THE FATE OF THE FLAT-BOAT.
AS was predicted, the storm soon cleared away, and the morning dawned
bright and beautiful. Birds were singing and flitting from limb to limb,
the water sparkled upon the grass and twigs, and by the time it was
fairly light, the whole village was astir.
Down in the water, but safely moored to shore, rested a flat-boat,
waiting for its living freight, before being loosened from its
fastenings. As the commotion in the village increased, numbers commenced
wending their way toward the river, and in a short time nearly all stood
upon the shore. The majority carried furniture and utensils with them,
which, by passing over several planks, were deposited upon the boat.
The farewells were now given. There were ten men, seven of whom had
wives, besides Marian, so that the entire number was eighteen. With the
exception of the latter, these had embarked all of their wealth and
possessions upon this perilous undertaking.
Marian embraced her parents, received their last advice, and, as she
passed over the plank, encountered Mansfield.
"Good-by," she said, gayly; "I shall soon expect you."
He took her hand, and, holding it a moment, said:
"I trust we shall be separated but a short time, dear Marian. I have
lain awake all night thinking of this, and I believe there _is_
danger--danger not only upon the river, but after you have reached your
destination. You know to whom I refer--and oh! let me beseech you to be
careful of exposing yourself. God bless you! Good-by, and may we soon
meet again."
He wrung her hand, as she passed over the boat; the plank was drawn on
board, the fastenings unloosened, and the flat-boat commenced slowly
moving with the current.
"Good luck to you!" called out Abbot. "Look out for danger; have your
eyes open for decoys, and don't, under any pretense, be induced to leave
the center of the stream. If you are betrayed, you will have no one to
blame but yourselves, for you are now warned."
The flat-boat slowly swept out into the stream, and, after a time,
gaining the center of the current, moved forward with greater rapidity.
Numbers yet stood upon the shore, waving their farewells; but the boat
soon rounded a bend, and they all disappeared from view.
Those on board now withdrew their eyes from the shore, and made
preparations for the perilous journey before them. The flat-boat was a
large, unwieldy affair, built like all similar ones, so as to float with
the current alone. The sides were bullet-proof, and the shape of the
thing was similar to a box. About three-fourths of the length were taken
up as the cabin, which communicated with the other part by means of a
small door. A long, sweeping oar was hung at each end, and balanced so
as to dip into the water. There was a small space at either end of the
boat which could be reached by passing through the cabin. The latter was
divided into two compartments, and as regarded comfort and convenience,
probably the flat-boat could have been little improved.
The occasion and season of the year were such that none could help
feeling buoyant and hopeful. The sun was now up in the heavens, shedding
its warm and cheering rays upon forest and river. The rain-drops hung
like pendent jewels, and the river glistened like molten gold. A thin
mist was rising along the shore, as the sun's warmth grew greater. Now
and then a woodsman's cabin was passed, and it could be seen nestling in
the small clearing, and apparently as comfortable as though no enemy had
ever threatened it. Perhaps the settler himself came forth with his wife
to wonder and view the passing boat, and exchange salutations with the
first white persons they had seen for months. Toward noon they detected
a solitary form standing below them, upon a bend in the river. A nearer
approach, showed him to be a hunter. He waved his coon-skin cap over his
head as they came abreast, gave a cheering hurrah, and called out:
"Keep a powerful look-out for reds, you, fur they're thick as flies in
August down toward the Big Sandy and Sciota. Wal they is, strangers; and
if you gits through without gittin' a taste of thar compliments, why,
here's as will stand treat all round."
After giving this warning, the hunter watched them a few minutes longer,
and then turned and disappeared in the forest.
