THE ADVANCED PICQUET.
"All quiet along the Potomac, they say,
Except now and then a stray picquet,
Is shot as he walks on his beat to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing. A private or two now and then,
Will not count in the tale of the battle;
Not an officer lost--only one of the men,
Breathing out all alone the death-rattle."
"In the spring of the year '75, a party of ours, under Lord
Rohallion, then a captain, was sent to the Fort of St. John, on the
Richelieu River, to strengthen the garrison, which was composed of
some companies of the 7th Fusiliers and the 26th, or Cameronians,
under Major Preston, of Valleyfield, in Fifeshire, as gallant a
fellow as ever bore the King's commission.
"We were in daily expectation of the advance of the rebel General
Montgomery, with a great force, so the duties of guards and sentinels
were performed with great vigilance, as the whole country for miles
around, if not actually in possession of the armed colonists, was
full of people who were favourable to their cause, and were
consequently inimical to the king and to us.
"Montgomery was expected to approach through Vermont county (now one
of the states) by the eastern shore of Lake Champlain, a long and
narrow sheet of deep water, which forms the boundary between it and
the State of New York; thus, on an eminence which commanded a
considerable view of the country southward, and at the distance of
two miles from Fort St. John, Major Preston, of the 26th, had an
outpost or picquet, consisting of one officer and twenty men,
stationed in a log-hut, from whence they were relieved every week.
The officer in command of this advanced party had to throw forward a
line of sentinels, extending across the road by which the Americans
were expected to approach. At the hut was also a small piece of
cannon, taken from a gunboat recently destroyed on the Lake, a
6-pounder, which was to be fired as a signal for the troops in Fort
St. John to get under arms, and the picquet was well supplied with
rockets to give the alarm by night.
"Our sentinels there had frequently been found dead and scalped,
without a shot being fired. Sometimes they disappeared altogether,
without leaving a trace, save a few spots of blood on the prairie
grass. Their desertion was never suspected by those in authority;
but that savages and assassins lurked in woods along the eastern and
western shores of Lake Champlain we had not a doubt; thus the
solitary outpost before the Fort of St. John was a duty disliked by
all, and always undertaken with sensations of doubt and anxiety.
"It was on a beautiful afternoon in the month of September, that with
a sergeant and twenty men of the Borderers, I took possession of this
log hut, relieving a Lieutenant Despard, of the Fusiliers, from whom
I received over my orders, and posted my line of six sentinels at
intervals across the highway and a kind of open prairie which it
traversed. These orders were written and delivered with the parole
and countersign, by Major André, of the Cameronians (afterwards named
'the unfortunate'), and they were simply, that during the night the
sentinels were to face all persons approaching their posts, to stand
firm in a state of preparation at half-cock with ported arms, and to
fire instantly on all who could not give the countersign.
"Despard informed me that excessive vigilance was necessary, as he
had lost five sentinels in one week, information which made my
fellows look somewhat blankly in each other's faces; 'and these
assassinations have occurred,' he added, 'though we have an Indian
scout, Le Vipre Noir, an invaluable fellow, however unpleasant his
name may sound, attached to the picquet-house. I would advise you to
keep off that bit of prairie in front, Middleton. Zounds! one is
always over the ankles in mud there, and mid-leg deep occasionally;
so it's more like snipe-shooting in an Irish bog, than knocking over
Yankees and Iroquois.'
"I now found that there was another scout, a Cornishman, named old
Abe Treherne, attached to the post, as well as the native mentioned
by Despard.
"Abe Treherne was a white-haired squatter and pioneer, who, for more
than forty years, had been in the district, living by the use of his
rifle and hatchet. He wore an Indian hunting-shirt and deer-skin
mocassins, and had so completely forgotten the civilization of his
native England, that he had almost become an Indian by habit, if not
by speech. He was brave, however, and a most faithful fellow to us.
