THE WATERY PASS
Henry was at the tiller of their boat, and the others pulled on the
oars. Their strong arms soon sent it to a point near the head of the
fleet. On the way they passed the _Independence_ and Adam Colfax.
Adolphe Drouillard and the others waved their hands to them. Paul, as he
rested one hand from his oar, waved in reply, and then put both hands to
the oar again.
All signs were being fulfilled. The darkness was increasing, and it was
more than that of the night. Heavy clouds were moving up toward the
zenith and joining in one until they covered all the heavens. Save when
the lightning flashed, both shores were hidden in the darkness. The
voyagers saw only the turbid current of the Ohio, raised into waves now
by the wind which was coming stronger and stronger.
"Rough night, but good fur us," said Tom Ross.
"And it will be rougher, also better," said Henry.
The lightning increased, blazing across the skies with dazzling
intensity, and heavy thunder rolled all around the half circle of the
horizon. The darkness turned into a bluish gray, ghostly and full of
threat. Adam Colfax went through his fleet, warning everybody to cover
up the stores and to beware of wind and wave.
The men wrapped themselves in their cloaks and protected beneath the
same cloaks their rifles and ammunition. But, despite every order, a hum
ran through the fleet, and rowers, riflemen, and guides talked in
whispers. They recalled the great double battle on the Lower
Mississippi, that of the bank and that of the bayou. The crisis now was
equally as great, and the surroundings were more ominous. They advanced
in the darkness with thunder and lightning about them, and they felt
that they were about to face the bravest of all the Indian tribes, led
by the greatest of their leaders.
The heat was succeeded by a rushing cold wind, the lightning flared
brighter than ever, and the thunder became a slow, monotonous, unbroken
roll. Paul, despite his work at the oar, shivered a little.
"She'll be here in a minute," said Tom Ross. "Be shore you fellers keep
your powder dry."
It was about midnight, and they were advancing rapidly toward the pass.
They saw by the flashes of lightning that the cliffs were rising and the
river narrowing.
"The hills on both sides here are jest covered with warriors," said Jim
Hart.
"Thar may be a million uv 'em," said Shif'less Sol, "but in the rain an'
a black night they can't shoot straight."
The wind began to whistle and its coldness increased. Great cold drops
struck the five in the face.
"Here she is!" said Tom Ross.
Then the rain swept down, not in a wild gush but steady, persistent, and
full of chill. Lightning and thunder alike ceased. Every boat saw only
the outline of the one before it and the rolling current of the Ohio
beneath it. Noise had ceased on the fleet at the stern command of Adam
Colfax and his lieutenants. The men talked only in whispers, there was
no flapping of sail, only the swash of the oars in the water, drowned by
the wind. Since the lightning had ceased, both shores were lost
permanently in the darkness, and the five, who now knew this part of the
river thoroughly, moved up to the head of the line, leading the way.
After them came the _Independence_ and then the fleet in the same double
line formation that it had used before.
"Do you see anything on either side, Henry?" asked Tom Ross, raising his
back from the oar.
"Nothing, Tom," replied Henry, "and it seems strange to me. So great a
chief as Timmendiquas would foresee such an attempt as this of ours, at
such a time."
"We ain't goin' to git through without a fight, rain or no rain, night
or no night," said Shif'less Sol in a tone of finality, and Henry
silently, but in his heart, agreed with him.
They were going so slowly now, to prevent collision or noise, that only
Tom Ross and Long Jim rowed. Henry and Shif'less Sol, near the front of
the boat, leaned forward and tried to pierce the darkness with their
eyes. The rain was beating heavily upon their backs, and they were wet
through and through, but at such a time they did not notice it. Their
rifles and their powder were dry under their buckskin hunting shirts,
and that was sufficient.
Henry and Shif'less Sol near the prow bent forward, and, shielding their
eyes from the rain with their hands, never moved. The blackest darkness
even can be pierced in time by a persistent gaze, and, as the channel of
the river narrowed still further, Henry thought he saw something blacker
upon the black waters. He turned his head a little and met the eyes of
Shif'less Sol.
"Do you see it?" he whispered.
"I see it," replied the shiftless one, "an' I take it to be an Indian
canoe."
"So do I," rejoined Henry, "and I think I can see another to the right
and another to the left."
"Indian sentinels watchin' fur us. The White Lightnin' o' the Wyandots
is ez great a chief ez you said he wuz. He ain't asleep."
"I can see three more canoes now," said Henry as they proceeded further.
"They must have a line of them across the river. Look, they see us,
too!"
They saw an Indian in the canoe nearest them rise suddenly to his knees,
fire a rifle in the air, and utter a long warning whoop, which rose high
above the rush of the rain. All the Indian canoes disappeared almost
instantly, as if they had been swallowed up in the black water. But
Henry and his comrades knew very well that they had merely been
propelled by swift paddles toward the shore.
