_Hect_. Is this Achilles?
_Achil_. I am Achilles.
_Hect_. Stand fair, I pray thee--let me look on thee.
Troilus and Cressida.
It may now be necessary to take a rapid glance at the situation of the
whole combat, which had begun to thicken in different parts of the valley.
The party led by Dudley, and exhorted by Meek, had broken its order on
reaching the meadows behind the fort, and, seeking the covers of the
stumps and fences, it had thrown in its fire, with good effect, on the
irregular band that pressed into the fields. This decision quickly caused
a change in the manner of the advance. The Indians took to covers, in
their turn, and the struggle assumed that desultory but dangerous
character, in which the steadiness and resources of the individual are put
to the severest trial. Success appeared to vacillate; the white men at one
time widening the distance between them and their friends in the dwelling,
and, at another, falling back as if disposed to seek the shelter of the
palisadoes. Although numbers were greatly in favor of the Indians, weapons
and skill supported the cause of their adversaries. It was the evident
wish of the former to break in upon the little band that opposed their
progress to the village, in and about which they saw that scene of hurried
exertion which has already been described--a spectacle but little likely
to cool the furious ardor of an Indian onset. But the wary manner in which
Dudley conducted his battle, rendered this an experiment of exceeding
hazard. However heavy of intellect the Ensign might appear on other
occasions, the present was one every way adapted to draw out his best and
most manly qualities. Of large and powerful stature, he felt, in moments
of strife, a degree of confidence in himself, that was commensurate with
the amount of physical force he wielded. To this hardy assurance was to be
added no trifling portion of the sort of enthusiasm that can be awakened
in the most sluggish bosoms, and which, like the anger of an even-tempered
man, is only the more formidable from the usually quiet habits of the
individual. Nor was this the first, by many, of Ensign Dudley's warlike
deeds. Besides the desperate affair already related in these pages, he had
been engaged in divers hostile expeditions against the aborigines, and on
all occasions had he shown a cool head and a resolute mind.
There was pressing necessity for both these essential qualities, in the
situation in which the Ensign now found himself. By properly extending his
little force, and yet keeping it at the same time perfectly within
supporting distance, by emulating the caution of his foes in consulting
the covers, and by reserving a portion of his fire throughout the broken
and yet well-ordered line, the savages were finally beaten back, from
stump to stump, from hillock to hillock, and fence to fence, until they
had fairly entered the margin of the forest. Further the experienced eye
of the borderer saw he could not follow. Many of his men were bleeding,
and growing weaker as their wounds still flowed. The protection of the
trees gave the enemy too great an advantage for their position to be
forced, and destruction would have been the inevitable consequence of the
close struggle which must have followed a charge. In this stage of the
combat, Dudley began to cast anxious and inquiring looks behind him. He
saw that support was not to be expected, and he also saw, with regret,
that many of the women and children were still busy, transporting
necessaries from the village into the fort. Falling back to a better line
of covers, and to a distance that materially lessened the danger of the
arrows, the weapons used by quite two-thirds of his enemies, he awaited,
in sullen silence, the proper moment to effect a further retreat.
It was while the party of Dudley stood thus at bay, that a fierce yell
rung in the arches of the forest. It was an exclamation of pleasure,
uttered in the wild manner of those people; as if the tenants of the woods
were animated by some sudden and general impulse of joy. The crouching
yeomen regarded each other in uneasiness, but seeing no sign of wavering
in the steady mien of their leader, each man kept close, awaiting some
further exhibition of the devices of their foes. Ere another minute had
passed, two warriors appeared at the margin of the wood, where they stood
apparently in contemplation of the different scenes that were acting in
various parts of the valley. More than one musket was levelled with intent
to injure them, but a sign from Dudley prevented attempts that would most
probably have been frustrated by the never-slumbering vigilance of a North
American Indian.
There was however something in the air and port of these two
individuals, that had its share in producing the forbearance of Dudley.
They were evidently both chiefs, and of far more than usual estimation.
