OUT OF THE NORTH
It lacked still an hour to midnight, which time I had set for our
advance upon John Howell's house, and my Oneidas had not yet done
painting, when Johnny Silver, who was on guard, whistled from his post,
and I ran thither with Nick.
A man in leather was coming in through the _chevaux-de-frise_, and
Johnny dropped a tamarack log across the ditch for him, over which he
ran like a tree-martin, and so climbed up into the flare of Nick's
lantern.
The man in forest runner's dress was Dave Ellerson, known to us all as a
good neighbor and a staunch Whig; but we scarce recognized him in his
stringy buckskins and coon-skin cap, with the ringed tail a-bobbing.
On his hunting shirt there was a singular device of letters sewed there
in white cloth, which composed the stirring phrase, "Liberty or Death."
And we knew immediately that he had become a soldier in the 11th
Virginia Regiment, which is called Morgan's Rifles.
He seemed to have travelled far, though light, for he carried only rifle
and knife, ammunition, and a small sack which flapped flat and empty;
but his manner was lively and his merry gaze clear and untroubled as we
grasped his powerful hands.
"Why, Dave!" said I, "how come you here, out o' the North?"
"I travel express from Arnold to Schuyler," said he. "Have you a gill of
rum, John?"
Johnny Silver had not drunk his gill, and poured it into Dave's
pannikin.
Down it went, and he smacked his lips. Then we took him back to the
fire, where the Oneidas were still a-painting, and made him eat and
drink and dry him by the flames.
"Is there a horse to be had at Summer House?" he demanded, his mouth
full of parched corn.
"Surely," said I. And asked him news of the North, if he were at liberty
to give us any account.
"The news I can not give you is what I shall not," said he, laughing.
"But there's plenty besides, and damned bad."
"Bad?"
"Monstrous bad, John. For on my forest-running south from Chambly, I saw
Sir John and his crew as they gained the Canadas! They seemed near dead,
too, but they were full three hundred, and I but one, so I did not tarry
to mark 'em with a stealthy bullet, but pulled foot for Saint
Sacrement."
He grinned, bit a morsel from a cold pigeon, and sat chewing it
reflectively and watching the Indians at their painting.
"You know what is passing in Canada?" he demanded abruptly.
"Nothing definite," said I.
"Listen, then. We had taken Chambly, Montreal, and St. John's. Arnold
lay before Quebec. Sullivan commanded us. Six weeks ago he sent Hazen's
regiment to Arnold. Then the Canadians and Indians struck us at the
Cedars, and we lost five hundred men before we were out of it."
"What was the reason for such disaster?" I demanded, turning hot with
wrath.
"Cowardice and smallpox," said he carelessly. "They were new troops sent
up to reinforce us, and their general, Thomas, died o' the pox.
"And atop of that comes news of British transports in the St. Lawrence,
and of British regulars and Hessians.
"So Sullivan sends the Pennsylvania Line to strike 'em. St. Clair
marches, Wayne marches, Irving follows with his regiment. Lord, how they
were peppered, the Pennsylvania Line! And Thompson was taken, and
Colonel Irving, and they wounded Anthony Wayne; and the Line ran!"
"Ran!"
"By God, yes. And our poor little Northern Army is on the run today,
with thirteen thousand British on their heels.
"They drove us out o' Chambly. They took the Cedars. Montreal fell. St.
John's followed. Quebec is freed. We're clean kicked out o' Canada, and
marching up Lake Champlain, our rear in touch with the red-coats.
"If we stand and face about at Crown Point, we shall do more than I hope
for.
"Thomas is dead, Thompson and Irving taken, Arnold and Wayne wounded,
the army a skeleton, what with losses by death, wounds, disease, and in
prisoners.
"Had not Arnold broke into the Montreal shops and taken food and woolen
clothing, I think we had been naked now."
"Good heavens!" said I, burning with mortification, "I had not heard of
such a rout!"
"Oh, it was no rout, John," said he carelessly. "Sullivan marched us out
of that hell-hole in good order--whatever John Adams chooses to say
about our army."
"What does John Adams say?"
"Why, he says we are disgraced, defeated, dispirited, discontented,
undisciplined, diseased, eaten up with vermin."
"My God!" exclaimed Nick.
"It's true enough," said Dave, coolly. "And when John Adams also adds
that we have no clothing, no beds, no blankets, no medicines, and only
salt pork and flour to eat and little o' these, why, he's right, too.
Why not admit truth? Does it help to conceal it? Nenni, lads! It is best
always to face it and endeavour to turn into a falsehood tomorrow what
is disgracefully true today.
