THE BATTLE.
In the meanwhile, as is stated a little while ago, Captain Watt had
assembled all the members of the colony in front of the town.
The number of combatants amounted to sixty-two, including the females.
European ladies may think it singular that we count the females among
the combatants: in truth, in the old world the days of Bradamante and
Joan d'Arc have happily passed away for ever, and the fair sex, owing to
the constant progress of civilization, is no longer reduced to the
necessity of fighting side by side with men.
In North America, at the period of which we write, and even at the
present day, on the prairies and the clearings, it is not so; when the
war-yell of the Indians suddenly echoes on the ears of the pioneers, the
women are constrained to give up the labour of their sex, to take a
rifle in their delicate hands, and fight boldly in defence of the
community.
We could, if necessary, cite several of these heroines with soft eyes
and angelic countenances who, on occasion, have valiantly done their
duty as soldiers and fought like perfect demons against the Indians.
Mrs. Watt was anything rather than a heroine, but she was the daughter
and the wife of a soldier; she was born and brought up on the Indian
borders; she had already smelt powder several times and seen blood flow,
but, before all, she was a mother. As her children had to be defended,
all her feminine timidity had disappeared and made way for a cold and
energetic resolution.
Her example electrified all the other women of the colony, and all had
armed, resolved to fight by the side of their husbands and fathers.
We repeat here that, what with men and women, the Captain had sixty-two
combatants around him.
He tried to dissuade his wife from taking part in the fight, but the
gentle creature whom he had seen hitherto so timid and obedient, plainly
refused to give up her project, and the Captain was compelled to let her
do as she pleased.
He therefore made his arrangements for defence. Twenty-four men were
placed in the entrenchments under the orders of Bothrel. The Captain
himself took the command of a second party of twenty-four hunters,
intended to act anywhere and everywhere. The females, under the orders
of Mrs. Watt, were left in charge of the tower, in which the children
and the invalids were shut up, and the arrival of the Indians was then
awaited.
It was about one in the morning when the Canadian hunter and the Pawnee
Chief left the colony; by about half-past two all was ready for the
defence.
The Captain made a last round of the entrenchment in order to ensure
himself that all was in order, then, after ordering all the fires to be
extinguished, he secretly left the colony by a concealed door in the
palisades, of whose existence only himself and Sergeant Bothrel were
cognizant.
A plank was placed across the ditch, and the Captain crossed, only
followed by Bothrel and a Kentuckian of the name of Bob, a daring and
broad-shouldered fellow, to whom we have already had occasion to refer.
The plank was carefully hidden so as to serve for their return, and the
three men glided through the darkness like phantoms.
When they had gone about one hundred yards from the colony, the Captain
halted.
"Gentlemen," he then said in a voice so faint that they were obliged to
stoop down to hear him; "I have chosen you because the expedition we are
about to attempt is dangerous, and I wanted resolute men with me."
"What is to be done?" Bothrel asked.
"The night is so dark that those accursed Pagans could if they liked
reach the very edge of the ditch, and it would be impossible for us to
notice them; I have, therefore, resolved to set fire to the piles of
planks and roots. A man must know how to make sacrifices when needed;
these fires which will burn a long while will spread a brilliant light,
enabling us to see our enemies for a long distance and fire at them with
certainty."
"The idea is excellent," Bothrel answered.
"Yes," the Captain continued, "still, we must not hide from ourselves
that it is extremely perilous; it is plain that Indian scouts are
already scattered over the prairies, perhaps very close to us, and when
two or three fires have been lighted, if we see them, they will not fail
to see us too. Each of us will take the necessary objects, and we will
try by the rapidity of our movements to foil the tricks of these demons;
remember that we shall act separately, and each of us will have four or
five fires to light, so we cannot count on one another. To work!"
The combustibles and inflammable matters were shared between the three
men and they separated.
Five minutes later a spark glistened, then a second, then a third; at
the end of a quarter of an hour ten tires were lighted.
Weak at first, they seemed to hesitate for a while, but gradually the
flame increased, gained consistency, and soon the whole plain was lit up
by the blood-red glare of these immense torches.
