fractured by a musket-ball. The leg was amputated a few days after, but
in consequence of the unfavourable state of the weather, and want of
skill in his surgeons, mortification ensued, and occasioned his death.
On receiving his wound, his horse having been killed, he directed his
saddle to be placed upon a little hillock of earth and rested himself
upon it. Being advised to choose a place where he would be less
exposed, he replied, 'I will face the enemy.' Surrounded by a few men he
continued to issue his orders with firmness. In this situation, and in
the heat of the battle, he very deliberately took from his pocket his
tinder-box and lit his pipe, which he smoked with great composure. He
was certainly to blame for not using greater caution on his march, but
the coolness and intrepidity which he exhibited when he found himself
ambuscaded, aided materially in restoring order and in inspiring his men
with courage. His loss was deeply lamented by his friends and by the
inhabitants of Tryon County. The Continental Congress, in October
following, directed that a monument should be erected to his memory, of
the value of five hundred dollars. But no monument was ever erected."
"I will face the enemy," said Kinnison, repeating the words of the brave
Herkimer.
"Heroic words. But the General should have possessed more prudence. He
had lived long enough in the neighbourhood of the Indians to know their
mode of warfare, and he should have sent out rangers to reconnoitre his
route," remarked Colson.
"However," observed Kinnison, "the enemy didn't get off whole-skinned. I
have heard that they had more than 200 killed. It was a hard-fought
battle, and considering all circumstances, no men could have behaved
better than our militia did. You see, young men, after they recovered
from the confusion of the first attack, they found they had no
ammunition save what they had in their cartouch-boxes. Their
baggage-wagons were in possession of the enemy, and they could get no
water, which was in great demand in such warm weather. To fight five or
six hours under such circumstances was certainly noble conduct."
"Another point is to be taken into consideration. The enemy were much
superior in numbers," said Colson.
"Of course; that's very important," replied Ranson.
"I suppose there was little mercy shown by either party. There was too
much hateful fury," said Hand.
"You're right," remarked Colson. "Few tories received quarters from the
militia, and fewer of the militia asked it of the tories."
"Herkimer should have been more cautious. Though a brave soldier, we
cannot consider him a good commander," said Pitts.
"Nay, I think he was a good commander, friend Pitts," replied Hanson.
"He was cool-headed and skilful in the hottest battle; and because he
neglected sending out scouts on one occasion, you should not conclude
that imprudence was part of his character."
"But a commander, acquainted with Indian warfare, as Herkimer was, must
be considered imprudent if he neglects such a common precaution as
sending out scouts," observed Kinnison.
CONCLUSION.
"Well, we won't argue the matter now. It's getting late, and we had
better break our company," said Warner.
"But first we'll have a toast and a song," replied Hand. "Fill your
glasses, friends. Heaven knows if we may ever meet again; and your
company has been too amusing and instructive for us to part suddenly."
"The ale has made me feel very drowsy," said Kinnison.
"But you may sip our toast. Gentlemen, this is the Fourth of July; and
surely it becomes us, as Americans, to toast the memory of the men who,
on this day, pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred
honors for the support of our independence. I therefore propose, 'The
memory of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence. May the
brightness of their fame endure as long as patriotism and the love of
freedom burn in the breasts of mankind!'" exclaimed Hand. This was drunk
standing, and a short silence ensued.
Hand now proposed that they should have a song, and remarked that he
knew one appropriate to the occasion, which he would sing, if the old
soldiers were not too weary to listen. Of course, they expressed it to
be their pleasure that he should sing it, and he proceeded. "The song,"
said he, "is called 'The Last Revolutionary.'" The words were as
follows:--
O! where are they--those iron men,
Who braved the battle's storm of fire,
When war's wild halo fill'd the glen,
And lit each humble village spire;
When hill sent back the sound to hill,
When might was right, and law was will!
O! where are they, whose manly breasts
Beat back the pride of England's might;
Whose stalwart arm laid low the crests
Of many an old and valiant knight;
When evening came with murderous flame,
And liberty was but a name?
I see them, in the distance, form
Like spectres on a misty shore;
Before them rolls the dreadful storm,
And hills send forth their rills of gore;
Around them death with lightning breath
Is twining an immortal wreath.
They conquer! God of glory, thanks!
They conquer! Freedom's banner waves
Above Oppression's broken ranks,
And withers o'er her children's graves;
And loud and long the pealing song
Of Jubilee is borne along.
'Tis evening, and December's sun
Goes swiftly down behind the wave,
And there I see a gray-haired one,
A special courier to the grave;
He looks around on vale and mound,
Then falls upon his battle-ground.
Beneath him rests the hallow'd earth,
Now changed like him, and still and cold;
The blood that gave young freedom birth
No longer warms the warrior old;
He waves his hand with stern command,
Then dies, the last of Glory's band.
"A very good song, but a very mournful subject," observed Kinnison. "And
now, friends, we'll part."
"The carriages are at the door," said one of the young men, as the party
arose and prepared to descend. The kindest and best wishes were
exchanged between the old and young men; and over and over again were
promises made to meet the next year, if possible. At length, the
veterans were assisted to descend the stairs. When they reached the
door, they found a crowd collected round it. The sound of the fife and
drum had drawn these people there, and hearing that the survivors of the
Tea-party were in the house, they had become very anxious to see them.
As soon as the old men appeared, they jostled around them, and it was
with much difficulty that they were safely placed in the carriages by
their young friends. Hand and his comrades at last bade the veterans an
affectionate farewell, and the carriages drove away amid cheers given by
the crowd for "The Boston Tea-party."