Some miles farther down they passed a small settlement which had been
commenced but a few months before. A block-house, however, was erected
and stood at one end, as if to ward off all approach. It was a clumsy,
awkward building, but abundantly able to answer every purpose for which
it was intended. It was two stories in height, the upper one so much
smaller than the lower one, that it had the appearance of standing upon
a platform. The outer edge of this projection was protected by
palisades, inclosing it, except at one point where the gaping mouth of a
swivel gave warning of the resistance it was capable of giving. The
instrument was of brass, and so brightly burnished that it could be seen
gleaming in the sunlight by those upon the flat-boat. A sentinel was
pacing slowly around the block-house, a long rifle resting upon his
shoulder, and his keen eye sweeping the horizon at a glance. As he
caught sight of the flat-boat, he raised his cap and saluted it; and
shortly after several others appeared beside him and did the same. Our
friends returned the salutation, and continued watching the tiny
settlement until the intervening forest hid it from view.
This block-house was constructed somewhat differently from those
generally upon the frontiers, although now and then a similar one is
found even at this day.
The settlements and solitary cabins were still passed at long intervals,
and the night proved so dark and cheerless, that they put into shore
near a small cluster of houses and spent the night. As they were hardly
yet in dangerous territory, they committed no indiscretion in doing
this.
At sunrise the boat was loosened, and our friends were once more
floating forward, a day's journey nearer their destination. Nothing
worth noting occurred through this day. The settlements became more
rare, and the faces of their kindred scarcer. Late in the afternoon they
passed the mouth of the Muskingum, and at night a small river which put
in from the Virginia side. There was a slight moon this night. A
vigilant watch, of course, was maintained, but nothing to excite alarm
took place.
In the morning they were opposite the point where the Great Kanawha
debouches into the Ohio. The settlement here was termed Point Pleasant,
by which name it is known at the present day. It was at this point that
they were joined by a man who stated that he was a ranger going to
Massie's Station down the Ohio. Without the least mistrust or suspicion,
our friends took him on board, and continued floating hopefully down the
beautiful river.
This day, when at the mouth of the Big Sandy, and just at the elbow of
the great bend in the Ohio, an attempt was made to decoy them ashore.
The stranger whom they had taken on board, instantly warned them of
their danger, and told them that they must pay no attention to the
entreaties from the white men. The emigrants, as the case stood, would
not have deviated from their course, but the earnestness of their
new-found friend made them esteem him highly and congratulate themselves
upon having secured such a valuable ally.
All, we say, thought thus; but there were two exceptions--Marian and a
tall, bony, unmarried man by the name of Peterson. This fellow looked
upon their new acquaintance with distrust the minute he stepped upon the
boat.
"I'll be darned, Marian," he said, in an undertone to her, after they
had passed the decoy, "ef I don't s'picion that chap. He's mighty
clever, and the trouble is he is a _leetle too clever_."
"Do you really fear him?" asked Marian, frightened at finding that
another shared her suspicions.
"Fear him? I'd like to see the man _I'm_ afeared of. All I'd ask would
be to just git them are paws on old Simon Girty or that McGable that
people allow is out in these parts, or that man thar, if he ain't what
he orter be, which I allow is the case."
"At any rate, watch him, Jim, for it won't do to have a traitor within
when there were so many without."
"I'll watch him, I reckon, Marian; and by the Eternal, the first real
genuine sign of treachery I see, I'll shoot him! You may bet on that."
As these words were uttered by the indignant Jim Peterson to Marian, he
stood looking upon the object of his remarks with flashing eyes, and
gesticulating earnestly with his long, bony, muscular arms as though he
ached to get him once fairly within his grasp. In fact, Jim Peterson
would have been a dangerous customer for any man. He was now about
thirty years of age, and eight years of his life had been spent as scout
and ranger. He had served under St. Clair and Gen. Harmar, and when the
former suffered such a disastrous defeat, he became so disgusted with
the generalship of his leaders, that he left the country and settled
down in the village mentioned at the commencement of this work. Here he
had remained until the present time; but the daring, wandering, reckless
spirit was so strong within him that he could resist no longer, and he
joined the present party with the full determination of taking to the
woods again as soon as they arrived at their destination.
