When the marines arrived from Washington it was past midnight. The town
swarmed with armed men from every farm and fireside. Five companies of
militia from Maryland and Virginia were on the ground and Henry Wise,
the Governor of Virginia, was hurrying to take command.
Stuart had established Colonel Lee's headquarters behind the brick wall
of the Arsenal enclosure. Not more than fifty yards from the gate stood
the Engine House in which Brown had barricaded himself with his two
sons, Oliver and Watson, and four of his men. He held forty white
hostages.
A sentinel of marines covered the entrance to the enclosure. The militia
had yielded command to the United States troops.
As Stuart stood awaiting Colonel Lee's arrival, Lieutenant Green, in
command of the marines, stepped briskly to the aide's side to report the
preliminary work.
As yet no one in the excited town knew the identity of the mysterious
commander "John Smith" who led the invasion. No one could guess the
number of men he had in his army nor how many he held in reserve on the
Maryland hills.
Stuart's blue eyes flashed with excitement.
"The marines have the Arsenal completely surrounded?" he asked.
"A rat couldn't get through, Lieutenant Stuart."
"The bridges leading into Harper's Ferry guarded?"
"Three picked men at each end, sir."
"Any signs of the Abolitionists on the hills at dawn?"
"A shot from a sniper on the Maryland side nipped one of the guards--"
"Then their headquarters and the reserves are back in those hills."
"I'm sure of it. I've sent a squad to get the sniper."
"All right, it's daylight. Keep your marines away from the Arsenal gate.
It's barely fifty yards to the Engine House. We've got the Abolitionists
penned inside. But they're good shots."
"I've warned them, sir."
"No fighting now until Colonel Lee takes command. His train has just
pulled in."
"Why the devil didn't he come with us?" Green asked suddenly.
"Called to the White House for a conference with President Buchanan, in
such haste that he couldn't stop to put on his uniform. The Capital's
agog over this affair. The wildest rumors are afloat."
"Nothing to the rumors afloat here among these militiamen and dazed
citizens."
"Colonel Lee will straighten them out in short order--"
Stuart suddenly stiffened to attention as he saw the soldierly figure of
the Colonel approaching from the station with quick, firm step. Over his
civilian suit he had hastily thrown an army overcoat and looked what he
was, the bronzed veteran commander of the Texas plains.
He saluted the two young officers and quickly turned to his aide.
"No sign of a slave uprising, of course?"
"The invaders did their best to bring it on. They've taken about fifty
negroes from their masters."
"Armed them?"
"With pikes and rifles."
"The invaders have robbed houses as reported?"
"Taken everything they could get their hands on. They forced their way
into Colonel Washington's home, dragged him from bed, stole his watch,
silver, wagons, horses, saddles and harness. They hold him a prisoner
with four of his slaves."
"Colonel Washington is now their prisoner?"
"With others they are holding as hostages."
"Hostages?"
"They swear to murder them all at the first sign of an attack."
"They won't!" he answered sharply.
"I think they will, sir. They shot an unarmed negro porter at the depot
and murdered the Mayor to-day as he was passing through the streets.
They are expecting reinforcements at any minute."
"The militia are ready for duty?"
"Some are. Some are drinking."
Lee turned to Lieutenant Green.
"Close every barroom in town."
Green saluted.
"At once, sir."
Green turned to execute the order. The only problem that gave Lee
concern was the use the invaders might make of the prisoners they held.
That they would not hesitate to expose them to death as a protection
to their own lives he couldn't doubt. Men who would dare the crime of
raising a slave insurrection would not hesitate to violate the code of
military honor.
He saw Stuart was restless. There was something on his mind. He half
guessed the trouble and paused.
"Well, Lieutenant?"
Stuart laughed.
"I suppose, Colonel, you couldn't possibly let me lead the assault on
the Engine House, could you?"
