Book 3: Disaster.
Chapter 1: A Tale Of Woe.
The intrepidity of the officer in command, and the alertness andcourage of the Rangers, had saved Fort William Henry from onethreatened disaster.
When the French had fairly retreated, after having been forced tocontent themselves with the burning of the boats and the unfinishedsloop and certain of the surrounding huts and buildings, theEnglish found out from their prisoners how great their peril hadbeen. For the French force sent against them had been a strong one,well equipped, and hopeful of surprising the place and carrying itby a coup de main.
Failing in this, they had made a show of hostility, but had notreally attempted anything very serious. The season was againstanything like a settled siege, and they had retreated quickly totheir own quarters.
But this attack was only to be the prelude to one on a verydifferent scale already being organized at headquarters. TheEnglish heard disquieting rumours from all quarters, and turnedeager eyes towards England and their own colonies from whence helpshould come to them, for their numbers were terribly thinned bydisease, and death in many forms had taken off pretty well a thirdof their number.
Rogers himself had been attacked by smallpox, and upon his recoveryhe and the large body of the Rangers betook themselves to the woodsand elsewhere, preferring the free life of the forest, with itsmanifold adventures and perils, to the monotonous life in anunhealthy fort.
But Fritz remained behind. When Rogers left he was not fit toaccompany him, having been suffering from fever, though he hadescaped the scourge of smallpox. He had felt the death of Charles agood deal. He had become attached to the strange, half-crazed manwho had been his special comrade for so long. It seemed likesomething wanting in his life when his care was no longer required byany one person. Indeed all the Rangers missed their white-headed,wild-eyed, sharp-eared recruit; and as the saying is, many a betterman could better have been spared.
Stark went with Rogers, too much the true Ranger now to be leftbehind. Fritz intended to follow them as soon as he was wellenough. Meantime he had formed a warm friendship with two youngofficers lately come to the fort with the new commander, ColonelMonro--one of them being Captain Pringle, and the other a younglieutenant of the name of Roche.
Colonel Monro was a Scotchman, a brave man and a fine soldier.Those under his command spoke of him in terms of warm and lovingadmiration. Fritz heard of some of his achievements from his newfriends, and in his turn told them of his own adventures and of thelife he had led during the past two years.
"We have heard of the Rangers many a time and oft," cried Roche."We had thought of offering ourselves to Rogers as volunteers; butmen are so sorely wanted for the regular army and the militia thatour duty seemed to point that way. But I should like well to followthe fortunes of the hardy Rogers."
It was true indeed that men were sorely wanted at Fort WilliamHenry. Colonel Monro looked grave and anxious as he examined itsdefences. It was an irregular bastioned square, built of gravel andearth, crowned by a rampart of heavy logs, and guarded by ditcheson three sides, and by the lake on the north. But it was not strongenough to stand a very heavy assault, although it was provided withseventeen cannons, besides some mortars and swivels.
The garrison numbered at this time something over two thousand; butthere were many sick amongst these, and sickness was inclined tospread, to the grave anxiety of the commander.
Fourteen miles away to the south lay Fort Edward, and General Webbwas there with some fifteen hundred men. He had sent on as many menas he felt able to spare some short time before, in response to anappeal from Colonel Monro. Disquieting rumours of an advance fromTiconderoga were every day coming to their ears. Summer was at itsheight, and if a blow were to be struck, it would certainly besoon.
A scouting party was sent out under the command of a certainColonel Parker, in order to learn the strength of the enemy andwhat they were about. Three days passed in anxious suspense, and asnothing was heard of the scouting party, Fritz begged leave to goforth with a handful of men to look for them, promising not toexpose himself or them to danger. As he knew the forest so well,and was an experienced Ranger, leave was quickly obtained, andPringle and Roche were permitted to be of the company.
They started with the first dawn of the summer's morning; but theyhad not gone far before they came upon traces of their companions.Fritz's quick eyes saw tracks in the forest which bespoke the nearneighbourhood of Indians, and this made them all proceed with greatcaution. The tracks, however, were some days old, he thought, andled away to the westward. At one spot he pointed out to hiscompanions certain indications which convinced him that a largenumber of Indians had lately been lying there.
