CHRISTIE'S BRAVE DEFENCE OF HIS POST
Twenty men, with scanty supplies of everything, shut up in a tiny
castle of logs, and fighting against two hundred, who were well armed,
well provisioned, and protected by natural earthworks, not over forty
yards distant. Donald's heart grew heavy as he realized the situation;
but with Christie's cheery voice in his ears he could do naught save
follow so brave an example and set to work with a will. There was
plenty to be done in that hot little enclosure, already filling with
smoke, and only lighted by narrow loop-holes pierced in the thick
walls. The fire of the enemy was chiefly directed at these, which
rendered the task of watching from them most dangerous. Still, it must
be done, for many of the Indians were brave enough to dash across the
open with blazing firebrands in hand, and these must be stopped at all
costs. Half a dozen were killed in this attempt before it was
abandoned, and the efforts to set the blockhouse on fire were continued
by another and most ingenious device.
This was the throw-stick, or fire-bow, which they soon began to work
with serious effect from behind their breastworks, which they had
strengthened by rolling logs to the top of the banks. The fire-bow was
a stout bar of ash, hickory, or other pliant wood, one end of which was
firmly set in the earth. In the other was hollowed a shallow cavity,
and just beneath was attached a stout thong, by which the bow could be
drawn back. A ball of tow, or other inflammable material, wound about
a small stone to give it weight, was saturated with pitch. The upper
end of the bow was drawn back, a fire ball placed in the cavity and
lighted, the thong released, and the blazing missile projected with the
force and accuracy of an arrow against the devoted building.
Again and again its walls caught fire, but each blaze was extinguished
by the activity of the garrison as soon as discovered.
Fire-arrows, shot into the air, fell on the dry shingles of the roof,
and hardly a minute passed that a tiny blaze did not spring from one
part or another of it. The roof could be gained from the interior,
through an opening protected on two sides by a barricade of plank, and
here Donald was stationed, at his own request.
From this elevated position he soon discovered a new danger, and one
that he had never before heard of in Indian warfare. He could see
quantities of earth and stones being thrown out behind one of the
breastworks, and became convinced that the enemy were excavating a
subterranean passage, or mine, toward the blockhouse. So well did the
young soldier realize the terrible menace of this new danger, against
which no defence could be made, that he dared not announce it to the
troops for fear of disheartening them. So, deserting his post for a
moment, he hastened to report it in person to Christie.
Ere the latter had time to consider this peril, another equally grave
and more imminent confronted him. The water barrels were nearly empty,
and the roof was again on fire. Donald rushed back to his post, while
Christie ordered two men to follow him to the lower story. He knew
that without water all hope of resistance must quickly disappear.
Certain death awaited him who should attempt to reach the well in the
parade ground. There was no other.
"So," said Christie, with a calm cheerfulness, "we must needs dig one
nearer at hand." With this, he and his two men set to work tearing up
the floor of the lower story, and, seizing a spade, the commander
himself began flinging out the earth beneath it.
Inspired by this example, his men worked with a will at this cheerless
task, and in spite of darkness, heat, thirst, and the suffocating
atmosphere, never was a well sunk more quickly. At the same time it
was not half completed when so serious a fire broke out on the roof
that the entire remaining stock of water was exhausted in extinguishing
it.
An hour later the roof was again in a blaze; but Donald caused himself
to be lowered by a rope, and amid a shower of bullets tore away the
flaming shingles with his bare hands. Thus was the danger once more
averted.
By this time the day was well spent. Several of the garrison had been
killed, and a number were wounded. These last called piteously for
water, and gazed with longing eyes at the limitless expanse of the
lake, so near at hand and yet so hopelessly remote. By sunset the
well-diggers were in moist earth, before nine o'clock the wounded were
eagerly quaffing a muddy liquid that gave them new life, and by
midnight two feet of water stood in the well.