Lee's eyes twinkled at the eager look. The Colonel was a man as well as
a soldier. And he was a father. He loved the shouts of children more
than he loved the shouts of armies. In the pause he saw a vision. A
little blue-eyed mother crooning over a baby which she had named for her
sweetheart. The great heart forgot the daring soldier before him eager
for a fight. He saw only the handsome husband and a wife at home praying
God for his safe return. He could see her pressing the pink bundle of
flesh to her heart, singing a lullaby that was a prayer. There would be
no glory in such an assault. There was only the possibility of a bloody
tragedy before a handful of desperadoes could be overcome. He faced his
aide with a frown.
"Lieutenant Green is in command of the marines, sir. You are only my
voluntary aide. You will act strictly within the rules of war."
Stuart saluted. He knew that his commander was a stern disciplinarian.
Argument was out of the question. He made up his mind, however, to watch
for a chance to join in the attack, once it was begun.
Green returned from his errand leading an old negro who held one of
Brown's iron pikes.
The lieutenant thrust the trembling figure before the Colonel.
Lee studied him, and suppressed the smile that began to play about his
lips.
"Well, uncle, this looks bad for you," he said finally.
"Lordee, Master, don't you blame me!" the old negro protested.
"They found him hiding in the bushes," Green explained.
"Yassah," the old man broke in. "I wuz kivered up in de leaves!"
"That's right, sir," Green agreed. "The pike was standing beside a tree.
They raked the leaves and found him in a hole."
"An' I tried ter git under de hole, too."
"The raiders took you by force?" Lee asked.
"Yassah! Dey pulls me outen bed, make me put on my close, gimme dis here
han' spike, an' tells me I kin kill my ole marster an' missis when I
feels like it--"
"Did you try to kill them?" Lee asked seriously.
"Who? Me?"
"Yes."
"Man! I drawed dat han' spike on dem Abolishioners an' I says: 'You low
doun stinkin' po' white trash. Des try ter lay de weight er yo' han' on
my marster er missis,--an' I'll lan' yo' in de middle of er spell er
sickness'--"
"And they took you prisoner."
"Yassah."
"I see."
"Dey starts ter shoot me fust! But den dey say I wuzn't wuf de powder
an' lead hit'ud take ter kill me."
"And you escaped?"
"Na sah, not den. Dey make me go wid 'em, wher er no. But I git loose
byme bye an' crawl inter dat patch er trees doun dar by de ribber--"
"We found him there," Green nodded.
"Yassah, I mak' up my min' dat dey's have ter burn de woods an' sif de
ashes for' dey ebber see me ergin."
Stuart's boyish laughter rang without restraint.
"All right, uncle," Lee responded cordially. "You can leave that pike
with me."
"Yassah, you kin sho have it. God knows I ain't got no use fur it."
He threw the pike down and brushed his hands as if to get rid of the
contagion of its touch.
"You're safe," Lee added. "The United States Marines are in command of
Harper's Ferry now."
"Yassah. De Lawd knows I doan wanter 'sociate wid no slu-footed,
knock-kneed po' whites. I'se er ristercrat, I is. Yassah, dat's me!"
"I'm glad to help you, uncle."
"Thankee, sah."
"Hurry back to your home now and help your people in their troubles."
"Yassah, right away, sah--right away!"
The old man hurried home, bowing right and left to his white friends and
muttering curses on the heads of the Abolitionists, who had dragged him
from his bed and caused him to lose four square meals.
Lee examined the pike carefully. He measured its long stiletto-like
blade, projecting nine inches from its fastenings in the hickory handle.
He observed the skill and care with which the rivets had been set.
"An ugly piece of iron," he said at last.
"I'll bet they've thousands of them somewhere back in these hills,"
Stuart added.
"And not a negro has lifted his hand against his master?"
"Not one."
Lee ran his fingers along the edges of the blade and a dreamy look came
into his thoughtful eyes.
