Читать книгу: «The Riflemen of the Ohio: A Story of the Early Days along "The Beautiful River"», страница 20

A glow appeared in the eyes of Braxton Wyatt.

"I'll stick to you fast enough," he said.

"Do it," said Girty in a tone of confidence, "and you can have all the revenge you want upon the boy, Ware, his comrades, and all the rest of them. Maybe you won't have to wait long, either."

"That is, if we take the fort," said Wyatt.

"Yes, if we take the fort, and I'm specially anxious to take it now, because Dan'l Boone is in it. I don't hate Boone more than I do others, but he's a mighty good man to have out of our way."

McKee, Eliot, Quarles, and Blackstaffe joined them, and long after the twilight had gone and the night had come they talked of their wicked plans.

CHAPTER XXIII
ON THE OFFENSIVE

Boone, Kenton, Henry, Sol, and Ross were returning in the night through the forest. They had stolen near enough to the Indian camp to see something of what had occurred, and now and then a word of the speech of Timmendiquas had reached them. But they did not need to see everything or to hear everything. They were too familiar with all the signs to make any mistake, and they knew that the savage horde was preparing for another great attack.

"I was hopin'," said Daniel Boone, "that they'd go away, but I didn't have any faith in my hope. They think they've got to hit hard to keep us back, an' they're right. I s'pose these are the finest huntin' grounds in the world, an' I wouldn't want to give them up, either."

"The attack led by Timmendiquas will be most determined," said Henry. "What do you think we ought to do, Mr. Boone?"

"Hit first, an' hit with all our might," said Boone with emphasis. "Mr. Colfax is takin' ammunition to the east, but he's got to use some of it here."

A happy thought occurred to Henry.

"They had cannon, which we sunk," he said, "and of course they've got a lot of ammunition for these guns left. What if we should capture it? It would more than make up for what he will have to expend."

"And why couldn't we raise them guns?" said Shif'less Sol. "It ain't likely that the explosion tore 'em up much, jest sunk 'em, an' even ef they wuz dented about a bit they could be fixed up all right."

"That is certainly worth thinkin' about," said Boone. "We must lay that notion before Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite. If the guns are raised it ought to be done to-night."

They hurried toward the spot where they had left their canoe, but they did not forget caution. Their message was too important for the messengers to be caught by scouting Indian bands. They trod softly, and stopped at frequent intervals to listen, hearing now and then the hoot of owl or whine of wolf. They knew that the warriors were signaling to one another, but they felt equally sure that these signals had no reference to themselves, and they pressed steadily on until they came to the river.

They found their canoe untouched, and rowed out into the middle of the stream, where they stopped at Daniel Boone's command.

"You know just where them boats were when you sunk 'em?" he said to Henry.

Henry pointed to a spot upon the water.

"It was within three feet of that place," he replied. "I'd stake anything upon it."

"Then it'll 'pear strange to me if they don't belong to us before mornin'," said Boone. "The fleet has all kinds of men, an' some of 'em will know about raisin' things out of water. What do you say, Simon?"

"Why, that them cannon are just as good as ours already," replied Kenton with energy.

Boone laughed softly.

"Always the same Simon," he said. "You see a thing that ought to be done, an' to you it's as good as done. I don't know but that it's well for a man to feel that way. It helps him over a heap of rough places."

The boat resumed the passage, and without interruption reached the further shore, where they hid it again, and then entered the woods on their way to the fort.

"All of us must talk mighty strong about this attack," said Boone. "We must hit while we're all together, an' we must make Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite feel the truth of what we're sayin'. If the Indians have the biggest force that was ever gathered here, so have we, an' that mustn't be forgot."

Daniel Boone spoke with great emphasis. His usually mild voice rose a little, and his words came forth sharp and strong. Henry felt that he told the truth, a truth most important, and he resolved, boy though he was, to second the famous woodsman's words, with all his power.

