KASKASKIA.
During this evening and the following day we gained all the information
concerning Kaskaskia which it was necessary Major Clarke should know.
These men who had come upon us so opportunely, were, as I have said,
trappers from that outpost, and eager to do whatsoever they might toward
overthrowing the rule of the Britishers on our frontier.
Such desire was only natural, as may be believed when I say that the
king's officers pursued the policy of stimulating the Indians against
the settlers, in order that such as were not willing to own allegiance
to the king should be killed or driven from the country.
Monsieur Rocheblave, a Frenchman, had command of the British forces
roundabout Kaskaskia, and the hunters reported him to be an exceedingly
vigilant officer, who kept a large number of spies continually on the
alert to guard against the approach of people from Kentucky who were
known to have taken sides with the eastern colonists in the struggle for
liberty.
There were eighty British soldiers in the garrison, and all the redskins
nearabout were in the pay of the commandant, therefore it might be said
that the force at this point was exceeding strong; but Simon Kenton's
friends believed it might be taken by surprise, providing we could
capture the spies sent out by Rocheblave.
Once our people appeared before the garrison, when the Indians were not
there to lend their aid, the post must of a necessity surrender, and
thus the work set for us to do might be accomplished without bloodshed.
That this renegade Frenchman was exerting himself to stir up the
Indiana against the settlers there could be no question; in fact one of
these hunters had good proof that such was the case, he having been
present when the king's officer offered a certain reward in the shape of
ammunition and blankets if the savages would surprise and massacre a
number of families who had made a clearing on the banks of the
Mississippi River.
Kaskaskia was founded, as I have read, after the visit of La Salle to
the Mississippi in 1683, by Father Gravier, Catholic missionary among
the Illinois Indians, and was the capital and chief town of the Illinois
country so far as the French continued in possession of it. In 1763, it
was ceded by the French to Great Britain, and such of the French
officers as held possession were continued in the pay of the English
king.
With the exception of fifteen or twenty, such as the hunters whom we
met, all the settlers in that vicinity were of French descent.
The day following our arrival at the mouth of the Tennessee River was
spent in idleness. We had a plentiful supply of meat, and the hunters
were unwilling to talk or think of anything save the possible capture of
the outpost from whence had been sent so many murdering bands of savages
to shed blood simply that the king's hold upon this fair country might
be the stronger.
Therefore it was we remained idle, wasting our time, as I thought, until
an hour past noon, when Paul and I had wandered a short distance up the
river in company with Simon Kenton and the hunter whom he had greeted as
a friend, and then were spoken those words which lifted from Simon
Kenton's heart the greatest burden man can bear.
Several times since he so suddenly appeared to me on the bank of the
Ohio River, having come at a time when he could render my mother and
myself the greatest possible service, had he commenced a sentence
regarding himself, and suddenly stopped, as if fearing to betray
somewhat of his own life which others should not know.
Such behavior, together with the fact that he refused to say anything
concerning his early life, or why he was serving as a scout when it
would seem as if nature had fitted him for some noble purpose, convinced
me, boy though I was, that there was a painful secret which had sent him
out from among those whom he loved.
On this day of which I speak, while we were strolling aimlessly up the
river, the hunter said carelessly, giving no particular weight to his
words:
"I met Donnelly at Cahokia a short time ago, and we spoke of you,
Simon."
Kenton stopped suddenly as does a man when a bullet reaches a vital spot
in his body. His face turned pale as I had seen it once before, and he
trembled as if in an ague fit, striving to speak, but in vain, and the
hunter, alarmed by this show of weakness, would have sprung forward to
prevent the scout from falling, but the latter waved him aside as he
asked in a tremulous whisper:
"Which Donnelly did you meet?"
"He whom you have reason to know; perhaps it would have been better if I
said that Donnelly who has good cause to remember you."
"Do you mean Martin?" Simon Kenton asked with an effort, and showing yet
greater evidence of being disturbed in mind.
"Ay, lad, Martin Donnelly, and why should you, above all others, show
fear at his name?"
"Tell me!" and Kenton leaned forward eagerly, as if his very life
depended upon the answer. "Do you mean to say you spoke with that Martin
Donnelly who lived some time ago in Fauquier County, in the colony of
Virginia?"
"Ay, Simon, the same. He whom you flogged until the breath had-well nigh
left his body."
