Sixteen thousand gallant men, led by a brave and experienced general,
and supported by a fine, though not very large, park of artillery,
seemed certainly sufficient for the reduction of a small fortress, not
very well garrisoned, nor supplied with any great abundance of stores.
But it seemed the fate of English officers in North America to adhere
strictly to all ancient rules, when ancient rules could be of no
service in face of a new and totally different mode of warfare, and to
abandon those rules at times and in circumstances when only they could
be available.
A large fleet of _bateaux_ had been collected at the southern
extremity of Lake George, ready to transport the troops to the
destined point of attack; and a council of the most experienced
officers was held on the morning of the third of July, to consider the
further proceedings of the army.
All had now assembled at what was then commonly called in the province
"Fort Lyman," although the name was already changed to "Fort Edward."
General Abercrombie was there in person; and a number of other
officers appeared at the council likewise, whose experience in Indian
warfare was superior to his own. There is much reason to believe, that
had Abercrombie's own opinion been followed in acting against a French
fort under French command, all the operations would have been
conducted in the same manner, and upon the same system which would
have guided a similar enterprise in Europe; and thus much bloodshed
and some disgrace would have been spared.
It was represented to the Commander-in-Chief, however, that numerous
bodies of Indians were acting upon the side of France, and that all
operations carried on according to European rules had hitherto failed
in America; and more than one bloody disaster was held up as a warning
to his eyes, which he unhappily suffered to bias his own better
judgment. In a word, as it was known that every day fresh
reinforcements were being thrown into Ticonderoga, that large bodies
of Indians were collected for its defence, and that preparations of
every kind were in progress, it was determined that a sudden and rapid
rush should be made upon the fort, and that no consideration should be
put in competition with celerity of movement and boldness of attack.
Lord H---- alone represented that, from what he had personally learned
during the last six months, it was absolutely necessary to employ
cannon, though, perhaps, with a want of proper confidence in his own
reputation, he offered to lead the advanced parties, lest the opinion
he expressed should seem to any one to savour of timidity.
At as early an hour as possible the march commenced along what was
called the King's Road; and in high spirits regiment after regiment
entered the forest, confident in their numbers and their prowess. The
regular troops pursued the well-constructed causeway, while clouds of
Mohawks were scattered on the flanks, sweeping the forest ground on
either side. The artillery, on the heavy and clumsy carriages of that
day, the tumbrils and the baggage-waggons, came lumbering in the rear,
and a large crowd of stragglers followed, comprising the scouts, who
might have been much more advantageously employed in the front, but
who, for some reason unexplained, had very little service assigned
them on the expedition. General Abercrombie and his staff, with
several of the superior officers, followed slowly, well aware that the
advance of the forces would meet with no opposition, at least upon the
first day's march. To this group, from every quarter, came numerous
messengers throughout the day; some bringing news of a fresh levy
marching up from the eastern states; some from the front seeking
clearer orders when any little difficulty or impediment occurred; some
from Albany, with intelligence from that city or New York; and several
Indian runners from the west, bearing far more important tidings from
the Indian tribes, now all in movement to support their British
allies.
Amongst the rest appeared the silent runner Proctor, with a letter to
General Abercrombie, who, as soon as he had read it, turned to Lord
H----, saying,--
"This is a communication from your friends, the Oneidas, my lord, but
written by some Englishman, who signs himself 'Gore.' He states that a
war-party of the nation is already on the western bank of the lake,
and that the main body, under Black Eagle himself, is expected in the
course of the day. I suppose we may therefore consider ourselves
secure upon our left flank."
"Undoubtedly," replied Lord H----, with a look of so much anxiety, as
almost to induce the Commander-in-Chief to believe that he entertained
doubts which he did not choose to express.
"You _think_ so, I presume," interposed Abercrombie, gazing at him.
"Entirely," replied Lord H----; "but I was in hopes of hearing some
other intelligence of a private nature, concerning Mr. Prevost's son,
whose alarming position amongst the Oneidas I mentioned to you, if you
recollect."
"There is nothing more," said General Abercrombie, handing him the
letter; "but there is the messenger. Probably he can give you some
information."
Lord H---- immediately turned towards Proctor, who was running at a
sort of trot by the side of the general's horse, and inquired if he
had been at the Castle of the Oneidas. The man shook his head, and
trotted on.
"Then where did you last come from?" asked Lord H----.
But Proctor only lifted his hand, and pointed towards the north-west.
"How many miles?" demanded the nobleman, determined to get some speech
out of him.