As was common with the military leaders of the Indians, they were men
also of large and commanding stature. Viewed at the distance from which
they were seen, one seemed a warrior who had reached the meridian of his
days, while the other had the lighter step and more flexible movement of
a much briefer existence. Both were well armed, and, as was usual with
people of their origin on the war-path, they were clad only in the
customary scanty covering of waist-cloths and leggings. The former,
however, were of scarlet, and the latter were rich in the fringes and
bright colors of Indian ornaments. The elder of the two wore a gay belt
of wampum around his head, in the form of a turban; but the younger
appeared with a shaven crown, on which nothing but the customary
chivalrous scalp-lock was visible.
The consultation, like most of the incidents that have been just related,
occupied but a very few minutes. The eldest of the chiefs issued some
orders. The mind of Dudley was anxiously endeavoring to anticipate their
nature, when the two disappeared together. The Ensign would now have been
left entirely to vague conjectures, had not the rapid execution of the
mandates that had been issued to the youngest of the Indians, soon left
him in no doubt of their intentions. Another loud and general shout drew
his attention towards the right; and when he had endeavored to strengthen
his position by calling three or four of the best marksmen to that end of
his little line, the youngest of the chiefs was seen bounding across the
meadow, leading a train of whooping followers to the covers that commanded
its opposite extremity. In short, the position of Dudley was completely
turned; and the stumps and angles of the fences, which secreted his men,
were likely to become of no further use. The emergency demanded decision.
Collecting his yeomen, ere the enemy had time to profit by his advantage,
the Ensign ordered a rapid retreat towards the fort. In this movement he
was favored by the formation of the ground, a circumstance that had been
well considered on the advance; and in a very few minutes, the party found
itself safely posted under the protection of a scattering fire from the
palisadoes, which immediately checked the pursuit of the whooping and
exulting foe. The wounded men, after a stern or rather sullen halt, that
was intended to exhibit the unconquerable determination of the whites,
withdrew into the works for succor, leaving the command of Dudley reduced
by nearly one-half of its numbers. With this diminished force, however, he
promptly turned his attention towards the assistance of those who combated
at the opposite extremity of the village.
Allusion has already been made to the manner in which the houses of a new
settlement were clustered near each other, at the commencement of the
colonial establishments. In addition to the more obvious and sufficient
motive, which has given rise to the same inconvenient and unpicturesque
manner of building, over nine-tenths of the continent of Europe, there had
been found a religious inducement for the inconvenient custom. One of the
enactments of the Puritans said, that "no man shall set his
dwelling-house, above the distance of half-a-mile, or a mile at farthest,
from the meeting of the congregation where the church doth usually
assemble for the worship of God." "The support of the worship of God, in
church fellowship," was the reason alleged for this arbitrary provision of
the law; but it is quite probable that support against danger of a more
temporal character was another motive. There were those within the fort
who believed the smoking piles that were to be seen, here and there, in
the clearings on the hills, owed their destruction to a disregard of that
protection which was thought to be yielded to those who leaned with the
greatest confidence, even in the forms of earthly transactions, on the
sustaining power of an all-seeing and all-directing Providence. Among this
number was Reuben Ring, who submitted to the loss of his habitation, as to
a merited punishment for the light-mindedness that had tempted him to
erect a dwelling at the utmost limits of the prescribed distance.
As the party of Dudley retreated, that sturdy yeoman stood at a window of
the chamber in which his prolific partner with her recent gift were safely
lodged, for in that moment of confusion, the husband was compelled to
discharge the double duty of sentinel and nurse. He had just fired his
piece and he had reason to think with success, on the enemies that pressed
too closely on the retiring party, and as he reloaded the gun, he turned a
melancholy eye on the pile of smoking embers, that now lay where his
humble but comfortable habitation had so lately stood.
"I fear me, Abundance," he said, shaking his head with a sigh, "that there
was error in the measurement between the meeting and the clearing. Some
misgivings of the lawfulness of stretching the chain across the hollows,
came over me at the time; but the pleasant knoll, where the dwelling
stood, was so healthful and commodious, that, if it were a sin, I hope it
is one that is forgiven! There doth not seem so much as the meanest of its
logs, that is not now melted into white ashes by the fire!"
