at once the door was gently opened, and a figure moved silently into the
room. It was too dark to observe its motions narrowly, but he could see
that it stooped towards one of the sleepers, who immediately rose. Next
it approached and touched him on the shoulder. Lee immediately started
up. The figure then allowed a slight gleam from a dark lantern to pass
over his face, and as it did so whispered, impatiently, 'Not the
man--but come!' It then occurred to Lee that it was the opportunity he
desired. The unknown whispered to him to keep his place till another man
was called; but just at that moment something disturbed him, and making
a signal to Lee to follow, he moved silently out of the room. They found
the door of the house unbarred, and a small part of the fence removed,
where they passed out without molestation. The sentry had retired to a
shelter, where he thought he could guard his post without suffering from
the rain; but Lee saw his conductors put themselves in preparation to
silence him if he should happen to address them. Just without the fence
appeared a stooping figure, wrapped in a red cloak, and supporting
itself with a large stick, which Lee at once perceived could be no other
than the old fruit-woman. But the most profound silence was observed: a
man came out from a thicket at a little distance and joined them, and
the whole party moved onward by the guidance of the old woman. At first
they frequently stopped to listen, but having heard the sentinel cry,
'All's well!' they seemed reassured, and moved with more confidence than
before.
"They soon came to her cottage. A table was spread with some coarse
provisions upon it, and a large jug, which one of the soldiers was about
to seize, when the man who conducted them withheld him. 'No,' said he,
'we must first proceed to business.'
"The conductor, a middle-aged, harsh-looking man, was here about to
require all present, before he could conduct them farther, to swear upon
the Scriptures not to make the least attempt at escape, and never to
reveal the circumstances or agents in the proceeding, whatever might
befal them. But before they had time to take the oath, their practised
ears detected the sound of the alarm-gun; and the conductor, directing
the party to follow him in close order, immediately left the house,
taking with him a dark lantern. Lee's reflections were not now the most
agreeable. If he were to be compelled to accompany his party to the
British lines in New York, he would be detected and hanged as a spy; and
he saw that the conductor had prepared arms for them, which they were to
use in taking the life of any one who should attempt to escape. They
went on with great despatch, but not without difficulty. Lee might now
have deserted, in this hurry and alarm; but he had made no discovery,
and he could not bear to confess that he had not nerve enough to carry
him through. They went on, and were concealed in a barn the whole of the
next day. Provisions were brought, and low whistles and other signs
showed that the owner of the barn was in collusion with his secret
guests. The barn was attached to a small farm-house. Lee was so near the
house that he could overhear the conversation which was carried on about
the door. The morning rose clear, and it was evident from the inquiries
of horsemen, who occasionally galloped up to the door, that the country
was alarmed. The farmer gave short and surly replies, as if unwilling to
be taken off from his labour; but the other inmates of the house were
eager in their questions; and, from the answers, Lee gathered that the
means by which he and his companions had escaped were as mysterious as
ever. The next night, when all was quiet, they resumed their march, and
explained to Lee that, as he was not with them in their conspiracy, and
was accidentally associated with them in their escape, they should take
the precaution to keep him before them, just behind the guide. He
submitted without opposition, though the arrangement considerably
lessened his chances of escape.
"For several nights they went on in this manner, being delivered over to
different persons from time to time; and, as Lee could gather from their
whispering conversations, they were regularly employed on occasions like
the present, and well rewarded by the British for their services. Their
employment was full of danger; and though they seemed like desperate
men, he could observe that they never remitted their precautions. They
were concealed days in barns, cellars, caves made for the purpose, and
similar retreats; and one day was passed in a tomb, the dimensions of
which had been enlarged, and the inmates, if there had been any,
banished to make room for the living. The burying-grounds were a
favourite retreat, and on more occasions than one they were obliged to
resort to superstitious alarms to remove intruders upon their path.
Their success fully justified the experiment; and unpleasantly situated
as he was, in the prospect of soon being a ghost himself, he could not
avoid laughing at the expedition with which old and young fled from the
fancied apparitions.
