Chapter 4: Ticonderoga.
A joyous farewell to friends at Albany, with anticipation of aspeedy and victorious return thither; a rapid and well-arrangedmarch to Fort Edward and Lake George, where they were gladdened bythe sight of the hardy Rogers and the remnant of his gallant band,embarked in whaleboats, and ready to lead the van or perform anydaring service asked of them; a cheerful embarking upon the lake inthe great multitude of boats and bateaux; bright sunshine overhead,the sound of military music in their ears, flags waving, mencheering and shouting--what expedition could have started underhappier and more joyous auspices?
There were regulars from England--the foremost being theFifty-fifth, commanded by Lord Howe. There were American andHighland regiments, and the provincials from numbers of theprovinces, each in its own uniform and colours. The lake was alivewith above one thousand craft for the transport of this great armywith its heavy artillery, and Rogers declared that Ticonderoga wasas good as their own: for it had only provision to last eight ornine days; and if not at once battered down by the enemy's guns, itcould easily be starved out by a judicious disposition of thetroops.
One night was spent camped halfway down the lake. Lord Howe, withStark and Rogers and Fritz for companions, lay upon his bearskinoverlooking Fritz's diagrams of the fort, taken in past days,listening to what all the three men had to tell of the fortress,both inside and out, and making many plans for the attack upon themorrow.
General Abercromby was with the army; yet it was well known thatLord Howe was the leading spirit, and to him it was that all themen instinctively looked. It was he who upon the morrow, when theyhad reached and passed the Narrows and were drawing near to thefort, reconnoitred the landing place in whaleboats, drove off asmall party of French soldiers who were watching them, but wereunable to oppose them, and superintended the landing of the wholearmy.
The lake here had narrowed down to the dimensions of a river, andit made a considerable bend something like a horseshoe. If thebridge had not been broken down, they could have marched to a pointmuch nearer to Ticonderoga upon a well-trodden road; but the bridgebeing gone, it was necessary to march the army along the west bankof this river-like waterway which connected Lake George with LakeChamplain, for there were too many dangerous rapids for navigationto be possible; and upon the tongue of land jutting out into LakeChamplain, and washed by the waters of this river on its otherside, stood the fortress of Ticonderoga, their goal.
Rogers was their leader. He knew the forest well; yet even he foundit a somewhat difficult matter to pick his way through the densesummer foliage. The columns following found the forest tracksextraordinarily difficult to follow. They were many of them unusedto such rough walking, and fell into inevitable confusion.
Rogers, together with Lord Howe and some of his hardier soldiersand the Rangers, pushed boldly on. Whilst they walked they talkedof what lay before them. Rogers told how Montcalm himself waswithin the fort, and that his presence there inspired the soldierswith great courage and confidence; because he was a fine soldier, avery gallant gentleman, and had had considerable success in armsever since he arrived in Canada.
As the forest tracks grew more densely overgrown, Lord Howe pausedin his rapid walk beside Rogers.
"My men are growing puzzled by the forest," he said, "and indeed itis small wonder, seeing that we ourselves scarce know where we are.Go you on with the Rangers, Rogers, and I will return a shortdistance and get my men into better order. I do not anticipate anambush; but there may be enemies lurking in the woods. We must notbe taken unawares. Push you on, and I will follow with my companyat a short distance."
"I will take a handful of men with me," answered Rogers, "and pushon to reconnoitre. Let the rest remain with you. They willencourage and hearten up the regulars, who are new to this sort ofthing; and when I know more clearly our exact position, I will fallback and report."
Fritz remained with Howe, whose men came marching up in a ratherconfused and straggling fashion, but were only perplexed, not inany wise disheartened, by the roughness of the road. When thecolumn had regained something like marching order, the word wasgiven to start, and Lord Howe with a bodyguard of Rangers marchedat the head.
They had proceeded like this for perhaps a mile or more, when therewas a quick stir in the thicket. Next moment the challenge rangout:
"Qui vive?"
"Francais!" shouted back a Ranger, who had learned Rogers' trick ofpuzzling his opponents by the use of French words.
But this time they were not deceived. A stern word of command wasgiven. A crack of rifles sounded out from the bushes; puffs ofsmoke and flashes of fire were seen.
"Steady, men; load and fire!"
The command was given by Lord Howe. It was the last he ever spoke.The wood rang with the crossfire of the foes who could not see eachother. Fritz had discharged his piece, and was loading again whenhe saw Lord Howe suddenly throw up his hands and fall helplesslyforward.