Active and hardy, brown and weatherbeaten by constant exposure;
privation could not impair, nor toil weary his strength, which was
wonderful, for, by the wild life of nature he had led, every muscle
had been developed, till it became like a band of iron.
"The savage scout, Le Vipre Noir, as he was named, was one of the
Lenni-Lenappe--or unmixed race as they boast themselves--who once
occupied all the vast tract of country which lies between Penobscot
and the shores of the Potomac; but we styled the most of them
Delawares, and by that name they became known.
"Well, this devil of a Delaware--I think I can see the fellow
now!--was a model of muscular strength and manly beauty, so far as
form and sinew go. He was like a colossal statue of polished copper.
His usual expression was fierce and sullen; his eyes were keen,
black, and glittering, and his red and yellow streaks of war-paint
lent a fiendish aspect to his dusky visage, the features of which
were otherwise clean cut and regular. He was somewhat of a dandy in
his own way, as his fur mocassins and hunting-shirt were gaily
ornamented with scarlet cloth, wampum, and beads, by the Delaware
girls.
"His head had been denuded of hair entirely, save the scalp-lock, in
which two feathers were stuck. At his girdle hung his pipe and
hunting-pouch, a large musk-rat skin, in the tail of which his
keen-edged scalping-knife was sheathed; he had also a pouch for
ammunition, a long rifle, and a tomahawk, which were never from his
side by night or day.
"This Delaware was from one of the native villages about the upper
end of the Penobscot river, where the chiefs had signed a treaty of
alliance, offensive and defensive, with our government, and had sworn
to have no communication with the Americans or others, the king's
enemies, without the knowledge of the officer commanding the British
forces in North America.
"One of our men, named Jack Andrews, had quarrelled with the
Delaware, about a wild goose they had shot. Blows were exchanged;
the savage drew his scalping-knife; but the Borderer clubbed his
musket, and laid the red-skin sprawling among the reeds. Peace was
enforced between them; but the savage was more than ever sullen and
reserved, doubtless brooding on the vengeance he meant to take.
"Such was Le Vipre Noir, who will bear rather a conspicuous part in
my little story.
"It was a lovely evening, I have said, when we took possession of the
sequestered picquet-house. The rays of the setting sun, as he sank
beyond those grand and lofty mountain ranges, which rise between the
source of the Hudson and Lake Champlain, shed a red glow across the
water, and bathed in warm light the foliage of the mighty primeval
forest, which for ages had clothed the shores of that magnificent
lake. In the immediate foreground the bayonets of my sentinels
seemed tipped with fire, as they trod slowly to and fro upon their
posts in that voiceless solitude. Before the log-hut the arms were
piled, and my soldiers, with the Cornishman, were cooking their
supper, while the swarthy Indian scout was squatted on his hams at a
little distance, smoking listlessly or half asleep, as the duty of
searching in the woods usually devolved upon him after nightfall.
"I, too, lit my pipe, and the pouch from which I took my tobacco
called back to mind some half-forgotten thoughts and fancies.
"They were lovely hands that embroidered that pouch for me, and it
was associated with many a promenade in Paul Street, when we were
quartered in Montreal, with balls at _her_ father's house, in the Rue
de Notre Dame, flirtation and ices in the Place d'Armes, where the
French troops used to parade of old--for, in short, that
tobacco-pouch had been made for me by Ella Carleton, the belle of
that old colonial city.
"She had a dash of the old French blood in her, and hence her dark
hair and eyes, which contrasted so wonderfully with her pure English
skin, and hence her continental form of eyelid and drooping lash. So
I sighed as I thought of a year ago--cursed the emergencies of the
service that banished me to Fort St. John, and passed my fair Ella's
present to the sergeant of the picquet, that he might supply himself,
for active service is a true leveller, and without impairing
discipline leads to a spirit of _camaraderie_ not to be found in such
tented fields as Hyde Park or the Phœnix at Dublin.