"And he lives?" Kenton asked with a long indrawing of the breath,
straightening himself up as does one who has been suddenly relieved of a
heavy burden.
"He was alive when I met him in Cahokia, and counted on settling down in
the Illinois country, if it so chanced everything was favorable. He left
his family in Virginia so I understood; but reckoned on going after them
some time this fall."
Kenton leaned against a tree, his face hidden in his arm, and we three
stood gazing at him in silence and astonishment until perhaps ten
minutes had passed, when he turned to face us with an expression such as
I shall never forget.
"If you have made no mistake, John Lucas," he said, speaking slowly, and
with a ring of joy in his tone, "if you have spoken truly, there is
taken from me that which I believed I must carry to my grave, and from
there to the presence of my God. If Martin Donnelly be alive, I am a
free man once more----"
"I tell you, Simon, I saw and talked with Martin Donnelly," Lucas
exclaimed impatiently. "What is the meaning of your words? Why have you
not always been a free man, save perchance when the savages had you in
their clutches, as these lads here have told?"
"Here is the story of a man who came on the frontier believing himself a
murderer, and doing whatsoever he might to atone for a supposed crime
committed at a moment when anger held possession of him. As you know, I
was born in Fauquier County in 1755, where my father, an Irishman, had
won for himself by hard labor such a home and such a plantation as a
poor man could survey with pride. Up to the time I was sixteen years old
there came no thought into my mind save to be a planter, and continue
the work my father had begun. Then I loved a girl, the daughter of our
nearest neighbor, and counted, with the consent of her parents as well
as mine, on marrying her in due course of time. Martin Donnelly came
into the district, and by unfair means, as I did and still claim, won
her from me. I met him the day after he was married. He taunted me with
what he had done; claimed that an Irish planter in Virginia was of so
little consequence that the first newcomer could take from him
whatsoever he had that was to be won by fair words, and continued in
such strain until rage overpowered me. I leaped upon him like a panther,
using no weapons; and with my bare hands pommeled him until he lay like
one dead. Fear took the place of anger; I tried to rouse him; but he lay
as does a corpse, and I, believing myself a murderer, fled, pursued only
by my own conscience, across the Alleghanies, where I joined those who
were pushing forward on the extreme frontier. Since that day have I
shunned the abode of all men save those who live remote from any
settlement. How often I have yearned to see my father and mother, there
is no need for me to say. I dared not go back, believing I would be
seized and executed as a murderer; but now I am free to do whatsoever I
will, and save for the fact that my word binds me to remain as scout
with Major Clarke until the expedition comes to an end with the capture
of Vincennes, I would set off this hour for the home I have dreamed of,
but never expected again to see."
Having thus spoken Simon Kenton walked rapidly away up stream, and we
three, awed by his story, and knowing that at such a time it would be
best to leave him alone, returned to the camp, I for one feeling that
however great a failure might be Major Clarke's expedition so far as
concerned the British outposts, it was wondrously successful, inasmuch
as through it there had been lifted from one man the shadow of a great
crime.
Not until nearly nightfall did the scout rejoin us, and then all traces
of his emotion had vanished. He was much the same person as before, and
yet entirely different, if I may use so contradictory an expression. I
mean that there was no change in his manner so far as could be seen
when we spoke of the purpose of our journey, or of that which was to be
done in the future; but when talking with Paul and me there was a
gladsome ring in his voice--a certain freedom of manner which struck me
forcibly, and yet might not have been evident to one who was
unacquainted with all the facts.
More than once during the evening he referred to the day when he was to
go back to Virginia, and during the remainder of the journey it was as
if all his future actions were marked out with especial reference to
that visit, only lately become possible.
Not until noon of the following day did the first of the flat-boats come
in sight, and it was the advice of these hunters from Kaskaskia that we
set out on the march up the Mississippi without delay, lest Monsieur
Rocheblave's spies should give that officer timely warning of our
coming.
Immediately Major Clarke came on shore Simon Kenton informed him of what
we had learned, and the four hunters announced their desire to
accompany the expedition from this point as guides.
Nothing could have been more favorable to the enterprise, and, as may be
readily supposed, the major did not hesitate to accept their services.
The volunteers, all good men and tried, were speedily acquainted with
the facts of the case, for in such an enterprise as this the commander
made no effort to conceal his intentions from those who accompanied him,
and it was believed by every one that no time should be wasted at this
point on the river.