But he lifted up his hands three times with the ten fingers spread
abroad, without ever opening his lips.
"Did you hear amongst those who sent you," asked Lord H----, "any
tidings of young Mr. Prevost?"
The man shook his head; but then suddenly stopped in his trot, and
said, as if upon recollection,--
"They thought he had been put to death."
He paused, as if what he had said had cost him a great effort; but
then added, slowly, when he saw the painful expression of the young
nobleman's countenance, "They only _thought_. They did not _know_.
They left before."
"Did you see or hear of a man whom you know as Woodchuck--the man you
saw with me at Albany?" asked Lord H----.
But the other shook his head; and nothing more could be extracted from
him. He was then sent forward to join the rear-guard; but his
taciturnity gave Lord H---- good assurance that Mr. Prevost, who had
gone forward, would not be pained by the terrible rumour which he
bore.
The long and fatiguing march to the nearest point of Lake Horicon I
need not describe. Many of the scenes recorded in the life of the
gallant Putnam passed near or on the very route pursued; and the feats
of daring and the escapes of that fine soldier are almost as
marvellous still in our eyes as in those of the savage Indians of his
own time, who supposed him to bear a charmed life. Suffice it, that,
after encountering great difficulty and severe fatigue in dragging the
cannon over a road which in the neighbourhood of the settled portion
of the colony was good enough, but which became almost impassable near
the lake, in consequence of the heavy rains, the whole army arrived in
safety at the newly-constructed and yet incomplete works of Fort
George, lying a little to the east of the site of ever-memorable Fort
William-Henry.
By the care and diligence of the commissary-general, everything that
could refresh the weary soldiers was found prepared; a fleet of one
hundred and thirty-five large boats and nine hundred _bateaux_ was
seen lying along the shore of the lake of pure and holy waters; and
hardly a head was laid down to slumber in the tents that night, which
did not fondly fancy that Ticonderoga must inevitably fall.
As usual in camp, or on the march, Lord H---- dined with his soldiers,
and shared their simple fare; but he passed the evening with Mr.
Prevost, who had found quarters in the fort. Both were grave, but the
deeper gravity was with Lord H----; for though through the mind of the
elder man continually flitted painful fancies--thoughts, images, or
whatever they may be called--of the fate of poor Brooks, and his lips
murmured twice, almost involuntarily, the words, "Poor Woodchuck!" yet
the certainty which he felt of the safety of his son, however great
the sacrifice which purchased it, was a comfort--a great, a mighty
consolation, although he almost reproached himself for the sensation
of rejoicing, which he could not help experiencing.
Lord H----, on the contrary, felt no such certainty. Ever since his
conversation with Proctor, if conversation it can be called, a gloomy
feeling of apprehension had rested on him. He did not doubt poor
Woodchuck in the least: he was sure that he would hold fast to his
resolution. Neither had he any fears that the execution of his purpose
would be delayed or prevented by any such accident as that which had
in reality occurred. But he asked himself, "Might he not come too
late?" They had been told the time allowed by the Oneida chief to
provide a substitute for Walter, and had taken it at the European
calculation of months; but, since he heard that a rumour of the young
man's death was prevalent amongst the Indians, he doubted whether
there had not here been a mistake. The very rumour showed that some of
the natives, at least, imagined the time had expired, and implied that
their calculation was different. The effect upon the mind of Edith, he
knew, would be terrible, when she found that her brother might have
been saved, but that his life had been lost by such a mistake.
From Mr. Prevost, he strove to hide his apprehensions as far as
possible; knowing well that previous anxiety never diminishes an
inevitable evil; and soon after nightfall he left him, to seek thought
in his own tent.
The sky was clear and cloudless; the stars shining out with a
largeness and a lustre such as European skies can never give; a light
breeze stirred the waters of the lake, and made them musical along the
shore; and one of the voyageurs was singing a tranquil song of home in
a clear, mellow voice, as he sat in his bark. The air was mild and
gentle as a morning dream: yet the whole had that solemn calmness
which is always allied to melancholy. All things which, in their
calmness, detach us from this untranquil earth, bring with them the
feeling of parting from old friends.
Under the influence of such sensations, he went not more than a
hundred steps from the gates of the fort; but seated himself upon a
mass of the dark gray marble recently quarried for building, and gave
himself up to the thoughts in which he would have indulged had he been
in his tent. They were sadder perhaps than they had ever been before
in life--without anything like presentiment, without anything like
apprehension, on his own account. But new ties, new affections,
tenderer sympathies, warmer hopes, than any he had yet tasted in
existence, had lately grown up around him; and it is a sad fact, with
man, as with states, that the more he increases his possessions--be
they mundane, or be they of the heart--the more defenceless points
does he expose to ever-ready enemies.
