AT FORT DETROIT
When Dave awoke the rain was coming down gently. So far, owing to the
dense foliage, none of the drops had reached him, and it was an easy
matter for him and Barringford to shift to a spot where the shelter was
even better.
"This is going to be a steady rain," said the old frontiersman, which
was a true prediction, for the storm lasted the greater part of the day.
Having rested all the night and the greater part of the morning, the
two travelers felt much refreshed. During the afternoon they went
fishing and this time caught a dozen or more specimens of the finny
tribe, including some young lake bass that promised fine eating.
Barringford also took a walk up and down the lake shore for the best
part of a mile and came back highly elated.
"I located the hiding-place of some redskins' canoes," said he. "Found
two big canoes and four small ones, with a small lot of provisions."
"Good!" cried Dave, his face brightening. "A big canoe and some
provisions is just what we want."
"We can go around for one of the canoes after it is dark," went on his
companion.
They waited impatiently for night to come on. The rain was now letting
up, but it was still cloudy, with the promise of another downpour
later. As best they could, they cooked themselves a big supper and
also some fish for breakfast, and then hurried to the spot where the
canoes were resting. Barringford picked out the best of the craft, and
everything to be taken along was piled in this.
"It appears like a shame to destroy the other canoes," said the old
hunter. "But I guess it's best." And having damaged the craft so they
could not be used, he sent them adrift.
It was pitch dark when they set off on their long journey up Lake Erie.
They had a fine pair of paddles and were soon out on the water, which
was calm enough in spite of the recent rain. Barringford was in the bow
of the craft and Dave left it to the old frontiersman to shape their
course.
All through the long and silent night they moved on steadier, until
Dave's arms ached from the use of the paddle. Occasionally one or the
other would rest, but not often, for they realized the value of making
the best possible use of their time. Towards morning it began to rain
again, but it proved to be nothing but a shower, and by sunrise the
storm had passed completely.
As soon as it was daylight, they turned into shore, and pulled the
canoe out of sight among the bushes. Then followed breakfast, and after
that a sleep lasting until nightfall.
Thus four days and nights were passed, and slowly but surely they drew
closer to the western extremity of Lake Erie.
"We'll have to risk sailing northward to-morrow night," said
Barringford, at the end of that time. "It's too much of a journey to go
around the western shore o' the lake."
It was a clear night, and the old frontiersman felt that he could guide
their course by the stars. They set off early, realizing that a journey
of forty miles or more lay before them.
"There are some islands around here, so I was told," said the old
frontiersman. "They may be used by those redskins. We'll have to steer
clear o' 'em," and whenever an island appeared, they gave it a wide
berth.
It was just growing daylight, and they were still some miles from the
shore, when Dave uttered an exclamation.
"What is it, lad?"
"I see some strange lights over there, Sam," and the youth pointed to
their right.
"You are right--an' they are coming this way," returned the old
frontiersman.
"It must be a ship!"
"More'n likely, and if it's an English vessel we are in luck."
They watched the lights with interest, and presently saw them go out.
Then a small schooner loomed up in the distance. Every sail was set and
the craft was headed directly for the mouth of the Detroit River.
"She flies the flag of England!" cried Dave, as the schooner drew
closer. He set up a loud shout: "Hullo! Ship ahoy! On board the
schooner!"
The cry was heard, and soon the craft was headed directly for the
canoe. The mainsail was dropped and other sails followed, and a rope
was thrown to those in the smaller craft.
"Where are you from?" questioned the master of the schooner, who wore
the uniform of an English naval lieutenant.
"We came from Fort Cumberland," answered Dave.
"Fort Cumberland! Certainly you didn't come all the way in that canoe?"
And the lieutenant smiled broadly.
"Hardly, as a canoe makes poor traveling on land," replied Sam
Barringford. "But we do come from Fort Cumberland, and we are bound for
Detroit."
"It's a long journey to make--especially in such times as these," and
the lieutenant looked significantly at the pair before him. "Did you
meet any hostile Indians?"
"Reckon as how we'd better tell our little tale," said Barringford, and
proceeded to do so. Then Dave also spoke of the journey, the officer
listening closely to all that was said.
"You were truly fortunate to get through the Indian lines," he said,
after they had finished. "Matters are assuming bad shape and I am
afraid they will be worse before they are better."
"Are you bound for Fort Detroit?" asked the old frontiersman.
"Yes, and I'll be happy to carry you to the end of your journey."
