THE ATTACK ON FORT PITT
It is now high time that we go back for a little and see how matters
were faring with James Morris and Henry at Fort Pitt.
Following the attack on the trading-post belonging to Mr. Morris,
came a period of inactivity on the part of the Indians. But this did
not last for long, and soon reports came to Fort Pitt of outrages at
half a dozen points. Then some Indians came close to the fort with
pack-horses, and demanded some provisions, and being refused they went
away and fell upon some traders bound for the stronghold and murdered
them in cold blood.
"This is certainly barbarous," said James Morris. "We ought to go after
those redskins." But this was not permitted by Captain Ecuyer, for he
felt that a general attack on the fort might come at any time. Two
soldiers went out, to do a little spy work, and both were shot down
when less than a mile from the stronghold. Then came in the report that
the Indians had abandoned one of the villages up the Allegheny and
were marching against the English.
"This is certainly growing warm," said Mr. Morris. "I should like to
know how matters are going at home."
A few days later a trader came in more dead than alive, with news from
the Tuscaroras.
"Chief Shingas warmed me to flee," said he. "He says the war-hatchet
had been dug up everywhere, and that Detroit, Sandusky, Niagara,
Presque Isle, and many other places have fallen, and that towns
and settlements have been burned to the ground." This news was not
altogether true, as we know, but it created great excitement, and the
commandant at Fort Pitt renewed his efforts to make the place as strong
as possible.
In a story of this nature, it is impossible to give even a tenth part
of the many exciting events which occurred during that fateful summer
of 1763, when the awful conspiracy of Pontiac reached its height.
Families without number were slaughtered, children stolen and whole
settlements given over to the flames. The Indians did not remain in one
locality, but roamed from place to place, until the alarm of the whites
became so great that it was thought by some that the entire "Western
Countries" would have to be abandoned once more. Petitions were sent
in to the governors and to the king, pleading for aid, and standing
that the limit had been reached, and the settlers must be helped or
they would surely lose their all. So keen was the excitement in some
places that no Indians dared to show themselves, even though they were
friendly, for the whites would no longer trust them.
The garrison at Fort Pitt consisted of three hundred and thirty
soldiers and frontiersmen. Some of the frontiersmen had their wives and
families at the fort, and the total number of people within the place
was calculated at about six hundred and fifty. To make the houses both
shot-proof and fire-proof they were covered with dirt and sods, and
the ramparts were also strengthened, and an old fire engine, of the
hand-pump variety, was brought out and fixed up for use.
Thus the days went by until the latter part of June, when a party
of Indians appeared near the fort, drove away some of the soldiers'
horses, and killed several cows. Then the red men began to fire at the
fort.
"They are attacking us!" cried Henry, and ran to the post assigned to
him, followed by his uncle. But as they could see no Indians they did
not bring their rifles into use.
Captain Ecuyer allowed the enemy to fire on the fort for fifteen
minutes and then ordered his gunners to discharge their howitzers. The
shells from the latter burst directly over the heads of the Indians,
and becoming panic-stricken they fled, and the brief attack came to a
close.
"We'll hear from them again to-morrow," said James Morris, and he was
right. At nine o'clock in the morning several Indians came up for a
"talk." One was known as Turtle's Heart, who was the spokesman.
"What does the red man want?" demanded Captain Ecuyer, from the rampart.
"My brothers, we that stand here are your friends," answered Turtle's
Heart. "But we have bad news for you. Six of the red men's great
nations have dug up the war-hatchet, and cut off every English garrison
but yours. Those who have conquered are now on the way to attack you."
"Is that all you have to say?" asked the commandant, knowing full well
that more must be coming.
"No, my brothers, we are your best friends, and we wish to save you.
Flee to the Eastern forts, where you will be safe. You have yet time,
but it will not be for long, for the six big nations are on the way
to overwhelm you. Go, for the sake of your wives and your children.
Turtle's Heart has spoken."
"Turtle's Heart has been kind," answered Captain Ecuyer. "For that I
must thank him. But the red men are mistaken about the other forts
being captured. They can hold out, even as we can hold out, for we have
a large store of ammunition and many provisions."
"But the provisions will not last forever," said one of the Indians.
"They will last long enough," answered the commandant of the fort. "And
now let me tell you another thing, since you have been so considerate.
An army of six thousand English will shortly arrive here to aid us.
An army of three thousand has already gone up to the Great lakes, to
punish the Ottawas and the Ojibwas. Another army is marching to the
South to punish the Catawbas and Cherokees. Take heed, for our sakes,
and go away, before our army arrives here and does you great harm. But
do not tell the other Indians, for they deserve the fate that is in
store for them."
"When is the great army to arrive?" asked Turtle's Heart.
"It will be here very soon, now."
This ended the talk, and the Indians withdrew much crestfallen. The
majority believed what had been told to them, and becoming alarmed
left the vicinity of Fort Pitt, to await the arrival of more warriors
from the north.
