen fighting, friends? orare you like the bulk of our men--inured to toil and hardship, fullof zeal and courage, ready to wield any and every weapon in defenceof property, or against the treacherous Indian?"
"Something like that," answered Stark; "but we can all claim to begood marksmen, and to have good weapons with us. Our rifles carryfar, and we seldom miss the quarry. I will answer for us that westand firm, and that we come not behind your soldiers insteadiness, nor in the use of arms at close quarters."
"That I can well believe," answered the Colonel, with a smile; "Ihave but a score of men who have been trained in the school ofarms. The rest were but raw recruits a few months ago, and many ofthem have little love of fighting, though they seek to do theirduty.
"Well, well, we must not sit up all night talking. We have a hardday's march before us tomorrow, and we must needs make all thespeed we can. Indian scouts might discover our camp at any moment,and our only chance is to fall upon the Indian town unawares. Theydo not look for attack in the winter months--that is our bestprotection from spies. And so far I think we have escaped notice.But it may not last, and we must be wary. We will sleep till dawn,but with the first of the daylight we must be moving. The way islong, but we have some good guides who know the best tracks. Weought to reach the town soon after nightfall; and when all aresleeping in fancied security, we will fall upon them."
The Rangers were glad enough of the few hours of sleep which theywere able to obtain, and it was luxury to them to sleep beneath aroof, and to be served the next morning with breakfast which theyhad not had to kill and cook themselves.
The men were in good spirits, too. The arrival of the little bodyof Rangers had encouraged them; and as the company marched throughthe forest, generally in single file, the newcomers scatteredthemselves amongst the larger body, and talked to them of what wasgoing forward in the eastern districts, and how, after long delay,reinforcements were being prepared to come to the aid of thehapless settlers.
That was cheering news for all, and it put new heart into the band.They marched along cheerily, although cautiously, for they knew notwhat black scouts might be lurking in the thickets; and if theIndians once got wind of their coming, there would be little hopeof successful attack.
On and on they marched all through the keen winter air, which gavethem fine appetites for their meals when they paused to rest andrefresh themselves, but made walking easier than when the sun beatdown pitilessly upon them in the summer. There had been no heavysnow as yet, and the track was not hard to find. But the way waslonger than had been anticipated, and night had long closed inbefore they caught a glimpse of any settlement, although they knewthey must be drawing near.
The guides became perplexed in the darkness of the forest. The moonwas shining, but the light was dim and deceptive within the greatglades. Still they pushed on resolutely, and the Rangers graduallydrew to the front, goaded on by their own eagerness, and lessdisposed to feel fatigue than the soldiers, who were in realityless hardy than they.
All in a moment a strange sound smote upon their ears. It was theroll of an Indian drum. They paused suddenly, and looked each otherin the face. The rolling sound continued, and then rose a sound ofwhooping and yelling such as some of their number had never heardbefore.
"It is the war dance," whispered one of the guides; and a thrillran through the whole company. Had they been discovered, and werethe Indians coming out in a body against them?
For a brief while they were halted just below the top of the ridge,whilst a few of the guides and Rangers crept cautiously forward toinspect the hollow in which they knew the village lay.
Colonel Armstrong was one of this party, and he, with Stark andFritz, cautiously crept up over the ridge and looked down upon theIndian town below.
The moon lighted up the whole scene. There was no appearance oftumult or excitement. The sound of the drum and the whooping of thewarriors were not accompanied by any demonstration of activity bythose within the community. Probably some war party or huntingparty had returned with spoil, and they were celebrating the eventby a banquet and a dance.
The soldiers were bidden to move onward, but very cautiously. Itwas necessary that they should make the descent of the rugged pathbefore the moon set, and it was abundantly evident that the Indianshad at present no idea of the presence of the enemy.
Slowly and cautiously the soldiers crept down the steep path, doingeverything possible to avoid a noise; but suddenly the sound of apeculiar whistle sounded from somewhere below, and there were amovement and a thrill of dismay through all the ranks; for surelyit was a signal of discovery!
Only Fritz was undismayed, and gave vent to a silent laugh.
"That is not an alarm," he whispered to the Colonel; "it is but ayoung chief signalling to some squaw. But the place is not asleepyet; if we go much nearer we shall be seen. Those bushes would giveus cover till all is quiet. We could crouch there and rest, andwhen the time has come spring out upon the village unawares."
The Colonel approved the plan, and the weary men were glad enoughof the rest before the battle should begin. All were full of hopeand ardour; but in spite of that, most of them fell asleep crouchedin the cover. The surrounding hills kept off the wind, and it waswarm beneath the sheltering scrub.
