"IF I WERE IN COMMAND"
Long before the word had been given, the Indians were coming in.
Winnebagoes, Ottawas, Chippewas, and Pottawattomies, from north,
south, and west, were gathering in the woods around Fort Dearborn.
Like the rattlesnake coiled to strike, like vultures drawn to a
battlefield, silent, sinister, and deadly, the lines were closing in.
Noon was the hour appointed for the council, and at that time Black
Partridge, through Mackenzie, made known to Captain Franklin that it
would be another day before all the Pottawattomies could be assembled.
"Till noon of to-morrow's sun," said the Captain, sternly; "not one
moment more."
Beatrice, from the window of the trading station, saw innumerable
Indians, dressed and painted in the manner of other tribes, carefully
inspecting the house and barn as if appraising their value. The
Agency building was haunted by others, who peered in furtively at
the windows, hoping for an early look at the goods which were to be
distributed among the tribes.
Mrs. Mackenzie had recovered from the first shock and went about the
house as usual, quiet yet cheerful, and patient with the children and
her manifold household tasks. To Beatrice only she admitted her fear.
"Don't talk about it, Aunt Eleanor--we must all try to think about
something else."
"Yes," sighed Mrs. Mackenzie, "we must not fret away the strength we
will need for the journey. Your uncle has slept scarcely an hour since
the news came."
"I know, Aunt Eleanor, I know."
"You must help me be brave, dear. Someway, of late, I have felt myself
a coward, and it has made me ashamed. Not for myself alone, but for
the children----"
The sweet voice quivered, then broke; and for the moment Beatrice's
eyes were dim, but she swiftly put the weakness from her.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, Aunt Eleanor. The British haven't
come, and as for the Indians, why, they wouldn't dare to attack the
soldiers. We'll get to Fort Wayne, safe and sound, and perhaps the
whole army will go on to Detroit with us. I wonder what my aunt and
uncle will say when they see me riding Queen into Fort Wayne at the
head of the troops!"
Mrs. Mackenzie laughed in spite of herself. "I hope you're right, Bee."
Forsyth and Ronald were walking back and forth in front of the
Fort, talking earnestly. A little apart stood Mackenzie and Captain
Franklin, while Indians went in and out of the stockade, apparently at
pleasure.
"Aunt Eleanor," said Beatrice, thoughtfully, "I read a story once
about a girl. There were two men who--who--well, they liked her, you
know. They were both good, but there was a difference. One always
teased her and tormented her and made her feel at odds with herself,
even though she knew he was just in fun.
"The other always rested her. No matter how tired she was, or how much
out of sorts she happened to be, it always made her feel better to
be with him. He was quiet and his ways were gentle, and he knew more
about--about books and things, you know. The other one was a soldier,
and this one was a student, but he--he wasn't brave. He couldn't help
it, but he was afraid."
"A woman never could love a man who wasn't brave," said Mrs. Mackenzie.
"No, of course she couldn't."
"And if a man always teased and tormented a woman, and made her feel
irritable, she would never be happy with him."
"No; she couldn't expect to be."
"Perhaps she had made a mistake about the other one--perhaps he really
was brave."
"No; because she saw him twice when she knew he was afraid."
"Then she shouldn't marry either one."
"That's what I thought," said Beatrice.
"Which one did she marry?"
"Who, Aunt Eleanor?"
"Why, the girl in the story?"
"Oh," answered Beatrice, colouring; "why, I--I've forgotten. It's
queer, isn't it, how people forget things?"
"What book was it in?"
"I--I don't remember. My memory is poor, Aunt Eleanor. I'm going to my
room, now, if you don't want me, and pack up some of my things."
Red and white clover blossomed in the yard, where the children were
playing, and a butterfly winged its way through the open window, then
flew swiftly out again. Mrs. Mackenzie sat by the table with her
face hidden in her hands, while childish voices came to her ears in
laughing cadence and filled her heart with fear and pain. Then there
was a touch upon her shoulder.
"Eleanor!"
"Why," she said, looking up, "I didn't hear you, John."
Her clear eyes revealed a sadness beyond tears. "Eleanor," said her
husband, with the muscles working about his mouth, "I can't bear for
you to feel so."
"I--I'm all right, John. Don't fret about me."
"No, you ain't all right--don't you think I know? I've brought you
into danger, Eleanor--I see it now, and that's the thing that hurts me
most of all. It's nothing to lose all I've got, for that's happened
to me before, and I'm only fifty--I can get it all back again, but
I can't ever change the fact that I've brought you into danger. I
promised before God that I'd protect you, and I haven't done it. I've
taken you to a place where it ain't safe."
The man's distress was pitiful. His gigantic frame was bent like an
oak in the path of a furious storm and every line on his haggard face
was distinct, as if it had been cut. His dark eyes, under their bushy
brows, were utterly despairing; he was like one whose hope is dead and
buried past the power of resurrection.
"John, dear----" she began, with her hand on his bowed head.