"Pray Heaven it has not been an ambush sent to outwit and overpowerour men!" he said. "What would those raw lads from New Jersey do ifsuddenly confronted by a crew of yelling Indians? I trust I am nocoward myself, but the sound of that awful war whoop thrills mestill with a kind of horror; it has been the forerunner of many atragedy to the white man out in wildernesses such as this."
"I have heard it once," said Pringle, with an expressive gesture,"and I could well wish never to hear it again, did not duty to Kingand country drive me willingly forth to fight against these duskysavages, who make of these fair lands a veritable hell upon earth.
"Hark! what is that?"
It was like the sound of a faint cry not so very far away. Theylistened, and it was presently repeated. Fritz started forward at arun.
"That is no Indian voice," he exclaimed; "it is one of our mencalling for aid. He has heard our voices."
Followed by the rest of the party, Fritz ran forward, and soon cameout into a more open glade, commanded by the ridge where he hadobserved the signs of Indian occupation. As he did so he uttered astartled exclamation, which was repeated in all kinds of keys bythose who came after. For in this glade lay the bodies of fullfifty of their soldiers, for the most part stripped and scalped;and the place was so trodden and bloodstained as to show plainlythat it had been the scene of a bloody conflict.
Crawling forth from a little sheltered gorge was a wan, dishevelledfigure, bloodstained and ghastly. And Fritz, springing forward,caught the lad in his strong arms, whilst he fell to feeble sobbingin the plenitude of his thankfulness and relief.
When he was fed and heartened up he had a terrible tale to tell.
It had been as Fritz thought. A party of Indians had been crouchingin the forest, and had fallen upon the company unawares. ColonelParker had not been wise. He had divided his men into twocompanies. One had gone by boats, and one had skirted through theforest. What had happened to the boats the lad could not tell. Hehad been one of the very few survivors of the land party, and heowed his escape to his having fallen wounded and breathless intothe little cleft in the rocks hidden by the thick undergrowth, sothat the Indians did not find him when they made their search afterscalps and accoutrements.
Crouching amongst the bushes, half fainting from terror, the ladhad seen it all.
"They scalped them one by one, yelling and shouting and dancing.They cared not whether they were dead or not. Oh, it was horrible,horrible! They lighted a fire to burn some of the prisoners, anddanced around it yelling and jeering as their victims died. Oh, Ican never forget the sight! Every moment I thought they would findme. I thought of all the things I had heard that savages did totheir prisoners. If I had had my sword, I would have run it throughmy heart. But I had nothing, and presently I suppose I fainted, forI can remember no more; and when I woke they had all gone, and onlythe bodies lay about beside me. They had taken off their own dead;but I durst not come out, lest they should come back and find me,and I did not know where I was.
"There was water in the brook, or I should have died; and I used tocrawl out and drink, and go and hide myself again. And last of allI heard English voices, and called out; and that is all I can tellyou."
They made a litter and carried the lad back to the fort, where helay tossing in fever for many a
long day to come. It was evil newsthat they had for their comrades; and it was not more cheering whenstragglers from the scouting party came back by twos and threes,all with the same tale. The Indians were overrunning all theforests and lakes. They had mustered around the French camp byhundreds and thousands, and were scouring the woods everywhere,under no sort of discipline, excited, rebellious, rapacious, yettoo useful as allies not to be humoured by those who had summonedthem to their aid.
All had horrid tales to tell of cannibal feasts, and of the savagetreatment of prisoners. Some declared they had seen French officersand ecclesiastics striving to interfere, but that the Indians paidno manner of heed to them.
