WE START ON A WEARY JOURNEY
The twenty-ninth of May dawned clear and bright in pleasant contrast to
the violent storm which had raged the day before. Long ere daybreak, the
camp was alive with hurrying men, for the first detachment was to march
under command of Major Campbell, and the sun had scarce risen above the
horizon when the gates were thrown open and the troops filed out. Six
hundred of them there were, with two fieldpieces and fifty wagons of
provision, and very smart they looked as they fell into rank beyond the
bridge and set off westward. The whole camp was there to see them go, and
cheered them right heartily, for we were all of us glad that the long
waiting and delay had come to an end at last.
All day we could see them here and there in the intervales of the forest
pushing their way up a steep hill not two miles from the camp, and
darkness came before they passed the summit. Three wagons were utterly
destroyed in the passage, and new ones had to be sent from camp to
replace them, while many more were all but ruined. Spiltdorph and I
walked out to the place the next day and found it an almost perpendicular
rock, though two hundred men and a company of miners had been at work
for near a week trying to make it passable. We could see the detachment
slowly cutting its way through the valley below, and I reflected gloomily
that, at so slow a rate, the summer would be well-nigh gone before the
army could reach its destination. Indeed, I believe it would have gone to
pieces on this first spur of the Alleghenies, had not Lieutenant
Spendelow, of the seamen, discovered a valley round its foot.
Accordingly, a party of a hundred men was ordered out to clear a road
there, and worked to such purpose that at the end of two days an
extremely good one was completed, falling into the road made by Major
Campbell about a mile beyond the mountain.
On the seventh, Sir Peter Halket and the Forty-Eighth marched, in the
midst of a heavy storm, and at daybreak the next day it was our turn.
Under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Burton, all of the independent
companies and rangers left the camp, not, indeed, making so brilliant an
appearance as the regulars,--who stood on either side and laughed at
us,--but with a clearer comprehension of the work before us and a hearty
readiness to do it. It was not until the tenth that the third division
under Colonel Dunbar left the fort, and finally, on the eleventh, the
general joined the army where it had assembled at Spendelow camp, five
miles from the start.
Our tent that night was a gloomy place, for I think most of us, for the
first time since the campaign opened, began to doubt its ultimate
success. We soon finished with the food, and were smoking in gloomy
silence, when Peyronie came in, and after a glance around at our faces,
broke into a laugh.
"Ma foi!" he cried, "I thought I had chanced upon a meeting of our
Philadelphia friends,--they of the broad hats and sober coats,--and yet I
had never before known them to go to war."
"Do you call this going to war?" cried Waggoner. "I'm cursed if I do!"
Peyronie laughed louder than ever, and Waggoner motioned him to the pipes
and tobacco.
"By God, Peyronie!" he said. "I believe you would laugh in the face of
the devil."
Peyronie filled his pipe, chuckling to himself the while, and when he had
got it to drawing nicely, settled himself upon a stool.
"Why, to tell the truth," said he, "I was feeling sober enough myself
till I came in here, but the sight of you fellows sitting around for all
the world like death-heads at an Egyptian feast was too much for me. And
then," he added, "I have always found it better to laugh than to cry."
Waggoner looked at him with a grim smile, and there was a gleam in
Spiltdorph's eyes, though he tried to conceal himself behind a cloud of
smoke. Peyronie's good humor was infectious.
"Let me see," continued the Frenchman, "when was it the first detachment
left the fort?"
"The twenty-ninth of May," answered Waggoner shortly.
"And what day is this?"
"The eleventh of June."
"And how far have we come?"
"Five miles!" cried Waggoner. "Damn it, man, you know all this well
enough! Don't make me say it! It's incredible! Five miles in thirteen
days! Think of it!"
I heard Spiltdorph choking behind his cloud of smoke.
"Oh, come," said Peyronie, "that's not the way to look at it. Consider a
moment. It is one hundred and fifty miles to Fort Duquesne, so I am told.
At five-thirteenths of a mile a day, we shall arrive there nicely
in--in--let me see."
"In three hundred and ninety days!" cried Spiltdorph.
"Thank you, lieutenant," and Peyronie bowed toward Spiltdorph's nimbus.
"I was never good at figures. In three hundred and ninety days, then. You
see, we shall get to Fort Duquesne very comfortably by the middle of July
of next year. Perhaps the French will have grown weary of waiting for us
by that time, and we shall have only to march in and occupy the fort."
Waggoner snorted with anger.
"Come, talk sense, Peyronie," he said. "What's to be done?"
Peyronie smiled more blandly than ever.
"I fancy that is just what's troubling the general," he remarked. "I met
Colonel Washington a moment ago looking like a thunder-cloud, and he said
a council of war had been called at the general's tent."
"There was need of it," and Waggoner's brow cleared a little. "What
think you they will do?"
"Well," said Peyronie deliberately, "if it were left to me, the first
thing I should do would be to cut down Spiltdorph's supply of tobacco and
take away from him that great porcelain pipe, which must weigh two or
three pounds."