"Though the distance of the Delaware was not great, they had now been
twelve days on the road, and such was the vigilance and suspicion
prevailing throughout the country, that they almost despaired of
effecting their object. The conductor grew impatient, and Lee's
companions, at least one of them, became ferocious. There was, as we
have said, something unpleasant to him in the glances of this fellow
towards him, which became more and more fierce as they went on; but it
did not appear whether it was owing to circumstances, or actual
suspicion. It so happened that, on the twelfth night, Lee was placed in
a barn, while the rest of the party sheltered themselves in the cellar
of a little stone church, where they could talk and act with more
freedom; both because the solitude of the church was not often disturbed
even on the Sabbath, and because even the proprietors did not know that
illegal hands had added a cellar to the conveniences of the building.
"Here they were smoking pipes with great diligence, and, at intervals
not distant, applying a huge canteen to their mouths, from which they
drank with upturned faces, expressive of solemn satisfaction. While they
were thus engaged, the short soldier asked them, in a careless way, if
they knew whom they had in their party. The others started, and took
their pipes from their mouths to ask him what he meant. 'I mean,' said
he, 'that we are honoured with the company of Capt. Lee, of the rebel
army. The rascal once punished me, and I never mistook my man when I had
a debt of that kind to pay.'
"The others expressed their disgust at his ferocity, saying that if, as
he said, their companion was an American officer, all they had to do was
to watch him closely. As he had come among them uninvited, he must go
with them to New York, and take the consequences; but meantime it was
their interest not to seem to suspect him, otherwise he might give an
alarm--whereas it was evidently his intention to go with them till they
were ready to embark for New York. The other person persisted in saying
that he would have his revenge with his own hand; upon which the
conductor, drawing a pistol, declared to him that if he saw the least
attempt to injure Capt. Lee, or any conduct which would lead him to
suspect that his disguise was discovered, he would that moment shoot him
through the head. The soldier put his hand upon his knife, with an
ominous scowl upon his conductor; but he restrained himself.
"The next night they went on as usual, but the manner of their conductor
showed that there was more danger than before; in fact, he explained to
the party that they were now not far from the Delaware, and hoped to
reach it before midnight. They occasionally heard the report of a
musket, which seemed to indicate that some movement was going on in the
country.
"When they came to the bank there were no traces of a boat on the
waters. Their conductor stood still for a moment in dismay; but,
recollecting himself, he said it was possible it might have been secured
lower down the stream; and forgetting every thing else, he directed the
larger soldier to accompany him. Giving a pistol to the other, he
whispered, 'If the rebel officer attempts to betray us, shoot him; if
not, you will not, for your own sake, make any noise to show where we
are.' In the same instant they departed, and Lee was left alone with the
ruffian.
"He had before suspected that the fellow knew him, and now doubts were
changed to certainty at once. Dark as it was, it seemed as if fire
flashed from his eye, now he felt that revenge was within his power. Lee
was as brave as any officer in the army; but he was unarmed; and though
he was strong, his adversary was still more powerful. While he stood,
uncertain what to do, the fellow seemed enjoying the prospect of
revenge, as he looked on him with a steady eye. Though the officer stood
to appearance unmoved, the sweat rolled in heavy drops from his brow.
Lee soon took his resolution, and sprang upon his adversary with the
intention of wresting the pistol from his hand; but the other was upon
his guard, and aimed with such precision that, had the pistol been
charged with a bullet, that moment would have been his last. But it
seemed that the conductor had trusted to the sight of his weapons to
render them unnecessary, and had therefore only loaded them with powder.
As it was, the shock threw Lee to the ground; but fortunately, as the
fellow dropped the pistol, it fell where Lee reached it; and as his
adversary stooped, and was drawing his knife from his bosom, Lee was
able to give him a stunning blow. He immediately threw himself upon the
assassin, and a long and bloody struggle began. They were so nearly
matched in strength and advantage, that neither dared unclench his hold
for the sake of grasping the knife. The blood gushed from their mouths,
and the combat would have probably ended in favour of the assassin--when
steps and voices were heard advancing, and they found themselves in the
hands of a party of countrymen, who were armed for the occasion, and
were scouring the banks of the river. They were forcibly torn apart, but
so exhausted and breathless that neither could make an explanation; and
they submitted quietly to their captors.