The Captain and his comrades had been more fortunate than they
anticipated in their expedition, for they had succeeded in lighting the
piles of wood scattered over the valley, without attracting the
attention of the Indians; and they hurried back to the entrenchments at
full speed. It was high time, for suddenly a terrible war-yell burst
forth behind them, and a large band of Indian warriors appeared on the
skirt of the forest, galloping at full speed, and brandishing their
weapons like a legend of demons.
But they came up too late to catch the Whites, who had crossed the ditch
and were sheltered from their missiles.
A discharge of musketry greeted the arrival of the Indians, several fell
from their horses, and the others turned and fled with great
precipitation.
The fight had commenced, but the Captain cared little about that; thanks
to his lucky expedient, a surprise was impossible, and they could see as
well as in the daylight.
There was a moment's respite, by which the Americans profited to reload
their rifles.
The colonists had felt anxious on seeing the immense fires lit up one
after the other on the prairie; they believed in an Indian device, but
were soon disabused, by the Captain's return, and congratulated
themselves, on the contrary, upon this happy expedient, which enabled
them to fire almost with certainty.
The Pawnees, however, had not given up their project of attack; in all
probability they had only retired in order to deliberate.
The Captain, with his shoulder leant against the palisade, was
attentively examining the deserted plain, when he fancied he perceived
an unusual motion in a rather large field of Indian corn, about two
rifle shots from the colony.
"Look out!" he said, "the enemy is approaching."
Every one put his finger on his trigger. All at once a great noise was
heard, and the furthest pile of wood fell in, emitting myriads of
sparks.
"By heaven!" the Captain shouted, "There is some Indian devilry behind
that, for it is impossible for that enormous pile to be consumed."
At the same instant another fell in, followed immediately by a third,
and then by a fourth.
There could no longer be a doubt as to the cause of these successive
falls. The Indians, whose movements were neutralized by the light these
monster beacons shed, had taken the very simple method of extinguishing
them, which they were enabled to do in perfect safety, for they were out
of rifle range.
No sooner was the wood down than it was scattered in every direction,
and easily put out.
This expedient enabled the Indians to get very near to the palisades
unnoticed.
Still, all the piles were not overthrown, and those that remained were
near enough to the fort to be defended by its fire.
For all that, the Pawnees attempted to put them out. But the firing
then recommenced, and the bullets fell in a hailstorm on the besiegers,
who, after holding out for some minutes, were at last compelled to take
to flight, for we cannot give the name of a retreat to the precipitation
with which they withdrew.
The Americans began laughing and hooting at the fugitives.
"I think," Bothrel said facetiously, "that those fine fellows find our
soup too hot, and regret having put their fingers in it."
"In truth," the Captain remarked, "they do not appear inclined to return
this time."
He was mistaken; for, at the same instant, the Indians came back at a
gallop.
Nothing could check them, and, in spite of the fusillade, to which they
disdained to reply, they reached the very brink of the ditch.
It is true, that once there, they turned back, and retired as rapidly as
they had come, though not without leaving on the way a great number of
their comrades, whom the American bullets pitilessly laid low.
But the plan of the Pawnees had been successful, and the Whites soon
perceived, to their great disappointment, that they had been too hasty
in congratulating themselves on their facile victory.
Each Pawnee horseman carried on his croup a warrior, who, on reaching
the ditch, dismounted, and profiting by the disorder and smoke, which
prevented their being seen, sheltered themselves behind the trunks of
trees and elevations of the soil so cleverly, that when the Americans
leaned over the palisade to discover the results of the evening's
charge, they were in their turn greeted by a discharge of bullets and
long barbed arrows, which stretched fifteen on the ground.
There was a movement of blind terror among the Whites after this attack
made by invisible enemies.
Fifteen men at one round was a fearful loss for the colonists; the
combat was assuming serious proportions, which threatened to degenerate
into a defeat; for the Indians had never before displayed so much energy
and obstinacy in an attack.
No hesitation was possible; the daring force must be dislodged at any
cost from the post where they had so rashly ambushed themselves.
The Captain formed his resolve.