"I should like to see you do it," grunted Spiltdorph, and he took his
pipe from his lips to look at it lovingly. "Why, man, that pipe has been
in the family for half a dozen generations. There's only one other like
it in Germany."
"A most fortunate thing," remarked Peyronie dryly; "else Virginia could
not raise enough tobacco to supply the market. But, seriously, I believe
even the general will see the need of taking some radical action. He may
even be induced to leave behind one or two of his women and a few cases
of wine, if the matter be put before him plainly."
"Shut up, man!" cried Waggoner. "Do you want a court-martial?" And we
fell silent, for indeed the excesses of the officers of the line was a
sore subject with all of us. But Peyronie had made a good guess, as we
found out when the result of the council was made known next day.
It was pointed out that we had less than half the horses we really
needed, and those we had were so weak from the diet of leaves to which
they had been reduced that they could do little work. So the general
urged that all unnecessary baggage be sent back to the fort, and that as
many horses as possible be given to the public cause. He and his staff
set the example by contributing twenty horses, and this had so great
effect among the officers that near a hundred were added to the train.
They divested themselves, also, of all the baggage they did not need,
most of them even sending back their tents, and sharing the soldiers'
tents for the remainder of the campaign. Enough powder and stores were
left behind to clear twenty wagons, and all the king's wagons were
returned to the fort as being too heavy. A deprivation which, I doubt
not, cost some of the officers more than any other, was that of their
women, who were ordered back to the fort, and only two women for each
company were allowed to be victualed upon the march, but in this
particular the example set by the general was not so commendable as in
the matter of the horses. Three hundred lashes were ordered to any
soldier or non-commissioned officer who should be caught gaming or seen
drunk in camp, but these rigors did not affect those higher up, and the
officers still spent half the night over the cards or dice, and on such
occasions there was much wine and spirits drunk.
We of Waggoner's and Peyronie's companies fared very well, for though
we gave up one of our tents, it was only to bunk together in the other.
There was no room to spare, to be sure, and Peyronie grumbled that
every time a man turned over he disturbed the whole line of sleepers,
but we put the best face possible on the situation, and had little
cause for complaint, except at the food, which soon became most
villainous. I think Spiltdorph had some twinges concerning his pipe,
for he was a conscientious fellow, but he could not decide to give it
up, and finally kept it with him, arguing artfully that without it he
must inevitably fall ill, and so be of no use whatever. Dear fellow, I
wonder what warrior, the envy of his tribe, smokes it now in his wigwam
beside the Miami?
It took two days to repair our wagons and get our baggage readjusted, and
finally, on the thirteenth, the army set in motion again, winding along
the narrow road through the forest like some gigantic, parti-colored
serpent, with strength barely sufficient to drag its great length along.
It was noon of the next day before we reached Martin's plantation, scarce
five miles away. Yet here we had to stay another day, so nearly were the
horses spent, but at daybreak on the fifteenth the line moved again, and
we toiled up an extremely steep ascent for more than two miles. The
horses were quite unable to proceed, so half the troops were ordered to
ground arms and assist the wagons. It was weary work, nor was the descent
less perilous, and three of the wagons got beyond control and were dashed
to pieces at the bottom. So we struggled on over hills and through
valleys, until on the eighteenth we reached the Little Meadows. Here the
army was well-nigh stalled. The horses had grown every day weaker, and
many of them were already dead. Nor were the men in much better case, so
excessive had been the fatigues of the journey, for on many days they
had been under arms from sunrise till late into the night.
It was here, for the first time since our departure from Fort Cumberland,
that I chanced to see Colonel Washington, and I was shocked at the change
in his appearance. He was wan and livid, and seemed to have fallen away
greatly in flesh. To my startled inquiry, he replied that he had not been
able to shake off the fever, which had grown worse instead of better.
"But I will conquer it," he said, with a smile. "I cannot afford to miss
the end. From here, I believe our advance will be more rapid, for the
general has decided that he will leave his baggage and push on with a
picked body of the troops to meet the enemy."
I was rejoiced to hear it, though I did not learn until long afterwards
that it was by Colonel Washington's advice that this plan was adopted. A
detachment of four hundred men was sent out to cut a road to the little
crossing of the Yoxiogeny, and on the next day the general himself
followed with about nine hundred men, the pick of the whole command. The
Virginia companies were yet in fair condition, but the regulars had been
decimated by disease. Yet though our baggage was now reduced to thirty
wagons and our artillery to four howitzers and four twelve-pounders, we
seemed to have lost the power of motion, for we were four days in getting
twelve miles. Still, we were nearing Fort Duquesne, and the Indians, set
on by the French, began to harass us, and killed and scalped a straggler
now and then, always evading pursuit. On the evening of the nineteenth,
the guides reported that a great body of the enemy was advancing to
attack us, but they did not appear, though we remained for two hours
under arms, anxiously awaiting the event. From that time on, the Indians
hung upon our flanks, but vanished as by magic the moment we advanced
against them.