"Raise me, husband," returned the wife, in the weak voice natural to her
feeble situation; "raise me with thine arm, that I may look upon the place
where my babes first saw the light."
Her request was granted, and, for a minute, the woman gazed in mute grief
at the destruction of her comfortable home. Then, as a fresh yell from the
foe rose on the air without, she trembled, and turned with a mother's care
towards the unconscious beings that slumbered at her side.
"Thy brother hath been driven by the heathen to the foot of the
palisadoes," observed the other, after regarding his companion with
manly kindness for a moment, "and he hath lessened his force by many
that are wounded."
A short but eloquent pause succeeded. The woman turned her tearful face
upwards, and stretching out a bloodless hand, she answered--
"I know what thou wouldst do--it is not meet that Sergeant Ring should
be a woman-tender, when the Indian enemy is in his neighbor's fields! Go
to thy duty, and that which is to be done, do manfully! and yet would I
have thee remember how many there are who lean upon thy life for a
father's care."
The yeoman first cast a cautious look around him, for this the decent and
stern usages of the Puritans exacted, and perceiving that the girl who
occasionally entered to tend the sick was not present, he stooped, and
impressing his lips on the cheek of his wife, he threw a yearning look at
his offspring, shouldered his musket, and descended to the court.
When Reuben Ring joined the party of Dudley, the latter had just issued an
order to march to the support of those who still stoutly defended the
southern entrance of the village. The labor of securing necessaries was
not yet ended, and it was on every account an object of the last
importance to make good the hamlet against the enemy. The task, however,
was not as difficult as the force of the Indians might, at first, have
given reason to believe. The conflict, by this time, had extended to the
party which was headed by Content, and, in consequence, the Indians were
compelled to contend with a divided force. The buildings themselves, with
the fences and out-houses, were so many breast-works, and it was plain
that the assailants acted with a caution and concert, that betrayed the
direction of some mind more highly gifted than those which ordinarily fall
to the lot of uncivilized men.
The task of Dudley was not so difficult as before, since the enemy ceased
to press upon his march, preferring to watch the movements of those who
held the fortified house, of whose numbers they were ignorant, and of
whose attacks they were evidently jealous. As soon as the reinforcement
reached the Lieutenant who defended the village, he commanded the charge,
and his men advanced with shouts and clamor, some singing spiritual songs,
others lifting up their voice in prayer, while a few availed themselves of
the downright and perhaps equally effective means of raising sounds as
fearful as possible. The whole being backed by spirited and well-directed
discharges of musketry, the effort was successful. In a few minutes the
enemy fled, leaving that side of the valley momentarily free from danger.
Pursuit would have been folly. After posting a few look-outs in secret and
safe positions among the houses, the whole party returned, with an
intention of cutting off the enemy who still held the meadows near the
garrison. In this design, however, their intentions were frustrated. The
instant they were pressed, the Indians gave way, evidently for the purpose
of gaining the protection of the woods; and when the whites returned to
their works, they were followed in a manner to show that they could make
no further movement without the hazard of a serious assault. In this
condition, the men in and about the fort were compelled to be inefficient
spectators of the scene that was taking place around the
"Heathcote-house," as the dwelling of old Mark was commonly called.
The fortified building had been erected for the protection of the village
and its inhabitants, an object that its position rendered feasible; but it
could offer no aid to those who dwelt without the range of musketry. The
only piece of artillery belonging to the settlement, was the culverin
which had been discharged by the Puritan, and which served for the moment
to check the advance of his enemies. But the exclamations of the stranger,
and the appeal to his men, with which the last chapter closed,
sufficiently proclaimed that the attack was diverted from the house, and
that work of a bloody character now offered itself to those he and his
companion led.
