FIRE-FLIES
That night I lay on my blanket in the forest, but slept only three
hours, and was awake in the gates of morning before the sun rose, ready
to move on to the Wood of Brakabeen, our rendezvous in Schoharie.
Never shall I forget that August day so crowded with events.
And first in the yellow flare of sun-up, on the edge of a pasture where
acres of dew sparkled, I saw a young girl milking; and went to her to
beg a cup of new milk.
But she was very offish until she learned to what party I belonged, and
then gave me a dipper full of sweet milk.
When I had satisfied my thirst, she took me by the hand and drew me into
a grove of pines where none could observe us. And here she told me her
name, which was Angelica Vrooman, and warned me not to travel through
Schoharie by any highway.
For, said she, the district was all smouldering with disloyalty, and the
Tories growing more defiant day by day with news of Sir John's advance
and McDonald also on the way from the southward to burn the place and
murder all.
"My God, sir," says she, in a very passion of horror and resentment, "I
know not how we, in Schoharie, shall contrive, for Herkimer has called
out our regiment and they march this morning to their rendezvous with
the Palatine Regiment.
"What are we to do, sir? The Middle Fort alone is defensible; the Upper
and Lower Forts are still a-building, and sodders still at labour, and
neither ditch nor palisade begun."
"You have your exempts," said I, troubled, "and your rangers."
"Our exempts work on the forts; our rangers are few and scattered, and
Colonel Harper knows not where to turn for a runner or a rifleman!
"General Schuyler has writ to my father and says how he desires General
Ten Broeck to order out the whole of the militia, only that he fears
that they will behave like the Schenectady and Schoharie militia have
done and that very few will march unless provision is made for their
families' security.
"A man rides express today to the garrison in the Highlands to pray for
two hundred Continentals. Which is only just, as we are exposed to
McDonald and Sir John, and have already sent most of our men to the
Continental Line, and have left only our regiment, which marches today,
and the remainder all disaffected and plotting treason."
"Plotting treason? What do you mean, child?" I demanded anxiously.
"Why, sir, Captain Mann and his company refuse to march. He declares
himself a friend to King George, has barricaded Brick House,[36] is
collecting Indians and Tories, and swears he will join McDonald's
outlaws and destroy us unless we lay down our arms and accept royal
protection."
[Footnote 36: The house stood in the forks of the Albany and Schenectady
road.]
"Why--why the filthy dog!" I stammered, "I have never heard the like of
such treason!"
"Can you help us, sir?" she asked earnestly.
"I shall endeavour to do so," said I, red with wrath.
"Our people have planned to seize and barricade Stone House," said she.
"My father rides express to Albany. Why, sir, so put to it are we that
Henry Hager, an aged exempt of over seventy years, is scouting for our
party. Is our situation not pitiful?"
"Have all the young men gone? Have you no brothers to defend this
house?"
"No, sir.... I have a lover.... He is Lieutenant Wirt, of the Albany
Light Horse. But he has writ to my father that he can not leave his
cavalry to help us."
It was sad enough; and I promised the girl I would do what I could; and
so left her, continuing on along the fences in the shadow of the woods.
It was not long afterward when I heard military music in the distance.
And now, from a hill, I saw long files of muskets shining in the early
sun.
It was the Canajoharie Regiment marching with fife, drum, and bugle-horn
to join Herkimer; and so near they passed at the foot of the low hill
where I stood that I could see and recognize their mounted officers; and
saw, riding with them, Spencer, the Oneida interpreter, splendidly
horsed; and Colonel Cox, old George Klock's smart son-in-law, who, when
Brant asked him if he were not related to that thieving villain of the
Moonlight Survey, replied: "Yes, I am, but what is that to you, you
s--- of an Indian!"
I saw and recognized Colonels Vrooman and Zielie, Majors Becker and
Eckerson, and Larry Schoolcraft, the regimental adjutant; and, sitting
upon their transport waggon, Dirck Larraway, Storm Becker, Jost Bouck of
Clavarack, and Barent Bergen of Kinderhook.