"So when I tell you that in three months our Northern Army has lost five
thousand men by smallpox, camp fever, bullets, and privation--that out
of five thousand who remain, two thousand are sick, why, it's the plain
and damnable truth.
"But any soldier who loses sleep or appetite over such cursed news
should be run through with a bayonet, for he's a rabbit and no man!"
After a silence: "Who commands them now?" I asked.
"Gates is to take them over at Crown Point, I hear."
This news chilled me, for Schuyler should have commanded. But the damned
Yankees, plotting their petty New England plots to discredit our dear
General, had plainly hoodwinked Congress; and now our generous and noble
Schuyler had again fallen a victim to nutmeg jealousy and cunning.
"Well," said I, "God help us all in Tryon, now; for a vain ass is in the
saddle, and the counsel of the brave and wise remains unheeded. Will Guy
Carleton drive us south of Crown Point?"
"I think so," said Ellerson, carelessly.
"Then the war will come among us here in Tryon!"
"Straight as a storm from the North, John."
"When?"
"Oh, that? God knows. We shall hold the lakes as long as we can. But
unless we are reinforced by Continentals--unless every Colony sends us a
regiment of their Lines--we can not hope to hold Crown Point, and that's
sure as shooting and plain as preaching."
"Very well," said I between clenched teeth, "then we here in Tryon had
best go about the purging of that same county, and physic this district
against a dose o' red-coats."
Ellerson laughed and rose with the lithe ease of a panther.
"I should be on my way to Albany," says he. "You tell me there are
horses at the Summer House, John?"
"Certainly."
We shook hands.
"You find Morgan's agreeable?" inquired Nick.
"A grand corps, lad! Tim Murphy is my mate. And I think there's not a
rifleman among us who can not shoot the whiskers off a porcupine at a
hundred yards." And to me, with a nod toward my Oneidas: "They are
painting. Do you march tonight, John?"
"A matter of cleaning out a Tory nest yonder," said I.
"A filthy business and not war," quoth he. "Well, God be with all
friends to liberty, for all hell is rising up against us. A thousand
Indians are stripped for battle on this frontier--and the tall ships
never cease arriving crammed with red-coats and Germans.
"So we should all do our duty now, whether that same duty lie in
emptying barrack slops, or in cleaning out a Tory nest, or in marching
to drum and fife, or guarding the still places of the wilderness--it's
all one business, John."
Again we shook hands all around, then, waving aside Joe de Golyer and
his proffered lantern, the celebrated rifleman passed lightly into the
shadows.
"Yonder goes the best shot in the North," said Nick.
"Saving only yourself and Jack Mount and Tim Murphy," remarked Godfrey
Shew.
"As for the whiskers of a porcupine," quoth Nick, with the wild flare
a-glimmering in his eyes, "why, I have never tried such a target. But I
should pick any button on a red coat at a hundred yards--that is, if I
cast and pare my own bullet, and load in my own fashion."
Silver swore that any rifle among us white men should shave an otter of
his whiskers, as a barber trims a Hessian.
"Sacre garce!" cried he, "why should we miss--we coureurs-du-bois, who
have learn to shoot by ze hardes' of all drill-masters--a empty belly!"
"We must not miss at Howell's house," said I, counting my people at a
glance.
The Saguenay, ghastly in scarlet and white, came and placed himself
behind me.
All the Oneidas were naked, painted from lock to ankle in terrific
symbols.
Thiohero was still oiling her supple, boyish body when I started a brief
description of the part each one of us was to act, speaking in the
Oneida dialect and in English.
"Take these bloody men alive," I added, "if it can be done. But if it
can not, then slay them. For every one of these that escapes tonight
shall return one day with a swarm of hornets to sting us all to death in
County Tryon!... Are you ready for the command?"
"Ready, John," says Nick.
"March!"
* * * * *
At midnight we had surrounded Howell's house, save only the east
approach, which we still left open for tardy skulkers.
A shadowy form or two slinking out from the tamaracks, their guns
trailing, passed along the hard ridge, bent nearly double to avoid
observation.
We could not recognize them, for they were very shadows, vague as
frost-driven woodcock speeding at dusk to a sheltered swamp.
But, as they arrived, singly and in little groups, such a silent rage
possessed me that I could scarce control my rifle, which quivered to
take toll of these old neighbors who were returning by stealth at night
to murder us in our beds.
The Saguenay lay in the wild grasses on my left; the little maid of
Askalege, in her naked paint, lay on my right hand. Her forefinger
caressed the trigger of her new rifle; the stock lay close to her cheek.