"My boy, such people deserve their freedom. But not this way--not this
way! God save us from the horrors of the mob and the fanatic who leads
them! Slavery is surely and swiftly dying. It cannot survive the
economic pressure of the century. If only we can be saved from such
madness."
His voice died away as in a troubled dream. He looked up suddenly and
turned to his aide.
"I must summon their leader to surrender. You have not yet learned his
name?"
"He calls himself John Smith, sir. They've been here all summer in an
old farmhouse on the Maryland side."
"Strange that their purpose should not have been discovered. Their work
has been carefully and secretly planned."
"Beyond a doubt."
"They could not have done it without big backing somewhere."
"They've had it. They've had plenty of money. They have rifles of the
finest make. And they're not the type made in this Arsenal."
"They expected to use the rifles in the Armory, of course. And they
expect reinforcements. Any sign of their reserves?"
"Not yet, sir. We have the roads guarded for ten miles."
"We'll settle it before they can get help," Lee said sharply.
He hastily wrote a summons to surrender and handed it to Stuart.
"Approach the Engine House under a flag of truce. Ask for a parley with
their leader and give him this."
Stuart saluted.
"At once, sir."
He attached his handkerchief to his sword and entered the gate. A loud
murmur rose from the crowd of excited people who had pressed close to
see the famous commander of the Marines.
Lee turned to the sentinel.
"Push that crowd back."
The crowd had pressed closer, watching Stuart with increasing
excitement.
The sentinel clubbed his musket and pressed against the front men
savagely.
"Stand back!"
The people slowly retreated. Lee turned to Lieutenant Green.
"Your men are ready for action?"
"They await your orders, sir."
"I suppose you wish the honor of leading the troops in taking these men
out of the Engine House?"
Green smiled and bowed.
"Thank you, Colonel!"
"Pick a detail of only twelve men, with a reserve of twelve more. When
Lieutenant Stuart gives you the signal, assault the Engine House and
batter down the doors with sledge hammers--"
Green saluted.
"Yes, sir."
Lee spoke his next command in sharp emphasis.
"The citizens inside whom the raiders are holding must not be harmed.
See to this when you gain an entrance. Once inside, pick your enemies.
You understand?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"Hold your men in check until the signal to attack. I hope it will not
be necessary to give it. I shall do my best to avoid further bloodshed."
"All right, sir."
Green saluted and stood at attention awaiting the arrival of Stuart.
Lee's aide had approached the Engine House, watched in breathless
suspense by a crowd of more than two thousand people. In spite of the
efforts of the sentinels they had jammed every inch of space commanding
a view of the enclosure.
When Stuart reached the bullet-marked door he called:
"For Mr. Smith, the commander of the invaders, I have a communication
from Colonel Lee!"
Brown opened the door about four inches and placed his body against the
crack. Stuart could see through the opening his hand gripping a rifle.
He refused to open it further and the parley was held with the door
ajar.
He at last allowed Stuart to enter.
His first look at the man's face startled him. The full gray beard could
not mask the terrible mouth which he had studied one day in Kansas. And
nothing could dim the flame that burned in his blue-gray eyes.
He recognized him instantly.
"Why, aren't you old Osawatomie Brown of Kansas, whom I once held there
as my prisoner?"
"Yes, but you didn't keep me."
"I have a written communication from Colonel Lee."
"Read it."
Stuart drew the sheet of paper from his pocket and read in his clear,
ringing voice:
"Headquarters Harper's Ferry,
October 18, 1859.
Colonel Lee, United States Army, commanding the troops sent by the
President of the United States to suppress the insurrection at this
place, demands the surrender of the people in the Armory buildings."
"If they will peaceably surrender themselves and return the pillaged
property, they shall be kept in safety to await the orders of the
President. Colonel Lee reports to them, in all frankness, that it is
impossible for them to escape, that the Armory is surrounded by troops,
and that if he is compelled to take them by force he cannot answer for
their safety.