They reached the fort without incident, noticing with pleasure that communication between fort and fleet was still sustained by a strong double line of sentinels. Daniel Boone asked at once for a conference with Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite, and it was held in the chief room of a great, double log house, the largest in the place. Besides the two commanders, the five, Drouillard, Thrale, Lyon, Cole, Wilmot, and several others of importance were present. Boone, as became his experience and fame, was the first spokesman, and he laid before the commanders and their lieutenants all that the party had seen and heard. He urged with great vigor the necessity of attack. He believed that they would have a much greater chance of victory if they struck first instead of standing on the defensive, and he spoke, also, of the cannon in the river, and the ammunition for them in the Indian camp. If they were successful, the ammunition taken from the Indians would more than fill the place of that used by the fleet in the battle. The eyes of Adam Colfax glowed appreciatively at the mention of the cannon.

"It would be a great thing for us," he said, "if we could arrive at Pittsburgh with more cannon than we started with at New Orleans. We've got divers and the best of boatmen in our fleet, and I'm in favor of going out at once to salvage those guns."

"An' do we attack?" asked Boone persistently. "Remember there is a great treasure in the Indian camp, the ammunition they brought for the guns, which you can take with you to Pittsburgh. The harder we strike now the better it will be for us hereafter."

The stern face of Adam Colfax began to work. The battle light came into his eyes.

"I'm a good member of the church," he said, "and I'm a man of peace, that is, I want to be, though it seems to me that Providence has often set my feet in other ways, and I believe that what you tell us, Mr. Boone, is true. If we don't strike hard at this chief Timmendiquas and his men, they will strike hard at us. I shall put it to the men in my fleet; if they favor it we will go. What do you say about yours, Major?"

Major George Augustus Braithwaite looked at the men about him, and the battle light came into his eyes, also.

"It shan't be said, Mr. Colfax, that my men stayed behind when yours were willing to go. I shall take the vote, and if they say fight—and they certainly will say it—we go with you."

Messengers hurried forth and polled the two camps. An overwhelming majority were in favor of making the attack. In the fleet the men, used to danger and loving it as the breath of their nostrils, were practically unanimous. But Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite agreed to drag first for the cannon.

At three in the morning a dozen boats went forth upon the river. They contained the two commanders, Boone, Kenton, Henry, and others, besides the divers and the men with grappling hooks. It was a dark night, and, in addition, Simon Kenton and a dozen good men went upon the northern shore to search the woods for a watching enemy.

Henry and Seth Cole were in the boat with Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite, and the two sought to mark the exact spot upon the water at which the cannon had been sunk. This might seem a most difficult task, but the last detail of that eventful night had been photographed upon Henry's mind. It seemed to him that he could remember, within a foot, the exact spot at which the guns had gone beneath the current of the Ohio.

"It is here," he said to Adam Colfax, and the scout nodded. All the boats anchored, and the divers dropped silently into the muddy stream. Henry watched eagerly, and in a minute or so they came up sputtering. Their hands had touched nothing but the bottom. Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite looked disappointed, but both Henry and the scout insisted that it was the right place.

"Try again," said Adam Colfax, and the divers went down a second time. The last of them to come up looked over the side of their boat, and when he wiped the water from his eyes, triumph showed there.

"They are here," he said. "I touched one of them. It is sunk in the mud, but we can raise it."

They uttered a little suppressed cry of triumph, and presently the divers touched the other, also. The grappling hooks were sent down, and those in the boats watched eagerly to see if the cannon could be raised. Every big gun was precious in those early days of war, and if Adam Colfax could add two such prizes to those he already had on the fleet he would be repaid for much that they had suffered on their great voyage.

The hooks at last took hold. The gun was lifted two or three feet, but it slipped from their grasp and buried itself deeper than ever in the mud. A second trial was made with a like result, but the third was more successful, and the gun was lifted from the water. It came, muzzle first, presenting a grinning mouth like some sea monster, but the suppressed little cry of triumph broke forth again as the cannon was loaded, with toil and perspiration, upon one of the larger boats. Their joy increased when they saw that it was practically unharmed, and that it would be indeed a valuable addition to their armament.

Salvage was also made of the second gun, which was damaged somewhat, but not so much that the armorers of the fleet could not put it in perfect condition within a week. Fortunately they were not interrupted in their task, and when Kenton and the scouts rejoined them, and they started back to Fort Prescott, Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite shook hands in mutual congratulation.