They soon learned that the lieutenant's name was Bruitt, and that he
had served on the Lakes during the whole of the war with France. This
interested Dave, and he told of his own soldier life at Fort Niagara,
Quebec, and Montreal.
"Glad to know you, Morris," said Lieutenant Bruitt, warmly. "You are
young to have seen so much of army life."
"Well, I started in rather young," answered Dave, with a smile.
The canoe was hoisted to the deck of the schooner, and in a short while
the larger craft was again on her way to Detroit. She carried a crew of
sixteen and was loaded with provisions sent to Fort Detroit from the
other British strongholds further to the eastward.
Lieutenant Bruitt was a young man and took to Dave from the very start.
He made the youth and the old frontiersman feel thoroughly at home on
board the schooner and treated them to the best the craft afforded.
From the lieutenant they learned that Pontiac had established himself
on a small island near the entrance to Lake St. Clair, which as my
readers know, is but a short distance from Detroit. Here the great
chief was watching the English as a hawk watches a brood of young
chicks.
"We are satisfied that he is up to something, but so far his plot has
not been revealed," said the lieutenant. "Ugly rumors are afloat but
Pontiac professes eternal friendship."
"Has he many followers about here?" asked Barringford.
"He has, and they are constantly coming in, from the north and the
west."
The weather proved fair, and about noon the schooner dropped anchor,
and Barringford and Dave went ashore with the lieutenant and walked up
to Fort Detroit. They were allowed to enter without question, and soon
found themselves in the presence of Major Gladwyn.
The fort was built almost directly upon the bank of the Detroit
River, which, at this point was about half a mile wide. The grounds
were almost square and were surrounded by a palisade from twenty to
twenty-five feet high. Inside of the defense were located numerous
houses, and a great number of small dwellings were situated outside the
fort, on both sides of the river. The place had been prosperous before
the war with France and it looked as if it would be equally prosperous
now that the conflict was at an end.
Dave found Major Gladwyn a gentlemanly sort of military man, who had
been more than ordinarily successful in his intercourse with the
Indians. The major had a garrison of a hundred and twenty soldiers,
about half regular army men and the other half provincials. Military
regulations were strictly enforced, and in the case of an attack each
man was expected to do his duty.
"You have certainly made a long trip," said Major Gladwyn, after they
had told their story. "What is your mission?"
"I am looking for a Frenchman named Benoit Vascal," said Barringford.
"I was told he was in Detroit. I want very much to see him."
"Benoit Vascal?" mused the commandant of the fort. "I have certainly
heard that name. It seems to me I met such a person only a few weeks
ago."
"You do not know if he is around Detroit at present?" asked
Barringford, anxiously. "You see," he went on, by way of explanation,
"it is very important that I see this man."
"You might make some inquiries. Probably you can find out more about
him from the Canadians than from the English."
"Unless I am mistaken, a great wrong was done by this Benoit Vascal,"
said the old frontiersman. And then, as there seemed no help for it, he
told the story of the twins.
"Humph! That was certainly a black enough thing to do," said the major.
"I'll call in some of the Frenchmen and ask them if they know where
this Vascal can be found."
As a result of the conversation, half a dozen French trappers and
traders were interviewed. One said he had met Benoit Vascal and
thought he knew where the man could be found. It was decided to go out
in search of the fellow on the following morning.
Dave was anxious to learn if anything was known concerning his father's
trading-post, and of affairs at Fort Pitt.
"So far as I can learn, matters at Fort Pitt are about as they are
here," said Major Gladwyn. "There is something in the air, and there is
no doubt but that certain posts and settlements have been completely
wiped out. But I can give you no particulars, for none have been
vouchsafed to me."
Early on the following morning Barringford and Dave set out with a
good-natured French trapper named Covelle to find Benoit Vascal. The
Frenchman took them up the river a short distance to a settlement where
or fifteen or twenty French families lived.
"Vascal been here las' week," said Covelle. "He rich man--spend plentee
money, _oui_."
Coming to a neat farmhouse, they passed inside and Covelle asked the
woman of the place about Vascal. She nodded her head, and then said
that the man had left only the day before.
"And where did he go to?" asked Barringford, quickly.
At this the Frenchwoman merely shrugged her shoulders.
"You do not know?" demanded Dave.
"She know not," answered Covelle. "But she think he traveled from here
to a French trading-post on the Maumee or to Fort Pitt. She say he come
back."
"When?"
"Zat she know not," answered the French trapper.