"After the sun set and twilight stole on, I walked restlessly to and
fro before the log-hut, within which my men were now gathered with
their arms, as the dew was falling. I had seen all carefully loaded
and had examined the flints and priming. I was resolved that due
vigilance on my part should not be wanting if the post were attacked
or my sentinels surprised; and to prevent them from wandering
unconsciously from their beat in the dark, I had six white stakes
placed in the ground, and gave orders that they were to remain close
by them during the night, until relieved, and every hour I went in
person with the reliefs, a most harassing duty.
"Leaving my sergeant at the picquet-house, a few minutes before
midnight, I went with six men to relieve my sentinels, who were all
posted on the skirts of an open spacs, a large tract of waste ground
which for some miles was covered with long prairie grass, and which
stretched away towards the forest that was traversed by the main road
leading to Fort Edward on the Hudson, about sixty miles distant.
"Save the gurgle of a runnel that stole under the prairie grass,
there was no sound in the air--not even the whistle of the cat-bird;
there was no moon, but the stars were clear and bright, and guided by
their light we went straight from post to post, relieving the
sentinels; but as we approached the place where the sixth should have
been, on the extreme left of the highway, we advanced _unchallenged_
to the stake that marked his beat: the place was solitary and the
man--was gone.
"His musket, undischarged, was lying there, and a pool of blood
beside it at once refuted any suspicion of desertion. But how came
it that he had perished without resistance--without giving an alarm,
and where was his body? All round the place we searched for it, but
did so in vain.
"Posting another man, I gave him reiterated orders and injunctions to
be on the alert, and wistfully the poor fellow looked after us as we
returned to the picquet-house with the tidings of another mystery,
which added to the consternation that prevailed concerning this
devilish outpost. Neither le Vipre Noir nor Treherne had yet
returned; they were as usual scouting in front of our advanced
sentinels, and when they came back, not together, but separately,
they each reported the country all quiet for miles towards the
mountains. Who then was this determined assassin, unless it were
Satan himself?
"Next night the sentinel on the extreme right was missing, without
leaving even a trace of blood, and without the grass being bruised or
trodden near his beat; and on the night following, the sentinel on
the roadway was found lying dead on his face; his musket was
undischarged, his head cloven behind, and his scalp gone.
"The consternation of my picquet had now reached its height. Still
our scouts asserted the country to be quiet around us, though, with a
strange gleam in his eyes, the Indian said, that when he shouted in
the woods he heard an echo.
"'From whence?' I asked, suspiciously.
"'From the great barrows by the lake--where the bones of my
forefathers lie. The white man treads there now; but they were great
warriors, and many were the scalps that dried before their tents.'
"I was but a young officer then, being fresh from our Scottish
Fencibles, otherwise I would have doubled my sentinels; but the idea
never occurred to me, and my sergeant failed to suggest it. The
affair was becoming intolerable. This mysterious assassination of
brave men roused my blood to fever heat, and I resolved that on the
next night I should take the duty of sentinel with a firelock, and
remain on my post as such, not for one hour merely, but for the
entire night, in the hope of solving this terrible enigma.
"On the evening I came to this conclusion the post was visited by
Charley Halket from the fort, the captain of our first company, who
came cantering up on a fine bay horse. I was glad to see him, for
Halket was one of the most lively and devil-may-care fellows in the
corps, and he sang the best song and was the best stroke at billiards
in our whole brigade. Charley would drink his two bottles at mess
overnight and wing a fellow in the morning, without keeping his arm
in a cold bath, and with an accuracy that showed he had a
constitution of iron; he hunted fearlessly, shot fairly, rode like a
mad-cap; gambled, but simply for excitement, and spent his money like
a good-hearted fellow. He was always laughing and jovial, and I was
about to relate the disasters that had befallen my party, when the
pale and anxious expression of his usually merry face arrested me,
and I feared that the fort had been taken by surprise in rear of our
post.
