THE DEFEAT OF DIESKAU
The men from Massachusetts showed no more sign of giving back before
the enemy than had their brethren from the sister provinces. Loading
and firing as quickly as their old-fashioned muskets allowed, they
poured so deadly a fire into the French ranks that the latter could
make no material advance, but were compelled to keep behind cover, and
return the fire as best they might.
The conflict had continued in this fashion for nearly an hour with
considerable loss of life on both sides, but without definite
advantage, when Seth, becoming convinced that an officer in rich
uniform, whom he could see at the centre of the French line, was their
commander, determined to try if he could not shoot him down, as he
reasoned that this would put them in a panic.
So, despite the protests of his companions, to whom alone he revealed
his design, he crept through the barricade and began to crawl nearer
the enemy. It was an extremely dangerous, not to say reckless
proceeding, and those of his own party who observed it considered him
as good as lost. Colonel Williams indeed shouted after him:
"Come back there, young man, you're going to your death!"
But, carried away by his great purpose, Seth paid no heed to the
command. There was a big tree whose wide-spreading roots offered
excellent cover about fifty yards ahead of him, and it was for this he
was making, as if he reached it unharmed, he could thence get good aim
at the officer he had in mind.
Lying flat on his stomach, he wriggled on slowly, yet steadily. It
was as difficult work as it was dangerous, and demanded all his young
strength. At any moment he might be perceived by an Iroquois or
Canadian, who would make a quick dash forward and despatch him as he
lay upon the ground. More than once a random bullet struck the turf
uncomfortably near him.
Yet with grim determination he kept on, and at last, when nearly spent
with the exertion, reached the roots of the big tree, and curled
himself up there into the smallest possible space until his nerves
should get steady.
Then with the utmost caution he peered out in quest of the officer.
"Good!" he exclaimed exultantly as he quickly withdrew his head. "He's
there still, and I'll have him as sure as my name is Seth Allen."
Resting the gun upon the root and taking aim with the utmost care he
pulled the trigger.
But just as he did so Baron Dieskau, for Seth had guessed rightly, made
a sudden movement, and the bullet went by him harmlessly.
"Botheration!" growled Seth. "Why couldn't he keep still?" and he
hastened to reload.
Warned by the whirr of the bullet, Dieskau stepped behind a tree and
remained there for some time, while Seth, chagrined at the result of
his first shot, impatiently awaited another chance.
It came a little later when the Baron, angered by the persistent
disobedience to command of the Indians and Canadians, forgot his own
safety and sprang out from cover to give an order to the regulars, who
were fast falling into confusion under the well-directed fire of the
English.
"Now then, sir," said Seth, as though he were speaking to his intended
victim, "I'll have you this time," and he fired.
As the report rang out, Baron Dieskau staggered and fell to the ground,
and Seth was for the moment tempted to spring to his feet and wave his
cap triumphantly.
But he held himself in check, and again loaded his musket. The officer
had fallen indeed, but he might not be killed, and another shot might
be necessary to dispose of him. That this was the case presently became
clear, for another officer came galloping to the aid of the wounded
one, and Seth, moved by his unselfish devotion, forebore to fire.
But some of his companions were not so considerate, and while the
adjutant was attending to the wound from Seth's bullet, the unfortunate
commander was again hit in the knee and thigh.
The adjutant, who himself had been wounded, then called for the
Canadians to carry Baron Dieskau to the rear, but on seeing this Seth
exclaimed:
"Oh, no! You're not going to escape. You must be taken prisoner," and
fired at one of the Canadians, bringing him to the ground, and causing
the other to seek safety in flight.
The commander thereupon ordered the adjutant to leave him where he lay
and to lead the regulars in a last effort against the English camp.
But it was now too late. Johnson's men, singly or in small squads, were
already leaping over their barricade and falling upon their antagonists
with their hatchets and the butts of their guns. The French and their
allies alike fled before the fierce onslaught, and their sorely wounded
yet dauntless commander was again shot before he fell into the hands of
those who, realizing who he was, carried him off to Johnson, who had
himself been wounded earlier in the day.
It was late in the afternoon when the final rout took place, and all
through that night the shattered French force continued its flight
through the forest, reaching their canoes the following day in a
deplorable condition, for they had left their knapsacks behind, and
were spent with fatigue and famine.