Nor was he in the fresh hey-day of life, when the down of the
butterfly has never been crushed--when all is joy: the present in
fruition--the future in anticipation--the past forgotten. He knew that
there were sorrows: he felt that there were dangers to his peace; he
was conscious how frail is the thread upon which mortal happiness is
poised in the midst of the dark abyss. True, he would not have yielded
the blessing of Edith's love for all that earth could give of
security; still, he was well aware that his heart had now a vulnerable
point to be reached by weapons which had never yet been encountered.
All that touched her, touched him; and the uncertainty of Walter's
fate threw a sadness over his meditations. What would have been his
sensations, had he known that for Walter he need have no fear? that it
was _her_ fate he had to dread? But that was spared him.
He sat there long: no inclination to sleep interrupted his reveries,
notwithstanding the fatigues of the day; and at length the moon rose
over the high eastern hills, showing an unrivalled scene of solemn
beauty. The moment the beams touched the waters, they were converted
into a flood of liquid silver: the grand forms of Rattlesnake
Mountain, and its fellow giants, to the east, and of that high hill
now called French Mountain to the north-west, the deep gloomy woods,
the walls of the fortress, picturesque in their rugged incompleteness,
the tents of the sleeping army, with here and there the light of a
night-Gwatcher gleaming amongst them, and the slopes of the nearer
hills dotted with Indian fires, formed a scene such as the eye of man
has seldom rested on; while over all poured the lustrous stream of
light, calm and passionless like the look of a good, pure being cast
over the troublous scene of mortal life.
Lord H---- rose; and, after gazing round him for a few moments,
drinking in as it were the solemn loveliness, walked on slowly towards
the blackened remains of Fort William-Henry. Little was to be seen
there. Montcalm had not left his work half done; for all had been
destroyed, and little beyond some irregularities in the ground, and
some large detached fragments of masonry, showed where so many gallant
men had fought in their country's cause, only to be slaughtered after
surrender by a treacherous enemy.
By report, he knew the ground well; and after pausing for a minute or
two amongst the ruins, he turned down the dark and fearful dell where
the horrible massacre was perpetrated. Every rock around had echoed to
the yell of the Indians, the groan of the dying soldier, or the
shrieks of defenceless women and children. Every tree had seen beneath
its boughs some of the deeds of horror and of blood which went to make
up that great crime. The bones of hundreds were lying still unburied;
and where the moonlight fell on the western side of the gorge, some
portion of a woman's garment, which had caught upon a bush, was seen
fluttering in the breeze.
The immediate path along which Lord H---- went, was still in profound
shadow; but, suddenly, across the moonlight side, a little in advance
of him, he saw, gliding along with noiseless step, a troop of eight or
ten shadowy figures, looking like ghosts in the pale moonlight. So
much was their colour the same as the rocks around, that you might
almost fancy you saw through them, and that they were but the shadows
from some other objects cast upon the broken crags as they passed.
Lord H---- stood and gazed; when suddenly the band stopped, and,
comprehending that he had been perceived, he challenged them in
English, judging at once that they must be a troop of friendly
Indians. A deep voice replied in the same language, but with a strong
Indian accent, "We are friends--children of the Stone. Can you tell us
where to find Prevost?"
As he spoke, the leader of the Indians had advanced nearer down the
sloping ground at the foot of the rocks, and there seemed something in
his tall, powerful form, and majesty of carriage, familiar to the eyes
of the young nobleman, who exclaimed, "Is that the Black Eagle?"
"It is," answered the other, whose limited knowledge of English did
not suffer him to indulge in his usual figurative language. "Art not
thou the Falling Cataract?"
"I am he to whom you gave that name," returned Lord H----. "But what
want you with Mr. Prevost? Where is his son?"
"On yonder side of Horicon," answered the Indian chief, pointing with
his hand towards the western side of the lake. "The boy is safe; be
thy mind at rest."
Lord H---- took the hand he proffered, and pressed it in his; but at
the same time he asked, "And poor Woodchuck--what of him?"
"I know not," answered Black Eagle; "we have not beheld him."
"That is strange," rejoined the nobleman; "he set out to deliver
himself up to you, to save the young man's life."