"'What the devil is the matter, Halket?' said I. 'I have always
predicted to Preston that we should never have our legs under his
mahogany at Valleyfield again--never taste his Fifeshire mutton, or
test his fine old Burgundy. What is up? Has the fort fallen,
Charley, that you come here with your bay thoroughbred covered with
foam, even to its bang-up tail?'
"'No, my dear Middleton; but I wish to pass your post.'
"'To the front?' I asked, with astonishment.
"'Yes.'
"'It is impossible!'
"'Even if out of uniform?'
"'In or out of uniform, none can pass or repass save our scouts,
whose lives are of little value. Preston's orders are strict and
decisive.'
"'But if in disguise?' he urged, earnestly, and lowering his tone, as
he stooped from his saddle.
"'Worse and worse!'
"'How? explain, pray,' he demanded, as his earnestness became tinged
with irritation.
"'You might be deemed a deserter by General Burgoyne if found more
than two miles from camp or quarters.'
"'A deserter!--I?--pooh, man, absurd!'
"'A general officer has joined the rebels already. Then you might be
hanged as a spy by Montgomery, whose troops are certainly closing up,
if we may judge from the murderous outrages committed by his Indian
allies upon the picquets stationed here.'
"'It is for that very reason, Middleton, that I am most anxious to
ride southward for about twelve miles into the country along the
shore of the lake, towards Misiskoui.'
"'You could not return; my sentinels have positive orders to fire
instantly on all----'
"'Who have not the parole and countersign,' said he, smiling; 'they
are _Quebec_ and WOLFE. You see that I have both!'
"'From whom?'
"'My friend André, of the Cameronians--the fort-major.'
"'He is very rash! I wish he had this infernal picquet to command;
the duty might teach him caution.'
"'But, my dear Middleton----'
"'Say no more, Charley--come, don't be rash; duty is duty; and I must
perform mine. Moreover, I value your life and my own honour too much
to risk either to further some mad-cap ramble of yours.'
"'Zounds, sir!' he began, furiously.
"'Now don't call me out, Charley; I am on duty and can't go, and when
I am relieved and you are cool, you won't ask me. But tell me,
Charley, what affair is this that seems so urgent? The country in
front is full of perils; already eight or nine sentinels have been
assassinated, and yonder grave covers one of three fine fellows I
have lost.'
"'Listen to me, Jack,' said he, dismounting, and throwing the reins
of his horse over his arm, and leading me a little way apart from the
soldiers who were smoking and lounging before the log-hut; 'you
remember Ella Carleton?'
"'I should rather think I do' said I, reddening, and giving him a
very knowing wink, to which he made not the slightest response;
'Ella, whom we used to meet so much a year ago at Montreal.'
"'The same,' said he.
"'I remember her perfectly--a charming girl, with features that were
pale but beautifully regular, and with eyes and hair so dark.'
"'Exactly,' said Halket, whose eyes sparkled with pleasure. 'Her
father, you are aware, is a rich land-owner, in the American
interest.'
"'Many a bottle of champagne I have drunk in his house in the Rue de
Notre Dame.'
"'Yet he is an old curmudgeon who hates us red-coats, and for that
reason, as well as for a few others that were more cogent, Ella and I
were privately married about a year ago.'
"'Married?--whew! Here's news for the mess to discuss over their
wine and walnuts!' I exclaimed, while laughing to conceal an
irrepressible emotion of pique.
"'I depend on your honour,' said he, earnestly.
"'To the death, Charley; but you have quite taken my breath away.
Married--you never looked a bit like it!'