"I wish an army of six thousand men was really coming this way," said
Henry, when he heard of the story told to the Indians.
"That was made up, just to scare those fellows," answered his uncle.
"I know it. But some sort of an army may be coming."
"Well, it can't get here any too quick, Henry. To me matters look
exceedingly black," returned the trader.
Day after day passed and still no attack was made upon the fort. The
vigilance of the garrison was not lessened, however, and every man
present had to do guard duty. This was not so bad in good weather, but
Henry found it far from comfortable to stand guard during the wet and
dreary nights. Yet he was used to the life of a soldier and did not
complain.
"It puts me in mind of the time I spent on Lake Ontario and along the
St. Lawrence," he said.
"Your experience as a soldier is now standing you in good stead," said
James Morris. "If an attack should come, the captain will expect every
man here to do a full soldier's duty."
One day Henry was on guard duty near the lower end of the fort when
he saw two white men coming across the river in a canoe. Just as they
reached the middle of the stream, the leading man in the craft threw up
his arms and pitched headlong into the water, an arrow having pierced
his side. The other man at once fell down into the canoe, and several
arrows flew over his head.
Henry lost no time in sounding the alarm, and soon a dozen soldiers and
backwoodsmen went to the rescue of the man in the canoe. A rifle bullet
pierced the craft and it began to sink. Then the man set up a shout for
help, in French.
"He says he can't swim," said one of the backwoodsmen.
"Let us go out and throw him a rope," cried Henry, and hurried forth,
accompanied by James Morris and several others. Hiding behind some
logs, they threw out the end of the rope and the drowning man clutched
it. Just then another rifle rang out, and the bullet clipped a bit of
log close to Henry's head.
"Keep down there, Henry!" warned James Morris.
It was hard work to bring in the Frenchman, for the fellow did not dare
to climb upon the logs for fear of being shot at again. He was pulled
into shallow water and then told to run for some brushwood. He started
to do so, and then pitched headlong into the water, shot in the side.
"He'll drown, if he isn't dead!" cried Henry, and started to dash out.
But James Morris was ahead of him, and in a trice had the wet and
wounded man in his arms. Then the trader made a dash back into the
fort, and the others who had gone out followed.
The Frenchman was seriously hurt and had to be carried to the hospital
of the fort, where a surgeon worked over him for several hours.
"It's a sad complication," said the surgeon. "The wound is bad enough,
and he was about half drowned in addition. But I think he will come
around all right in the end." Yet in the morning the patient showed
small signs of improvement, and by the next day fever had set in and he
was out of his mind and began to rave.
"He may recover, but it will take time," said James Morris, after a
visit to the bedside of the sick man. "He has had a narrow escape."
"Did you ever see the man before?" asked Henry.
"Never. By some papers he carries they have found out that his name is
Benoit Vascal. He seems to be rich."
"Benoit Vascal," mused Henry. "I never heard that name before. I
wonder what brought him here?"
"I don't know, Henry. He doesn't look like a trader."
It was true, the newcomer was Benoit Vascal, the very man Barringford
and Dave had set out to find. Vascal was hunting for two French
traders, who were to aid him in acquiring title to certain lands near
Montreal. His hunt had led him from Detroit to Presque Isle and then to
Fort Pitt. In the past he had had but little trouble with the Indians,
who looked upon the French as their friends, but now the red men,
mistaking him for an Englishman, had come close to depriving him of his
life.
The excitement attending the rescue of Benoit Vascal was hardly at an
end, when a soldier announced the coming of some Indians. A large body
was approaching from the north, and at their head was Turtle's Head,
and Chief Shingas of the Tuscaroras.
The Indian chiefs asked for a conference, which was granted to them.
They said that they had received a great belt of wampum from the
Ottawas, and that the latter were about to pass through the country and
destroy the English. This being so, they again urged Captain Ecuyer to
evacuate the fort.
"I shall not leave," said the commandant, firmly. And then he said he
would fight to a finish, should the red men attack him.
Greatly enraged, the chiefs withdrew, and without delay the warriors
came close to the fort that very night. Aided by the darkness, they dug
burrows for themselves in the dirt of the river bank, and when daylight
came, hid in the holes, so that the English could not see them. From
the holes they sent a steady fire into the fort until not a person
inside dared to expose himself.
"Now, we are going to catch it," said James Morris, knowing well what
to expect. The battle waged with great fury, not only that day, but
also the next and that following. Many soldiers and frontiersmen were
wounded and Captain Ecuyer himself was struck in the leg by an arrow.
Many fire arrows were hurled into the inclosure, and the defenders had
to work hard to keep down the conflagration.
"We are doomed!" said some. "We cannot possibly hold out." And as day
after day went by, and no relief showed itself, it certainly looked as
if Fort Pitt must fall, and its gallant garrison be massacred.