But Charles sat up with his hands clasped round his knees, his eyesintently fixed upon the Indian village. Beside him were a few ofhis chosen comrades amongst the Rangers--men older than the hardyyouths who had organized the band--settlers like himself, who hadsuffered losses like his own, and in whose hearts there burned asteady fire of vengeful hate that could only be quenched in blood.
To them crept one of the guides who knew the district and the townof Kittanning. With him were his son and another hardy lad. Helooked at Charles and made a sign. The next moment some six oreight men were silently creeping through the sleeping soldiers,unnoticed even by the sharp eyes of the Colonel, who was stationedat some little distance.
Like human snakes these men wriggled themselves down the tortuouspath, keeping always under cover of the bushes; and even when theopen ground below was reached, they slipped so silently alongbeneath the cover of the hedges that not an eye saw them, not eventhe sharp ears of the Indians heard their insidious approach.
"Which is the house of Captain Jacobs?" asked Charles in a whisperof the guide.
"It lies yonder," he answered, "in the centre of the village. It isthe strongest building in the place, and has loopholes from which ahot fire can be poured out upon an approaching foe. The Indianshere have great stores of gunpowder and arms--given them by theFrench to keep up the border war. Unless we can take them bysurprise, we be all dead men; for they are as ten to one,
and arearmed to the teeth."
Charles's face in the moonlight was set and stern.
"Here is a stack of wood," he said. "Let every man take his fagot;but be silent as death."
Plainly these men knew what they had come to do. In perfectsilence, yet with an exercise of considerable strength, they loadedthemselves with the dry brushwood, and split logs which the Indianshad cut and piled up ready for use either to burn or for thebuilding of their huts. Then, thus loaded, they crept like ghostsor ghouls through the sleeping street of the Indian town, and piledtheir burdens against the walls of the centre hut, which belongedto the chief.
Twice and thrice was this thing repeated; but Charles remainedposted beside the door of the house, working in a strange andmysterious fashion at the entrance. Upon his face was a strange,set smile. Now and again he shook his clinched hand towards theheavens, as though invoking the aid or the wrath of the Deity.
The bold little band were in imminent peril. One accidental slip orfall, an unguarded word, an involuntary cough, and the lives of thewhole party might pay the forfeit. They were in the heart of anIndian village, enemies and spies. But the good fortune which sooften attends upon some rash enterprise was with them tonight. Theycompleted their task, and drew away from the silent place asshadow-like as they had come.
But they did not return to their comrades; they posted themselvesat a short distance from the place. They looked well to the primingof their rifles, and to their other arms, and sat in silence toawait the commencement of the battle.
The moon set in golden radiance behind the wooded hills. In theeastern sky the first rose red showed that dawn would shortlybreak. Looking towards the hill, the little band saw that movementhad already begun there. They rose to their feet, and looked fromthe moving shapes amid the brushwood towards the still sleeping,silent town.
"The Lord of hosts is with us," spoke Charles, in a solemn voice;"He will deliver the enemy into our hands. Let us quit ourselveslike men and be strong. Let us do unto them even as they have done.Let not the wicked escape us. The Lord do so to me, and more also,if I reward not unto yon cruel chieftain his wickedness and hiscruelties. If he leave this place alive, let my life pay theforfeit!"
A murmur ran through the little group about him. Each man graspedhis weapon and stood still as a statue. This little company hadposted themselves upon a knoll which commanded the house of thebloodthirsty chief. It was their business to see that he at leastdid not escape from the day of vengeance.
The moments seemed hours to those men waiting and watching; butthey did not wait in vain.
A blaze of fire, a simultaneous crack of firearms, and a wild shoutthat was like one of already earned victory, and the assailantscame charging down the hillside, and across the open fields, firingvolley after volley upon the sleeping town, from which astonishedand bewildered savages came pouring out in a dense mass, only tofall writhing beneath the hail of bullets from the foe who hadsurprised them thus unawares.
But there were in that community men trained in the arts of war,who were not to be scared into non-resistance by a suddenonslaught, however unexpected. These men occupied log houses aroundthat of their chieftain, and instead of rushing forth, theyremained behind their walls, and fired steadily back at the enemywith a rapidity and steadiness which evoked the admiration of theColonel himself.
Fiercely rained the bullets from rank to rank. Indians yelled andwhooped; the squaws rushed screaming hither and thither; the fightwaxed hotter and yet more hot. But all unknown to the Indians, andunseen by them in the confusion and terror, a file of stern,determined men was stealing towards the very centre of their town,creeping along the ground so as to avoid notice, and be safe fromthe hail of shot, but ever drawing nearer and nearer to thatcentre, where the defence was so courageously maintained.