"'We were married a year ago at the cathedral in the Place d'Armes
unknown to all--even to yourself, Rohallion, and others my most
intimate friends,' said Halket, speaking rapidly and with growing
emotion; 'in a month she will be a mother--think of that, Jack! She
is residing at one of her father's country clearings near the
Missiskoui River, in an old hunting-lodge, built by Simon de
Champlain, who first discovered the lake. She has written to me by a
circuitous route, saying that Montgomery's advanced posts are within
a few miles; that her father and all his men are with the rebels;
that the Iroquois are ravaging the country, burning, killing, and
scalping all before them; and thus, for the love I bear her, and for
the sake of our child that is yet unborn, I must strive to save her,
and have her conveyed to Fort St. John. This is all my story,
Middleton. She is about twelve miles distant from this outpost; I
think I know the way, and am certain I should be back before the
morning-gun is fired. If not, I must risk all--commission, rank,
reputation, everything--but Ella must be saved! You understand me
now, don't you, my dear friend?' said he, earnestly, as he grasped my
hand, and I could see that the poor fellow's eyes were filled with
tears.
"'Perfectly, Charley; I would risk my life to save or serve her or
you; but I think we may find those who will do both more effectually
than either you or I.'
"'Who do you mean?'
"'The Delaware scout, and old Abe Treherne, the hunter, will get over
the ground in half the time, and knowing, as they do, every track and
trail in the forest, with ten degrees more safety than you could ever
hope for.'
"I at once proposed the affair to them, and Treherne entered into it
with great readiness. His reward was to be a pair of handsome
pistols and ten guineas. He knew the old hunting-lodge on Carleton's
clearing quite well, and with the assistance of the horse, undertook
to bring the lady to the picquet-house in safety, and long before
sunrise. The Delaware, however, shook his head.
"'Le Vipre Noir has some darned doubts, I guess,' said the hunter;
'the woods about the Missiskoui are full of the mocassin prints of
the Yankees and the Iroquois; the tracks, I reckon, are dangerous
enough; and there will be an almighty trouble in bringing a fine lady
a-horse-back through the bush; for all that, Delaware, you'll venture
to bring the White Chief his squaw safe from the hunting-place beyond
the river?'
"'From the Missiskoui, where once I had a wigwam, and where my squaw
and her little papooses perished at the hands of the white men?' said
the savage, in a husky and guttural voice, while his stealthy eyes
filled with a malevolent gleam, as he sat sullenly smoking under a
tree.
"'You're a darned fool, Vipre,' said Treherne, angrily. 'Look ye
har--what's the use o' thinking o' that now? What's past is past,
ain't it?'
"'She appealed to them, and they laughed at her. She appealed to
Manitto, but his face was hidden behind a cloud, and he saw neither
her nor what the pale-faces did to her. She is with Manitto now--but
I yet am here.'
"'We may have a scrimmage, Delaware--can you bite yet?' asked
Treherne, testily.
"The savage pointed to his scalping-knife and grinned.
"'Will you venture with me for twelve bottles of the raal Jamaiky
fire-water?'
"'Oui, ja, yes!' said the savage, eagerly, in his mixed jargon; 'I
neither fear the feathered arrows of the rebel Iroquois, or the lead
bullets of the Yankees. Go! Le Vipre Noir is a warrior!'
"'Delaware,' said I, patting his muscular shoulder, 'what are the
greatest of human virtues?'
"'Courage and contempt of death,' he replied, loftily, while shaking
the two heron's plumes in his scalp lock.
"'Good,' said Halkett, who had listened to all this preamble with
irrepressible anxiety and impatience; 'here are ten guineas as an
earnest of future reward, Delaware. You will risk this for me?'
"'For _you_?' said the Indian, scornfully, putting the coins,
however, in the musk-rat pouch, which dangled at his wampum girdle.
"'For her, then?' said Halket, persuasively.
"'For neither,' replied the Delaware, while a lurid gleam shone in
his sombre eyes.
"'How, fellow?' asked Charley, with alarm.
"'I do so for the reward--for the fire-water and gold that will buy
me powder and blankets; but neither for the squaw nor the papoose of
the pale-face.'