And I could hear her singing her _Karenna_ in a mouse's whisper to
herself:
"Listen, John Drogue,[16]
Though we all die,
You shall survive!
Listen, John Drogue,
This will happen,
And it is well,
Because I love you.
"Why do I love you?
Because you are a boy-chief,
And we are both young,
Thou and I.
Why do I love you?
Because you are my elder brother,
And you speak to the Oneidas
Very gently.
"I am a prophetess;
I see events beforehand;
This is my Karenna:
Though we all die tonight,
You shall survive in Scarlet:
And this is well,
Because I love you."
[Footnote 16:
_The Karenna of Thiohero_
Yi-ya-thon-dek, _John Drogue_,
Da-ed-e-wenh-he-i,
Engh-si-tsko-dak-i!
Yi-ya-thon-dek, _John Drogue_,
Nenne-a-wenni
Yo-ya-neri
Kenonwes!]
So, crooning her prophecy, she lay flat in the wild grasses, cuddling
the rifle-stock close to her shoulder; and her song's low cadence was
like the burden of some cricket amid the herbage.
"Tharon alone knows all," I breathed in her ear.
"Neah!" she murmured; and touched her cheek against mine.
"Only God knows who shall survive tonight," I insisted.
"Onhteh. Ra-ko-wan-enh,"[17] she murmured. "But I have seen you,
_niare_,[18] through a mist, coming from this place,
O-ne-kwen-da-ri-en.[19] And dead bodies lay about. Do you believe me?"
[Footnote 17: Perhaps! He is Chief.]
[Footnote 18: Beforehand.]
[Footnote 19: Literally, in scarlet blood.]
I made no reply but lay motionless, watching the tamaracks, ghostly in
their cerements of silver fog. And I heard, through the low rhythm of
her song, owls howling far away amid those spectral wastes, and saw the
Oneida Dancers,[20] very small and pale above the void.
[Footnote 20: The Pleiades.]
I stared with fierce satisfaction at Howell's house. There was no gleam
of light visible behind the closed shutters; but I already had counted
nine men who came creeping to that silent rendezvous. And now there
arrived the tenth man, running and stooping low; and went in by the east
side of the house.
I waited a full minute longer, then whistled the whitethroat's call.
"Now!" said I to Thiohero; and we rose and walked forward through the
light mist which lay knee-deep over the ground.
We had not advanced ten paces when three men, whom I had not perceived,
rose up on the ridge to our right.
One of these shouted and fired a gun, and all three dropped flat again
before we could realize what they had been about.
But already, out of that shadowy house, armed men swarmed like black
hornets from their nest, and we ran to cut them from the tamaracks, but
could not mark their flight in the so great darkness.
Then Nick Stoner struck flint, and dropped his tinder upon the remnants
of a hay-stack, where wisps of last year's marsh grass still littered
the rick.
In the smoky glow which grew I saw that great villain, Simon Girty, fire
his gun at us, then turn and run toward the water; and Dries Bowman took
after him, shouting in his fear.
Very carefully I fired at Girty, but he was not scotched, and was lost
in the dark with Dries.
Then, in the increasing glow of the marsh-hay afire, I saw and
recognized Elias Cady, and his venomous son, Charlie; and called loudly
upon them to halt.
But they plunged into the shore reeds; and John and Phil Helmer at their
heels; and we fired our guns into the dark, but could not stop them or
again even hope to glimpse them in their flight.
But the Oneidas had now arrived between the tamaracks and the log house,
and my Rangers were swiftly closing in on the west and south, when
suddenly a couple of loud musket shots came from the crescents in the
bolted shutters, hiding the west window in a double cloud of smoke.
I called out, "Halt!" to my people, for it was death to cross that
circle of light ahead while the marsh-hay burned.
There were at least five men now barricaded in Howell's house. I called
to Tahioni, the Wolf, and he came crouching and all trembling with
excitement and impatience, like a fierce hound restrained.
"Take your people," said I, "and follow those dirty cowards who are
fleeing toward the tamaracks."
Instantly his terrific panther-cry shattered the silence, and the
Oneidas' wild answer to his slogan hung quavering over the Drowned Lands
like the melancholy pulsations of a bell.
The hay-rick burned less brightly now. I crept out to the dark edge of
the wavering glare and called across to those in the log-house:
"If you will surrender I promise to send you to Johnstown and let a
court judge you! If you refuse, we shall take you by storm, try you on
the spot, and execute sentence upon you in that house! I allow you five
minutes!"
At that, two of them fired in the direction from whence came my voice;
and I heard their bullets passing, aimed too high.