"It's the signal," exclaimed Henry. "We are not to pass without a
fight."
The five stopped their boat, the _Independence_ also stopped, and the
whole fleet stopped with them. The sound of a rifle shot from the right
bank rose above the sweep of the wind and the rain, and then from the
left bank came a similar report. The five knew at once that these were
signals, although they could not yet surmise what they portended. But
the fact was soon disclosed.
A sudden blaze of light appeared on the high south bank, and then, as if
in answer to it, another blaze sprang up on the equally high north bank.
Both leaped high, and the roar of the flames could be heard mingling
with that of the wind and rain.
The effect of this sudden emergence of light from dark was startling.
The hills clothed in forest, dripping with water, leaped out, the water
turned from black to gray, and the fleet in its two stationary lines
could now be seen distinctly.
"What a transformation!" exclaimed Paul. The faces of his comrades were
lurid in the light from the two great bonfires, taking on an almost
unearthly tinge.
But Henry Ware said:
"It is Timmendiquas! It is his master-stroke! He has built these great
bonfires which rain cannot put out in order to place us in the light!
On, boys, the faster we go now the better!"
Adam Colfax also understood, and, as he gave the signal, the huge sweeps
made the _Independence_ leap forward. Behind her the whole fleet
advanced rapidly. It was well that they had protected the sides of their
boats as much as they could with planks and bales of goods, as a great
rifle fire was immediately opened upon them from either bank. Hundreds
of bullets splashed the water, buried themselves in the bales or wood,
and some struck the rowers.
But the fleet did not stop. It went straight on as fast as the men could
send it, and few shots were fired in reply. Yet they could see the forms
of warriors outlined in black tracery against the fires. Two other
fires, equally large, and opposite each other, leaped up further on.
Henry had not underrated the greatness of Timmendiquas as a forest
general. Even with all the elements against him, he would devise plans
for keeping his enemy from forcing the watery pass.
Paul was appalled. He had been through scenes of terror, but never such
another as this. The Indians had begun to shout, as if to encourage one
another and to frighten the foe, and the sweep of the wind and the rain
mingling with their yelling gave it an effect tremendously weird and
terrifying. Nature also helped man. It began to thunder again, and
sudden flashes of lightning blazed across the stream.
"Don't fire unless you see something that you can hit," was the order
passed down the lines by Adam Colfax, and the fleet pulled steadily on,
while the hail of bullets from either shore beat upon it. Many men were
wounded, and a few were killed, but the fleet never stopped, going on
like a great buffalo with wolves tearing at its flanks, but still strong
and dangerous.
The smallness of their boat and the fact that it lay so low in the water
made for the safety of the five. The glare of the fires threw the bigger
vessels into relief, but it was not likely that many of the warriors
would notice their own little craft.
There was a blaze of lightning so vivid that it made all of them blink,
and with a mighty crash a thunderbolt struck among the trees on the
south bank. Paul had a vision of a blasted trunk and rending boughs, and
his heart missed a few beats, before he could realize that he himself
had not been struck down.
The whole fleet paused an instant as if hurt and terrified, but in
another instant it went on again. Then the bullets began to sing and
whistle over their heads in increased volume, and Henry looked
attentively at the southern shore.
"I think that warriors in canoes are hovering along the bank there and
firing upon us. What do you say, Sol?"
"I say you're right," replied the shiftless one.
"Then we'll let the _Independence_ take the lead for a while," said
Henry, "and burn their faces a little for their impudence."
The boat turned and slid gently away toward the southern shore. The
light cast from the fires was brightest in the middle of the stream, and
they were soon in half shadow.
"Can you make 'em out clearly, Sol?" asked Henry.
"If I ain't mistook, an' I know I ain't," replied the shiftless one,
"thar's a little bunch o' canoes right thar at the overhangin' ledge."
"Sol is shorely right," added Tom Ross, "an' I kin reach the fust canoe
with a bullet."
"Then let 'em have it," said Henry.
Silent Tom raised his rifle, and with instant aim fired. An Indian
uttered a cry and fell from his canoe into the water. Henry and the
shiftless one fired with deadly aim, and Long Jim and Paul followed.
There was terror and confusion among the canoes, and the survivors,
abandoning them, dashed up the bank and into the darkness.
They reloaded their rifles, scattered some canoes further up, and then
swung back to the fleet, which was still going forward at the same
steady, even pace under a ceaseless shower of bullets. It was here that
Adam Colfax best showed his courage, tenacity, and judgment. Although
his men were being slain or wounded, he would not yet let them return
the fire, because there was no certainty that they could do any damage
among the warriors in the forest. He might have fired the brass twelve
pounders, and they would have made a great noise, but it would have been
a waste of powder and ball badly needed in the east.