"'Risk it for what you will, but only serve me; and you, Treherne----'
"'Make your terms with this darned crittur of a Redskin, and you can
settle with me after, sir,' said Treherne, who had been regarding his
compatriot with a somewhat doubtful expression. 'Come, Vipre Noir,
we must keep the hair on our heads, if we can, certainly; so put
fresh priming into the pan of your rifle, my dark serpent, for the
dew is falling heavily; if the rebel Redskins come on us, it must be
our scalps agin theirs! I'm your brother--let us be off to the bush
ere the sun sets.'
"Charley Halkett hastily wrote a note to his wife, telling her to
place implicit confidence in the two scouts as true and tried men,
who would convey her safely to the British outpost in front of Fort
St. John, where he, all eagerness and impatience, awaited her; and on
being furnished with this, Treherne slung his long rifle across his
body, stuck a short black pipe in his moustachioed mouth, mounted
Halkett's horse, and, with the swift-footed and agile Indian running
by his side, crossed the open bit of prairie before the log-hut, and
rapidly disappeared in the dense and virgin forest that lay beyond.
"That forest soon grew dark; twilight stole along the shores of the
silent lake; the last red rays of lingering light faded upward from
the lone mountain tops; one by one the bright stars came twinkling
out, and the old and clamorous anxiety occurred to us all; and each
poor fellow, as he was left on his post, felt himself a doomed man,
who might die without seeing his destroyer, or who might disappear as
others had so mysteriously done, without leaving a trace behind.
"Slowly and wearily our autumn night wore on, and with our pistols
cocked, Halkett and I visited the sentinels almost half-hourly. The
sky was moonless, and the silence around our lonely post was
oppressive; to the listening ear there came no sounds save those of
insect life among the long and reedy prairie grass.
"All at once, afar in distance from the deep recesses of the vast
pine forest, there rose the shrill war-whoop of the red man!
"Like the yell of an unchained fiend, it rung upon the still night
air; but died away, and all became silent--more silent apparently
than before, and I felt the hand of Halkett clutch my arm like a
vice, while hot bead-drops rolled over his temples.
"I had terrible forebodings, but remained silent, and with reiterated
advice to my sentinels to be 'on the alert,' returned to the
picquet-house. Poor Charley Halkett's alarm excited all my
compassion; the boldest, frankest, and jolliest fellow in the corps
had become a nervous, crushed, and miserable wretch!
"I thought that lingering night would never pass away. It passed,
however, as others do; the morning came in, bright and sunny, and
without one of our sentinels being missed or molested; and it seemed,
certainly, a very singular feature in those mysterious deaths, that
the only night on which no fatality occurred, should be that on which
we actually had an _alerte_, and when Treherne and the Delaware were
away in the direction of Missiskoui, and _not_ scouting in front of
the post!
"Morning had come, but there was yet no appearance of our messengers
or Ella Carleton, and old sympathies made me doubly anxious on her
account.
"Halkett, who was pale with sleeplessness and intense anxiety, walked
with me a little way beyond our advanced sentinels, who were now
shouting to each other their happy congratulations that nothing had
occurred during the night--in short, that they were _all_ there.
"Lake Champlain, in its calm loveliness, shone brightly under the
morning sun, its surface unruffled by the wind, and not a sail or
boat was visible in all the blue extent of its far stretching vista.
The gorgeous azalias were still in their bloom, so were the snowy
blossoms of the sumach, and the glorious yellow light fell in flakes
between the towering pines of the ancient forest, while the dewy
prairie grass glittered as it rippled beneath the pleasant breeze.
"The distant landscape and the dim blue hills that look down on the
winding Hudson seemed calm and tranquil, the silence around us was
intense, the hum of a little waterfall alone breaking the stillness
of the autumn morning.