He was over six feet in height, of a thin, attenuated frame, capable of
panther-like strength and activity, with a keen, restless gray eye, and
a sharp-featured visage.
Marian, after the conversation with him, descended to the cabin; but her
mind was in such a tumult of fear and apprehension that she could not
restrain her agitation. She now firmly believed that the stranger above
was an enemy, and that, even with the shrewdness of Jim Peterson to
protect them, they were all still in the utmost peril. But she knew of
no course to pursue, except to invoke Divine protection. Should she
impart her suspicions to the females around her, they would either
ridicule her or become so terrified themselves, that the case would be
infinitely worse. She concluded, at last, that there was nothing she
could do, and, under Heaven, the case must be left to Peterson.
In a short time night commenced settling over the woods and river. The
emigrants had now made such progress upon their way, that they were
about half way between the Big Sandy and Sciota. The dense forests of
Kentucky and Ohio shut down upon either hand, and not a sign of
civilization met the eye.
Before it was fairly dark, the flat-boat was suddenly hailed from the
shore. A white man, limping and apparently in great distress, besought
them to run in and take him on board before the Indians reached him.
"He's a decoy," remarked the stranger, who had intently watched him from
the first.
"How do you know he is, colonel?" asked Peterson, who had intently
watched the stranger all the time.
"How do I know he is?" repeated the latter. "I reckon as how any fool as
has one eye could tell the same mighty quick."
"You're sure of it then, eh?"
"In course I am, ain't you?"
"Yas, sir."
With this the ranger turned on his heel, satisfied that they had a
traitor on board. This may seem strange to the reader, but it would not
be to a backwoodsman who understood the case. The eagerness and
quickness this man had evinced to point out danger, ever since he joined
our friends, was good reason in itself for suspicion. Had he been a
genuine ranger, he would have hesitated before giving his opinion, and
not defeat his own ends by showing too much knowledge of what was
unknown to the rest.
Peterson walked away from him, and communicated his suspicions to
several of his friends. Just as he expected, they laughed at him, and
accused him almost of meanness. Stung by this rebuke, the ranger became
silent and sullen and left them.
In the meantime, the man upon shore was bellowing louder than ever. Not
content with being once refused, he was limping along shore, and
beseeching them in more piteous tones than ever. Still the whites
resolutely turned their ears against him, and would not have noticed him
at all, had not the stranger spoken.
"I declare, it looks queer anyhow. I never knowed one of them decoys to
hang on like that."
"You have no notion that he is anything else but one, or that he has any
object except our own destruction?"
"I didn't think different at first, but it begins to look doubtful. Just
let me say a few words to him."
With this, he stepped to one side of the boat, and called out, "What's
your name?"
"John Haggart."
"How come you to git in such an ugly fix?"
"I was out scouting it, and was cotched by the Shawnees, and have just
got away from them. For God's sake, come and take me off, for they're
after me."
[Illustration: "For God's sake come and take me off, for they are
after me."]
"Jump into the river and swim out to us."
"My hurt is too bad; I've got a bullet clean through my thigh, and can
just drag the leg after the other. Yonder is the smoke of their wigwams
up on the hill and they ain't fur off. My God! don't leave a white man
thus! Heaven would curse you if you did."
Our friends looked in the direction he indicated, and could faintly
discern in the gathering gloom a thin wreath of smoke rising from the
trees. The suffering man, as if aware of their thoughts, called out:
"That is whar' they are, and their runners are out after me. May God
forever curse you, if you leave me here."
"What do yer think?" asked the stranger, turning round with an air of
perplexity to the others. "I believe that man ain't a decoy, not at all;
and ef he isn't, we orter not leave him there to be cooked by the red
devils. Still, I shouldn't say nothing, but leave it with you."
"It will never do to run the boat ashore," said several of the men,
firmly.