R. E. LEE, _Colonel Commanding U. S. Troops_."
Stuart waited and Brown made no reply.
"You will surrender?"
"I will not," was the prompt answer.
In vain the young officer tried to persuade the stubborn old man to
submit without further loss of life.
"I advise you to trust to the clemency of the Government," Stuart urged.
"I know what that means, sir. A rope for my men and myself. I prefer to
die just here."
"I'll give you a short time to think it over and return for your final
answer."
Brown at once began to barricade the doors and windows. And Stuart
reported to his commander.
Lee met him at the gate.
"Well?"
"A little surprise for us, Colonel--"
"He refuses to surrender?"
"Absolutely. Captain 'John Smith' turns out to be Old John Brown of
Osawatomie, Kansas, sir."
"You're sure?"
"I couldn't be mistaken. I had him a prisoner on the plains once when
our troops were ordered out to quell the disturbances."
"That man's been here all summer planning this attack?"
"And not a soul knew him."
Lee was silent a moment and spoke slowly:
"It can only mean a conspiracy of wide scope to drench the South in
blood--"
"Of course."
"He refuses to yield without a fight?"
Stuart laughed.
"He don't know how to surrender. I left him with two pistols and a bowie
knife in his belt and a rifle in each hand."
"How many men were with him?"
"I saw but six besides the prisoners he holds as hostages. The prisoners
begged for an interview with you, sir. I told them to be quiet--that you
knew what you were doing."
"It's incredible!" Lee exclaimed.
He paused in deep thought and went on as if talking to himself.
"Strange old man--I must see him."
"I wouldn't, Colonel. He's a tough customer."
"I hate to order an assault on six men. He must be insane."
"No more than you are, unless the pursuit of a fixed idea for a lifetime
makes a man insane."
Lee turned suddenly to his aide.
"Press that crowd back into the next street and ask him to come here
under a flag of truce."
"I warn you, Colonel," Stuart protested. "He violated a flag of truce in
Kansas. He won't hesitate to shoot you on sight if he takes a notion."
Lee smiled.
"He didn't try to shoot you on sight, did he?"
"No--"
"Go back and bring him here. I must find out some things from him if I
can. He may not survive the assault."
Stuart again fixed his flag of truce and returned to the Engine House.
This time the Colonel called a cordon of marines and pressed the crowd
into the next street.
He beckoned to a sentinel.
"Ask Lieutenant Green to step here."
The sentinel called a marine to take his place and went in search of the
commander of the company.
Lee lifted his eyes to the hills of Maryland. But a few miles beyond the
first range lay the town of Sharpsburg, where Destiny was setting the
stage for the bloodiest battle in the history of the republic. A little
farther on lay the town of Gettysburg, over whose ragged hills Death was
hovering in search of camping ground.
Did his prophetic soul pierce the future? Never had he been more
profoundly depressed. The event he was witnessing was but the prelude to
a tragedy he felt to be from this hour inevitable.
Green saluted in answer to his summons.
"I want you to witness an interview which I will have with John Brown,
and receive my final orders!"
"The leader is old John Brown?"
"Lieutenant Stuart has identified him."
A shout from a crowd of boys who had climbed the trees of the next
street caused Lee to turn toward the gate as the invader and Stuart
passed through.
As Lee confronted Brown no more startling contrast could be presented by
two men born under the same flag. John Brown with his bristling, unkempt
beard, his two revolvers and sword hanging and dangling on his gaunt
frame, his eyes glittering and red from the loss of two nights' sleep,
the incarnation of Lawlessness; Lee, the trained soldier, the inheritor
of centuries of constructive genius, the aristocrat in taste, the
humblest and gentlest Christian in spirit, the lover of Peace, of Order.
The commander of the forces of Law spoke in friendly tones.
"You are John Brown of Osawatomie, Kansas?"
"Yes!"