"He is brave," answered Black Eagle; "the Good Spirit kept him away."
"Then, how was the boy delivered?" asked Lord H----. "We feared that
your people would be inexorable."
"The Great Spirit spoke by the voices of the women," answered the
chief. "She who sees beyond the earth in her visions, heard the voice,
and told its words. It was decreed that if the boy died, our wives,
our daughters, our sisters, should all die with him; and we listened
to the voice, and obeyed."
"Come with me quickly," said Lord H---- eagerly; "let us carry the
news to Mr. Prevost. He is here at the fort, now holding an office in
our army."
"I know it," replied Black Eagle. "I have been to his lodge, and found
no one but the slaves, who told me. The boy I sent on with my people;
for the children of the Stone have taken the war-path for England, and
a thousand warriors are on their way to the place of the Sounding
Waters. He goes to fight amongst us as our son. But I must speak with
Prevost before I go, for the wings of the Black Eagle are spread,
perhaps, for his last flight; and who knows but he will leave his
scalp on the war-post of the Huron?"
Lord H---- led the way with a quick step; and the chief and his
companions followed. At the first outpost they were of course
challenged; and, strict orders having been given to admit no troop of
Indians within the limits of the fort, the young nobleman and the
chief proceeded alone to the quarters of Mr. Prevost. They found him
still up, and busily writing orders for the following morning. When he
beheld the face of Black Eagle following his noble friend, he started
up, and, at first, drew back; but then, with a sudden change of
feeling, he seized the warrior's hand, exclaiming, "My son lives! my
son lives, or you would not be here!"
"He lives," replied Black Eagle.
He then proceeded to give the same account to Mr. Prevost which had
been heard by Lord H----. The former, however, understanding the
Indian better, soon drew from him, partly in English, and partly in
Iroquois, the whole particulars of Walter's deliverance.
"And would you really have slain him?" asked Mr. Prevost.
"I would," replied Black Eagle, calmly and firmly. "I would have torn
out my own heart, had the laws of my people required it."
The father mused for a few moments, and then said, in a thoughtful
tone,--
"I believe you would. Dear Otaitsa, did she then really peril her life
to save her young friend?"
"She did more," answered Black Eagle; "she was one of those prepared
to go to the happy hunting-ground, with him; but I tell thee, Prevost,
not the sight of my child, with the knife in her hand ready to plunge
it into her own heart, made the Black Eagle pause or hesitate. It was,
that we heard the voice of the Great Spirit in the words that were
spoken. He only can change the laws of the Oneida, and he changed
them. But now hear me, Prevost, for I must back to my people and thy
son. I sent them forward towards the Sounding Waters, while I sought
thee first at thy lodge, and then here; and I must join them, for they
must not throw a hatchet or fire a rifle without the Black Eagle."
He had seated himself when first he entered, but now he rose, and
stood erect, as if about to make a speech.
"There is a Blossom on the Black Eagle's tree," he said, "which is
dear to his eyes; and thou hast a Bough on thy tree, which is dear to
thee. Otaitsa is a Christian--believes in your Good Spirit. She is
descended from a race of warriors, every one of whom has left a name
in the hearts of his people. She is of the highest race of the highest
tribe of the children of the Stone. The blood of the red man is as
fine as the blood of the white. Her mother was the daughter of a great
chief, and of a race as good as thine own; a race that is renowned."
Mr. Prevost bent down his head; but he knew the Indian customs too
well to interrupt, and the chief went on:--
"The Blossom loves the Bough: the Bough loves the Blossom. She has
purchased him; she has bought him for herself; she has offered her
heart's blood for his price. Is he not hers? If the Black Eagle should
never return from his war-flight--if the bullet of the French should
break his wing, or the arrow of the Huron pierce his heart, will his
brother Prevost bind the Blossom and the Bough together as the white
men bind them, and as the Christian people unite those who love? Will
he take the Blossom to his own home, and make her indeed his
daughter?"
Mr. Prevost rose, and threw his arms round the chief, saying,--
"Thou art my brother; I will do as thou hast said; and may the Good
Spirit deal with me as I deal with thee in this matter! _Thy_ daughter
is _my_ daughter; _my_ son is _thy_ son. But thou knowest not,
perhaps----"
Black Eagle raised his hand, saying, in Iroquois,--
"Forbear! I know what I know; thou knowest what thou knowest. We may
believe much that it is not right to prove. Silence is a good thing
when secrets are dangerous. Now go I to my people with my heart at
rest."
And, without more words, he glided out of the room.