When the last boat had rounded-to and made fast in front of our camp, we
were as well prepared for the march, in fact, better, than we should be
twenty-four hours later, and the halt was prolonged only until it could
be decided by all the members of the party how we might best set out.
After a consultation it was decided that the boats should be dropped
about six miles further down the river to such point as would afford
concealment for them, after which our party would begin the march across
the wilderness, and the last craft had not been made fast half an hour
before we were under way again, Simon Kenton, Paul and I paddling ahead
to select a spot where we might leave the unwieldy boats with some
degree of assurance that they would remain undiscovered.
In order that I should be able to tell the story of all we two lads did
while we were with Simon Kenton, it is necessary that much of the detail
be omitted, else would this poor story run to such length that he who
attempted to read might grow weary in the task.
Therefore it is that nothing shall be set down regarding the march
across the wilderness, during which we met with no other adventure than
the capture of one of Rocheblave's spies, whom we met the second day
after leaving the river.
It chanced to be the good fortune of us three--meaning Simon Kenton,
Paul and myself--to come across the fellow while he was cooking a fat
turkey, and although it was by no means to his liking, we forced him to
go back with us to Major Clarke. He claimed to be an honest settler of
Kaskaskia, whose sympathies were with the struggling colonists; but John
Lucas had told us that there were few in the settlement thus disposed,
and Simon Kenton believed it safer to hold him for a certain time, than
run the chances of letting him go whithersoever he would.
The hunters from the outposts soon settled his fate, for they recognized
in him one who had been most active in inciting the Indians against the
settlers of Kentucky, and but for Major Clarke's bold stand he would
have been put out of the world in the quickest possible manner, as
indeed he should have been, for I counted him a more deliberate murderer
even than the savages, and equally culpable.
However, we held him close prisoner by tying him between two of the
strongest men, and I venture to say that during the remainder of our
tramp through the wilderness he got a reasonably good idea of how
innocent women and children fare when they are forced to accompany
savage captors.
Our progress was reasonably rapid, and yet no precautions were spared to
prevent surprise.
Twenty of the party, among whom were Simon Kenton, Paul and myself,
remained two miles or more in advance of the main body, spreading out in
what nowadays would be called a skirmish line, and taking exceeding good
care that nothing escaped our attention.
It was on the afternoon of the fourth day of July when we arrived within
a mile of the outpost, having every reason to believe that thus far
Monsieur Rocheblave was ignorant that we proposed to deprive him of his
command.
Had it not been for the opportune meeting with the four hunters, I
question if we should have been able to advance secretly thus near; but
they, acquainted with all the approaches to the settlement, and knowing
where we would be less likely to attract attention, led us safely on
until we were in a good position to begin the work on hand.
Although there were more than four hundred in the party, we remained
five hours hidden almost beside the garrison, and yet no suspicion of
our presence was aroused.
None other, save men familiar with frontier life, could have
accomplished what at this time seems to me almost impossible, even
though I know full well it was done.
We remained hidden in the thicket, from which point we could see the
people of the settlement as they moved to and fro intent on their daily
tasks, and yet one might have passed within an hundred yards of us
without being suspicious that so many armed men were in the vicinity.
It was believed, at least by Paul and me, that a battle must be fought
before we could gain possession of the outpost, and perhaps there is no
need why I should set down here the fact that once more was my heart
filled with timorousness, for by this time it should well be understood
that whenever danger threatened I grew cowardly.
It was one thing to fight against the Indians in the forest where we
could find as good shelter as they, and quite another to advance in the
open against a garrison of men equally skilful with ourselves in
handling a rifle, and protected by a stockade.
I believed, and with good cause, that many of as would be sent into
another world before the sun rose again, and, unless I was willing to
show my companions how much of a coward I had become, I must take my
chances of death with the others.
It was by no means cheerful, lying there in the thicket, not daring to
speak or move lest an alarm should be given, and looking forward to that
struggle which must speedily ensue.
Had it been possible to hold converse with Paul, then might some subject
have been brought up which would have changed the current of my
thoughts; but I was forbidden even to whisper, and it seemed to me then
as if between us and that stockade so short a distance away, death
stalked to and fro, awaiting our approach.