"I never expected to pick up two good guns in this manner," said Adam Colfax. "Suppose you mount them upon your own walls until we are ready to go."

Henry, Ross, and Shif'less Sol, after sleeping through the morning hours, were joined by Paul and Long Jim, and spent the afternoon in scouting. They crossed the Ohio in a canoe some distance below the fort, and once more entered the deep woods, bearing back in a northeasterly direction toward the Indian camp. Here Henry and the shiftless one went forward alone, leaving the others to wait for them.

They did not dare approach near enough to the camp to observe with minuteness what was going on, but they saw that a great stir was in progress. Fresh detachments of warriors from the Shawnees and Miamis had arrived, but the Wyandots, the least numerous of them all, still held the first place. The palm for courage, energy, and ability was yet conceded to them and their great chief, Timmendiquas, by all the rest.

"I don't think they'll be ready to move against us again for about two days," said the shiftless one.

"And we'll strike before then," said Henry. "They won't be suspecting such a movement by us, for one reason, because a river is between."

"That's so," said Sol, "an' they've been doin' so much attackin' themselves that they won't think about our takin' the job from 'em."

They returned with their news, and at midnight the white army started forth on its great but hazardous attempt. The night was fairly clear, with a good moon and many stars, and the departure from the fort was in silence, save for the sobbing of the women and children over those whom they might never see again.

It was a formidable little army that issued from the southern gate of the fort, the one away from the river, perhaps the strongest that had yet been gathered in the west, and composed of many diverse elements, the Kentuckians who had been Kentuckians only a year or two, the wild hunters of Boone and Kenton, the rivermen, a few New Englanders, French and Spanish creoles, and men from different parts of Europe. It was a picturesque group without much semblance of military discipline, but with great skill, courage, and willingness in forest warfare.

Every man carried a long-barreled rifle, and they were armed in addition with pistols, tomahawks, and knives. The cannon were left behind as too unwieldy for their purpose. Adam Colfax, Major Braithwaite, Gregory Wilmot, Thrale, Lyon, Cole, Drouillard, and the other lieutenants were at the head of the little army, and Boone, Kenton, the five, and at least fifteen more were in advance or on the flanks as scouts and skirmishers. The five, as usual, were close together.

The army marched southward about a half mile, and then, turning, marched parallel with the river about two miles, in order to hide their movements from lurking Indian scouts. The fleet, meanwhile, dropped down the Ohio, clinging closely to the shadows of the western shore.

The five were rather grave as they walked ahead of the army, examining every tree and bush for sign of a foe. None knew better than they the dangers to which they were about to be exposed, and none knew better than they the wilderness greatness of Timmendiquas.

"A lazy man always hez the most trouble," said Shif'less Sol in a whisper to the others. "Mebbe ef he wuzn't so lazy he'd be lively 'nough to git out o' the way o' trouble. I'm always takin' good resolutions, resolvin' to mind my own business, which ain't large, an' which wouldn't take much time, an' never keepin' 'em. I might be five hundred miles from here, trappin' beaver an' peacefully takin' the lives of buffalo, without much risk to my own, but here I am, trampin' through the woods in the night an' kinder doubtful whether I'll ever see the sun rise ag'in."

"Sol," said Long Jim, "I sometimes think you're the biggest liar the world hez ever produced, an' that's sayin' a heap, when you think uv all them history tales Paul hez told. You know you don't want to be off five hundred miles from here trappin' innocent beaver an' shootin' the unprincipled buffaler. You know you want to be right here with the rest uv us, trappin' the Injuns, an' shootin' the renegades ef the chance comes."

"Wa'al, I reckon you're right," said the shiftless one slowly, "but I do wish it would come easier. Ef I could rest comf'table on my bed an' hev 'em driv up to me, I wouldn't mind it so much."

The march down the river was attended by little noise, considering the number of men who made it, and at the appointed place they found the fleet ready to take them on board. The scouts reported that the enemy had not been seen, and they believed that the advance was still a secret. But the crossing of the river would be a critical venture, and all undertook it with anxious hearts.