Then John Howell's voice bawls out, "I know you, Drogue; and so help me
God, I shall cut your throat before this business ends!--you dirty
renegade and traitor to your King!"
Such a rage possessed me that I scarce knew what I was about, and I ran
across the grass to the bolted door of the house, and fell to slashing
at it with my hatchet like a madman.
They were firing now so rapidly that the smoke of their guns made a
choking fog about the house; but the log cabin had no overhang, not
being built for defense, and so they over-shot me whilst my hatchet
battered splinters from the door and shook it almost from its hinges.
Some one was coughing in the thick, rifle-fog near me, and presently I
heard Nick swearing and hammering at the door with his gun butt.
The French trappers, not so rash as we, lay close in the darkness,
shooting steadily into the shutters at short range.
Shutters and door, though splintering, held; the defenders fired at my
men's rifle-flashes, or strove to shoot at Nick and me, where we
crouched low in the sheltered doorway; but they could not sufficiently
depress the muzzles of their guns to hit us.
Suddenly, from out of the night, came a fire-arrow, whistling, with dry
moss all aflame, and lodged on the roof of Howell's house.
Quoth Nick: "Your Tree-eater is in action, John. God send that the fire
catch!"
From the darkness, Silver called out to me that the marsh-hay had nearly
burned out, and what were he and Joe to do? Then came a-whizzing another
fire-arrow, and another, but whether the dew was too heavy on the roof
or the moss too damp, I do not know; only that when at length the roof
caught fire, it was but a tiny blaze and flickered feebly, eating a slow
way along the edges of the eaves.
Nick, who had been wrenching at the imbedded door stone, finally freed
and lifted it, and hurled it at the bolted shutters. In they crashed.
Then the door, too, burst open, and Tom Dawling rushed upon me with his
rifle clubbed high above me.
"You damned Whig!" he shouted, "I'll knock your brains all over the
grass!"
My hatchet in a measure fended the blow and eased its murderous force,
but I stumbled to my knees under it; and Baltus Weed came to the window
and shot me through the body.
At that, Gene Grinnis ran out o' the house to cut my throat, where like
a crippled wild beast I floundered, a-kicking and striving to find my
feet; and I saw Nick draw up and shoot Gene through the face, with a
load of buck, so that where were his features suddenly became but a vast
and raw hole.
Down he sprawled across my hurt legs; down tumbled John Howell, too, and
Silver, a-clinging to him tooth and nail, their broad knives flashing
and ripping and whipping into flesh.
Striving desperately to free me of Grinnis, and get up, I saw Tom
Dawling throw his axe at Godfrey; and saw Luysnes shoot him, then seize
him and cut his throat, even as he was falling.
Johnny Silver began bawling lustily for help, with John Howell atop of
him, cursing him for a rebel and striving to disembowel him. De Golyer
caught Howell by the throat, and Silver scrambled to his feet, his
clothing in bloody ribbons. Then Joe's hatchet flashed level with
terrific swiftness, crashing to its mark; and Howell pitched backward
with his head clean split from one eye to the other, making of the top
of his skull a lid which hung hinged only by the hairy skin.
Luysnes and the Saguenay were now somewhere inside the house a-chasing
of Balty Weed; and I could hear Balty screaming, and the thud and
clatter of loose logs as they dragged him down from the loft overhead.
Nick came panting to me where I sat on the bloody grass, feeling sick o'
my wound and now vomiting.
"Are you bad?" he asked breathlessly.
"Balty shot me.... I don't know----"
Somebody knelt down behind me, and I laid back my head, feeling very
sick and faint, but entirely conscious.
The awful screaming in the house had never ceased; Nick sat down on the
grass and fumbled at my shirt with trembling fingers.
Presently the screaming ceased. Luysnes came out o' the house with a
lighted lantern, followed by the Saguenay; and in the wavering radiance
I saw behind them the feet of a man twitching above the floor.
"We hung the louse to the rafters," said Luysnes, "and your Indian asks
your leave to scalp him as soon as he's done a-kicking."
"Let him have the scalp," said de Golyer, grimly. "He shot John Drogue
through the body. Shine your lantern on him, Ben."
They crowded around me. Nick opened my shirt and drew off my leggins. I
saw Johnny Silver, in tatters and all drenched with blood, come into the
lantern's rays.
"Are you bad hurt, John?" I gasped.
"Bah! Non, alors. Onlee has Howell slash my shirt into leetle rags and I
am scratch all raw. Zat ees nozzing, mon capitaine--a leetle cut like
wiz a Barlow--like zat! Pouf! Bah! I laugh. I make mock!"