"Oh, I didn't mean that. In course, it would be all-fired foolish to do
that ar' thing. But I've been thinking"--and the man dropped his eyes,
as if in great perplexity--"that we orter help that man off. To do sich
a thing we ain't compelled by any duty to expose ourselves to any
danger. What is your views, friends?"
"Why, if the thing can be done without imperiling ourselves, it is our
Christian duty to do it; but we are at a loss at present to understand
how we could manage it thus."
"Oh, easily enough; just run the boat in about half way where the water
is so shallow that the fellow can wade out to us. Keep your eyes open,
and if there is the least sign of treachery, we can fall into the
current again and float off."
"A good plan, and I see no reason for not carrying it out."
All echoed this sentiment, with the exception of Peterson, who still
stood apart, in a sullen, pouting mood, leaning against the side of the
boat, with his head dropped upon his breast.
"Come, Jim, what do you think of it?" asked one of the emigrants, and
the others all turned toward him for a reply.
"I think, in the first place, you are all a set of the thunderingest
fools I ever heard of, not to see you've got a sneaking decoy right
among ye, who's doing his purtiest to git you into shore to please that
other trap."
"Outrageous! shameful!" exclaimed several, horrified at the blunt,
plain-spoken answer they had received.
"Go on, and do what you please, but don't ax me nothin' more, for I've
got nothing at all to say," added Peterson, who was touched to the quick
by what he had heard in reply.
The stranger, it was observed, said nothing at all, except, after a few
minutes, to urge the matter upon our friends. It was now quite dark, but
the shadowy form of the man on shore could be seen struggling along, and
calling out in tones that were really heartrending. The men consulted
together a while longer, and then it was determined to follow the
suggestion of their friend.
The long, guiding oars were dipped into the water, and with a loud plash
swung a few feet, when the unwieldy flat-boat began slowly sliding in
toward shore. It moved very tardily, however, and it was noticed that
its progress down stream was continually growing less and less. This was
accounted for by the fact that they were getting out of the current, and
moving in shallow water.
The man, all this time, was limping and gesticulating on shore,
imploring them to hurry, as his life stood in imminent danger every
moment, and the whites, to their credit be it spoken, worked with a good
will.
They had hardly commenced rowing, when Marian asked Peterson whether
there was not another person upon the bank.
"It is a female, and see how motionless she stands! She is just below
that man."
"Yes, I see her--she is waving her hands. Hark!"
"Keep off! keep off! You will all be killed! This man is a decoy!"
called out the person alluded to in a beseeching voice.
"Who is she?" asked Marian, growing more excited every moment.
"Ah! she's the Frontier Angel. Haven't you heard of her? When _she_
warns a white, he can depend on it she means what she says. This ain't
the fust time she has done that thing."
[Illustration: The Frontier Angel.]
"O Jim!" implored Marian, "this is awful; tell them before it is too
late. They cannot but heed you."
The ranger hesitated a moment, as he remembered the cutting rebuff he
had received; but the imploring voice of Marian, together with his own
sense of duty, conquered. He turned his head and looked at the oarsmen.
They had paused as the warning voice reached them.
"What does that mean?" asked one.
"That gal is the Frontier Angel that you've heard the boys talk about at
the settlement. Ef any of you wants red night-caps, don't mind her; ef
you doesn't, jest get back into the channel as soon as them oars will
take you."
"_I've_ heard that that gal you call the _Frontier Angel_ is nobody but
a crazy squaw," said one of the oarsmen, still hesitating.
"Go on, then," said Peterson, stung to the quick by this second repulse.
"I shan't say no more," he added, in a lower tone, to Marian.
"Didn't you know that gal is a crazy fool?" said the stranger,
sneeringly. "Of course she is, and I thought you knowed it. Ef you're
going to help that dyin' feller, you've got to be quick about it, 'cause
the reds can't be far off."