So, in the morning sunshine, marched the 15th N. Y. Militia, carrying in
its ranks the flower of the district's manhood and the principal
defenders of the Schoharie Valley.
Very soberly I turned away into the woods.
For it was a strange and moving and dreadful sight I had beheld, knowing
personally almost every man who was marching there toward the British
fire, and aware that practically every soldier in those sturdy ranks had
a brother, or father, or son, or relative of some description in the
ranks of the opposing party.
Here, indeed, were the seeds of horror that civil war sprouts! For I
think that only the Hager family, and perhaps the Beckers, were all
mustered in our own service. But there were Tory Vroomans, Swarts, Van
Dycks, Eckersons, Van Slycks--aye, even Tory Herkimer, too, which most
furiously saddened our brave old General Honikol.
Well, I took to the forest as I say, but it was so thick and the
travelling so wearisome, that I bore again to the left, and presently
came out along the clearings and pasture fences.
Venturing now to travel the highway for a little way, and being stopped
by nobody, I became more confident; and when I saw a woman washing
clothes by the Schoharie Creek, I did not trouble to avoid her, but
strode on.
She heard me coming, and looked up over her shoulder; and I saw she was
a notorious slattern of the Valley, whose name, I think, was Staats, but
who was commonly known as Rya's Pup.
"Aha!" says she, clearing the unkempt hair from her ratty face. "What is
Forbes o' Culloden doing in Schoharie? Sure," says she, "there must be
blood to sniff in the wind when a Northesk bloodhound comes here
a-nosing northward!"
"Well, Madame Staats," said I calmly, "you appear to know more about
Culloden than do I myself. Did that great loon, McDonald, tell you all
these old-wives' tales?"
"Ho-ho!" says she, her two hands on her hips, a-kneeling there by the
water's edge, "the McDonalds should know blood, too, when they smell
it."
"You seem to be friends with that outlaw. And do you know where he now
is?" I asked carelessly.
"If I do," says the slut, with an oath, "it is my own affair and none
of the Forbes or Drogues or such kittle-cattle either;--mark that, my
young cockerel, and journey about your business!"
"You are not very civil, Madame Staats."
"Why, you damned rebel," says she, "would you teach me manners?"
"God forbid, madam," said I, smiling. "I'd wear gray hairs ere you
learned your a-b-c."
"You'll wear no hair at all when McDonald is done with you," she cries,
and bursts into laughter so shocking that I go on, shivering and sad to
see in any woman such unkindness.
* * * * *
About noon I saw Lawyer's Tavern; and from the fences north of the house
I secretly observed it for a long while before venturing thither.
John Lawyer, whatever his political complexion, welcomed me kindly and
gave me dinner.
I asked news, and he gave an account that Brick House was now but a
barracks full of Tories and Schoharie Indians, led by Sethen and Little
David or Ogeyonda, a runner, who now took British money and wore scarlet
paint.
"We in this valley know not what to do," said he, "nor dare, indeed, do
aught save take protection from the stronger party, as it chances to be
at the moment, and thank God we still wear our proper hair."
And, try as I might, I could not determine to which party he truly
belonged, so wary was mine host and so fearful of committing himself.
* * * * *
The sun hung low when I came to the Wood of Brakabeen; and saw the tall
forest oaks, their tops all rosy in the sunset, and the great green
pines wearing their gilded spires against the evening sky.
Dusk fell as I traversed the wood, where, deep within, a cool and ferny
glade runs east and west, and a small and icy stream flows through the
nodding grasses of the swale, setting the wet green things and
spray-drenched blossoms quivering along its banks.
And here, suddenly, in the purple dusk, three Indians rose up and barred
my way. And I saw, with joy, my three Oneidas, Tahioni the Wolf, Kwiyeh
the Screech-owl, Hanatoh the Water-snake, all shaven, oiled, and in
their paint; and all wearing the Tortoise and The Little Red Foot.
So deeply the encounter affected me that I could scarce speak as I
pressed their extended hands, one after another, and felt their eager,
caressing touch on my arms and shoulders.
