There was no lack of volunteers to convey Colonel Clark's dispatches to
Virginia. More than half of the men it appeared were anxious to return
to their homes at the expiration of their term of enlistment. In that
case, but a handful of us would be left, after October, to hold the
three forts, and keep down the Indians. Colonel Clark resorted to
entreaties and promises, and at last induced about three hundred of the
men to consent to reenlist for six months more. Thirty-five were
determined to go, and even the prospect of being rewarded, by the
gratitude of Virginia, with royal land grants in the new territory,
could not keep them longer.
"If Virginia did not choose to send recruits to hold the territory, we
had won for her," they argued, "she deserved to lose it. Meantime their
own families might be suffering privation or danger, and their own lands
be lapsing again into the state of wilderness from which they had so
lately rescued them. They could risk no more, sacrifice no further--not
even for Virginia." One was forced to admit there was reason in their
excuses.
Thomas, to my small surprise, was one of those who could not be
persuaded to remain. Clark asked me to remonstrate with him, and I did
so but without success.
"I've nothing to stay for," he answered; "Ellen rejects my love, and it
is only what I deserve for my stubborn following of my own will, and my
disrespect to my mother. Since neither Ellen's death nor her misery lies
at our door; since she has reached a safe and pleasant harborage among
people of her own religion, and can take her choice between a nunnery in
Quebec, or a husband--who may be either military hero, or French
Catholic as she will--I feel that my responsibility is ended. I shall go
home, Donald, beg my parents' pardon, renew my vows, and resume the work
to which I was called, and upon which I wickedly turned my back to
pursue a foolish course."
"I cannot understand your feelings, Thomas," I replied, out of patience
with what sounded to me like spiteful cant; "you joined our expedition
with two specific objects in view:--to regain your lost health, and
possibly find trace of Ellen. You have accomplished both objects;
besides, have done your share toward our fortunate achievement. To
abandon us now, before our success is permanently assured, and Ellen
safely settled, seems to me to be an act of childishness."
"Yours, Donald, is the soldier's point of view, and I cannot complain of
your disapproval. I see it all differently, however. It was wrong of me
to come, in the first place, with the motives that brought me; the only
reparation I can make is to go back as soon as possible, confess humbly,
and reconsecrate to God and duty all my future life."
I said no more, for I saw Thomas' will was set; his present state of
mind was as unreasonable as that I had found him in eight months before.
There are men to whom a medium course is not possible--they are born
fanatics; Thomas was one of these, but, in justice to him, I must add
here, that he grew saner as he grew older, and that, with the coming of
maturity, what fanaticism was left took the form of humble service in
God's name, to his fellow men.
* * * * *
Colonel Clark's force now numbered barely a hundred men, including
officers. A score were left at Cahokia; the rest were with him at
Kaskaskia. It seemed wise to preserve a show of strength at both places,
since Indian deputations were coming to one or the other of the two
forts, all through the fall, to tender to Colonel Clark the allegiance
or submission of their tribes. Being but half a day's march apart, our
force could quickly be massed at either of these points.
Captain Helm, backed chiefly by his high sounding title of
"Governor-general of Indian Affairs on the Wabash," with a garrison of
five, held Vincennes! Should an English force march against it there
would be no chance for defense; for that reason, that Vincennes might be
strongly garrisoned, it seemed imperative for us to have speedy
reenforcements from Virginia. It was from Vincennes that Colonel Clark
was planning to advance on Detroit, but I had never any hope of
sufficient reenforcements to make such advance feasible, even in Clark's
daring estimation, so gave myself no anxiety as to that rash project.
A rumor that Vincennes had been taken by the British reached us about
the middle of December, but a few weeks after the thirty-six had
departed for Virginia. The rumor lacked confirmation, however, and
Colonel Clark eagerly awaited the confidently expected reenforcements.
After the cold autumn rains set in, visits from the Indian tribes were
less frequent, and presently with the coming of winter they ceased. The
arrival on Christmas eve, therefore, of a large deputation of much
befeathered warriors, and their chief, caused some excitement,--the more
so as they were reported to be Miamis from Lake Michigan. This tribe so
far had held aloof from us, and was said to be faithful to the English.
They demanded an interview with the white chief, Long-Knife, and asked
that he bring only his most trusted warriors to the council chamber,
since they had secret matters of weight and importance to discuss.