"There was a young priest who saw them eating human flesh at theirfire, and he came up and rebuked them. I was sitting by. I had acord round my neck. Sweat was pouring from me, for I knew I shouldbe the next victim. They looked at the priest, and one young Indiancried out in French, 'You have French taste, I have Indian; this isgood meat for me. Taste it yourself, and see if you cannot learn tolike it too!' Whereat all the rest laughed aloud. But the priestrebuked them again, and offered money if they would give me up; andpresently they did, though rather against their will. They weresending some prisoners to Montreal, and I was to have gone there,too; but in the night I escaped, and as I knew something of theforest, I have got back safe and sound."
Tales like these came pouring in as the survivors struggled back tothe fort. All were agreed that the Indians were very numerous andvery fierce, and it was said by all that the muster of the Frenchseemed to be very strong.
Anxiety and fear reigned throughout the fort. Fritz almost livedupon the lake in his boat, watching for the first signs of theenemy's approach. That a great part of it would come by water hedid not doubt. And sometimes he would leave his boat in a creek,and climb some adjacent height, from whence he could scan thesurface of the lake, and see what was stirring there.
Roche was his companion on those excursions; and the two hadclimbed together to a commanding height, when upon the dawn of aglorious midsummer morning they saw the long-expected flotillacovering the lake and making headway up it.
What a sight it was! The hearts of the onlookers seemed to standstill within them as they looked. And yet it was a magnificentspectacle. Myriads and myriads of Indian canoes like flocks ofwaterfowl seemed swarming everywhere, whilst from two to threehundred bateaux conveyed the French and Canadian soldiers. Thenthere were great platforms bearing the heavy guns, and rowed byhuge sweeps, as well as being assisted by the bateaux; whilst theblaze of colour formed by the uniforms of the various battalionsformed in itself a picture which had seldom been seen in thesesavage solitudes.
"We shall have our work cut out to face such odds!" cried Fritz, ashe turned to dash down the hill and regain his canoe. But Rochelaid a hand upon his arm, and pointed significantly in anotherdirection.
Fritz looked, and a smothered exclamation, almost like a groan,broke from him.
Far away through the mazes of the forest, skirting round towardsthe doomed fort by a road parallel with the lake, was a large bodyof troops--how large the spectators could not guess, but they sawenough to tell them that it was a very considerable detachment.Such an army as the one now marching upon Fort William Henry hadnot been seen there before. To those who knew the weakness of thefort and of its garrison it seemed already as though the day werelost.
Moreover these men knew that the great Marquis de Montcalm himselfwas coming this time to take personal command, and his nameinspired respect and a certain fear. He was known to be a generalof considerable distinction; it was felt that there would be noblundering when he was at the head of the expedition.
To fly back to the fort with these ominous tidings was but the workof a few short hours. In a moment all was stir and bustle. Thesoldiers were not to be disheartened. They were ready and almosteager for the battle, having become weary of inaction and suspense.But the face of Colonel Monro was grave and stern, and he calledFritz aside presently and conferred with him apart.
"I must send a messenger to Fort Edward to General Webb, to reportto him our sorry plight. He has said that he can spare no more men;but this extremity of ours should be told him. Think you that youcan take a letter safely to him? You Rangers are the best ofmessengers; and you have seen this great armament, and can speakwith authority concerning it. Tell him how sore our need is. It maybe that he can hurry up the reinforcements, or that they may bealready on their way. Even a few hundreds would be better thannone. At least he should know our need."
Fritz was ready in a moment to take the message, but he had smallhope of any result, and he saw that the brave Colonel had littleeither. General Webb was a man upon whose courage and generalshipseveral aspersions had already been cast. If ever he was to regainconfidence and show these aspersions to be untrue, this was thetime to show himself in his true colours. But it was with noconfidence that Fritz set forth upon his errand.
Not long ago General Webb had visited the fort, and had givencertain orders and had spoken brave words about coming to commandin person should need arise; but he had returned to Fort Edward thefollowing day, and had then sent the reinforcements which were allhe was able to spare. It remained to be seen whether he wouldfulfil his promise when he knew that the attack of the enemy mightbe expected every hour.
Fritz rode in hot haste to the fort and asked for the General. Hebrought news of urgency, he told them, and was instantly shown tothe General's quarters. He stood in silence whilst the letter whichFritz brought was opened and read; then he abruptly asked the tallyoung Ranger what it was he had seen.