"Brother," they said, "we are happy to be chosen for the scout under
your command. We are contented to have you with us again.
"We were told by the Saguenay, who passed here on his way to the Little
Falls, that you had recovered of your hurts, but we are glad to see for
ourselves that this is so, and that our elder brother is strong and well
and fit once more for the battle-trail!"
I told them I was indeed recovered, and never felt better than at that
moment. I inquired warmly concerning each, and how fortune had treated
them. I listened to their accounts of stealthy scouting, of ambushes in
silent places, of death-duels amid the eternal dusk of shaggy forests,
where sunlight never penetrated the matted roof of boughs.
They shewed me their scalps, their scars, their equipment, accoutrement,
finery. They related what news was to be had of the enemy, saying that
Stanwix was already invested by small advance parties of Mohawks under
forester officers; that trees had been felled across Wood Creek; that
the commands of Gansevoort and Willett occupied the fort on which
soldiers still worked to sod the parapets.
Of McDonald, however, they knew nothing, and nothing concerning
Burgoyne, but they had brazenly attended the Iroquois Federal Council,
when their nation was summoned there, and saw their great men, Spencer
and Skenandoa treated with cold indifference when the attitude of the
Oneida nation was made clear to the Indian Department and the Six
Nations.
"Then, brother," said Tahioni sadly, "our sachems covered themselves in
their blankets, and Skenandoa led them from the last Onondaga fire that
ever shall burn in North America."
"And we young warriors followed," added Kwiyeh, "and we walked in
silence, our hands resting on our hatchets."
"The Long House is breaking in two," said the Water-snake. "In the
middle it is sinking down. It sags already over Oneida Lake. The serpent
that lives there shall see it settling down through the deep water to
lie in ruins upon the magic sands forever."
After a decent silence Tahioni patted the Little Red Foot sewed on the
breast of my hunting shirt.
"If we all are to perish," he said proudly, "they shall respect our
scalps and our memory. Haih! Oneida! We young men salute our dying
nation."
I lifted my hatchet in silence, then slowly sheathed it.
"Is our Little Maid of Askalege well?" I asked.
"Thiohero is well. The River-reed makes magic yonder in the swale," said
Tahioni seriously.
"Is Thiohero here?" I exclaimed.
Her brother smiled: "She is a girl-warrior as well as our Oneida
prophetess. Skenandoa respects and consults her. Spencer, who worships
your white God and is still humble before Tharon, has said that my
sister is quite a witch. All Oneidas know her to be a sorceress. She can
make a pair of old moccasins jump about when she drums."
"Where is she now?"
"Yonder in the glade dancing with the fire-flies."
I walked forward in the luminous dusk, surrounded by my Oneidas. And, of
a sudden, in the swale ahead I saw sparks whirling up in clouds, but
perceived no fire.
"Fire-flies," whispered Tahioni.
And now, in the centre of the turbulent whirl of living sparks, I saw a
slim and supple shape, like a boy warrior stripped for war, and dancing
there all alone amid the gold and myriad greenish dots of light eddying
above the swale grass.
Swaying, twisting, graceful as a thread of smoke, the little sorceress
danced in a perfect whirlwind of fire-flies, which made an incandescent
cloud enveloping her.
And I heard her singing in a low, clear voice the song that timed the
rhythm of her naked limbs and her painted body, from which the cinctured
wampum-broidered sporran flew like a shower of jewels:
"Wood o' Brakabeen,
Hiahya!
Leaves, flowers, grasses green,
Dancing where you lean
Above the stream unseen,
Hiahya!
Dance, little fireflies,
Like shooting stars in winter skies;
Dance, little fireflies,
As the Oneida Dancers whirl,
Where silver clouds unfurl,
Revealing a dark Heaven
And Sisters Seven.
Hiahya! Wood o' Brakabeen!
Hiahya! Grasses green!
You shall tell me what they mean
Who ride hither,
Who 'bide thither,
Who creep unseen
In red coats and in green;
Who come this way,
Who come to slay!