"You are in command of the invaders who have killed four citizens of
Harper's Ferry and seized the United States Arsenal?"
"I am in command."
"Would you mind telling me why you have invaded Virginia?"
"To free your slaves."
"How many men were under your command when you entered?"
"Seventeen white men and five colored freedmen."
"With an armed force of twenty-two you have invaded the South to free
three million slaves?"
"I expected help--" He paused and his burning eyes flashed toward the
hills. "And I still expect it!"
"From whom could you expect it?"
"From here and elsewhere."
"From blacks as well as whites?"
"From both."
"You have been disappointed in not getting it from either?"
"Thus far--yes."
Lee studied him with increasing wonder. There was a quiet daring in his
attitude, an utter disregard of the tragic forces that had closed in on
his ill-fated venture that was astounding. What could be its secret?
It was something more than the coolness and poise of a brave Ulan. His
manner was not cool. His mind was not poised.
There was a vibrant ring to his metallic voice which betrayed the
profoundest emotion. His daring came from some mysterious source within.
It was a daring that was the contradiction of reason and experience. It
was uncanny.
Lee asked his questions in measured tones.
"You were disappointed, I take it, particularly in the conduct of the
blacks?"
"Yes."
"Exactly. If negro Slavery in the South were to-day the beastly thing
which you and Garrison have so long proclaimed, you could not have been
disappointed. Had your illusion of abuse and cruelty been true the
negroes _would_ have risen to a man, put their masters to death, and
burned their homes. Yet, not a black man has lifted his hand. There must
be something wrong in your facts--"
Brown lifted his head solemnly.
"There can be nothing wrong in my faith, Colonel Lee. It comes from
God."
"I didn't say your faith, my friend. I said your facts--" He paused and
picked up the pike.
"These unused pikes bear witness to your error. This is an ugly weapon,
Mr. Brown!"
"It was meant to kill."
"We found it in the hands of a negro."
"I wish to conceal nothing, sir--" The old man paused, lifted his
stooped shoulders and drew a deep breath. "I armed fifty blacks with
them and I had many more which I hoped to use."
Lee touched the point of the two-edged blade,
"This piece of iron, then, placed in the hands of a negro was meant for
the breasts of Southern white men, women and children?"
"I came to proclaim your slaves free and give them the weapons to make
good my orders."
"Who gave you the authority to issue orders of life and death?" Lee
asked with slow, steady emphasis.
Brown's eyes flashed.
"I gave it to myself, sir. By the authority of my conscience and what I
believe to be right."
"Suppose all took the same orders? Every man who differs with his
neighbor, gets his gun, proclaims himself the mouthpiece of God and
kills those who disagree with him. Civilization is built on an agreement
not to do this thing. We have placed in the hands of the officer of the
law the task of executing justice. The moment we dare as individuals to
take this into our own hands, the world becomes a den of wild beasts--"
"The world's already a den of wild beasts," Brown interrupted sharply.
"They have snarled and snapped long enough. It's time to clinch and
fight it out."
There could be no doubt of the savage earnestness of the man who spoke.
There was the ring of steel in every word. Lee looked at him curiously.
"May I ask how many people you know in the North who feel that way
toward the South?"
"Millions, sir."
"And they back you in this attack?"
"A few chosen prophets--yes--thank God."
"And these prophets of the coming mob of millions have furnished you the
money to arm and equip this expedition?"
"They have."
"It's amazing--"
"The millions are yet asleep," Brown admitted. He shook his gray locks
as his terrible mouth closed with a deep intake of breath. "But I'll
awake them! The thunderbolt which I have launched over Harper's Ferry
will call them. And they will follow me. I hope to hear the throb of
their drums over the hills before you have finished with me to-day!"
Lee was silent again, looking at the face with flaming eyes in a new
wonder.
"And you invade to rob and murder at will?"
"I have not robbed!"
"No?"
"I have confiscated the property of slaveholders for use in a divine
cause."