They had come back to one of the narrowest parts of the pass that had cost them so much, but no enemy was here now, and silently they embarked. All the five, as usual, were in one boat. It had turned somewhat darker, and they could not distinctly see the farther shore. Their eyes were able to make out there only the black loom of the forest and the cliffs. Their boat had oars, at which Tom Ross and Jim Hart were pulling, while the others watched, and, being scouts, they were well ahead of the rest of the fleet.

"S'pose," said Shif'less Sol, "them woods should be full o' warriors, every one o' them waitin' to take a shot at us ez soon ez we came in range? Wouldn't that be hurryin' to meet trouble a leetle too fast?"

"But I don't think the warriors are there," said Henry. "It was good tactics to come down the river before crossing, and if Indian scouts were out they must have been fooled."

"I'm hopin' with every breath I draw that what you say is true," said Shif'less Sol.

Henry, as he spoke, kept his eyes on the dark loom of forest and shore. He did not believe that an Indian band would be waiting for them there, but he could not know. At any time a sheet of rifle fire might burst from the woods, and the boat of the five would be the first to receive it. But he would not show this feeling to his comrade. He sat rigidly erect, his rifle across his knees, and nothing escaped his eyes, now used to the darkness.

Henry looked back once and saw the great fleet following a little distance behind and in ordered column, making no noise save for the plash of oar, sweep, and paddle, and the occasional rattle of arms. Talking had been forbidden, and no one attempted to break the rule.

They came closer and closer to the shore, and Henry searched the forest with straining eyes. Nothing moved there. The night was windless, and the branches did not stir. Nor did he hear any of the slight sounds which a numerous party, despite its caution, must make.

"They ain't waitin' for us," said Shif'less Sol.

"We've give them the slip."

"You must be right, Sol," said Henry. "We're within range if they are there, and they'd have fired before this time."

Ross and Jim sent the boat toward a little cove, and it struck upon the narrow beach, with the woods still silent and no enemy appearing. Henry leaped ashore, and was quickly followed by the others. Then they slipped into the woods, reconnoitered carefully for a little while, finding nothing hostile, and returned to the river.

The landing of the whole force destined for the attack was made rapidly, and with but little noise. The boats, all with skeleton crews, swung back into the stream, where they anchored, ready to receive the army if it should be driven back.

Then the white force, led by Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite, the scouts going on ahead, plunged with high courage and great hopes into the woods.

CHAPTER XXIV
THE DECISIVE BATTLE

The white army was soon hidden in the forest. It was, beyond a fact, the largest force of its kind that had yet assembled in this region, but it disappeared as completely as if it had ceased to be at all. A mile from the river it stopped, and the two commanders held a short conference with Boone and Kenton. The manner and great reputation of Boone inspired the utmost confidence, and they were very anxious not only to hear what he said, but also to do what he suggested. The council was short, and it was held in the darkness with the soldiers all about.

"Send Henry Ware and his comrades forward to see if the way is open," said Boone, "an' if it is, we should rush their camp with all our might. A night attack is usually risky, but it won't be long until day now, an' if we can get a start on 'em it will be worth a heap to us."

Adam Colfax and Major Braithwaite agreed with him, and Henry and his comrades set forth again ahead of the army. Simon Kenton went with them.

The six stole forward. They were quite sure that Timmendiquas would have out sentinels, but neither he, the other chiefs, nor the renegades would anticipate so swift a counter stroke.

The country was rough, but they made good progress, flitting forward in a silent file. Cry of wolf and hoot of owl came now and then to their ears, but they did not believe that they meant anything save the announcement from warrior to warrior that all was well.

They managed to come without detection, within several hundred yards of the camp, where they ascended a little hill and could see the low flare of light from the fires.

"I don't think we should try to get any closer," said Kenton. "We might run into a nest of 'em an' never get back. We've seen enough to know that the army can get up pretty close, an' at least attack before the savages are wholly ready. S'pose we start back."

Paul rose in obedience to the suggestion, but Henry at once pulled him down again.

"Somebody's coming," he whispered, and the six lay still in the bushes.

They heard light footsteps, and three men, or rather two men and a boy, emerged from the shadows. The three were seeking the easiest path, and they marked where the trees and bushes were scarcest. It was with a shivering feeling of repugnance and anger that Henry recognized them, and the same feeling animated his comrades. They were Simon Girty, Blackstaffe, and Braxton Wyatt, and the three were talking, not loudly, but in tones that the hidden six could hear distinctly.