He had run more than one blockade, but this awed even his iron soul. The
note of the Indian yell was more like the scream of a savage wild beast
than the sound of a human voice, and the mingling of the thunder and
lightning with all this noise of battle shook his nerves. But his will
made them quiet again, and from the deck of the _Independence_ he
continually passed back the word: "Push on! push on! But don't reply to
their fire."
The two scouts, Thrale and Lyon, with several of the best riflemen, also
dropped into a small boat and began to pick off the skirmishers near the
water's edge. Two other boats were filled with sharpshooters for the
same purpose, and their daring and skill were a great help to the
harassed fleet.
The pass was several miles in length, and at such a time the fleet was
compelled to move slowly. The boats must not crash into and destroy one
another. Above all, it was necessary to preserve the straight and
necessary formation of the fleet, as confusion and delay, in all
likelihood, would prove fatal.
Adam Colfax calculated that he had passed less than one-third of the
length of the narrows, as they had been described to him, and his heart
became very heavy. The fire of the Indian hordes was increasing in
volume. The great bonfires blazed higher and higher, and every minute
the fleet was becoming a more distinct target for the savage
sharpshooters. The souls of more good men were taking flight.
"We have not gone more than a third of the distance," he said to Adolphe
Drouillard. "At this rate can we last all the way?"
The brave Creole replied: "We have to do it."
But his face looked doubtful. He saw, and Adam Colfax saw, signs of
distress in the fleet. Under the persistent and terrible fire of the
warriors the two lines of boats were beginning to sag apart. There were
some collisions, and, although no boat had yet been sunk, there was
danger of it. The apprehensions of Adam Colfax and his lieutenants were
many and great, and they were fully justified.
The boat of the five came alongside the _Independence_, and Adam Colfax
looked down at it.
"We want to come on board," called out Henry.
The _Independence_ slowed just a little, and Henry and Shif'less Sol
sprang upon her. The other three remained in the boat. Bullets struck
near them as they boarded the _Independence_, but none touched them. It
was still raining hard, with the vivid accompaniment of wind, thunder,
and lightning. Another thunderbolt had struck close by, but fortunately
nobody had been hurt.
"We've a plan to suggest, if you should think good of it, sir," shouted
Henry in Adam Colfax's ear--he was compelled to shout just then because
of the thunder.
"What is it?" Adam Colfax shouted back.
"How far away would you say that bonfire is?" asked Henry, pointing to
one of the great fires on the southern shore.
"Not more than four hundred yards."
"Then, sir, we can put it out."
"Put it out?" exclaimed Adam Colfax in amazement. "I would not dare to
land men for such a purpose!"
"It is not necessary. We must shoot it out. You've got good gunners, and
the cannon can then do it. They might put a lot of the warriors there
out of the fight at the same time."
One of the brass twelve pounders was mounted on the _Independence_, and
Adam Colfax was taken at once with the idea.
"I should have thought of that before," he said. "I hate to lose any of
our cannon balls, but we must spare a few. Uncover the gun and aim at
the nearest fire, hitting it at the base if you can."
This to the gunners, who obeyed eagerly. They had been chafing
throughout the running of the gantlet as they stood beside their beloved
but idle piece.
The tompion was drawn from the gun, the polished brass of which gleamed
through the night and the rain. It was a splendid piece, and the chief
gunner, as well as Adam Colfax, looked at it with pride.
"You are to shoot that fire out, and at the same time shoot out as much
else with it as you can," the leader said to the gunner.
"I can do it," replied the gunner with pride and confidence. "I shall
load with grape shot, triple charge."
Adam Colfax nodded. The triple charge of grape was rammed into the mouth
of the brass piece. The muzzle was raised, and the gunner took long aim
at the base of the blazing pyramid. Henry and the shiftless one stood
by, watching eagerly, and the three in the boat at a little distance
were also watching eagerly. Every one of them ran water from head to
toe, but they no longer thought about rain, thunder, or lightning.
"He'll do it," the shiftless one said in the ear of Henry.
The gun was fired. A great blaze of flame leaped from its muzzle, and
the _Independence_ shook with the concussion. But the bonfire seemed to
spring into the air. It literally went up in a great shower of timber
and coals, like fireworks, and when it sank darkness blotted out the
space where it had been.
"A hit fa'r an' squar'!" exclaimed Shif'less Sol.
From the fleet came a thunder of applause, which matched the thunder
from the heavens, while from the shore rose a fierce yell of rage and
execration.