"Poor Charley was like a madman, and it was in vain that I suggested
to him that Treherne and the Delaware might have been compelled to
make a long detour; that Ella might be ill and unable to travel on
horseback, that her father might have returned, that Montgomery's
advanced guard might be now far beyond the Missiskoui, that our
scouts might have lost their way in going or in returning, not that I
believed either possible for a moment, but I was glad to say anything
that would serve to account for their delay, or soothe his gnawing
anxiety; so in exceeding misery he returned to Fort St. John. The
moment that morning parade was over he hastened to me again, and
slowly the terrible day passed over, without tidings of Ella Carleton
or her guides, and as night drew near I had almost to use force to
prevent Halkett from setting out on foot for the old hunting-lodge on
the Missiskoui, a place he could never have reached alone.
"Suddenly we were roused, about sunset, by a shout from the picquet,
and as we looked up, the Delaware stood before us--alone!
"His aspect was fierce but weary; his hunting shirt was torn and bore
traces of blood. His story was brief. They had been attacked by
Indians in a deep gulley some miles distant, in the grey dawn of the
morning; Treherne had been killed and the lady carried off! The
Indian showed his wounds, and then claimed his reward.
"Poor Halkett, on hearing of this catastrophe, fell, as if struck by
a ball, and was laid on the hard bed of planks whereon the soldiers
slept. He was in a delirium, yet passive and weak as a child.
"So the hostile Indians were in our neighbourhood! I thought with
horror of what the poor girl--on the eve of becoming a mother--might
suffer at their merciless hands; and all her delicate beauty, her
merry laugh, the singular combination of elegance and _espièglerie_
in her manner, came vividly back to memory, as I had seen her last,
happy, radiant, and smiling, amid the glare and glitter of a garrison
ball in the city of Montreal.
"I questioned the Delaware closely; but his story was simple and
unvarying, so he received food, rum, and the reward which Halkett had
promised.
"An irrepressible anxiety stole over me as night deepened, so taking
my servant's musket and bayonet, I primed, loaded, and fixed a new
flint with care; and proceeding to the distance of fifty yards in
front of my line of sentinels, on the open space where the prairie
grass grew thick and rank, I resolved to pass some hours there as an
advanced sentinel.
"The sky was dark and cloudy, the stars were obscured by vapour, the
silence was intense, and it smote upon my heart with a sense that was
in some degree appalling, though I knew that my sentinels and the
rest of the picquet were all within hail. The tall prairie grass
waved solemnly and noiselessly to and fro; the sombre forest beyond,
with the myriad cones of its black pines stretched far away to the
distant mountains, but not a sound came from thence, nor from the
lone shores of the vast lake of Champlain, whose vista receded away
for miles upon my right. Even if the night-herons were wading among
its waters I could not hear them, and the whistle of the cat-bird was
silent.
"Through the dark, I could see where the wild sumach, with its white
blossoms and scarlet berries, waved over the graves of those who had
perished on this fatal out-post. Their aspect was solemnizing in
such a dark and silent hour, and the familiar faces of the dead men
seemed to hover before me. But there was something mysterious and
unaccountable in the total disappearance of those whose blood we had
only traced upon the grass of the prairie.
"Around where I stood this grass was more than a yard in height and
thick as ripened corn. It was waving steadily to and fro as the
breath of the night wind agitated it.
"I had been in that solitary place about two hours, and midnight was
at hand, when an emotion like a thrill--a tremor, not of fear, but of
_warning_--a 'grue,' as we Scots call it, came over me. I felt the
approach of some unseen thing, and cast a hurried glance around me.
Something unusual about the appearance of the prairie-grass caught my
eye.
"Where, when hitherto I had looked in a direct line to the front, the
surface, while swaying to and fro, seemed a flat and unbroken mass,
there was now visible a dark line, a hollow furrow, as if some animal
was crawling slowly and stealthily through it.
"With every nerve braced, with all the powers of vision concentrated,
I watched this new appearance, and the hollow track seemed to draw
nearer and nearer _to me_, slowly, silently, and almost
imperceptibly, as if a snake or some such reptile were crawling
towards my post; and, ere long, it was not more than fifteen yards
distant.
"I placed a handkerchief over the lock of my musket to muffle the
click of the lock in cocking, then I took a steady aim and fired!