"I've brought you into danger," he said helplessly, "I've brought you
into danger, you and--" A lump in his throat put an end to speech, and
with his hand he indicated the children.
"John, dear, don't talk so. I--I can't help feeling anxious, but I'm
not afraid. In all the nine years we've lived here, the Indians have
been our friends. There isn't one who would lift his hand against you
or yours."
"They ain't all our friends, Eleanor. There's hundreds and hundreds
of them coming in, even from as far away as the Wabash. How should
they know that we are their friends? I've brought you into danger," he
repeated. "I can't ever forget that."
"My husband," she said, and the tone was a caress, "we promised each
other for better or for worse. 'Where thou goest, I will go, thy
people shall be my people, and--' I forget the rest.
"If we've come to danger, we'll meet it together, side by side.
When I promised to marry you, I didn't mean it just for the smooth
places, I meant it for all. In all these twelve years you've shielded
me--whatever you could do to make things easier for me, you've done,
and all that love and care has been in vain if I am not strong enough
to do my part now.
"There's never been a harsh word between us, John; we've never fussed
and quarrelled as some married people do, and we never will. The road
has been long, and sometimes it's been dusty and hot, but we've never
walked on thorns, and whatever we've come to, you've always helped me
through it.
"If this is the end, why, there's nothing to look back on to make
either of us ashamed, nothing to regret, not a word to be sorry for,
not a single thing for which either of us should say 'Forgive me.' If
this is death, we'll face it as I have dreamed we should, if God were
good to us; we'll face it as I've prayed we might--hand in hand!"
"Eleanor!" he cried, clasping her in his arms. "Brave heart, you give
me faith! True soul, you make me strong!" His trembling lips sought
hers, then on her face she felt his tears.
* * * * *
"Well, upon my word!" said Beatrice, from the doorway. "I hope I don't
interrupt?"
Blushing like a schoolgirl, Mrs. Mackenzie released herself and the
trader laughed mirthlessly. "You're a saucy minx, Bee," he said, with
a little catch in his voice. Then the primitive masculine impulse
asserted itself and he went out, covered with confusion.
"What have you been doing, Bee?"
"Nothing much. How pretty you are, Aunt Eleanor! I haven't seen your
cheeks so pink for many a day."
The deep colour mantled Mrs. Mackenzie's fair face. "Where's Robert?"
she asked hastily.
"Don't know," murmured Beatrice, instantly beating a retreat. "See,
Aunt Eleanor."
Out of the mysterious recesses of her pocket, she drew a bag, made of
gay calico, with a long string attached to it.
"Very pretty--what is it for, dear?"
"It's for cartridges," laughed Beatrice. "If I ride with the soldiers,
I have to bear arms. I've got my pistol--the one Mr. Ronald gave me
the day after I came here, and I'm going over to the Fort now, after
ammunition."
She seemed to be in high spirits as she pirouetted around the room,
but there was an undertone of sadness, even in her laugh. She was
half-way to the door when she turned, moved by a sudden tenderness,
and came back.
"Dear, sweet Aunt Eleanor," she said, rubbing her cheek against Mrs.
Mackenzie's, "you've always been so good to me. Perhaps you've thought
me ungrateful, but truly I'm not, and I want to thank you now."
"You've been like a second daughter to me, dear," said the other, a
little unsteadily, "you've done more for me than I ever could do for
you."
Ronald was waiting for Beatrice on the other side of the river while
she was pulling across, and she waved her bright coloured bag at him
in gay fashion. "You gave me a gun," she said, "but you didn't give me
anything to put in it. I want cartridges."
"How many?" he asked, smiling.
"As many as the bag will hold."
"Foolish child, you never can carry all those."
"Oh, but I can--you don't know how strong I am! I'm going to tie it
around my waist, you know."
"Happy bag," said Ronald, as he took it from her. "I'll get them for
you," he continued, seriously.
"One thing more," she said, with lowered voice. "If--if--well, the
Indians will never get me. And they shall not have Queen. Where shall
I shoot?"
"Fire at the exact centre of the line between Queen's eyes."
In spite of herself the girl shuddered. "And--and--?" she asked,
looking up into his face.
"The right temple," answered Ronald, huskily. "Heart's Desire, you are
a mate for a king!"
Forsyth passed them on his way to the entrance of the Fort, and
Beatrice put out a restraining hand. "Where are you going, Cousin Rob?"
"Home--to open school."
"I thought this was vacation?"
"It is, but it is better for the children, under the circumstances, to
have their minds occupied."
The oars splashed in the water, and Ronald turned to her again.
"Darling--"
"Look," interrupted Beatrice, "there's the Lieutenant." She hailed him
merrily. "Cousin Ralph, is Katherine at home?"
"I believe so," he answered, coming toward them; "if not, she's at
Mrs. Franklin's."
"I'm going to find her." She made an elaborate courtesy to each of
them, and departed.
"Ronald," said the Lieutenant, "this is absolute foolishness, and
something has got to be done. How many hundred Indians do you suppose
have already gathered here--and Black Partridge postponing the council
till the rest get in--any fool can see what it means!"
