THE RAPIDS OF THE ST. LAWRENCE
AUGUST of the year 1760 found General Amherst at Oswego with a force of
ten thousand men, consisting of royal grenadiers, Colonial militia and
rangers and volunteers. To this body was also attached over seven
hundred Indians, under the leadership of Sir William Johnson.
In the meantime the troops at Crown Point had been left under the
command of General Haviland. They were ordered to move forward without
delay, and Haviland did so, his force numbering a little over three
thousand soldiers of all sorts, including the now celebrated Roger’s
Rangers. The first point of attack was Isle-aux-Noix, fortified by the
French under Bougainville. Here the English were victorious, and then
the enemy were followed to St. John and Chambly, and by the activity of
the rangers were compelled to give way once more, this time seeking the
protection of the St. Lawrence. Haviland now awaited the coming of
Amherst, and at the same time communicated with General Murray at
Quebec, with a view to a threefold attack on Montreal.
General Amherst lost no time in getting his army afloat. It mustered
several ships, and a bewildering number of bateaux and rowboats, while
the Indians moved down the lake in their canoes. The larger boats
carried many cannon and a great quantity of ammunition, and it was felt
by all that Amherst’s advance would surely be one to victory.
During the days spent in Oswego getting ready for this trip, a slight
ray of hope had come to Dave. This was the news that at Montreal were a
number of English prisoners, captured on the battlefield, or while at
work in the vicinity of Quebec.
“Perhaps Henry was captured,” he thought. “And if he was he may be in a
Montreal prison at this minute.”
Dave had returned to his old command, and his fellow soldiers did all
they could to comfort him. All knew Henry and Barringford well, and many
were the words of sympathy poured into the young soldier’s ears. Nobody
believed that Henry was a thief, yet none could tell what General Murray
would do if the missing one was found.
“One thing is certain, Morris,” said one old soldier. “Henry’s past
record is in his favor. We can all swear that he was honest while he was
with us.”
While the army was floating down the lake the weather proved fair, and
La Galette was reached without mishap. Here a French brig named the
_Ottawa_ was sighted. She began firing on the army transports while they
were yet at a distance.
“This will not do,” said General Amherst, and had several of his
gunboats attack the brig. The fight was sharp, but likewise short, and
soon the French ship struck her colors. A few of the crew escaped to the
shore, but the others were made prisoners.
The rapids of the St. Lawrence were now close at hand, and General
Amherst was considering the problem of how to get his expedition through
in safety, when a new peril presented itself.
On an island in the river, just above the rapids, was Fort Lévis, well
fortified, and now under the command of Captain Pouchot, he who had
commanded at Fort Niagara the year previous. Pouchot was awaiting
anxiously for a chance to “even up” his defeat at Niagara, and no sooner
did the leading boats of Amherst’s fleet appear than he opened a heavy
fire on them.
“So this is the game,” said General Amherst. “Well, I think I can wait
long enough to put you out of the fight.”
He at once landed a portion of his army and some cannon on the river
bank, and on some nearby islands, and began that very day to cannonade
Fort Lévis with vigor.
“What a noise!” said Dave, and he was right; the din was terrific, for
the French replied with vigor. The fort was composed principally of logs
and dirt, which the cannon balls sent flying in all directions. The
soldiers had but little to do, and Dave sat in the top of a tall tree
watching proceedings.
The bombardment of the fort continued for three days, when the
stronghold was more than half battered to pieces. Pouchot, seeing he
could not hold out, at last surrendered, and he and his brave men became
prisoners.
The Indians under General Johnson had waited patiently for the surrender
of the French, and when they saw the flag go down many of them rushed
for their canoes, their intention being to visit the fort, and kill and
scalp Pouchot and those around him. But Sir William Johnson would not
allow this.
“You must stay back; there will be no scalping here,” he said.
“No scalping!” cried a hundred voices at once. “We must have scalps or
we will not fight,” said others; and thereupon more than half of the
Indians withdrew from the expedition in disgust.
Dave was glad to see that White Buffalo had not taken part in the
attempted rush on the French after the surrender. But when he spoke of
it to the chief the Indian hardly knew how to answer.