Thus appealed to, the oarsmen commenced, although it cannot be said all
were free from misgivings. But in the face of the suspicious actions of
the man upon shore, and the continued warnings of the Frontier Angel,
the flat-boat gradually approached its doom. Several of the men already
half-repented their rashness, and stood with their eyes fixed upon
shore, and an expression of painful doubt upon their features.
Peterson saw all these manifestations, and thus communed with himself.
"No use of talkin', they're all goin' sure, and, Jim Peterson, the
question is what you purpose to do. You can tend to yourself well
enough, but how 'bout Marian? It won't do to leave her. You hain't
forgotten, Jim, the time them same reds butchered _your_ gal. No, Jim
you never forgot that, and _you never will_; and how do you s'pose
Mansfield will feel ef you leave his gal in the same fix? 'Twon't do,
'twon't do, Jim. Can you swim, Marian?" he asked, turning toward her.
"Yes; why do you ask?"
"It's what has got to be done, Marian. You see, we'll be inshore in a
few minutes. Stick by me, and I'll take you overboard."
"Why not now, Jim?"
"You see it's getting dark fast, and every minute will help us. By the
eternal! do you know that feller on shore? It is McGable! Hello! the
boat has struck!"
Such was the case, and what was more alarming they were but a few rods
from shore. It was noticed, too, that the wailing tone of the decoy had
changed to a more commanding one, while the Frontier Angel had
disappeared.
"What does this mean, sir?" asked one of the oarsmen, thoroughly
alarmed.
"_You're my prisoners, sir!_" replied the stranger. "Don't get
excited--it's no use. That man is McGable, and the Shawnees are waitin'
fur yer ha'r. Ef you undertake to fight, you'll be tomahawked in a
minute; but ef you give in nice like, p'raps some of yer'll be let
alone. Ef you've no objections, I'll give the signal for 'em to come
aboard."
All except Peterson were paralyzed with horror, and seemed utterly
speechless. He stepped deliberately forward and said:
"I'd like to ax a question afore you does that thing. What yer going to
do with _me_?"
"Burn and toast you as soon as we get ashore."
"I rather reckon not, old hoss. _How does that suit?_"
Before even his victim divined his intention, the ranger brought his
rifle to his shoulder and fired, his ball passing clean through the
breast of the villain. The latter gave a spasmodic start and gasp, a
groan, and sucking the breath through his teeth, fell forward, the blood
spouting in a stream from his wound.
"Hyer's as opines as how it won't be _you_ that'll toast Jim Peterson
just yit," remarked the ranger, coolly fastening his rifle to his back.
"O God! what shall we do?" frantically wailed the settlers.
"Fight! you was so anxious to see McGable, you'll have the chance now.
Ef yer'd a minded what me and the Frontier Angel said, you wouldn't got
into this fix. It won't do no good to touch the oars. You're fast in the
mud, and have got to fight it out!"
Instantly the shore became alive with savages. Yells that might have
curdled a demon's blood rent the air, and the whole mass of swarming
bodies plunged into the shallow water, and made for the flat-boat. The
whites discharged their shots, but the numbers and power of their
enemies were irresistible. Onward they poured, shouting like madmen, and
clambering up the sides, a scene of butchery took place that sickens the
heart to contemplate.
[Illustration: "Onward they poured, shouting like madmen."]
Peterson saw the critical moment had arrived, and catching Marian by the
waist, he sprang upon the gunwale, intending to leap over. But that
instant a volley was poured into the boat, and a bullet struck her. The
ranger felt her become a dead weight, at the same moment that a stream
of hot blood poured over his hand. He bent his head down, and peered
into her face. The dark, blue eyes were slowly shutting, and her head
dropped heavily.
"I am dying, Jim," she murmured. "God bless you for your effort. Give my
last love to Russel, mother, and father--good-by!"
"Heaven bless you!" said the ranger, laying her gently upon the deck, in
spite of the wild scene that had commenced. "You've escaped that
McGable, anyhow."
Peterson again sprang to the gunwale, and, with an almost superhuman
leap, bounded outward in the darkness and disappeared.