He sprang to his side with a cry of dismay. He strove to hold himup and support him to some place of safety, but could only lay himdown beneath a tree hard by, where a ring of Rangers instantlyformed around him, whilst the skirmish in the forest was hotlymaintained on both sides.
"He is shot through the heart!" cried Stark, in a lamentable voice,as he hastily examined the wound; and indeed the shadow of deathhad fallen upon the brave, bright, noble face of the young officer.
Just once the heavy lids lifted themselves. Lord Howe looked intothe faces of the two men bending over him, and a faint smile curvedhis lips.
"Keep them steady," he just managed to whisper, and the next momenthis head fell back against Fritz's shoulder. He had passed into theunknown land where the clamour of battle is no more heard.
It was a terrible blow, and consternation spread through the ranksas it became known. Indeed, but for the Rangers, a panic and flightwould probably have followed. But Rogers, Stark, and Fritz were ofsterner stuff than the levies, and more seasoned than the bulk ofregular soldiers.
Rogers had returned instantly upon hearing the firing, and haddischarged a brisk volley upon the French as he dashed throughtheir ranks to regain his companions. Caught between two fires,they were in no small peril, and made a dash for the riverbed; theRangers standing steady and driving them to their destruction,whilst the ranks had time to recover themselves and maintain theirground.
The rout of this body of French soldiers was complete, whilst theEnglish loss was small numerically; but the loss of Howe wasirreparable, and all heart and hope seemed taken out of the gallantarmy which had started forth so full of hope. There was nothing nowto be done but to fall back upon the main army, with the sorrowfultidings of their leader's death, and await the order of GeneralAbercromby as to the next move.
This was done, and the men were kept under arms all night, waitingfor orders which never came. Indecision and procrastination againprevailed, and were again the undoing of the English enterprise.
Still there was no question but that the fort must be attacked, andas the Rangers came in with the news that the French had broken upand deserted a camp they had hitherto held at some sawmills on theriver, a little way from the fort, a detachment of soldiers wassent to take possession of this place. This having been done, and abridge thrown over the river by an able officer of the name ofBradstreet, the army was moved up, and encamped at this place priorto the assault of the fort. Rogers and his Rangers had reconnoitredthe whole place, and were eager to tell their tale.
Fort Ticonderoga occupied a triangular promontory, washed upon twosides by the waters of Lake Champlain and the river-like extremityof Lake George. The landward approach was guarded by a strongrampart of felled trees, which the soldiers had formed into abreastwork and abattis which might almost be called musket-proof.So at least Rogers and his men had judged. They had watched theFrench at their task, and had good reason to know the solidprotection given to the men behind by a rampart of this sort.
He was therefore all eagerness for the cannon to be b
rought up fromthe lake.
"The artillery will make short work of it, General," he said, inhis bluff, abrupt fashion. "It will come rattling about theirheads, and they must take to the walls behind, and these will soongive way before a steady cannonade. Or if we take the cannon up toyonder heights of Rattlesnake Hill, we can fling our round shotwithin their breastwork from end to end, and drive the men backlike rabbits to their burrow; or we can plant a battery at thenarrow mouth of Lake Champlain, and cut off their supplies. Withthe big guns we can beat them in half a dozen ways; but let ourfirst act be to bring them up, for muskets and rifles are of littleuse against such a rampart as they have made, bristling with spikesand living twigs and branches, which baffle assault as you mightscarce believe without a trial."
Rogers spoke with the assurance and freedom of a man used tocommand and certain of his subject. He and Lord Howe had been onterms of most friendly intimacy, and the young Brigadier hadlearned much from the veteran Ranger, whose services had been of somuch value to the English. He would never have taken umbrage atadvice given by a subordinate. But General Abercromby was of adifferent order, and he little liked Rogers' assured manner andbrusque, independent tone. He heard him to the end, but gave anevasive reply, and sent out an engineer on his own account tosurvey the French position, and bring him word what was hisopinion.
This worthy made his survey, and came back full of confidence.
"The rampart is but a hastily-constructed breastwork of felledtrees; it should be easily carried by assault," he reported, fullof careless confidence. "A good bayonet charge, resolutelyconducted, is all that is needed, and we shall be in the fortbefore night."