“White Buffalo cannot understand,” he said at last. “Ten of his braves
have left. The French are our bitter enemies—then why not kill and scalp
them? The great Sir William must know what is best—but the poor Indian
cannot understand.”
“It isn’t Christian-like, that’s why, White Buffalo. After an enemy
gives in we ought to treat him fairly and squarely.”
“The French would let their Indians kill and scalp you, David.”
“Perhaps; but two wrongs don’t make a right,” answered the young
soldier. “War is war, but we needn’t make it any worse than is
necessary.”
With the fall of Fort Lévis, the army under Amherst moved on again down
the St. Lawrence. Soon the rapids of the Galops, the Plat, the Long
Saut, and the Côteau du Lac came into view, followed by the Cedars, the
Buisson, and the Cascades.
“That water is running mighty fast,” said Dave to the others as he
watched the rolling river, glistening brightly in the sunshine. “Unless
I am mistaken, the current is powerful.”
“You are not mistaken,” replied an old ranger, who sat near the youth.
“These rapids are almost as bad as the rapids of the Niagara. I tried to
go through ’em once, six years ago, and I know. There were four of us in
the canoe, which upset, and one of the party was drowned while the other
three were almost dead before we got back to shore.”
“Well, the French and Indian pilots ought to know how to direct the
boats,” put in another soldier. “General Amherst has several of the best
of them.”
On and on swept the long line of boats, stretching out for a distance of
over two miles. The progress was growing faster and faster as the fierce
current just above the worst of the rapids caught hold of one boat after
another.
The craft in which Dave was seated was a long, broad, flat-bottomed
affair, containing twelve men, an under-officer, and a small stock of
ammunition. Two men were at the sweeps, or oars, following the
directions of the officer, who stood in the bow, directing them to the
right or the left as occasion required.
“There is surely going to be trouble!” whispered Dave, when a shrill cry
came from ahead. Looking in that direction they saw a boat had hit on
the rocks, and that half of the occupants were struggling in the water,
which boiled and foamed all around them.
“To the right! To the right!” yelled the officer in the bow. “Be quick,
or we’ll run them down, and smash our own boat!”
“Can’t we help ’em, leftenant?” queried one of the soldiers.
Before an answer could be given, the boat had swerved to the right and
was sliding past the hidden rocks. One soldier in the water made a
frantic clutch for the passing craft, and caught hold of a but of
tarpaulin which covered the ammunition.
“Hold tight, I’ll pull you in!” sang out Dave, and with the assistance
of another soldier he pulled the suffering one on board of the boat.
Then the craft swept onward toward another soldier, and he was likewise
assisted. But the rest had to be left behind, to shift for themselves.
All but two were picked up by other boats in the rear. Of the two one
managed to reach shore, and became a prisoner of the French, and the
other was never seen or heard of again.
It was now seen that more than one boat in front and to the rear were in
difficulty, and ever and anon a sickening crash could be heard above the
roaring of the rapids. The nerves of all the soldiers were strained to
the utmost, and many sat rigid, fearing that the next moment would be
their last.
“We should have portaged our boats around the rapids,” growled one old
hunter. “I’d ruther walk fifty miles than ride one in sech water as
this,” and more than one hearer agreed with him.
Some dangerous rapids had been passed, but one still more dangerous was
ahead. The lieutenant had been warned of this, and was watching closely.
“To the left! To the left!” he sang out suddenly. “To the left! Swing
her over!”
“She won’t swing!” came stubbornly from one of the men at the sweeps.
“The current’s stronger nor a mill-race.”
“We must bring her over,” said the officer. “Now then, pull for all you
are worth. We—ha!”
The last cry was echoed by half a dozen in the boat, and several sprang
to their feet regardless of the first order given to them, to sit still.
A boat ahead of them had bumped into another craft, and both had dashed
headlong on a hidden rock. Splintered wood, soldiers, army stores, and
foaming water seemed hopelessly mixed, and from out of the mass came
shrieks of pain and piteous calls for help.
“To the left!” yelled the lieutenant once more, but the cry did no good.
The boat swept onward with increased speed, directly into the midst of
the wreckage. A shock and a crash followed, and the next instant Dave
found himself in the water, surrounded by a score of other soldiers, all
fighting madly to save themselves from drowning.
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