It is the coward, and only the coward, who reaches out into the future
in search of danger. The sensible man waits until confronted by the
peril before giving way to fear, and this was proven to me before many
hours had passed. I suffered ten times more than if we had advanced and
been severely beaten, and yet, as we speedily understood, I had no
reason whatsoever to thus torture myself.
When the night came it seemed to me as if Major Clarke had forgotten for
what purpose we were there.
Peering out from amid the thicket we could see that the inhabitants of
the settlement had gone to their rest. Two hours after the sunset, the
garrison was quiet, and yet our commander gave no signal.
Looking forward to wounds, and perhaps death, as I did, the moments went
by exceedingly slow, and I came to believe that almost any danger would
be preferable to this stealthy waiting for the signal which should
precipitate the action.
Paul, who lay close by my side, seemingly gave no heed to the passage of
time. Like the brave lad I had come to understand him to be, he remained
apparently indifferent to what the future might hold in store for us,
gaining the repose which would serve him in good stead when violent
action was required.
It seemed to me as if the night was more than half spent when I observed
Major Clarke rising to his feet, and, as I afterwards learned, it was no
more than nine o'clock.
The decisive moment had come. If now we failed to capture Kaskaskia,
then was the expedition a dire failure, and those who did not fall
beneath the bullets might expect to find themselves prisoners in the
hands of captors who would show but little less mercy than the savages.
Before we had arrived at this hiding-place it was decided that the party
should be divided into five sections, each of which would make the
attack from a different point, and now that the signal had been given
the men formed themselves into detachments, moving silently away in the
darkness as had been previously agreed upon.
Simon Kenton, Paul and myself, were among those who were to march
straight toward the stockade from where we lay, and therefore we made no
movement until those who were to approach from the opposite side had
been given time to get into position. Major Clarke himself was to lead
our division, and although he counted on taking the garrison by
surprise, I believe it was in his mind that if a victory was to be
secured, we would pay dearly for it in blood.
Well, I am giving over many words to what was in itself but a most
trifling affair. It only required that we should march up and take the
garrison, as if all the king's soldiers there were waiting with open
arms to receive us in friendly fashion.
When the word to advance was given, our portion of the company could see
in the gloom far away on either hand the different detachments closing
in upon the stockade, and yet not a sound came from those valiant
soldiers of the king, who instead of guarding the outpost were spending
their time in slumber.
Nearer and nearer we advanced, believing all the while that in the next
second would be heard the report of an alarm gun; but the minutes went
by, and the silence within the stockade was as profound as if none save
the dead held possession.
[Illustration: Straight up to the big gate we advanced, believing
that in the next second we should hear the alarm gun.--Page 204.
_On the Kentucky Frontier._]
Straight up to the big gate we advanced, and so secure did the
garrison feel in the friendship of the savages, who thirsted for the
blood of such white people as were not in the king's favor, that the
barrier was not so much as closed.
We entered and had surrounded the commandant's quarters before any one
of the enemy was aware of our presence, and then came the alarm.
A gun was fired at the instant Major Clarke stood before the door of
Monsieur Rocheblave's house, and the echo of the report had hardly died
away before he, followed by a score of men, entered the building.
Standing close by Paul's side, directly behind Simon Kenton, I awaited
the beginning of that battle which seemed imminent; yet grown somewhat
bolder because of the fact that we were within the stockade.
While I remained on the alert, my rifle half upraised, there came the
word, I know not from where, that the commandant had surrendered, and,
turning toward us, Simon Kenton said much as if he was dissatisfied with
this peaceful ending of what had promised to be a most difficult
undertaking.
"Well, lads, the first of the outposts we counted on capturing is ours,
and we have not been put to the expense of a single charge of
ammunition."
"Do you mean to say that there will be no fighting?" I asked in
surprise.
"How can there be since Monsieur Rocheblave has surrendered?"
"But we were told there were eighty men here to hold the garrison in the
king's name?"
"Ay, lad; but the commander having decided that we shall enter into
peaceful possession, deprives them of a right to make objections.
Kaskaskia is ours, and it will be a long day before the king's flag be
hoisted again. But how is this? One would say you were disappointed."
"I hardly know whether to laugh or cry."
"Why should you cry, lad?"
"Because during this five hours past have I lain in the thicket
trembling lest death would be my share in this engagement, and he who
makes of himself such a simple should weep because he is so
feeble-minded."