The soldiers cheered aloud when they heard the news. They werefilled with valour and eagerness, in spite of the death of theirbeloved leader. It seemed as though his spirit inspired them withardent desire to show what they could do; although generalship,alas! had perished with the young Brigadier, who had fallen at suchan untimely moment.
The Rangers looked at one another with grim faces. They would notspeak a word to dishearten the troops; but they knew, far betterthan the raw levies or the English regulars could do, the nature ofthe obstruction to be encountered.
"A bayonet charge by soldiers full of valour is no light thing,"said Pringle to the Ranger, as they stood in the evening lighttalking together. "Resolute men have done wonders before now insuch a charge, and why not we tomorrow?"
"Have you seen the abattis?" asked Rogers, in his grim and brusquefashion.
"No," answered Pringle; "I have only heard it described by thosewho have."
"Come, then, and look at it before it be dark," was Rogers' reply;and he, together with Stark, led Fritz and Pringle and Roche alonga narrow forest pathway which the Rangers were engaged in wideningand improving, ready for the morrow's march, until he was able toshow them, from a knoll of rising ground, the nature of thefortification they were to attack upon the morrow.
The French had shown no small skill in the building of thisbreastwork, which ran along a ridge of high ground behind the fortitself, and commanded the approach towards it from the land side.The whole forest in the immediate vicinity had been felled. It borethe appearance of a tract of ground through which a cyclone haswhirled its way. Great numbers of the trees had been dragged up toform the rampart, but there were hundreds of others, as well asinnumerable roots and stumps, lugs and heads, lying in confusionall around; and Rogers, pointing towards the encumbered tract justbeneath and around the rampart, looked at Pringle and said:
"How do you think a bayonet charge is to be rushed over such groundas that? And what good will our musketry fire be against thosetough wooden walls, directed upon a foe we cannot see, but who canpick us off in security from behind their breastwork? For let metell you that there is great skill shown in its construction. Onthe inside, I doubt not, they can approach close to theirloopholes, which you can detect all along, and take easy aim at us;but on this side it is bristling with pointed stakes, twistedboughs, and treetops so arranged as to baffle and hinder anyattempt at assault. As I told your General, his cannon couldshatter it in a few hours, if he would but bring them to bear. Buta rampart like that is practically bayonet and musket proof. Itwill prove impregnable to assault."
Pringle and Roche exchanged glances. They had seen something offighting before this, but never warfare so strange.
"Would that Lord Howe were living!" exclaimed the younger officer."He would have heard reason; he would have been advised. But theGeneral--"
He paused, and a meaning gesture concluded the sentence. It was notfor them to speak against their commander; but he inspired noconfidence in his men, and it was plainly seen that he was about totake a very ill-judged step.
It is the soldier's fate that he must not rebel or remonstrate orargue; his duty is to obey orders and leave the rest. But thatnight, as the army slept in the camp round the deserted sawmills,there were many whose eyes never closed in slumber. Fritz saw theveteran Campbell sitting in the moonlight, looking straight beforehim with wide, unseeing eyes; and when the grey light of day brokeover the forest, his face was shadowed, as it seemed, by theapproach of death.
"I shall never see another sunrise," he said to Fritz, as thelatter walked up to him; "my span of life will be cut through hereat Ticonderoga."
Fritz made no reply. It seemed to him that many lives would be cutshort upon this fateful day. He wondered whether he should live tosee the shades of evening fall. He had no thought of quailing ordrawing back. He had cast in his lot with the army, and he meant tofight his very best that day; but he realized the hopelessness ofthe contest before them, and although, if the General could only bearoused in time to a sense of his own blunder, and would at theeleventh hour order up the cannon, and take those steps which mightensure success, the tide of battle might soon be turned. Yet no manfelt any confidence in him as a leader, and it was only theignorant soldiers, unaware of what lay before them, who rose togreet the coming day with hope and confidence in their hearts.
But it was something that they should start forth with so high acourage. Even if they were going to their death, it was better theyshould believe that they were marching forth to victory. Theycheered lustily as they received the order, which was to carry thebreastwork by a bayonet charge; and only the Rangers saw the grimsmile which crossed the face of Rogers as he heard that word given.
Yet he and his gallant band of Rangers were in the van. They didnot shrink from the task before them, although they knew betterthan others the perils and difficulties by which it was beset. Theyhad widened the path; they led the way. There was no more confusionin the line of march.
