THE MASSACRE OF THE ENGLISH
Seth was so close to the sentry who had discovered their approach, that
with a single bound forward he was able to cut him down and silence him
forever.
But his warning challenge had been heard by others of the guard, and
they hurried out to investigate. Realizing that further concealment
of their design was not possible, Colonel Frye, who was in command,
called upon his men to fire, and they poured a volley into the French
encampment that wakened every sleeper, and for the moment created
lively confusion.
The well-disciplined soldiers soon regained order, however, and rushed
to repel the attack in such numbers that Colonel Frye at once saw the
hopelessness of withstanding them, and gave the command to retreat.
Reluctantly enough his men obeyed, for, although they could see for
themselves how they were outnumbered, they did want to inflict some
loss upon the enemy before retreating to the fort.
They accordingly gave back as slowly as possible, firing and reloading
their muskets with such celerity that the French conceived their
numbers to be much greater than they really were, and were more
cautious in their pursuit than they would have been if they had known
the truth.
Seth was one of the last to retreat, and his slowness nearly cost him
his life, as an Iroquois scout, creeping serpent-like through the long
grass, got near enough to hurl his tomahawk at him with deadly aim. But
by a happy chance Seth at that moment threw up his gun, and the hatchet
struck it instead of his head, glancing harmlessly off to one side.
In his rage at having missed, the Iroquois sprang upon Seth, and
throwing his arms about him, strove to fasten his teeth in the Ranger's
throat as though he were a wolf.
Now did Seth's skill in wrestling serve him in good stead. The
redskin's onset was so sudden and unexpected that he had almost
succeeded in his brutal purpose ere his intended victim could defend
himself; but the next instant by a dexterous movement he evaded the
cruel teeth, and then, dropping his gun, gripped his assailant around
the neck, and flung him backward with such force that the savage's
senses were knocked out of him, and he lay limp and harmless.
"It would serve you right if I put my knife into you," growled Seth,
as he groped about for his gun. But he forebore to do it, and having
picked up the gun, hurried after the others, who of course had not
waited for him, and with them regained the protection of the fort.
The sortie having accomplished nothing, the situation seemed hopeless;
and after again consulting with his subordinates, Colonel Monro with a
heavy heart came to the conclusion that there was no alternative but to
capitulate on the best terms obtainable.
Accordingly on the 9th of August a white flag was raised, a drum was
beat, and Lieutenant-Colonel Young, mounted upon horseback, accompanied
by a few soldiers, went to the tent of Montcalm.
As the result of his negotiations with the French commander it was
agreed that the English troops should march out with the honors of
war, and be escorted to Fort Edward by a detachment of French troops;
all French prisoners captured in America since the war began should be
given up within three months; and that all the stores, munitions, and
artillery were to be the prize of the victors, with the exception of
one field-piece which the garrison were to be permitted to retain in
recognition of their brave defence.
These terms were fair and honorable to both parties; and if only
Montcalm had taken such measures as would have insured their being
carried out, the horrible proceedings of the following days, whereby
what might otherwise have been considered a creditable achievement was
turned into an appalling scandal, might have been prevented.
It is true that before signing the capitulation Montcalm held a council
with the Indian chiefs and asked them to consent to the conditions
and to promise to restrain their warriors from disorder, and that the
chiefs approved of everything and promised everything.
But he should not have been content with this. Knowing the nature
of his allies as he did, he ought to have used his regular troops
upon whom he could depend as a guard for the English, who were in no
position to defend themselves.
When the garrison evacuated Fort William Henry they marched over to
join their comrades in the entrenched camp which was included in the
surrender; and no sooner had they gone than a horde of yelling savages
climbed through the enclosures in search of rum and plunder.
They found very little of either, and at once proceeded to vent their
disappointment upon the unfortunate men, who, having been too sick to
leave their beds, were awaiting removal later on.
These they butchered without remorse, and even cut off their heads,
which they paraded proudly from the casements. It was a terrible
scene, yet no attempt to check the fiends was made by the French, who
seemed afraid to interfere with their savage allies.
Having looted the fort of what little there was in it, the Indians then
turned their attention to the entrenched camp, where all the English
were now collected. The French guard stationed there either could not
or would not keep out the bloodthirsty rabble, and they roamed among
the tents intrusive and insolent, their painted visages marked with
sinister grins as they twitched the long hair of the terrified women in
anticipation of the scalping knife.
Seth saw it all, and the witnessing of such indignities so filled him
with fury that again and again he could scarce restrain himself from
striking down one of the dusky demons. But of course any such act would
have been utter folly, as it would certainly have precipitated the
general massacre for which the Indians hankered.
At length through the earnest efforts of Montcalm and his officers
something like order was obtained and the most of the Indians were
persuaded to return to their own encampment for the night.
But there was little rest in the English camp, and as soon as day broke
they made haste to set out for Fort Edward. They had their muskets, but
they were without ammunition; and no sooner had they begun to move
than the Indians, in spite of the presence of the French escort, began
to plunder them of their little baggage, demanding rum, of which there
was only a little in the soldiers' canteen.