"The party of the armed countrymen, though they had succeeded in their
attempt, and were sufficiently triumphant on the occasion, were sorely
perplexed how to dispose of their prisoners. After some discussion, one
of them proposed to throw the decision upon the wisdom of the nearest
magistrate. They accordingly proceeded with their prisoners to his
mansion, about two miles distant, and called upon him to rise and attend
to business. A window was hastily thrown up, and the justice put forth
his night-capped head, and with more wrath than became his dignity,
ordered them off; and in requital for their calling him out of bed in
the cold, generously wished them in the warmest place. However,
resistance was vain: he was compelled to rise; and as soon as the
prisoners were brought before him, he ordered them to be taken in irons
to the prison at Philadelphia. Lee improved the opportunity to take the
old gentleman aside, and told him who he was, and why he was thus
disguised. The justice only interrupted him with the occasional inquiry,
'Most done?' When he had finished, the magistrate told him that his
story was very well made, and told in a manner very creditable to his
address; and that he should give it all the weight it seemed to require.
And Lee's remonstrances were unavailing.
"As soon as they were fairly lodged in the prison, Lee prevailed on the
jailor to carry a note to Gen. Lincoln, informing him of his condition.
The general received it as he was dressing in the morning, and
immediately sent one of his aids to the jail. That officer could not
believe his eyes that he saw Capt. Lee. His uniform, worn-out when he
assumed it, was now hanging in rags about him; and he had not been
shaved for a fortnight. He wished, very naturally, to improve his
appearance before presenting himself before the secretary of war; but
the orders were peremptory to bring him as he was. The general loved a
joke full well: his laughter was hardly exceeded by the report of his
own cannon; and long and loud did he laugh that day.
"When Capt. Lee returned to Lancaster, he immediately attempted to
retrace the ground; and so accurate, under all the unfavourable
circumstances, had been his investigation, that he brought to justice
fifteen persons who had aided the escape of British prisoners. It is
hardly necessary to say, to you who know the fate of revolutionary
officers, that he received, for his hazardous and effectual service, no
reward whatever."
"A perilous adventure," observed Warner, as Kinnison concluded his
narrative.
"It was," replied Davenport. "It seems rather strange how Capt. Lee
could so disguise himself and impose upon the enemy. But he knew a thing
or two more than common men, and I shouldn't wonder."
"The British had many useful friends in every part of the country,
during the war, and were enabled to do many such deeds," remarked
Colson.
"Fill up, my friends, another glass of ale, and drink the health of
Capt. Lee!" added Hand, rising. The company filled their glasses and
drank the toast. The veterans were not as deep drinkers as their young
and vigorous friends, and therefore they merely sipped their ale and sat
it aside.
GENERAL DANIEL MORGAN.
"Speaking of brave men," observed Colson, "I suppose there is not one of
the company who will doubt the bravery of Gen. Morgan, the hero of so
many fields."
"The man who does doubt it knows not what courage is," remarked Ransom,
taking another sip of the ale.
"Well, I'm going to tell you something about his bravery," said Colson.
"Men have different ideas of that particular thing."
"This 'thunderbolt of war,' this 'brave Morgan, who never knew fear,'
was, in camp, often wicked and very profane, but never a disbeliever in
religion. He testified that himself. In his latter years General Morgan
professed religion, and united himself with the Presbyterian church in
Winchester, Va., under the pastoral care of the Rev. Dr. Hill, who
preached in that house some forty years, and may now be occasionally
heard on Loudon Street, Winchester. His last days were passed in that
town; and while sinking to the grave, he related to his minister the
experience of his soul. 'People thought,' said he, 'that Daniel Morgan
never prayed;'--'People said old Morgan never was afraid;'--'People did
not know.' He then proceeded to relate in his blunt manner, among many
other things, that the night they stormed Quebec, while waiting in the
darkness and storm, with his men paraded, for the word 'to advance,' he
felt unhappy; the enterprise appeared more than perilous; it seemed to
him that nothing less than a miracle could bring them off safe from an
encounter at such an amazing disadvantage. He stepped aside and kneeled
by the side of a cannon--and then most fervently prayed that the Lord
God Almighty would be his shield and defence, for nothing less than an
almighty arm could protect him. He continued on his knees till the word
passed along the line. He fully believed that his safety during that
night of peril was from the interposition of God. Again, he said, about
the battle of the Cowpens, which covered him with so much glory as a
leader and a soldier--he had felt afraid to fight Tarleton with his
numerous army flushed with success--and that he retreated as long as he
could--till his men complained--and he could go no further. Drawing up
his army in three lines, on the hill side; contemplating the scene--in
the distance the glitter of the advancing enemy--he trembled for the
fate of the day. Going to the woods in the rear, he kneeled in an old
tree-top, and poured out a prayer to God for his army, and for himself,
and for his country. With relieved spirits he returned to the lines,
and in his rough manner cheered them for the fight; as he passed along,
they answered him bravely. The terrible carnage that followed the deadly
aim of his lines decided the victory. In a few moments Tarleton fled.