The General remained behind at the sawmills, to direct theoperations of the whole army, as there were other slighterenterprises to be undertaken upon the same day, though the assaultof the protecting rampart was the chief one. News was to be broughtto him at short intervals of the course the fight was taking. Itwas Rogers' great hope that he would soon be made aware of theimpossibility of the task he had set his soldiers, and would sendinstant and urgent orders for the cannon to be brought up to theaid of his foot soldiers.
Full of hope and confidence the columns pressed forward, tillshortly after midday they emerged from the shelter of the forest,and saw before them the broken space of open ground, with itsencumbering mass of stumps and fallen timber, and behind that thegrim rampart, where all looked still as death. They formed intoline quickly and without confusion and then, with an enthusiasticcheer, made a dash for the barrier.
The Rangers and light infantry in front began to fire as theyadvanced; but the main body of soldiers held their bayonets inposition, and strove after an orderly advance. But over such groundorder was impossible. They had to clamber, to scramble, to cuttheir way as best they could. The twigs and branches blinded them;they fell over the knotted roots; they became disordered andscattered, though their confidence remained unshaken.
Then suddenly, when they were half across the open space, came thelong crack and bla
ze from end to end of the rampart; smoke seemedto gush and flash out from one extremity to the other. Sharp criesof agony and dismay, shouts and curses, filled the air. The Englishfell in dozens amid the fallen trees, and those behind rushedforward over the bodies of their doomed companions.
It was in vain to try to carry the rampart by the bayonet. Thesoldiers drew up and fired all along their line; but of what availwas it to fire upon an enemy they could not see, whilst theythemselves were a target for the grapeshot and musketballs whichswept in a deadly cross fire through their ranks? But they wouldnot fall back. Headed by the Rangers, who made rapid way over therough and encumbered ground, they pressed on, undaunted by the hailof iron about them, and inflamed to fury by the fall of theircomrades around them.
It was an awful scene. It was branded upon the memory of thesurvivors in characters of fire.
Fritz kept in the foremost rank, unable to understand why he wasnot shot down. He reached the rampart, and was halfway up, when hewas clutched by the hands of a man in front, who in his death agonyknew not what he did, and the two rolled into the ditch together.
For a moment all was suffocation and horror. Unwounded, but buriedand battered, with his musket torn from his grasp, Fritz struggledout through the writhing heap of humanity, and saw that the head ofthe column had fallen back for a breathing space, though with theevident intention of re-forming and dashing again to the charge.
The firing from the rampart still continued; but Fritz made asuccessful dash back to the lines, and reached them in safety. Hewas known by this time as an experienced Ranger, and was takenaside by Bradstreet, the officer in command of the light infantrythat with the Rangers headed the charge.
The gallant officer was wounded and breathless, and was seated upona fallen trunk.
"Neville," he said, "I know that you are fleet of foot and stout ofheart. I would have you return to the camp on the instant, with amessage for the General. Tell him how things are here, and thatthis rampart is to the utmost as impregnable as Rogers warned us.Our men are falling thick and fast, and although full of courage,cannot do the impossible. Beg him to order the guns to be broughtup, for without them we are helpless against the enemy."
Fritz knew this right well, and took the message.
"We shall make another charge immediately," Bradstreet said inconclusion. "We shall not fail to carry out our orders; but I havelittle hope of success. We can do almost nothing against theFrench, whilst they mow us down by hundreds. No men can hold on atsuch odds for long. Go quickly, and bring us word again, for we arelike to be cut to pieces.
"You are not wounded yourself?"
"No; I have escaped as by a miracle. I will run the whole distanceand take the message. Would that the General had listened tocounsel before!"
Bradstreet made a gesture of assent, but said nothing. Fritz spedthrough the forest, hot and breathless, yet straining every nerveto reach his goal.
It was a blazing day where the shade of the forest was not found,and this made the fighting all the harder. Fritz's heart was heavywithin him for the lives thrown away so needlessly. When he reachedthe tent of the General, and was ushered into his presence, burningwords rushed to his lips, and it was only with an effort that hecommanded himself to speak calmly of the fight and deliver themessage with which he was charged.
General Abercromby listened and frowned, and looked about him asthough to take counsel with his officers. But the best of thesewere away at the fight, and those with him were few andinsignificant and inexperienced.
"Surely a little resolution and vigour would suffice to carry aninsignificant breastwork, hastily thrown up only a few days ago,"he said, unwilling to confess himself in the wrong. "I will orderup the Highland regiments to your aid. With their assistance youcan make another charge, and it will be strange if you cannot carryall before you."