"The attack will be begun again to-morrow night," Girty was saying, "an' it's going to be a success. Whatever you may say about him, Timmendiquas is a general, and I never before saw the Indians worked up to such a pitch. They were singing and dancing for hours to-day, an' I believe they'd now go through a lake of fire an' brimstone to get at that fleet."

"We'll let the Wyandots lead the way," said Blackstaffe.

"We certainly will," said Girty.

Then the two older men looked at each other and laughed, a low horrible laugh that made the flesh of Henry and Paul creep.

"Yes," said Girty, "we'll let the Wyandots lead, and then the Shawnees and Miamis and the others. We'll take our part, but I think some of these warriors can be spared more readily than we can."

Braxton Wyatt laughed, too, when he understood.

"That's good policy it seems to me," he said. "We plan, while the warriors do most of the fighting."

"Stick to that, an' you'll be a great man," said Girty.

The king of the renegades stood in a little opening, and the moonlight fell full upon his face. They could see it distorted into a malicious grin of cruelty and self-satisfaction. Slowly the rifle barrel of Shif'less Sol, in the bushes, was raised to a level, and it was pointed straight at a spot between the cruel, grinning eyes. An infallible eye looked down the sight, and a steady finger approached the trigger.

Never, until his last day came, in very truth, was Simon Girty, the renegade, nearer death. But Henry put out his hand, and softly pressed down the rifle barrel.

"I don't blame you, Sol," he whispered. "It would be getting rid of a monster and saving many good lives, but you can't do it now. It would break up our whole plan of attack."

It was one of the greatest griefs in the life of Solomon Hyde, called the shiftless one, that he was compelled to yield to Henry's advice. He had held Simon Girty, the arch criminal, under his rifle, and he had picked out the spot where he knew he could make his bullet hit, and then he must put down his rifle and pass over the opportunity just as if it had never been.

"You're right," he whispered back in reluctant words, and lowered his rifle. The three renegades continued to talk of the projected attack, but they passed on, and soon their words could be heard no longer. Then their figures became indistinct and were lost to sight. Shif'less Sol uttered a low cry, so full of bitterness that Henry was forced to laugh, knowing as he did its cause.

"I never had sech a chance afore," said Shif'less Sol, "an' I'll never hev it ag'in."

"Henry was right," said Simon Kenton. "'Twould never have done to have given an alarm now. We must hurry back, bring up the army, and strike before the dawn."

There could be no difference of opinion on such a subject, and they rapidly retraced their footsteps. In three-quarters of an hour they rejoined the army, and told that the way was clear. The leaders heard the report with great satisfaction and promptly arranged the plan of battle. The chief thing that they sought to guard against was the confusion so often arising from darkness, when friend might fire into friend.

"They mustn't get too much excited, and they must look before they shoot," said Boone. "It will be only two hours to daylight, an' if we can hold together till then we can beat 'em."

The army, although kept in a body, was numbered in detachments. Adam Colfax took the lead of one, Major Braithwaite another, Boone another, while Drouillard, Thrale, and all the other prominent men also had commands. The five, Kenton, and the scouts led the advance.

Once more they took up their progress through the woods, and pressed swiftly on toward the Indian camp. It was one of those darkest hours before the dawn, and so many men marching at a rapid pace, could not keep from making considerable noise. Bushes rustled, arms rattled, and dry sticks broke with a snap beneath heavy feet.

"On, men! on!" cried Adam Colfax. "We can't be slow now!"

A dog howled, and then another. An Indian sentinel fired his rifle, and then a second and a third did the same. The white vanguard replied, and then with a great shout the army rushed toward the Indian force.

But Timmendiquas was not wholly surprised. His men, posted in a circle around the camp, gave the alarm as they fell back, firing their rifles, and uttering the long Indian yell. Hundreds of throats took it up, and the savages, seizing their weapons, sprang forth to the conflict. In a moment, the woods were filled with sparkling flames, and the bullets whistled in showers. There were shouts and cries and a rain of twigs cut off by the bullets in the darkness.