Great were the rejoicings in the English camp. The Colonials felt as
proud of themselves as if they had already accomplished all that which
they had set out to do, and their commander was so pleased that he was
in no hurry to make a further move. He was content to hold his own
position, which he proceeded to strengthen by making a solid breastwork
around the camp and building a fort on a rising ground by the lake.
But this was just where he erred. He should have followed up his
success with the utmost promptitude, and had he done so it is
altogether probable that Ticonderoga, if not, indeed, Crown Point,
could have been taken from the enemy.
The men from Massachusetts were eager to push on, and Seth, who had by
no means got his fill of fighting, would not have hesitated to tell
General Johnson in plain language what in his opinion ought to be done,
but as the great man was confined to his tent by his wound, and could
not even attend the councils of war that were held, leaving them to
Colonel Lyman, who was second in command, he had to content himself by
speaking out his mind in camp, which he did with decided frankness and
force.
Then followed a miserable period of inaction that came near sickening
Seth of the whole business. Although reinforcements arrived until by
October there were some thirty-six hundred men in the camp, after
various prolonged councils it was decided to be unwise to proceed
against the French. Yet the little army lay more than a month longer at
the lake, while the discontent and disgust of the men increased daily
under the rains, frosts, and snows of a dreary November, until at last
some of them, throwing off all discipline, went away in squads without
any pretence of asking leave.
Seth's companion was one of these, and he strove hard to persuade the
young fellow to join him. But Seth resolutely refused.
"No, I'll stay right here," he replied, with a touch of temper in his
tone. "And you ought to do the same. We're not done with the French.
If we don't go against them, they'll be sure to come back, and then
there'll be need of us all."
"Oh! as for that," responded Wilcox, "they'll not be back before
spring, and we can get here first easily enough, and be ready to meet
them."
But Seth was not to be tempted. He let Wilcox and others go away, and
when at last it was decided that the forts should be garrisoned by
a certain number of men from each province, and that the rest of the
army should be permitted to return to their homes, he promptly offered
himself for garrison duty.
It would probably be dull, dreary work, but he preferred it to going
back to what had once been his happy home, but now fraught with such
harrowing associations, and so he settled down to the monotonous
routine of helping to keep guard at the hastily built and by no means
impregnable fort.
As the days dragged by almost without incident, Seth again grew
restless, and set himself to consider how he might find some diversion.
By this time winter had fully set in, and the basin of the lake was
covered with ice. Seth was a strong and expert skater, and whiled away
many an afternoon speeding over the glassy surface or working out
figures upon it.
In this amusement several others of the little garrison joined him, and
one in particular, Reuben Thayer, from Connecticut, made the exercise
more interesting by rivalling Seth in feats of skill and speed.
These two quite outshone their companions, and this served as a bond of
friendship between them, neither being at all jealous of the other's
proficiency.
One bright, clear day, when the ice was in superb condition, a daring
design flashed into Seth's mind, which he made haste to share with his
friend.
"How would you like to take a good long skate, Reuben?" he asked in a
significant tone, which caused the other to guess that the question had
a purpose behind it.
Reuben gave him a searching glance as he replied:
"That depends. Which way were you thinking of going?"
Seth paused long enough before answering to give special emphasis
to his words, although he took care to utter them in a tone of
well-feigned carelessness.
"Oh, up north! There's nothing to see at this end of the lake."
A smile of intelligence broke over Reuben's homely countenance. The
answer was just what he expected, and he was quite ready to share its
spirit.
"How far north might you be thinking of going, Seth?" he inquired.
"Until it seems best to turn back, if we don't want to stay there for
good," responded Seth, returning the smile of comprehension.
"Very good. I'm willing to go with you. Shall we ask any of the others
to join us?"
"No, Reuben, I think we'd better not. If anything happens, we'll
have only ourselves to think about, and none of the rest can skate
alongside of us anyway."
In saying this Seth was not making a mere empty boast, for in truth
both he and Reuben could easily distance anybody else in the garrison.
So the two friends made it up between them that they would vary the
monotony of their lives by undertaking the perilous enterprise of a
scout on skates in the direction of Crown Point.