Charles was the first to reach the log house against which thebrushwood had been piled. In the dim light of dawn his face couldbe seen wearing a look of concentrated purpose. He had latelypassed an open hut from whence the inhabitants had fled, and hecarried in his hand a smouldering firebrand. Now crouching againstthe place from which the hottest fire belched forth, he blew uponthis brand till a tongue of flame darted forth, and in a momentmore the brushwood around the house had begun to crackle with asound like that made by a hissing snake before it makes the fatalspring.
Five minutes later and the ring of flame round the doomed house wascomplete. The firing suddenly ceased, and there was a sound ofblows and cries, turning to howls of fury as the inmates found thatthe door would not yield--that they were trapped.
The Rangers, rushing up, seized burning brands and commencedsetting fire to house after house, whilst their comrades stood at ashort distance shooting down the Indians as they burst forth. Ascene of the wildest terror and confusion was now illumined by theglare of the fire, and at short intervals came the sound of short,sharp explosions, as the flames reached the charged guns of theIndians or the kegs of gunpowder lavishly stored in their houses.
But Charles stood like a statue in the midst of the turmoil. Hisface was white and terrible; his gun was in his hands. He did notattempt to fire it, although Indians were scuttling past him likehunted hares; he stood stern and passive, biding his time.
The ring of flame round the centre house rose higher and higher.Cries and screams were heard issuing from within. Some intrepidwarrior was chanting his death song, dauntless to the last. Afrightened squaw was shrieking aloud; but not even the sound of awoman's voice moved Charles from his fell purpose.
Suddenly his, face changed; the light flashed into his eyes. Heraised his head, and he laid his gun to his shoulder.
Out upon the roof of the cabin, ringed as it was with fire, theresprang a man of gigantic aspect, daubed and tattooed in vermilion,his hair braided in scarlet, and one white tuft conspicuous in theblack. He stood upon the roof, glaring wildly round him as ifmeditating a spring. Doubtless the smoke and fire shielded him insome sort from observation. Had not there been one relentless foevowed to his destruction, he might in all probability have leapedthe ring of flame and escaped with his life.
But Charles had covered him with his gun. The chieftain saw thegleaming barrel, and paused irresolute. Charles's voice rose clearabove the surrounding din.
"Murderer, tyrant, tormentor of helpless women and babes, the whiteman's God doth war against thee. The hour of thy death has come. Asthou hast done unto others, so shall it be done unto thee."
Then the sharp report of the rifle sounded, and the chief boundedinto the air and fell back helpless. He was not dead--his yells ofrage and fear told that--but he was helpless. His thigh wasshattered. He lay upon the roof of the blazing cabin unable to movehand or foot, and Charles stood by like a grim sentinel till thefrail building collapsed into a burning mass; then with a fiercegesture he stirred the ashes with the butt of his rifle, sayingbeneath his breath:
"That is one of them!"
Victory for the white man was complete, notwithstanding that bandsof Indians from the other side of the river came rushing to thesuccour of their allies. They came too late, and were scattered anddispersed by the resolute fire of the English. The whole villagewas destroyed. Colonel Armstrong took as many arms and as muchammunition as his men could carry, and devoted the rest todestruction.
More satisfactory still, they released from captivity elevenprisoners, white men with women and children, who had been carriedoff at different times when others had been massacred. From thesepersons they learned that the Indians of Kittanning had oftenboasted that they had in the place a stock of ammunition sufficientto keep up a ten years' war with the English along the borders. Tohave taken and destroyed all these stores was no small matter, andthe Colonel and his men rejoiced not a little over the blow thusstruck at the foe almost in his own land.
But there was no chance of following up the victory. Armstrong wasnot strong enough to carry the war into the enemy's country;moreover, the winter was already upon them, although up till thepresent the season had be
en especially mild and open. He must marchhis men back to quarters, and provide for the safety of hiswounded, and for the restoration of the rescued prisoners to theirfriends.
He would gladly have kept Stark and his little valiant band withhim, but the Rangers had different aims in view.
"We must be up and doing; we must find fighting somewhere. On LakeGeorge we shall surely find work for men to do. Rangers of wood andforest care nothing for winter ice and snow. We will go northwardand eastward, asking news of Rogers and his Rangers. It may be thatwe shall fall in with them, and that we can make common cause withthem against the common foe."
So said Stark, speaking for all his band, for all were of one heartand one mind.
Therefore, after a few days for rest and refreshment, the littlearmy retreated whence it had come; whilst the bold band of Rangersstarted forth for the other scene of action, away towards thenorth, along the frozen lakes which formed one of the highways toCanada.
French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America Page 5