"Well done! Well done!" shouted Adam Colfax to the gunner, who said
nothing, but whose smile showed how much he was pleased at this just
praise.
"It's likely that some warriors went out with their fire," said Henry.
"A lot of them were bound to be around it, feeding it and making it go
in all this rain."
"They can be well spared," said Adam Colfax. "God knows I am not a
seeker of human life, but I am resolved to do my errand. Now for the
opposite bonfire on the northern bank."
The _Independence_ swung through the fleet, which parted to let her
pass, quickly closing up again. The boat came within seventy or eighty
yards of the northern shore, all those aboard her sheltering themselves
by one means or another from the Indian bullets, one of which struck
upon the brazen muzzle of the twelve pounder, but which did no damage.
The triple load of grape was used again, and the first shot was not
successful, but the second seemed to strike fairly at the base of the
bonfire, and it was extinguished as the first had been. The two further
up were soon put out in the same manner.
The thunder of applause rose in the fleet at every successful shot, and
then it swung forward with increased speed. The river at this point sank
into darkness, save when the lightning flared across it, and the Indian
bullets, which still came like the rain itself, were of necessity fired
at random, doing, therefore, little damage.
Shif'less Sol laughed in sheer delight.
"It was a good trick they played on us," he said, "worthy uv a great
chief, but we hev met it with another jest ez good. I s'pose it's a new
way to put out fires with a cannon, but it's fine when you know how to
shoot them big guns straight. A-kill-us an' Hannibal an' Homer an' all
them old soldiers Paul talks about wuz never ez smart ez that."
But the battle was not over, nor had they yet forced all the watery
pass. The northern Indians were numerous, hardy, and wild for triumph.
The great mind and spirit of Timmendiquas, the White Lightning of the
Wyandots, urged them on, and they swarmed in hundreds along either
shore, standing in the water among the bushes and sending in an
incessant rifle fire. Others waded beyond the bushes, and still others
darted out in their light canoes, from which they sent bullets at the
two dark lines of boats in the middle of the river.
The rain came in gusts, and mingled with it was a wind which shrieked
now and then like a human being, as it swept over the forests and the
water. The thunder formed a bass note to all these noises, and the
lightning at times fairly danced upon the water with dazzling
brilliancy. It was a confused and terrible advance, in which the boats
were in imminent danger from one another. Every one was compelled to
move slowly lest it be sunk by the one behind it, and half the fighting
force of the fleet was forced to pay its whole attention to the oars and
sweeps and steering gear.
Paul was dazed a little by the tremendous confusion and mingling of
sights and sounds. He saw an Indian near the southern bank aiming his
rifle at their boat, and he sought to aim his own in return, but the
flash of lightning that had disclosed the warrior was gone, and for the
moment he looked only into blank darkness. He shut his eyes, rubbed his
hands over them, and then opened them again. The darkness was still
there. He did not at that time feel fear. It was too unreal, too much
like a hideous nightmare, and he did not realize its full import until
afterward.
"Shall we ever get through?" he asked, raising his voice above the
tumult.
"Some o' us will! most o' us, I hope!" shouted Shif'less Sol in reply.
"Jumpin' Jehoshephat, but that bullet was close! I think I got a free
shave on my left cheek. Did you ever hear sech a yellin' an' shriekin'
an' whizzin' o' bullets!"
"They are certainly making a determined attack," said Henry. "If they
had the fires to go by they'd get us yet. Look, there goes a new fire
that they've lighted on the southern bank."
A high flame flared among the bushes, but the brass twelve pounder was
promptly turned upon it, and after the second shot it disappeared.
"It ain't healthy, lightin' fires to-night," said Long Jim grimly.
The boats swung forward now at a slightly increased pace. On the
_Independence_, Adam Colfax, Adolphe Drouillard, Thrale, Lyon and the
others half stood, half knelt, looking steadily ahead, their minds
attuned as only the minds of men can be concentrated at such a crisis.
In this hour of darkness and danger the souls of the New Hampshire
Puritan and of the Louisiana Frenchman were the same. One prayed to his
Protestant God and the other to his Catholic God with like fervor and
devotion, each praying that He would lead them through this danger, not
for themselves, but for their suffering country.
The five in their own boat were not less devoted. They, too, felt that a
Mighty Presence which was above wind, rain, and fire, alone could save
them. Their hands were not on the trigger now. Instead they bent over
the oars. Every one of them knew that bullets could do little the rest
of the way, and it was for Providence to say whether they should reach
the end of the watery pass.
The river narrowed still further. They were now at the point where the
high banks came closest together and the danger would be greatest. But
there was no flinching. The fire from either shore increased. Thunder
and lightning, wind and rain raged about them, but they merely bent a
little lower over the oars and sent their boats straight toward the
flaming gate.