During the night, although the enemy's fire was slackened, it never
entirely ceased. Balls of blazing pitch were discharged at frequent
intervals, and no moment of rest was allowed the weary garrison. At
daybreak, exulting cries from the rear, and a ruddy glow, announced
some new cause for anxiety. In a few minutes the worst was known. The
underground approach had been advanced as far as Christie's quarters,
which were immediately set on fire. Only a narrow space separated this
building from the blockhouse, and with the fierce blaze of its pine
logs the stifling heat in the latter became almost unsupportable. It
seemed to the men that the time to yield had come; but their commander
was not yet ready to acknowledge the situation as hopeless. Even when
the scorched and smoking walls of their prison house burst into flame,
he only bade them work the harder, and inspired them by his own
heroism. Thanks to the new well, they succeeded in holding the flames
in check until the blazing building that had threatened them finally
sank into a mass of glowing embers, and their little fortress still
stood intact.
With the reaction following this supreme effort, many of the men again
gave way to despair. All were sickened by the great heat, the stifling
smoke, and the exhaustion of twenty-four hours of continuous fighting.
Donald held to his strength better than any, because from his perilous
position on the roof he could at least breathe pure air; while
Christie, who fought beside his men, was so upheld by his indomitable
will that he would not acknowledge fatigue.
So the defence was maintained, until the second day of incessant toil,
fighting, and hoping against hope for relief, dragged out its weary
length, and darkness once more brooded over Presque Isle. From behind
the breastworks rifles flashed incessantly until midnight, when the
firing ceased, and from out of the darkness a voice hailed the fort in
English.
"What is wanted?" demanded Christie.
"You are called upon to surrender," answered the voice, "since further
resistance is useless."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you will shortly be blown into eternity. Your fort is
undermined, and a great store of powder is already in position to blow
it up. If you surrender, your lives shall be spared."
"Ask them to wait until morning for your answer," suggested Donald, in
a low tone. "I have a particular reason for the request."
Christie agreed to this, and the proposition was submitted.
There was a long pause, and an evident discussion, before the voice
answered:--
"The beggars will only grant that request on one condition."
"Name it."
"It is that neither you nor those under your command shall make any
attempt to escape during the time of truce."
"Am I under your command, Christie?" asked Donald.
"Certainly not," was the answer.
"All right. I only wanted to be sure that the condition wouldn't bind
me."
"Well," cried the voice, impatiently, "do you agree?"
"I agree," replied Christie, "and by sunrise will have ready my final
answer."
In the profound and grateful quiet that followed the cessation of
firing, most of the exhausted garrison flung themselves down where they
stood, and were instantly buried in slumber. Donald and Christie
sought food, and while they ate discussed the situation.
"You have splendidly defended your post, Christie, but you have come to
the end of your resources," said the former. "You could not hold out
for another day, even if what that fellow said about the mine should
prove false."
"No, I suppose not," replied the young commander, sadly. "My poor lads
are nearly used up."
"Then you will surrender?"
"I suppose so."
"In that case, they will probably spare your lives, at least until they
get you to the Indian villages near Detroit."
"They may do so."
"But you will be prisoners, and that is what I cannot afford to become.
I must retain my freedom, if it lies within my power to do so, until I
have found Edith, or discovered her fate."
"What do you propose to do?" inquired Christie, starting from his
despondent attitude.
"I mean to leave this place within an hour and take to the woods."
"But--"
"There are no buts, my dear fellow. I am determined to make the
attempt. You have acknowledged that I am not under your command, and
so am not held by the condition just imposed. I hate to leave you, and
would a thousand times rather stand by you and share your fate,
whatever it may be; but my duty seems to lie so plainly in another
direction that I must go."
"You are right, Hester," assented Christie, sadly, "and with all my
heart do I wish I were free to share your mission. There is no peril,
no hardship, that I would not gladly face in the cause for which you
are enlisted. I tremble, though, for your safety, and cannot believe
that you will escape without detection from the savages who encircle
us."
"I can try," answered Donald, "and the cause is certainly worthy of the
effort."
So it was settled, and soon afterward the two young men, whose
friendship had become like the love of brothers, stood by the partially
opened door of the blockhouse. The night was of inky blackness, and
the silence was profound. Only a dull glow still lighted faintly the
smouldering ruins of the commandant's quarters. Donald held a rifle,
and bore with him a stout knife, a small supply of ammunition, and a
little store of food. No word accompanied the parting. There was but
a long, firm hand clasp, and then one was gone as noiselessly as a
fleeting shadow, while the other remained to meet his unknown fate.