Collecting some twenty resolute men, while the others guarded the
palisades, he had the drawbridge lowered, and rushed out.
The enemies then met face to face.
The medley became terrible; the White men and Redskins intertwined like
serpents, drunk with rage and blinded by hatred, only thought of killing
each other.
All at once an immense glare illumined the scene of carnage, and cries
of terror rose from the colony.
The Captain turned his head, and uttered a shriek of despair at the
horrible sight that met his terror-stricken gaze.
The tower and principal buildings were on fire; in the light of the
flames the Indians could be seen bounding like demons in pursuit of the
defenders of the colony, who, grouped here and there, were attempting a
resistance which had now become impossible.
This is what had occurred:--
While Black-deer, Blue-fox, and the other principal Pawnee Chiefs
attempted an attack on the front of the colony, Tranquil, followed by
Quoniam, and fifty warriors, on whom he could depend, had got into the
buffalo-hide canoes, silently descended the river, and landed in the
colony itself, before the alarm was given, for the very simple reason
that the Americans did not at all apprehend an attack from the side of
the Missouri.
Still, we must do the Captain the justice of saying that he had not left
this side undefended; sentries had been posted there; but,
unfortunately, in the disorder occasioned by the Indians' last charge,
the sentries, thinking nothing was to be feared from the river, deserted
their post to go whither they imagined the danger greatest, and help
their comrades in repulsing the Indians.
This unpardonable fault ruined the defenders of the colony.
Tranquil disembarked his party without firing a shot.
The Pawnees, when they had once entered the fort, threw incendiary
torches on the wooden buildings, and, uttering their war-yell, rushed on
the Americans, whom they placed between two fires.
Tranquil, Quoniam, and some warriors who did not leave them, hurried up
to the town.
Mrs. Watt, although taken by surprise, prepared, however, to defend the
post confided to her.
The Canadian approached with hands upraised in sign of peace.
"Surrender, in Heaven's name!" he cried, "or you are lost; the colony is
captured!"
"No!" she answered, boldly, "I will never surrender to a coward, who
betrays his brothers to take the part of the Pagans!"
"You are unjust to me," the hunter answered, sadly-- "I have come to
save you."
"I will not be saved by you!"
"Unhappy woman! if not for your own sake, surrender on behalf of your
children. See, the tower is on fire!"
The lady raised her eyes, uttered a thrilling shriek, and rushed wildly
into the interior of the building.
The other females, trusting in the hunter's words, attempted no
resistance, but laid down their arms.
Tranquil entrusted the guard of these poor women to Quoniam, with whom
he left a few warriors, and then hurried off to put a stop to the
carnage which was going on in all parts of the colony.
Quoniam entered the tower when he found Mrs. Watt half stifled and
holding her children pressed to her heart with extraordinary strength.
The worthy Negro threw the young lady across his shoulder, carried her
out, and collecting all the females and children, led them to the banks
of the Missouri to get them out of range of the fire, and await the end
of the fight, without exposing the prisoners to the fury of the victors.
It was now no longer a combat but a butchery, rendered more atrocious
still by the barbarous refinements of the Indians, who attacked their
unhappy enemies with indescribable fury.
The Captain, Bothrel, Bob, and some twenty Americans, the only colonists
still alive, were collected in the centre of the esplanade defending
themselves with the energy of despair against a cloud of Indians, and
resolved to die sooner than fall into the hands of their ferocious
enemies.
Tranquil, however, succeeded, by repeated entreaties and braving a
thousand perils, in inducing them to lay down their arms and thus put an
end to the carnage.
All at once cries, groans, and entreaties were heard from the riverside.
The hunter dashed off; agitated by a gloomy presentiment.
Black-deer and his warriors followed him. When they reached the spot
where Quoniam had collected the women, a fearful sight presented itself
to them.
Mrs. Watt and three other females lay motionless on the ground in a pool
of blood, Quoniam lay extended in front of them with two wounds, one on
his head, the other in his chest.
It was impossible to obtain any information from the other females as to
what had occurred, for they were half mad with terror.
The Captain's children had disappeared.
End of Prologue.