Colonel Clark summoned his officers, and five others, and the conference
began in the large room of the fort--where Clark and I had indulged in
our sword play some days before. The chief was, I thought, not past
middle age, though it is difficult to guess the age of a redskin. He had
a countenance of unusual cruelty and subtlety. His tall frame was
powerfully built, and his tongue was both eloquent and cunning.
"Long-Knife and his warriors had come," he said, "as strangers to the
land of the Algonquins; they had come to bid the great tribes of the red
men, whose fathers had owned the plains washed by the fresh seas, and
the great Father-of-Waters, from the beginning, to declare war against
their powerful English father, who had given them their guns, and had
protected them against their hereditary enemies, the Hurons and the
Iroquois. It was said that the warriors of the white chief, Big-Knife,
were about to conquer the warriors of the great English father, but were
willing to protect the Miamis, and to leave them in peaceful possession
of their lands. He and his braves had come to ask if these things were
true, and if the Big-Knives sought peace and friendship with the tribes
of the Miami."
Colonel Clark responded in his usual way, mixing adroitly with his
parade of cool arrogance, and entire indifference, a tone of gracious
condescension. "The Miamis might choose for themselves; he had no
quarrel with the red man--did they wish the redoubtable warriors of
Long-Knife, and the great and war-like nation they came from, on the
shore of the eastern ocean, for their friends and brothers--did they
wish, as so many of their brethren had done, to make alliance with us,
it would be well with them, but we were used to war and liked it--if the
Miamis preferred war--good; it was theirs to choose. But they must
decide once for all, and war once begun the Long-Knives would not be the
first to sue for peace."
A long silence followed Clark's speech, during which the Indians gazed
fixedly before them, while the air grew dense with the strong tobacco
smoke they exhaled, in great deliberate puffs. We also smoked stolidly
on; and the chief's face was not more a mask than Clark's. In the midst
of this silent ring of grim smokers--as an angelic apparition floats
into the vision of a dream--glided Ellen. She came to my side with
smiling countenance, on which was no other expression than that of idle
curiosity, gazed calmly into the hideous faces of the savages, and
pointing to the crimson aigrette among the head feathers of one, and the
black heron quills worn by another asked me in English to buy them for
her. Then without changing her expression, or looking again at me, she
lowered her tones to a whisper, and scarcely moved her lips in saying,
"When I go out--wait--then follow," and even while she spoke thus, she
was making gestures of admiration over the Indian's ornaments,
continuing to do so, and to comment upon them to us, as a child might.
Presently the chief began again to speak. Ellen listened gravely for a
few moments, shook her head, smiled, and passed out. In doing so she
walked behind Clark, and uttered a whisper like a sigh. "Beware! Be on
your guard!"
Clark gave no sign to indicate that she had spoken, and after lingering
at the door for a moment, Ellen went out, and we heard her singing
gayly, on her way back to the town.
But for her words to me, I should have thought, as evidently the Indians
did, that she had wandered into the council chamber, prompted by idle
curiosity alone, and finding small amusement there, had wandered out
again. The free customs among their own squaws, in regard to their
comings and goings, made the incident seem natural to the Indians.
A meaning look from Clark, the barest glance of significance, made known
to me that he too had been spoken to, and was on the watch for something
unusual. Ellen was not found until I had gone all the way to her house,
where she was walking the floor in the greatest excitement, awaiting my
arrival.
"Cousin Donald," she whispered, as if the walls had really ears,--"the
fort is surrounded by armed savages, they are lurking in the bushes and
in the chimney corners, crouching under the steps, and behind
trees--they are everywhere. Without doubt they await the signal for an
attack; meantime the soldiers are scattered about the village, and ten
went this morning, as you know, to carry the powder to Cahokia."
"We must take measures at once to collect the men. You have already
warned Colonel Clark?"
"Yes; and I have sent Angelique to seek every soldier she can find
loitering about the village, and to bid them all come here."
"Well done, Ellen! I shall muster them as quietly as possible and lead
them to the fort. Have you thought of anything else that should be
done?"
"M. Legere, who was walking on the bluff with me when I saw the Indians,
with Colonel Clark's spy glass, has already started to Cahokia, mounted
on the fleetest horse in the village. If only you can, by some strategy,
delay the signal until the men from Cahokia can get here."
"They will, I imagine, wait for twilight. The savages seem to rely much
upon the aid of surprise and confusion. If Legere's horse is fleet, and
they have boats in readiness at Cahokia, reenforcements should reach us
by midnight; but that will be too late, I fear. It will hardly be
possible to divert the Indians from their purpose so long. But, now that
we are warned, we may find a way to outwit them."