"Yes, any fool but the Captain," said the Ensign, bitterly.
The parade-ground was deserted, for the August heats beat fiercely
upon the land. Stray Indians went in and out, and the sentinel,
with his musket over his shoulder, paced round and round the Fort.
Lieutenant Howard cleared his throat.
"The lives of the women and children are in our hands," he said, in a
low tone. "I'm not speaking for ourselves, now. If Franklin is still
set on this mad course, there's only one thing to do." His face and
voice were eloquent with sinister meaning.
The flag hung like a limp rag at the masthead and the long droning
notes of the locusts sounded loudly in the tense stillness. "Murder,"
whispered Ronald, with his face white.
"Yes, murder, if you will have so. It's a harsh word, but I don't
quibble at the term. 'Cæsar had his Brutus, King Charles his Cromwell,
and----'"
Ronald's head was bowed and his hands were tightly clenched. Sharp,
hissing breaths came and went between his set teeth and the
Lieutenant put his hand upon his shoulder.
"Boy," he said, in a softer tone, "I'm a soldier, like you. So far,
I've marched as you have, true to my colours, but of late, I've been
wondering if it wasn't time to turn. Since the first soldiers marched
against the enemy, there has been a false worship of orders--we have
regarded the dictum of a commander as equivalent to a fiat of God.
"Good men and true have gone to a needless death, because the
commander was a fool. You know what we're coming to. You can see it,
plain as day. Do you remember, up at Lee's that night, you felt the
mutilated bodies of those two men, and came back, with your hands
stained with their blood? Our boys will be treated worse than that, if
the Captain has his way."
"If you were in command--" said Ronald, thickly.
"If I were in command, that order should be torn to bits and scattered
to the four winds. Every ounce of food in the Agency storehouse, every
pound of powder and shot, every musket, every rifle, and every pistol,
should be brought into the Fort.
"I would drive the cattle inside the enclosure, keep a few in the
stables, kill the rest, salt down the meat, and preserve it. A cellar
should be prepared for the women and children, a hospital corps
drilled, the cannon in the blockhouses manned, and the gates of the
Fort closed.
"If I were in command there should be no needless slaughter, no
torture of women and children, no disembowelling of our soldiers, no
cutting our hearts out while we are still alive. No! We'd fight like
soldiers, die like men; we'd hold the Fort till the flag was shot to
pieces and not a man stood among its ashes to defend it, if I were in
command!"
"If you were in command--" muttered Ronald.
"If I were in command, Fort Dearborn should go down to history with
honour, not shame. Water and food are assured. What if the British
with all their forces were hammering at our gates, allied with the red
devils as they are! We have the Fort at our backs--they have the river
and the open prairie. We could hold it for six months, if necessary.
The War Department says: 'No post shall be surrendered without battle
having been given,' and, by the Lord, we'd give a battle that would
fill hell with our enemies. One stroke will do it--one bullet from our
precious store of ammunition--one man brave enough to strike; but it
must be done to-night--now!"
The Ensign's face was ghastly. "Think what it means to you," whispered
the Lieutenant. "Think of the woman you love! Oh, I know--I have not
been blind. Would you see her put to the torture, stripped, violated,
torn limb from limb by those fiends that even now are watching the
Fort?
"Think of their bloody, cruel hands upon her soft flesh--think of the
torture--eyes burned out with charred sticks--finger-nails split off
backward--things that there are no words to name, while Beatrice cries
to you!
"Boy, think of the woman you love, with her big childish eyes,--shall
the savages burn them out? Her dimpled hands--shall her fingers be
torn out, one by one? Her sweet voice--shall it cry to you in vain?
Think of her fair white body, at the mercy of two thousand fiends!
Think what she means to you--her beauty and her laughter--her
tenderness and her thorns--then think of this! One man--one
bullet--one moment--to-night--now!"
His voice died into a hoarse whisper and Ronald writhed in anguish.
For an instant, only, the scales hung in the balance, then he turned
and faced him.
"No!" he roared, "by God, no! I'll protect the woman I love while a
drop of blood is left in my body--as long as this sword has a hand
behind it to fight. If I am powerless to save her, she shall die at my
hands, but I'll be no beast!
"I'll not commit murder like a Brutus or a Cromwell. I'll not strike
down my Captain like a thief in the night! I'll stab no man in the
back--I'll meet him face to face in fair and open fight, and may the
best man win!
"Ralph, you're beside yourself--you don't know what you're saying.
You're a soldier, man, you're not a brute! Stand fast to your
soldier's honour, and let God do as He will!
"We're all against him--officers and men. Perhaps there's not a man in
barracks who would hesitate at what you ask--mutiny and insurrection
stalk abroad in our midst, but, by the Lord, I'll obey my orders!
Strike the blow if you will--go like a coward and a thief to take the
life of a brave man, who is doing what seems to him his duty--hire
your contemptible assassin if you choose, but remember this--the man
who touches one hair of my Captain's head, answers for it--to me!"