In consequence of these alarms, more stringent orders were issued to the
camp. On no account was a gun to be discharged unless at an enemy, the
pickets were always to load afresh when going on duty, and at daybreak to
examine their pans and put in fresh priming, and a reward of five pounds
was offered for every Indian scalp. Day after day we plodded on, and it
was not until the twenty-fifth of June that we reached the Great Meadows.
I surveyed with a melancholy interest the trenches of Fort Necessity,
which were yet clearly to be seen on the plain. Our detachment halted
here for a space, and it was while I was walking up and down along the
remnants of the old breastwork that I saw an officer ride up, spring from
his horse, and spend some minutes in a keen inspection of the
fortification. As he looked about him, he perceived me similarly engaged,
and, after a moment's hesitation, turned toward me. He made a brave
figure in his three-cornered hat, scarlet coat, and ample waistcoat, all
heavy with gold lace. His face was pale as from much loss of sleep, but
very pleasing, and as he stopped before me, I saw that his eyes were of
a clear and penetrating blue.
"This is the place, is it not," he asked, "where Colonel Washington made
his gallant stand against the French and Indians last year?"
"This is indeed the place, sir," I answered, my face flushing; "and it
warms my heart to know that you deem the action a gallant one."
"No man could do less," he said quickly. "He held off four times his
number, and at the end marched out with colors flying. I know many a
general who would have been glad to do so well. Do I guess aright,"
he added, with a smile, "when I venture to say that you were present
with him?"
"It was my great good fortune," I answered simply, but with a pride I did
not try to conceal.
"Let me introduce myself," he said, looking at me with greater interest.
"I am Captain Robert Orme, of General Brad dock's staff, and I have come
to admire Colonel Washington very greatly during the month that we have
been associated."
"And I," I said, "am Lieutenant Thomas Stewart, of Captain Waggoner's
Virginia Company."
"Lieutenant Stewart!" he cried, and his hand was clasping mine warmly.
"I am happy to meet you. Colonel Washington has told me of the part
you played."
"Not more happy than am I, captain, I am sure," I answered
heartily. "Colonel Washington has spoken to me of you and in terms
of warmest praise."
"Now 'tis my turn to blush!" he cried, laughing, and looking at my cheeks
which had turned red a moment before, "but my blood has been so spent in
this horrible march that I haven't a blush remaining."
"And how is Colonel Washington?" I questioned, glad to change the
subject. "The last I saw him, he seemed most ill."
Captain Orme looked at me quickly, "Have you not heard?" he asked, and
his face was very grave.
"I have heard nothing, sir," I answered, with a sinking heart.
"Pray tell me."
"Colonel Washington has been ill almost from the first. His indomitable
will kept him on horseback when he should have been in bed. At last, when
the fever had wasted him to a mere skeleton, and he spent his nights in
sleepless delirium, he broke down utterly. His body was no longer able to
obey his will. At the ford of the Yoxiogeny he attempted to mount his
horse and fell in a faint. He was carried to a tent and left with two or
three guards. So soon as he recovered consciousness, he tried to get up
to follow us, and was persuaded to lie still only when the general
promised he would send for him in order that he might be present when we
meet the French. He is a man who is an honor to Virginia," concluded
Orme, and he turned away hastily to hide his emotion, nor were my own
eyes wholly dry.
"Come," I said, "let me show you, sir, how the troops lay that day," and
as he assented, I led the way along the lines and pointed out the
position held by the enemy and how we had opposed them; but my thoughts
were miles away with that wasted figure tossing wearily from side to side
of a rude camp cot on the bank of the Yoxiogeny, with no other nurses
than two or three rough soldiers.
"'Twas well done," said Orme, when I had finished. "I see not how it
could have been better. And I trust the victory will be with us, not with
the French, when we meet before Duquesne."
"Of that there can be no question!" I cried. "Once we reach the fort, it
must fall before us."
"Faith, I believe so," laughed Orme. "My only fear is that they will run
away, and not stay to give us battle. Our spies have told us that such
was their intention," and he laughed again as he saw my fallen face.
"Why, I believe you are as great a fire-eater as the best of us,
lieutenant."
"In truth, sir," I answered, somewhat abashed at his merriment, "I
decided long ago that since I held no station in the world, I needs must
win one with my sword, but if I can find no employment for it, I see
small hope of advancement."
"Well, do not repine," and he smiled as he shook my hand, "for if the
French do not wait to meet us here, we shall yet find plenty of fighting
before us. This is only the first stage in the journey, and Duquesne once
ours, we press forward to join forces with the expeditions which are
moving against Canada. If I hear more from Colonel Washington, I shall
let you know."
I thanked him for his kindness, and watched him as he rode away
across the plain. When he was out of sight, I turned back to join my
company, and I felt that I had made a new friend, and one whom I was
proud to have.