Having disposed my men in the neighborhood of the fort, in a convenient
clump of trees, I told them to wait in absolute silence for the sound of
my turkey call within the fort and then to surround the council chamber
with a rush, making, as they did so, all the hideous noises possible.
The chief was still speaking when I returned to the council chamber, but
his manner and his words were less conciliatory and his warriors were
scowling ominously.
"Let my friend, and brother chief, speak for the great American father,
General Washington, since you profess to doubt my word," said Colonel
Clark, as, a moment later, the chief concluded his second wordy and
pointless harangue. "Tell the chief, Captain McElroy, since you were
present on the day it happened, how the warriors of Chief Washington
defeated the warriors of the English father, on the great battlefield
west of the Alleghanies, and how you took prisoners a whole tribe of
them at Saratoga."
Stepping into the midst of the circle, I told them of the surrender of
Saratoga, vaunting much the courage of my tribe, and the war-like skill
of our chiefs, and ending thus: "Before many more moons have waxed and
waned, the English will mount again their white winged birds, their
great ships, and sail back across the wide waters to their own land,
leaving all this country subject to the great confederation of the white
American tribes. And when the English are gone, and our great chief
Washington shall march his armies against the still hostile Indians, woe
to those who have refused our friendship! They shall be shaken as ripe
fruit from the boughs; scattered to the four corners of the earth, as
fruit blossoms by the wind of an April storm."
The Indians listened to me at first with solemn stolidity, then began to
utter low grunts of unbelief, or anger, and at last to exchange black
looks, and to scowl at me threateningly. Still they smoked on; still
Colonel Clark and his councilors smoked silently, paying no sort of heed
to the angry demonstrations of the savages.
The sun set, meanwhile, and what with the fast-coming winter's twilight
without, and the thick fog of smoke within, one could scarcely see the
faces about him well enough to distinguish white face from red, friend
from foe.
As I sat down, the chief laid aside his pipe, with the utmost
deliberation, and rose to his feet, towering in the midst of his
warriors, who closely copied all his expressions and actions. We rose,
also, and the two half circles faced each other grimly, while the murky
redness of the sun's last rays cast a momentary lurid illumination over
the scene.
With a quick gesture the chief drew from his long robe of white bear's
skin two wampum belts--the peace and war belts--and flung them with
haughty and insulting air upon the table.
"There are two belts of wampum," he said, and the Indians crowded closer
about him; "you know what they mean. Choose which you will!"
There was awesome silence for a moment. For the second time in my life I
knew the feeling of subtle, unreasoning terror, such as must precede a
panic; but again with a tremendous effort of will I controlled the
impulse, and looked calmly from one to another of the scowling, cruel
faces--watching, as beasts do, for a chance to spring.
Clark gave each a calm, undaunted stare, then fixed his deliberate,
scornful gaze upon the chief, picked up the wampum belts on the point of
his sword, took them in his right hand, and drawing himself to his
utmost height, flung them full into the face of the chief, as he said in
tones of contempt:
"Begone, ye dogs! Back to your squaws, and your beaver traps!"
Upon this instant I blew my turkey call, long, and shrilly. From without
came the sound as of a rushing multitude, mingled with yells, whoops,
and howls. The Indians seemed suddenly cowed and gathered together in a
huddled group.
"We are trapped!" called the chief, and made a leap for the door,
followed by the rest. The savages without were fleeing also. Clark
called out in loud and positive commands that they should be neither
killed nor hindered.
"Let them run like the coward dogs they are," he said, "we care neither
to capture their living nor to bury their dead carcasses."
In the midst of the excitement, reenforcements arrived from Cahokia,
Legere having met a squad on their way to Kaskaskia. Clark now stationed
guards all around the fort and the town, and ordered that the soldiers
hold themselves in readiness to repulse a night attack. The Indians
loitered all night in the bushes about the fort, and we could hear them
arguing hotly. When morning came, they sent in a deputation of three to
sue for peace, after which they hastily departed.
I shall not now relate an incident which happened later that night when
some of the loitering Indians attempted to take terrible revenge on
Ellen, whose warning to Clark they afterwards suspected, and from which
it was my very good fortune to save her. Thus repaying twice over, since
her life was twice as valuable as mine, the debt I owed her, and proving
that I counted my own naught, as weighed against her safety and her
honor.