Fritz told his tale in simple, graphic words, the General marchingup and down the room meantime, evidently in some perturbation ofspirit; but all he said at the close was:
"Go back and tell Colonel Monro that I have no troops here which Ican safely withdraw, but that I have sent, and will send, expressesto the provinces for help."
Fritz was too much the soldier to make reply. He bowed and retired,well knowing that no express sent to New England could be of thesmallest service now. It was with a bitter sense of failure that hetook the fresh horse provided for him and made all speed back tothe camp.
The road was still clear, but how long it would remain so there wasno knowing. Swarms of Indians were drawing around them. If succourdid not come quickly, it would arrive too late.
Monro received the message in silence, and continued to strengthenhis own defences as best he might. The next day brought the enemyfull in view, and the numbers of the hostile host astonished thoughthey did not dismay the brave little garrison.
Once more Monro sent forth Fritz with a letter to the General.
"The French are upon us," he wrote, "both by land and water. Theyare well supplied with artillery, which will make sad havoc of ourdefences, for these, you have seen for yourself, are none of thestrongest. Nevertheless the garrison are all in good spirits, andeager to do their duty. I make no doubt that you will send us areinforcement, for we are very certain that a part of the enemywill soon get possession of the road, and in that case ourcondition would become very serious."
Again Fritz was entrusted with this letter; again he made the rapidnight journey over the familiar road.
This time he was not admitted to the General's presence, and afterhe had remained at Fort Edward about an hour and had beenrefreshed, a message came to say that General Webb had received theletter and considered it, but could make no other reply than he haddone the previous day.
"Then God help us," said the Scotch veteran when this message wasbrought him, "for vain is the help of man!"
And although he went about the fort with as calm and cheerful amien as before, he was certain in his own heart that Fort WilliamHenry was now doomed.
"They are surrounding us on all sides," cried Roche, as soon asFritz appeared upon the ramparts with his disheartening message,which, however, he kept for the moment to himself. "See, they areworking their way through the forest to the rear, just beyond
ourrange. Soon we shall be hemmed in, and they will bring up theirguns. We have done what we can for these poor walls; but they willnot long stand the cannonade of all those guns we see lying yonderon the platoons upon the lake."
"We must hope that the militia from the provinces will come upbefore their preparations are complete," said Fritz. "They shouldbe on their way by now. But delay and procrastination have evermarked our methods through this war. Nevertheless the men are ingood spirits; they are eager for the fight to begin. I marvel attheir courage, seeing how great are the odds. But even the sickseemed fired by martial ardour!"
It was so. The long inaction of the winter and spring had beenwearisome and disheartening. It was impossible for the soldiers todoubt that they would receive help from without now that it wasknown that the enemy was actually upon them. Moreover, they allknew, and some remembered, how the assault of a few months back hadbeen repulsed; and not realizing the different scale upon whichthis one was to be conducted, were full of hopeful confidence andemulation.
Before hostilities actually commenced, Colonel Monro summoned hisofficers about him. Great excitement prevailed in the fort, for itwas known that a messenger had been admitted under a flag of truce,and that he brought a letter from the Marquis de Montcalm. It wasto the reading of this letter that Monro invited his officers.
"We have to deal with an honourable foe, gentlemen," said theveteran, looking at those about him, "as you will know when I readto you his words. 'I owe it to humanity,' so writes M. de Montcalm,'to summon you to surrender. At present I can restrain the savages,and make them observe the terms of a capitulation, as I might nothave power to do under other circumstances; and the most obstinatedefence on your part can only retard the capture of the place a fewdays, and endanger an unfortunate garrison which cannot berelieved, in consequence of the dispositions I have made. I demanda decisive answer within an hour.' That, gentlemen, is the messagebrought to us. What answer shall we return to our high-mindedadversary?"
There was only one word in the mouths of all.
"No surrender! no surrender!" they called aloud, waving theirswords in the air; and the cry was taken up by those without, andreached the soldiers upon the ramparts, and the welkin rang withthe enthusiastic shout:
"No surrender! no surrender!"