"Your ribs are broken, John," says Nick, still squatting beside me. "I
think your bones turned the bullet, and it's not lodged in your belly at
all, but in your right thigh.... Fetch a sop o' wet moss, Joe!"
De Luysnes also got up and went away to chop some stout alders for a
litter. De Golyer was back in a moment, both hands full of dripping
sphagnum; and Nick washed away the mess of blood.
After that I was sick at my stomach again; and not clear in my mind what
they were about.
I gazed around out of fevered eyes, and saw dead men lying near me.
Suddenly the full horror of this civil war seemed to seize my
senses;--all the shame of such a conflict, a black disgrace upon us here
in County Tryon.
"Nick!" I cried, "in God's name give those men burial."
"Let them lie, damn them!" said Godfrey, sullenly.
"But they were our neighbors! I--I can't endure such a business.... And
there are wolves in the tamaracks."
"Let wolf eat wolf," muttered Luysnes. But he drew his knife and went
into the house. And I heard Balty's body drop when he cut it down.
Nick came over to me, where I lay on a frame of alders, over which a
blanket had been thrown, and he promised that a burial party should come
out here as soon as they got me into camp.
So two of my men lifted the litter, and, feeling sick and drowsy, I
closed my eyes and felt the slow waves of pain sweep me with every step
the litter-bearers took.
* * * * *
I had been lying in a kind of stupor upon my blanket, aware of dark
figures passing to and fro before the lurid radiance of our watch fire,
yet not heeding what they said and did, save only when I saw Nick and
Luysnes go away carrying two ditch-spades. And was vaguely contented to
have the dead put safe from wolves.
Later, when I opened my burning eyes and asked for water, I saw Tahioni
in the flushed light of dawn, and knew that my Indians had returned.
Nick filled my pannikin. When I had drunk, I felt very ill and could
scarcely find voice to ask him how my Oneidas had made out in the
tamaracks.
He admitted that they had not come up with the fugitives; and added that
I was badly hurt and should be quiet and trouble my mind about nothing
for the present.
One by one my Indians came gravely to gaze upon me, and I tried to smile
and to speak to each, but my mind seemed confused, what with the burning
of my body and my great weariness.
* * * * *
When again I unclosed my eyes and asked for water, I was lying under the
open-faced shed, and it was brilliant sunshine outside.
Somebody had stripped me and had heated water in the kettle, and was
bathing my body.
Then I saw it was the little maid of Askalege.
"Thiohero,--little sister?"
At the sound of my voice, she came and bent over me. La one hand she
held a great sponge of steaming sphagnum.
Then came Nick, who leaned closer above me.
"Their young sorceress," said he, "has washed your body with bitter-bark
and sumach, and has cleansed the wounds and stopped them with dry moss
and balsam, so that they have ceased bleeding."
I turned my heavy eyes on the Oneida girl.
"Truly," said I, "I have come back through the mist, returning in
scarlet.... My little sister is very wise."
She said nothing, but lifted a pannikin of cold water to my lips. It had
bitter herbs in it, and, I think, a little gin. I satisfied my thirst.
"Little sister," I gasped, "is the hole that Balty made in my body so
great that my soul shall presently escape?"
She answered calmly: "I have looked through the wound into your body;
and I saw your soul there, watching me. Then I conjured your soul, which
is very white, to remain within your body. And your soul, seeing that it
was not the Eye of Tharon looking in to discover it, went quietly to
sleep. And will abide within you."
She spoke in the Oneida dialect, and Nick listened impatiently, not
understanding.
"What does the little Oneida witch say?" he demanded.
Her brother, Tahioni, the Wolf, answered calmly: "The River-reed is a
witch and is as wise as the Woman of the Sounding Skies. The River-reed
sees events beforehand."
"She says John Drogue will live?" demanded Nick.
"He shall surely live," said Thiohero, drawing the blanket over me.
"Well, then," said Nick, "in God's name let us get him to the Summer
House, where the surgeon of the Continentals can treat him properly, and
the ladies there nurse him----"
That roused me, and I strove to sit up, but could not.
"I shall not go to Summer House!" I cried. "If I am in need of a
surgeon, bring him here; but I want no women near me!--I do not desire
any woman at Summer House to nurse me or aid or touch me----"
In my angry excitement at the very remembrance of Lady Johnson and
Claudia, and of Penelope, whom I had beheld in Steve Watts' arms--and of
that man himself, who had come spying,--I forced my body upright,
furious at the mere thought and swore I had rather die here in camp than
be taken thither.
Then, suddenly my elbow crumpled under me, and I fell back in an agony
of pain so great that presently the world grew swiftly black and I knew
no more.