'Ah,' said he, 'people said old Morgan never feared;'--'they thought
Morgan never prayed; they did not know;'--'old Morgan was often
miserably afraid.' And if he had not been, in the circumstances of
amazing responsibility in which he was placed, how could he have been
brave?"
[Illustration: GENERAL MORGAN.]
"We seldom hear of a man admitting that he was ever afraid," observed
Hand. "But the man who never knew fear must be possessed of a small
degree of intelligence and no sense of responsibility; neither of which
are creditable. Great generals, and soldiers, in all ages, have boasted
of their freedom from dread under all circumstances. But it is a mere
boast. Fear is natural and useful, and I have ever observed that the man
of most fear is the man of most prudence and forecast."
"Do you mean to say that the coward is the wisest man?" enquired
Kinnison, in astonishment.
"Oh, no. A coward is one who will not grapple with danger when he meets
it, but shrinks and flies. A man who is conscious of dangers to be met,
and feels a distrust of his own power to meet them, is a different sort
of person," replied Hand.
"Well, that's a very nice distinction," remarked one of the young men.
"There's truth in what he says, however," said Ranson. "I have felt a
fear of consequences many a time, yet I know that I am not a coward;
for my conduct in the time of battle, and when death was hailing around
me, proves it."
"I can't see any distinction between a coward and a man of many fears,"
remarked Davenport; "though, of course, I don't know enough of words to
argue the point."
"To make it clearer," replied Hand, "I will assert that Washington was a
man fearful of consequences, and some of those who refused to go to the
aid of the heroes of Bunker Hill were cowards."
"It's all plain enough to me," observed Colson. But the rest of the
company, by shakes of the head and meditative looks, indicated that the
distinction was not perceptible to their mental vision.
THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY.
"Well now, my friends, I can tell you of a brave man who was not fearful
enough to be prudent," observed Colson. "I allude to Gen. Herkimer. No
man can dispute his courage; and it is clear that if he had possessed
more fear of Indian wiles, he would not have fallen into an ambuscade."
"Will you tell us about the battle in which he fell?" enquired Hand.
"I was about to do so," replied Colson. "Brig. Gen. Herkimer was the
commander of the militia of Tryon County, N.Y., when news was received
that St. Leger, with about 2,000 men, had invested Fort Schuyler. The
General immediately issued a proclamation, calling out all the
able-bodied men in the county, and appointed a place for their
rendezvous and a time for them to be ready for marching to the relief of
Fort Schuyler.
"Learning that Gen. Herkimer was approaching to the relief of the
garrison, and not being disposed to receive him in his camp, St. Leger
detached a body of Indians and tories, under Brant and Col. Butler, to
watch his approach, and to intercept, if possible, his march. The
surrounding country afforded every facility for the practice of the
Indian mode of warfare. In the deep recesses of its forests they were
secure from observation, and to them they could retreat in case they
were defeated. Finding that the militia approached in a very careless
manner, Butler determined to attack them by surprise. He selected a
place well fitted for such an attack. A few miles from the fort there
was a deep ravine sweeping toward the east in a semicircular form, and
having a northern and southern direction. The bottom of this ravine was
marshy, and the road along which the militia were marching crossed it by
means of a log causeway. The ground thus partly enclosed by the ravine
was elevated and level. Along the road, on each side of this height of
land, Butler disposed his men.