The ground around the dwelling of the Heathcotes admitted of closer and
more deadly conflict than that on which the other portions of the combat
had occurred. Time had given size to the orchards, and wealth had
multiplied and rendered more secure the inclosures and out-buildings. It
was in one of the former that the hostile parties met, and came to that
issue which the warlike stranger had foreseen.
Content, like Dudley, caused his men to separate and they threw in their
fire with the same guarded reservation that had been practised by the
other party. Success again attended the efforts of discipline; the whites
gradually beating back their enemies, until there was a probability of
forcing them entirely into the open ground in their rear, a success that
would have been tantamount to a victory. But at this flattering moment,
yells were heard behind the leaping and whooping band, that was still seen
gliding through the openings of the smoke, resembling so many dark and
malignant spectres acting their evil rites. Then, as a chief with a
turbaned head, terrific voice, and commanding stature, appeared in their
front, the whole of the wavering line received an onward impulse. The
yells redoubled; another warrior was seen brandishing a tomahawk on one
flank, and the whole of the deep phalanx came rushing in upon the whites,
threatening to sweep them away, as the outbreaking torrent carries
desolation in its course.
"Men to your square!" shouted the stranger, disregarding cover and
life, together, in such a pressing emergency; "to your square,
Christians and be firm!"
The command was repeated by Content, and echoed from mouth to mouth. But
before those on the flanks could reach the centre, the shock had come. All
order being lost, the combat was hand to hand one party fighting fiercely
for victory, and the other knowing that they stood at the awful peril of
their lives. After the first discharge of the musket and the twang of the
bow, the struggle was maintained with knife and axe; the thrust of the
former, or the descent of the keen and glittering tomahawk, being answered
by sweeping and crushing blows of the musket's but, or by throttling
grasps of hands that were clenched in the death-gripe. Men fell on each
other in piles, and when the conqueror rose to shake off the bodies of
those who gasped at his feet, his frowning eye rested alike on friend and
enemy. The orchard rang with the yells of the Indians, but the Colonists
fought in mute despair. Sullen resolution only gave way with life; and it
happened more than once, that fearful day, that the usual reeking token of
an Indian triumph was swung before the stern and still conscious eyes of
the mangled victim from whose head it had been torn.
In this frightful scene of slaughter and ferocity, the principal
personages of our legend were not idle. By a tacit but intelligent
understanding, the stranger with Content and his son placed themselves
back to back, and struggled manfully against their luckless fortune. The
former showed himself no soldier of parade; for, knowing the uselessness
of orders when each one fought for life, he dealt out powerful blows in
silence. His example was nobly emulated by Content; and young Mark moved
limb and muscle with the vigorous activity of his age. A first onset of
the enemy was repelled, and for a moment there was a faint prospect of
escape. At the suggestion of the stranger, the three moved, in their
order, towards the dwelling, with the intention of trusting to their
personal activity when released from the throng. But at this luckless
instant, when hope was beginning to assume the air of probability, a chief
came stalking through the horrible melee, seeking on each side some victim
for his uplifted axe. A crowd of the inferior herd pressed at his heels,
and a first glance told the assailed that the decisive moment had come.
At the sight of so many of their hated enemies still living, and capable
of suffering, a common and triumphant shout burst from the lips of the
Indians. Their leader, like one superior to the more vulgar emotions of
his followers, alone approached in silence. As the band opened and divided
to encircle the victims, chance brought him, face to face, with Mark. Like
his foe, the Indian warrior was still in the freshness and vigor of young
manhood. In stature, years and agility, the antagonists seemed equal; and,
as the followers of the chief threw themselves on the stranger and
Content, like men who knew their leader needed no aid, there was every
appearance of a fierce and doubtful struggle. But, while neither of the
combatants showed any desire to avoid the contest, neither was in haste to
give the commencing blow. A painter, or rather sculptor, would have seized
the attitudes of these young combatants for a rich exhibition of the power
of his art.