The five and Kenton fell back upon the main body and then rushed on with them, keeping in the front line.

"Let's keep together! Whatever happens, let's keep together!" cried Shif'less Sol, and the others in reply shouted their assent. They were compelled to shout now, because hundreds of rifles were cracking, and the roar was swelling fast. Innumerable flashes lit up the forest, and a cloud of fine gray powder rose, stinging the nostrils of the combatants, and, like an exciting narcotic, urging them on to action.

The first rush of the white army bore all before it. The Indian sentinels and the others who constituted the fringe of their band were rapidly driven in on the main body, and many of the soldiers and hunters began to shout in triumph as they reached the edge of the prairie and saw their foe, huddled in dark masses beyond. But as they came into the open they met a strong core of resistance that soon hardened and spread.

The great chief, Timmendiquas, although partly surprised by the swift attack of the whites, did not lose either his presence of mind or his courage. He showed on that morning all the qualities of a great general. He rallied the warriors and posted them in bands here and there. Hundreds threw themselves upon the ground, and from that less exposed position sent their bullets into the charging force. Timmendiquas himself stood near the center with the veterans, Red Eagle and Yellow Panther, on either side of him. He scorned to seek cover, but remained, at his full height, where all could see him, shouting his orders and directing the battle. Behind him were the renegades firing their rifles, but protecting themselves, with the caution upon which they had resolved.

Henry and his comrades kept their place in the front of the charge, and, according to their plan, close together. The darkness was now lighted up so much by the incessant firing that the boy could see very well not only the long line of his friends, but the black masses of the enemy as well. He felt the resistance harden as they came into the prairie, and he knew that the Indians had been rallied. He thought he heard the voice of Timmendiquas calling to them, and then he believed that it was only his fancy. Because he knew that Timmendiquas would do it, his active brain made a picture of him doing it.

He was suddenly seized and pulled down by the strong arms of Tom Ross. All his comrades were already stretched flat upon the earth. The next instant a great volley was fired by the Indians. The bullets from hundreds of rifles swept over their heads, and many struck true behind them. Some men fell, and others staggered back, wounded. There were cries and groans.

The Indian yell, poured from many throats, arose. It was long, high-pitched, and it seemed to Henry that it had in it a triumphant note. They had stopped the white advance, and they were exulting. But the little army, rising up, rushed forward again, and then threw itself flat upon its face once more to escape the withering fire of the Indians. From their own recumbent position the white men replied, sending in the bullets fast.

It was a confused and terrible scene in the intermittent light and darkness, white men and red men shouting together in their deadly struggle. The front of the conflict lengthened, and the clouds of smoke drifted all through the forest. It entered the throats and lungs of the combatants, and they coughed without knowing it.

Henry lay long on the ground, pushing forward a few feet at a time, loading and firing his rifle until it grew hot to his hands. He was not conscious of the passage of time. His brain burned as if with a fever. He felt now and then a great throb of exultation, because the white army was always advancing, only a little, it was true, but still it was an advance, and never a retreat. But the throb of exultation presently became a throb of rage. The advance of a sudden ceased entirely. The Indians were gathered in such heavy masses in front that they could not be driven back. Their front was one continuous blaze of fire, and the whistling of the bullets was like the steady flowing of a stream. Timmendiquas, despite his disadvantage, had marshaled his forces well, and Henry knew it.

The boy began to have a great fear that they would be driven back, that they would be defeated. Was so much blood to be shed, so much suffering to be endured for nothing? His thoughts went back a moment to Fort Prescott and the women and the children there. Theirs would be the worst fate. He put one hand to his face and felt that it was wet. He was seized with a furious desire to rise up and rush directly into the flame and smoke before him. He longed for the power to win the victory with his single arm.

A lull of a few moments in the firing came presently, and the darkness instantly closed in again. A long, triumphant yell came from the Indians, and the white men replied with a shout, also triumphant. Henry was conscious then that his eyes were smarting from the smoke, and he coughed once or twice. He half rose to a sitting position, and a hand fell upon his shoulder.

"Come, my boy," said a voice in his ear. "We want you and your comrades for a new movement. We've got to take 'em in the flank."