"About ten o'clock on the morning of the 6th of August, 1777, the Tryon
County militia arrived at this place without any suspicions of danger.
The dark foliage of the forest trees, with a thick growth of underbrush,
entirely concealed the enemy from their view. The advanced guard, with
about two-thirds of the whole force, had gained the elevated ground, the
baggage-wagons had descended into the ravine--Col. Fisher's regiment was
still on the east side--when the Indians arose, and with a dreadful yell
poured a destructive fire upon them. The advanced guard was entirely cut
off. Those who survived the first fire were immediately cut down with
the tomahawk. The horror of the scene was increased by the personal
appearance of the savages, who were almost naked and painted in a most
hideous manner. They ran down each side, keeping up a constant fire, and
united at the causeway; thus dividing the militia into two bodies. The
rear regiment, after a feeble resistance, fled in confusion, and were
pursued by the Indians. They suffered more severely than they would have
done had they stood their ground, or advanced to the support of the main
body in front.
"The latter course would have been attended with great loss, but might
probably have been effected. The forward division had no alternative but
to fight. Facing out in every direction, they sought shelter behind the
trees and returned the fire of the enemy with spirit. In the beginning
of the battle, the Indians, whenever they saw that a gun was fired from
behind a tree, rushed up and tomahawked the person thus firing before he
had time to reload his gun. To counteract this, two men were ordered to
station themselves behind one tree, the one reserving his fire until the
Indian ran up. In this way the Indians were made to suffer severely in
return. The fighting had continued for some time, and the Indians had
begun to give way, when Major Watson, a brother-in-law of Sir John
Johnson, brought up a reinforcement, consisting of a detachment of
Johnson's Greens. The blood of the Germans boiled with indignation at
the sight of these men. Many of the Greens were personally known to
them. They had fled their country, and were now returned in arms to
subdue it. Their presence under any circumstances would have kindled up
the resentment of these militia; but coming up as they now did, in aid
of a retreating foe, called into exercise the most bitter feelings of
hostility. They fired upon them as they advanced, and then rushing from
behind their covers, attacked them with their bayonets, and those who
had none, with the butt end of their muskets. This contest was
maintained, hand to hand, for nearly half an hour. The Greens made a
manful resistance, but were finally obliged to give way before the
dreadful fury of their assailants, with the loss of thirty killed upon
the spot where they first entered. Major Watson was wounded and taken
prisoner, though afterwards left upon the field.
"In this assault Col. Cox is said to have been killed; possessing an
athletic frame, with a daring spirit, he mingled in the thickest of the
fight. His voice could be distinctly heard, as he cheered on his men or
issued his orders, amid the clashing of arms and the yells of the
contending savages.
"About one o'clock, Adam Helmer, who had been sent by Gen. Herkimer with
a letter to Col. Gansevoort, announcing his approach, arrived at the
fort. At two o'clock, Lieut. Col. Willet, with 207 men, sallied from the
fort for the purpose of making a diversion in favour Gen. Herkimer, and
attacked the camp of the enemy. This engagement lasted about an hour,
when the enemy were driven off with considerable loss. Col. Willet
having thrown out flanking parties, and ascertained that the retreat
was not feigned, ordered his men to take as much of the spoil as they
could remove, and to destroy the remainder. On their return to the fort,
above the landing, and near where the old French fort stood, a party of
200 regular troops appeared, and prepared to give battle. A smart fire
of musketry, aided by the cannon from the fort, soon obliged them to
retreat, when Willet returned into the fort with his spoil, and without
the loss of a single man. A part of that spoil was placed upon the walls
of the fortress, where it waved in triumph in sight of the vanquished
enemy.
"This timely and well-conducted sally was attended with complete
success. A shower of rain had already caused the enemy to slacken their
fire, when finding by reports that their camp was attacked and taken,
they withdrew and left the militia in possession of the field.
"The Americans lost in killed nearly 200, and about as many wounded and
prisoners; they carried off between 40 and 50 of their wounded. They
encamped the first night upon the ground where old Fort Schuyler was
built.