When after much difficulty the column at last got started along the
road, the redskins crowded in upon them, impeding their progress,
snatching caps, coats, and weapons from the men, tomahawking those that
resisted, and seizing upon women and children, dragged them shrieking
away, or murdered them on the spot.
Suddenly arose the awful sound of the war-whoop, and at this signal for
butchery the whole mob of savages rushed upon the rear of the columns
where the New Hampshire men were, and proceeded to slaughter them
wholesale.
A frightful tumult ensued. Montcalm, Levis, Bourlamaque, and other
French officers who had hastened to the scene, threw themselves among
the Indians, and by promises and threats sought to stop their murderous
frenzy.
"Kill me, but spare the English who are under my protection!" exclaimed
Montcalm in the dramatic fashion characteristic of his race, and he
himself tore a young officer from the grasp of a Huron who was about to
tomahawk him.
Yet the dreadful work went on until many hundreds of the unfortunate
English had been either killed or carried off by the ruthless savages,
before at last the survivors were got back to the entrenched camp, and
there protected from further massacre by an adequate guard of French
regulars.
Seth had a marvellous escape, or rather series of escapes. His
chivalrous instinct had impelled him to keep near the women and
children in the hope of in some manner being helpful to them; but,
although he had possessed the strength of Samson, he could not have
accomplished anything, for the Indians crowded in upon them from all
sides, and it was impossible to ward off their assaults.
Yet he kept his place until at the raising of the war-whoop the general
attack was made; and then in the wild confusion that followed he was
jostled and hustled this way and that until he found himself separated
from the main body and with the way clear to the forest.
"I can do nothing for the others," he muttered. "I may as well try and
save myself." And after a quick glance to right and left to make sure
there were no Indians near, he started to run for the shelter of the
trees.
He had not gone many yards when the cry of a child fell on his ears.
He checked himself for an instant, and looking in the direction from
which the cry came, saw a little boy half hidden in the grass, who was
calling to him:
"Take me with you, oh, take me with you too!"
At first Seth hesitated. Where delay probably meant death, to attempt
to save the boy might merely imperil himself without benefiting the boy.
But the hesitation was only for an instant, and then, carried away by
a generous impulse, Seth changed his course so as to take hold of the
little fellow's hand, and together they fled toward the forest.
Half way thither they were met by an Indian who barred the way with
a bloody tomahawk, and yelled at them in a frenzied fashion. He was
a giant in size, and at sight of him the boy shrieked and cowered
close to Seth, who came to a full stop as though he had no thought of
resistance.
Misled by this apparent submission, the Indian, his eyes gleaming with
the lust of blood, made a grab at the boy's hair with the intention of
scalping him. Seth then saw his opportunity, and with a quick spring
threw himself upon the wretch, who, not expecting this sudden onset,
went down headlong, while the boy dodged out of his reach unhurt.
Holding him fast despite his violent struggles to get free, Seth tore
the tomahawk from his grasp, and despatched him with the weapon already
stained with the blood of his victims.
Then exclaiming: "One more devil done for!" he caught the boy by the
hand, and resumed the race for the forest, which they reached, all
spent but scathless.
Knowing his way thoroughly, he pushed on as rapidly as the strength
of his little companion permitted, keeping a sharp lookout lest there
should be any scouts hunting for fugitives.
By the end of an hour the poor boy was so exhausted that Seth had
either to let him have a rest, or desert him. He of course chose the
first alternative, and they hid in a hollow where no one could have
found them save by coming right upon them.
The boy was full of gratitude to his preserver, and as the little chap
curled up beside him, seeming to feel quite secure, Seth took some
comfort from having been the means of saving his young life.
All that night and the following day they were in the woods with
nothing to stay their hunger save the few berries they could find, but
ere the return of night they reached Fort Edward, being the first of
the fugitives to do so.
Seth's account of the atrocities perpetrated by the enemy filled those
at Fort Edward with horror and indignation; and if the men had been
left to themselves, they would have rushed to the scene to avenge their
brethren.
But the saner councils of their officers prevailed. They were not
in sufficient force to cope with the French and their allies, and,
however daring and impetuous their attack might be, it could only
result in their own discomfiture. There was nothing to be done but to
keep within the fort until the invaders had finished their work of
destruction.
During the days that followed cannon were fired at intervals from
the fort to guide those who had fled to the woods, whence they came
dropping in half dead with hunger; but it was not until more than a
week after the surrender that the main body of the garrison appeared
under the escort of a strong French guard.
Meanwhile the victors were busy demolishing the English stronghold.
First the barracks were torn down, and then the huge pine logs of the
ramparts were got together in a heap, upon which were thrown the bodies
of the butchered men and women, and the whole was set on fire. "The
mighty funereal pyre blazed all night. On the following day the army
re-embarked for Canada. The din of ten thousand combatants, the rage,
the terror, the agony were gone; and no living thing was left but the
wolves that gathered from the mountains to feast upon the dead."