"Who gave you the right to confiscate the property of others in any
cause?"
"Again I answer, my conscience."
"So a common thief can say."
"I am no common thief."
"Yet when you forced your way into Colonel Washington's home at night
you committed a felony, known as burglary."
"I did it in a holy crusade, sir."
"The highwayman on the plains might plead the same necessity."
"You know, Colonel Lee, that I am neither felon, nor highwayman. I am an
Abolitionist. My sole aim in the invasion of the South is to free the
slave--"
"At any cost?"
"At any cost. I see, feel, know but one thing-that you are guilty of a
great wrong against God and humanity. I have the right to interfere with
you. To free those whom you hold in bondage."
"Even though you deluge the world in blood?"
"Yes. That is why I am here. I have no personal hate. No spirit of
revenge. I have killed only when I thought I had to. I have protected
your citizens whom hold as prisoners."
"You had no right to take those men prisoners."
Brown ignored the interruption.
"I ordered my men to fire only on those who were trying to stop our
work."
"And yet you placed these pikes in the hands of negroes and gave them
oil-soaked torches?"
Brown threw his hand high over his head as if to waive an irrelevant
remark.
"I am here, sir, to aid those suffering a great wrong."
"And you begin by doing a greater wrong!"
The old man pursued his one idea without a break in thought. Lee's words
made not the slightest impression.
"This question of the negro, Colonel Lee, you must face. You may dispose
of me now easily. But this question is still to be settled. The end of
that is not yet!"
"I, too, believe that Slavery is wrong, my friend. Yet surely this is
not the way to bring to the slave his freedom. On pikes to be driven
into the breasts of unoffending men and women! Two wrongs have never yet
made a right."
The old man lifted his head towards the hills and a look of religious
rapture overspread his furrowed face. His soul's deepest faith breathed
in his words:
"Moral suasion is a vain thing, sir. This issue can be settled in blood
alone."
The Colonel watched him with a growing feeling of futility.
"I have taken pains in this interview, Mr. Brown, to clear the way for
your surrender without bloodshed. I cannot persuade you?"
"Upon what terms?"
"Terms?"
"I said so, sir."
The Colonel marveled at his audacity. Yet he was in dead earnest. His
suggestion was not bravado.
"The only possible terms I can offer I suggested in my first message. I
will protect you and your men from this infuriated crowd and guarantee
you a fair trial by the civil authorities."
"I can't accept," Brown answered curtly. "You must allow me to leave
this place with my men and the prisoners I hold as hostages until I
reach the canal locks on the Maryland side. There I will release your
citizens, and as soon as this is done your troops may fire on us, and
pursue us."
"Such an offer is a waste of words. You must see that further resistance
is useless."
"You have the numbers on us, sir," Brown answered defiantly. "But we are
not afraid of death. I'd as lief die by a bullet as on the gallows. I
can do more now by dying than by living. I came here to destroy the
institution of Slavery by the sword--"
Lee's answer came with clean-cut emphasis.
"The law which protects Slavery is going to be repealed in God's own
time. I am, myself, working toward that end as well as you, sir, and the
end is sure. But at this moment the Constitution of the United States
to which we owe liberty, justice, order, progress, wealth and power,
guarantees this institution. Until its repeal it is my duty and it is
your duty to obey the law. Will you submit?"
Brown's answer came like the crack of a rifle.
"The laws of the United States I have burned in a public square, sir.
The Constitution is a covenant with Death, an agreement with Hell. I
loathe it. I despise it. I spit upon it--"
Lee lifted his hand in gesture of command.
"That will do, sir!"
He faced Stuart with quick decision.
"Take him back to his men and give the signal of assault."
"Good!"
Stuart turned to Green.
"I'll wave my cap."
Stuart led Brown through the gate to the Engine House.
Lee summoned Green.
"Your troops are raw men, I understand."