"On this, 'piercing the night's dull ear,' there rang a wild, shrill,
and savage cry--a cry like that we had heard on the preceding
night--and a dark figure, bounding from among the grass, came rushing
towards me, but I stood, with bayonet charged, ready to receive him
on its point.
"He was an Indian, brandishing a tomahawk; but, within a few feet of
where I stood, he fell prone on his face, wallowing in blood. The
report of my musket, and his cry, brought all the picquet to the
front. We dragged him into the log-hut, and discovered that I had
shot our missing scout, the Delaware, Le Vipre Noir, the ball having
entered his left shoulder, and traversed nearly the entire length of
his body. He was mortally wounded, but the powers of life were
strong within him. I was greatly concerned by this misfortune, which
might procure us the enmity of his entire tribe; but why was he
stealing upon our post in the manner he had done?
"Before this could be resolved, and while we were staunching the
welling blood, and doing all in our humble power to soothe suffering
and prolong existence, a pale and bloody figure, who had given our
sentries the pass-word, staggered into the hut, and sunk, half
fainting, against the guard-bed. He was old Abe Treherne, the scout,
cut, gashed, and apparently dying.
"He was almost as speechless as the Delaware; but, on seeing each
other, though weak and deplorable their condition, the eyes of these
men glared with rage and hate, and they made such incredible efforts
to reach each other, knife in hand, that the soldiers of my picquet
had to hold them asunder by force.
"'Search the hunting-pouch of the darned thief--the accursed
red-skin!' said Treherne, in a hollow voice. 'May I never hew
hickory again if I don't have his scalp and his heart tew!'
"I was about to make the search, when Charley Halket anticipated me,
and shudderingly drew forth its cold and clammy contents.
"There were four human scalps; three were recognised as belonging to
our own men, the murdered sentinels, and the fourth had attached to
it the long, black, silky hair of a woman--the soft and ripply
tresses of Ella Carleton!
"'The red-skin fell on us suddenly in the bush, with knife and
tomahawk,' said Treherne, speaking with difficulty, and at intervals;
'he took me unawares from behind, and well nigh clove my head--darned
if I don't think the tommy's stickin' there yet! I fought hard for
my precious life--harder for the poor lady, I guess; but I swowned,
after a time, and then he dragged her into the bush.'
"'Ella--Ella!' exclaimed Halket, wringing his hands.
"'The last I saw, 'tween the leaves and the blood that poured into my
eyes, was the glitter of his scalping-knife; and the last I heard was
her death-cry. Shoot the varmint, captain! I searched the bush for
her till I was weary. Shoot the critter dead, soldiers! Ah! he was
well named Le Vipre Noir, by that son of a Delaware dog, his father.'
"The savage scarcely heard the end of this, for Halket, maddened by
the contents of the hunting-pouch, and brief story of Treherne,
placed a foot upon the prostrate body of the Delaware, then, slowly
and deliberately, while his teeth were set, his eyes flashing fire,
his brows knit by rage and grief, and, while an unuttered malediction
hovered on his lips, he passed his sword-blade twice through the
heart of the scout. The latter, for a moment, writhed upward on the
steel, like a dying serpent, and then expired.
"Poor Abe Treherne died soon after, for his wounds were mortal.
"So our false Delaware proved, after all, to have been in the
American interest, and inspired by some real or imaginary wrongs, to
have been the assassin of our sentinels.*
* Several sentinels of an outpost were thus actually assassinated
during the American war. A Scottish periodical of the time gives a
Highland regiment--the 74th, I think--the credit of furnishing the
victims.
"Fort St. John soon after fell into the hands of the Yankees under
General Montgomery; we were all made prisoners of war, and my poor
friend, Charley Halket, died, and (far from his kindred, who lie in
the Abbey Kirk of Culross) we buried him amid the snow as we were
being marched, under escort, up the lakes, towards Ticonderoga."
Such was the major's story of _the advanced picquet_.