Mark, like most of his friends, had cast aside all superfluous vestments
ere he approached the scene of strife. The upper part of his body was
naked to the shirt, and even this had been torn asunder by the rude
encounters through which he had already passed. The whole of his full and
heaving chest was bare, exposing the white skin and blue veins of one
whose fathers had come from towards the rising sun. His swelling form
rested on a leg that seemed planted in defiance, while the other was
thrown in front, like a lever, to control the expected movements. His arms
were extended to the rear, the hands grasping the barrel of a musket,
which threatened death to all who should come within its sweep. The head,
covered with the short, curling, yellow hair of his Saxon lineage, was a
little advanced above the left shoulder, and seemed placed in a manner to
preserve the equipoise of the whole frame. The brow was flushed, the lips
compressed and resolute, the veins of the neck and temples swollen nearly
to bursting, and the eyes contracted, but of a gaze that bespoke equally
the feelings of desperate determination and of entranced surprise.
On the other hand, the Indian warrior was a man still more likely to be
remarked. The habits of his people had brought him, as usual, into the
field, with naked limbs and nearly uncovered body. The position of his
frame was that of one prepared to leap; and it would have been a
comparison tolerated by the license of poetry, to have likened his
straight and agile form to the semblance of a crouching panther. The
projecting leg sustained the body, bending under its load more with the
free play of muscle and sinew than from any weight, while the slightly
stooping head was a little advanced beyond the perpendicular. One hand was
clenched on the helve of an axe, that lay in a line with the right thigh
while the other was placed, with a firm gripe, on the buck-horn handle of
a knife, that was still sheathed at his girdle. The expression of the face
was earnest, severe, and perhaps a little fierce, and yet the whole was
tempered by the immovable and dignified calm of a chief of high qualities.
The eye, however, was gazing and riveted; and, like that of the youth
whose life he threatened, it appeared singularly contracted with wonder.
The momentary pause that succeeded the movement by which the two
antagonists threw themselves into these fine attitudes, was full of
meaning. Neither spoke, neither permitted play of muscle, neither even
seemed to breathe. The delay was not like that of preparation, for each
stood ready for his deadly effort, nor would it have been possible to
trace in the compressed energy of the countenance of Mark, or in the lofty
and more practised bearing of the front and eye of the Indian, any thing
like wavering of purpose. An emotion foreign to the scene appeared to
possess them both, each active frame unconsciously accommodating itself to
the bloody business of the hour, while the inscrutable agency of the mind
held them, for a brief interval, in check.
A yell of death from the mouth of a savage who was beaten to the very
feet of his chief by a blow of the stranger, and an encouraging shout
from the lips of the latter, broke the short trance. The knees of the
chief bent still lower, the head of the tomahawk was a little raised, the
blade of the knife was seen glittering from its sheath, and the but of
Mark's musket had receded to the utmost tension of his sinews, when a
shriek and a yell, different from any before heard that day, sounded
near. At the same moment, the blows of both the combatants were
suspended, though by the agency of very different degrees of force. Mark
felt the arms of one cast around his limbs, with a power sufficient to
embarrass, though not to subdue him, while the well-known voice of
Whittal Ring sounded in his ears--
"Murder the lying and hungry Pale-faces! They leave us no food but air--no
drink but water!"
On the other hand, when the chief turned in anger, to strike the daring
one who presumed to arrest his arm, he saw at his feet the kneeling
figure, the uplifted hands, and agonized features, of Martha. Averting the
blow that a follower already aimed at the life of the suppliant, he spoke
rapidly in his own language, and pointed to the struggling Mark. The
nearest Indians cast themselves on the already half-captured youth. A
whoop brought a hundred more to the spot, and then a calm as sudden, and
almost as fearful, as the previous tumult, prevailed in the orchard. It
was succeeded by the long-drawn, frightful, and yet meaning yell by which
the American warrior proclaims his victory.
With the end of the tumult in the orchard, the sounds of strife ceased in
all the valley. Though conscious of the success of their enemies, the men
in the fort saw the certainty of destruction, not only to themselves, but
to those feeble ones whom they should be compelled to leave without a
sufficient defence, were they to attempt a sortie to that distance from
their works. They were therefore compelled to remain passive and grave
spectators of an evil they had not the means to avert.