"They have never been under fire, sir. But they're soldiers--never
fear."
"All right. We'll put them to the test. Assault and take the Engine
House without firing a shot. No matter how severe the fire on you, we
must protect our citizens held inside. Use the bayonet only. Give each
of your twelve men careful instructions. When fired on, they must not
return that fire!"
Green saluted and passed to the head of his detail of twelve men. A
shout from the boys in the tree tops was the signal of Stuart's return.
"Watch that crowd," Lee ordered the sentinel. "Use the reserves to hold
them out of range."
Stuart returned with his eyes flashing.
"Ready, sir!"
"Give your signal."
Stuart stepped into the open, and waved his cap.
Green's detail of twelve men, the commander at their head, rushed to the
Engine House with a shout. The crowd of two thousand people answered
with a roar.
A volley rang from the besieged and a moment's silence followed. Their
first shots had gone wild and not a marine had fallen. They had reached
the door and their sledge hammers were raining blows on its solid
timbers. An incessant fire poured from the portholes which Brown had cut
through the walls. The men were so close to the door his shots were not
effective.
Brown ordered one of his prisoners, Captain Dangerfield, a clerk of the
Armory Staff, to secure the fastenings. Dangerfield slipped the bolts to
their limit and stood watching his chance to throw them and admit the
marines.
Brown ordered him back. He retreated a few feet and watched the bolts,
as the blows rained on the door.
Stuart had slipped into the fight. He called to Green.
"The hammers are too light. There's a big ladder outside. Get it and use
it as a battering ram."
With a shout the marines seized the ladder, five men on a side, and
drove it with tremendous force against the door. The first blow shivered
a panel.
Brown ordered the fire engine rolled against the door. Dangerfield
sprang to assist. He slipped the bolt out instead of in! The next rush
of the ladder drove the door against the engine, rolled it back a foot
and made a small opening through which Lieutenant Green forced his way.
The marines crowded in behind him. Green sprang on the engine with drawn
sword and looked for Brown. A shower of bullets greeted him. Yet the
miracle happened. Not one touched him. He recognized Colonel Washington,
leaped from the engine and rushed to his side.
On one knee, a few feet to his left, knelt a man with a carbine in his
hand pulling the lever to reload.
Colonel Washington waved his arm.
"That's Osawatomie."
The Lieutenant sprang twelve feet at him. He gave a quick underthrust
of his sword, struck him midway of the body and raised the old man
completely from the ground. He fell forward with his head between his
knees. Green clubbed his sword and rained blow after blow on his head.
The men who watched the scene supposed that he had split the skull. Yet
he survived. Green's first sword thrust had struck the heavy leather
belt and did not enter the body. The sword was bent double. The clubbed
blade was too light. It had made only superficial wounds.
As the marines pressed through the opening the first man was shot dead.
The second was wounded in the face. The men who followed made short
work of the fight. They bayoneted a raider under the engine and pinned
another to the wall.
The fight had lasted but three minutes.
Brown lay on the ground wounded. His son, Oliver, was dead. His son,
Watson, was mortally wounded. All the rest were dead or prisoners, save
seven who made good their escape with Cook and Owen Brown into the hills
of Pennsylvania.
Colonel Lee entered the Engine House and greeted Washington.
"You are all right, sir?"
"Sound as a dollar, Colonel Lee. The damned old fool's had me penned
up here for two days. I'm dry as a powder horn and hungry as a
wolf. Nothing to eat, and nothing to drink, but _water out of a
horse-bucket_!"
Green faced his Colonel and saluted. He glanced at the prostrate
prisoners.
"See that their wounds are dressed immediately. Give them good food, and
take them as quickly as possible to the jail at Charlestown under heavy
guard. See that they are not harmed or insulted by the people."
Lee turned sadly to his friend.
"Colonel Washington, the thing we have dreaded has come. The first blow
has been struck. The Blood Feud has been raised."