Hiahya! my fireflies!
Tell me all you know
About the foe!
Where hath he hidden?
Whither hath he ridden?
Where are the Maquas in their paint,
Who have forgotten their Girl-Sainte?[37]
Hiahya!
I am The River-Reed!
Hiahya!
All things take heed!
Naked, without drum or mask
I do my magic task.
Fireflies, tell me what I ask!..."
[Footnote 37: Catherine. Her shrine is at Auriesville--the Lourdes of
America--where many miraculous cures are effected.]
"He-he!" chuckled The Water-snake, "Thiohero is quite a witch!"
We seated ourselves. If the Little Maid of Askalege, whirling in her
dance, perceived us through her veil of living phosphorescence, she made
no sign.
And it was a long time before she stood still, swayed outward, reeled
across the grass, and fell face down among the ferns.
As I sprang to my feet Tahioni caught my arm.
"Remain very silent and still, my elder brother," he said gravely.
For a full hour, I think, the girl lay motionless among the ferns. The
cloud of fire-flies had vanished. Rarely one sparkled distantly now, far
away in the glade.
The delay, in the darkness, seemed interminable before the girl stirred,
raised her head, slowly sat upright.
Then she lifted one slim arm and called softly to me:
"Nai, my Captain!"
"Nai, Thiohero!" I answered.
She came creeping through the herbage and gathered herself cross-legged
beside me. I took her hands warmly, and released them; and she caressed
my arms and face with velvet touch.
"It is happiness to see you, my Captain," she said softly.
"Nai! Was I not right when I foretold your hurt at the fight near the
Drowned Lands?"
"Truly," said I, "you are a sorceress; and I am deeply grateful to you
for your care of me when I lay wounded by Howell's house."
"I hear you. I listen attentively. I am glad," she said. "And I continue
to listen for your voice, my Captain."
"Then--have you talked secretly with the fire-flies?" I asked gravely.
"I have talked with them."
"And have they told you anything, little sister?"
"The fire-flies say that many green-coats and Maquas have gone to
Stanwix," she replied seriously, "and that other green-coats,--who now
wear _red_ coats,--are following from Oswego."
I nodded: "Sir John's Yorkers," I said to Tahioni.
"Also," she said, "there are with them men in _strange uniforms_, which
are not American, not British."
"What!" I exclaimed, startled in spite of myself.
"Strange men in strange dress," she murmured, "who speak neither English
nor French nor Iroquois nor Algonquin."
Then, all in an instant, it came to me what she meant--what Penelope had
meant.
"You mean the Chasseurs from Buck Island," said I, "the Hessians!"
But she did not know, only that they wore gray and green clothing and
were tall, ruddy men--taller for the odd caps they wore, and their long
legs buttoned in black to the hips.
"Hessians," I repeated. "Hainault riflemen hired out to the King of
England by their greedy and contemptible German master and by that great
ass, George Third, shipped hither to stir in us Americans a hatred for
himself that never shall be extinguished!"
"Are their scalps well haired?" inquired Tahioni anxiously.
It seemed a ludicrous thing to say, and I was put to it to stifle my
sudden mirth.
"They wear pig-tails in eel-skins, and stiffened with pomade that stinks
from New York to Albany," said I.
Then my mood sobered again; and I thought of Penelope's vision and
wondered whether I was truly fated to meet my end in combat with these
dogs of Germans.
* * * * *
The Screech-owl had made a fire. Also, before my arrival he had killed
an August doe, and a haunch was now a-roasting and filling my nostrils
with a pleasant odour.
We spread our blankets and ate our parched corn, watching our meat
cooking.
"And McDonald?" I inquired of Thiohero, who sat close to me and rested
her head on my shoulder while eating her parched com.
"My fire-flies tell me," said she gravely, "that the outlaws travel this
way, and shall hang on the Schoharie in ambush."
"When?"
"When there is a battle near Stanwix."
"Oh. Shall McDonald come to Brakabeen?"
"Yes."
I gazed absently at the fire, slowly chewing my parched corn.