Fritz compressed his lips, and his heart sank.
"I will give you a line to Colonel Bradstreet. Tell him thatreinforcements are coming, and that another concerted attack mustbe made. It will be time enough to talk of sending for theartillery when we see the result of that."
A few lines were penned by the General and entrusted to Fritz, whodashed back with burning heart to where the fight still raged sofiercely. He heard the bagpipes of the Highlanders skirling behindas he reached the opening in the forest. He knew that these bravemen could fight like tigers; but to what avail, he thought, were somany gallant soldiers to be sent to their death?
The fighting in his absence had been hot and furious, but nothinghad been done to change the aspect of affairs. Intrepid men hadassaulted the rampart, and even leaped upon and over it, only tomeet their death upon the other side.
Once a white flag had been seen waving over the rampart, and for amoment hope had sprung up that the enemy was about to surrender. Thefiring for that brief space had been suspended, the English raisingtheir muskets over their heads and crying "Quarter!"--meaning thatthey would show mercy to the foe; the French thinking that they werecoming to give themselves up as prisoners of war. The signal hadmerely been waved by a young captain in defiance to the foe. He hadtied his handkerchief to his musket in his excitement, without anyintention to deceive. But the incident aroused a bitter feeling. TheEnglish shouted out that the French were seeking to betray them, andthe fight was resumed with such fury that for a brief while therampart was in real danger of being taken, and the French Generalwas in considerable anxiety.
But the odds were too great. The gallant assailants were drivenback, and when Fritz arrived with his news there was again a slightcessation in the vehemence of the attack.
Bradstreet eagerly snatched at the letter and opened it. Fritz'sface had told him something; the written words made assurancedoubly sure.
He tore the paper across, and set his foot upon it.
"We can die but once," he said briefly; "but it goes to my heart tosee these brave fellows led like sheep to the slaughter. Englandwill want to know the reason why when this story is told at home."
The Highlanders were soon upon the scene of action filled to thebrim with the stubborn fury with which they were wont to fight. Attheir head marched their Major, the dark-faced Inverawe, his sononly a little behind.
The arrival of reinforcements put new heart into the gallant butexhausted regiments which had led the attack; and now theHighlanders were swarming about the foot of the rampart, seeking toscale its bristling sides, often gaining the top, by using thebodies of their slain countrymen as ladders, but only to be cutdown upon the other side.
The Major cheered on his men. The shadow was gone from his facenow. In the heat of the battle he had no thought left for himself.His kinsmen and clansmen were about him. He was ever in the van.One young chieftain with some twenty followers was on the top ofthe rampart, hacking and hewing at those behind, as if possessed ofsuperhuman strength. The Highlanders, with their strange cries andyells, pressed ever on and on. But the raking fire from behind theabattis swept their ranks, mowed them down, and strewed the groundwith dying and dead.
Like a rock stood Campbell of Inverawe, his eyes everywhere,directing, encouraging, cheering on his men, who needed not hiswords to inspire them with unquenchable fury.
Suddenly his tall figure swayed forward. Without so much as a cryhe fell. There was a rush towards him of his own clansmen. Theylifted him, and bore him from the scene of action. It was the endof the assault. The Highlanders who had scaled the rampart had allbeen bayoneted within. Nearly two thousand men, wounded or dead,lay in that terrible clearing. It was hopeless to fight longer. Allthat man could do had been done. The recall was sounded, and thebrave troops, given over to death and disaster by the incompetenceof one man, were led back to the camp exhausted and despairing; theRangers still doing good service in carrying off the wounded, andkeeping up a steady fire whilst this task was being proceeded with.
General Abercromby's terror at the result of the day's work was aspitiful as his mismanagement had been. There was no talk now ofretrieving p
ast blunders; there was nothing but a general rout--aretreat upon Fort Edward as fast as boats could take them. Oneblunder was capped by another. Ticonderoga was left to the French,when it might have been an easy prey to the English. The day ofdisaster was not yet ended, though away in the east the star ofhope was rising.
It was at Fort Edward that the wounded laird of Inverawe breathedhis last. His wound had been mortal, and he was barely living whenthey landed him on the banks of Lake George.
"Donald, you are avenged!" he said once, a few minutes before hisdeath. "We have met at Ticonderoga!"
French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America Page 12