By this time the Indians were swarming about close outside theramparts, and hearing this cry and knowing its meaning, they lookedup and gesticulated fiercely.
"You won't surrender, eh?" bawled in broken French an old Indianchief. "Fire away then and fight your best; for if we catch youafter this, you shall get no quarter!"
The response to this threat was the heavy boom of the cannon asFort William Henry discharged its first round of artillery.
For a moment it produced immense effect amongst the swarms ofpainted savages, who scuttled away yelling with fear; for thoughwell used to the sound of musketry, and having considerable skillwith firearms themselves, they had never heard the roar of big gunsbefore, and the screaming of the shells as they whistled overheadfilled them with terror and amaze.
They were intensely eager for the French guns to be got intoposition, and were a perfect nuisance to the regular soldiers, asthey worked with intrepid industry at their trenches and mounds.But before long even the Indians were satisfied with the prolongedroar of artillery, which lasted day after day, day after day;whilst within their walls the brave but diminished garrison lookedvainly for succour, and examined with a sinking heart theirdiminished store of ammunition and their cracked and overheatedguns.
"It cannot go on long like this," the officers said one to theother. "What is the General doing over yonder? He must hear by theheavy firing what straits we are in. He knows the condition of thefort. He should risk and dare everything to come to our aid. Ifthis fort is lost, then our western frontier has lost its onlypoint of defence against the inroads of Indians and theencroachments of France."
A few days later and a cry went up from the walls, "A white flag! awhite flag!" and for a moment a wild hope surged up in the heartsof the soldiers that the enemy had grown tired of the game of war,and had some proposal to make.
The messenger brought a letter. It was not from the Frenchcommander himself, though it was delivered with a courteous messagefrom him. It had been found upon the body of a white man slain bythe Indians a few days before, and brought to the French camp. TheMarquis de Montcalm had read it, and sent it now to the person forwhom it was intended.
"Give my thanks," said Monro, "to the Marquis for his courtesy, andtell him that it is a joy to me to have to do with so generous afoe."
But the letter thus received was one of evil omen to the haplessgarrison. It came from General Webb, and repeated that, untilreinforced from the provinces, he could do nothing for the garrisonof Fort William Henry; and advised Colonel Monro to make the bestterms that he could with the enemy, who were plainly too strong forhim to withstand.
It was time indeed for the gallant little garrison to think ofsurrender. Men and officers stood in knots together gloomilysurveying the scene.
"We have done what men can do," said Captain Pringle to his friendsFritz and Roche; "but where are we now? A third of our men are sickand wounded. Almost all our big guns are burst. The enemy'strenches are being pushed nearer and nearer, and there are stillmore of their guns to be brought to bear. Our wall is breached; Imarvel they have not already made an assault. There is nothing forit but surrender, if we can obtain honourable terms of capitulation."
"Nay, rather let us die sword in hand and face to foe!" criedRoche, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Let us make a lastdesperate sortie, and see if we cannot drive the enemy from theirposition. Anything is better than dying here like rats in a hole! Aforlorn hope is better than none. Why should we not at least cutour way out to the free forest, if we cannot rout the enemy anddrive them back whence they came?"
"The life of the free forest would mean death to those raw lads whohave come out from England or from the provinces," said Fritzgravely. "It would be hardly more than a choice of deaths; and yetI would sooner die sword in hand, hewing my way to freedom, thancooped up between walls where every shot begins to tell, and wherethe dead can scarce be buried for the peril to the living."
And indeed the position of affairs was so deplorable that a councilwas held by Monro; and it was agreed that if any desired to makethis last sortie, either for life and liberty for themselves, or inthe last forlorn hope of driving the enemy from their position, itmight be attempted; but if it failed, there was nothing for it butcapitulation, if honourable terms could be had, or if not to die attheir posts, fighting to the very last.
A cheer went up from the men when they heard these words. If theyhad well nigh lost hope, their courage was not quenched, and alarge band volunteered for the sortie. Fritz and Roche were amongstthese, but Pringle remained behind in the fort.
"I will stand by the Colonel and the sinking ship," he said. "It isbut a choice of evils. I doubt if any of us will see the light ofmany more days. I prefer the chances of war to the unknown horrorsof the forest filled with savages."
He laid a hand upon Roche's arm and looked affectionately into theboyish brave young face. Then he turned to Fritz.
"If you should get through, take care of the lad. You are a Ranger;you know the forest well. If any can escape safely thither, it willbe you and such as you. But don't forsake the boy--don't let himfall alive into the hands of the Indians; kill him yourself sooner.And now fare well, and God bless you both: for I think that on thisearth we shall meet no more."
"Nay, why think that?" cried Roche eagerly; "stranger things havehappened before now than that we should all live to tell the taleof these days."
Pringle shook his head; whilst Fritz wrung his hand and said:
"At least remember this: if you should wish to have news of us, askit of Rogers' Rangers, who are always to be heard of in theseparts. If we escape, it is to Rogers we shall find our way. He willbe glad enough to welcome us, and from any of
his Rangers you willhear news of us if we ever reach his ranks."
There was no sleep for the fort that night. Indeed the hot summernights were all too short for any enterprise to be undertaken then.The glow in the western sky had scarcely paled before there mighthave been seen creeping forth through the battered gateway fileafter file of soldiers, as well equipped as their circumstancesallowed--silent, stealthy, eager for the signal which should launchthem against the intrenched foe so close at hand.
But alas for them, they had foes wily, watchful, lynx-eyed, ever onthe watch for some such movement. Hardly had they got clear oftheir protecting walls and ditches, when, with a horrid yell,hundreds and thousands of dusky Indians leaped up from the groundand rushed frantically towards them. The next moment the boom ofguns overhead told that the French camp had been alarmed. Theregular soldiers would be upon them in a few minutes, driving themback to the fort, killing and wounding, and leaving the Indians tobutcher and scalp at their leisure. The fearful war whoop wasringing in their ears. The line wavered--broke; the men made afrantic rush backwards towards their lines.
"Don't fly!" cried Roche suddenly to Fritz, at whose side hemarched; "let us cut our way through, or die doing it. It is deathwhichever way we turn. Let us die like men, with our faces and notour backs to the foe!"
"Come then!" cried Fritz, upon whom had fallen one of those strangebursts of desperate fury which give a man whilst it lasts thestrength of ten.
With a wild bound he sprang forward, bursting through the ranks ofIndians like the track of a whirlwind, scattering them right andleft, hewing, hacking, cutting! Roche was just behind or at hisside; the two seemed invulnerable, irresistible, possessed of somesupernatural strength. The Indians in amaze gave way right andleft, and turned their attention to the flying men, who were easierto deal with than this strange couple.
A shout went up that the devil was abroad, and the Indian, eversuperstitious, shrank away from these stalwart figures, believingthem to be denizens from some other world; whilst the Frenchsoldiers, who might have felt very differently, had not yet so farequipped themselves as to be ready to come out from their lines.
Fritz had marked his line with care. Only upon one small sectionbetween lake and forest was there any possible passage withoutperil from the French lines, and that was by skirting the head ofthe lake just where their own intrenched camp, now almost in ruins,gave them shelter.
The woodsman's and the Ranger's instinct kept true within him evenin the confusion and darkness. He never deflected from his line.
"This way! this way!" he called to Roche in smothered tones, asthey heard the sound of the fight growing fainter behind them. Hetook the lad's hand, and plunged into the marshy hollow. He knewthat none would follow them there; the ground was too treacherous.But there was a path known to himself which he could find blindfoldby day or night.
He pulled his comrade along with a fierce, wild haste, till at acertain point he paused. There was a little cavernous shelter inthe midst of the morass, and here the pair sank down breathless andexhausted.
"We are saved!" gasped Roche, clasping his comrade by the hand.
"For the moment--yes," answered Fritz; "but what of afterwards?"
French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America Page 9
