as well as those attached to the ships at Yorktown. George's passion for
a military life had never died or even languished; but by the exertion
of a powerful will he had kept it in abeyance until the times were ripe.
Already were Governor Dinwiddie and his council preparing a scheme of
defence for the frontier, and Lord Fairfax, with other leading men in
the colony, were invited to meet the Governor and council to discuss
these affairs. After attending one of these meetings, the Earl, on
coming back to his lodgings, said:
"George, after our conference broke up I talked with the Governor
concerning you and your future, and he promised me, if the plan is
carried out of dividing the colony into districts, with an
Inspector-General with the rank of Major for each, that you shall have a
commission--that is, if you have not given up your wish for a military
life."
As Lord Fairfax spoke a deep red dyed George's face.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I never have given up, I never can give up,
my wish for a military life; and although I did not accept the warrant I
was given in the navy, it almost broke my heart. But fighting for my
country is another thing; and if the Governor calls on me for my
services it would certainly be my duty to respond--and I shall."
After four delightful weeks in Williamsburg they returned to Mount
Vernon; and George, following his plan for two years past, divided his
time between Mount Vernon and Ferry Farm until April, when he again
started for Greenway Court, where Lord Fairfax had preceded him. Again
he started for the frontier with Gist and Davidson, and again he
repeated the experiences of the former year almost without the slightest
variation. But on his return in September to Greenway Court a melancholy
letter from Laurence Washington awaited him. The doctors had declared a
sea-voyage the only thing that would restore Laurence's health; and
passage for Barbadoes had been engaged in the _Sprightly Jane_, a
commodious merchantman sailing between Alexandria and the West Indies.
Laurence wrote, saying that George must accompany him, otherwise he
would not go, to suffer and die, perhaps, among strangers.
Two hours after receiving this letter George was on his way to Mount
Vernon. The Earl, ever kind, assured him that Gist and Davidson, both
highly intelligent men, could give him all the information necessary,
together with George's papers, and, furnished with the best horse in the
stables at Greenway Court, George set out with a heavy heart. He
travelled night and day, and reached Mount Vernon a week before the very
earliest day that he was expected. His brother's pale and emaciated
countenance, his sister's anxiety, cut George to the heart. All the
preparations for sailing were made, and the _Sprightly Jane_ only waited
a fair wind to trip her anchor. George took time to spend one day at
Ferry Farm. Madam Washington was a woman of great fortitude, except in
one particular--she trembled at the idea of danger to this best-beloved
son; but she made no objection to the voyage, which she saw that George
considered not only his duty but his pleasure to make to oblige the best
of brothers. But Betty had fortitude even in parting with him. As George
rode back through the night to Mount Vernon he could not recall a single
instance in connection with himself in which Betty had considered
herself or her love for him or the solace of his society; always, her
first and only thought was for his credit.
"Dear Betty," thought George, as his horse took the road steadily
through the darkness, "I believe you would inspire the veriest poltroon
that walks with courage to do his duty."
And Betty was so very pretty and winning and coquettish, and had troops
of young gentlemen to admire her, at whom George scowled darkly, and
thought Betty entirely too young for such things. But Betty thought
differently, and rated George soundly for his overbearing ways in that
respect. For she was not the least afraid of him, and could talk him
down with the greatest spirit and emphasis at any time, George being a
little in awe of Betty's nimble tongue.
Late in September Laurence Washington, with George and his faithful
body-servant Peter, sailed for Barbadoes. The voyage lasted five weeks,
and was very tedious. It did more to cure George of his still
smouldering passion for a sea life than he had thought possible. To a
young man accustomed to the boundless forests the confinement was
irksome. He was used to pursue his plans regardless of weather, and the
lying motionless for days in a dead and depressing calm chafed him
inexpressibly. Laurence, who bore patiently all the discomforts and
delays of their position, could not forbear a wan smile when George,
coming down one day to his cabin, burst forth:
"Brother, you were right to prefer the army to the navy for me. At
least, let me be where if I walk ten miles I shall be ten miles advanced
on my way. I have walked ten miles around this vessel, and I am just
where I started."
On a beautiful autumn morning, under a dazzling sun, they landed at
Barbadoes. The Governor of the island, hearing that the sick gentleman
had once been an officer in the British army, immediately called at
their temporary lodgings and offered every kindness in his power. He
advised Laurence to take a house in the country near the sea, where the
air was good. That afternoon they drove out to the house recommended by
the Governor, and in a few days were comfortably established there.
At first Laurence improved much. He received every attention, and took
pleasure in the society of the officers of the garrison, who found two
polished and educated strangers a great resource in their monotonous
lives. So anxious was one of them--Colonel Clarke--to have them to
dinner that he very unwisely invited them, without mentioning that a
member of his family was just recovering from the small-pox.
They knew nothing of it until their return home, when both of them were
naturally indignant; and George had reason to be, for within nine days
he was seized with a well-marked case of the terrible disease. In
anticipation of it, he had made every arrangement, and, having engaged
an old Barbadian negro, who had had small-pox, for a nurse he shut
himself up to fight the disease.
His powerful constitution triumphed over it, and in three weeks he was
well. But never in all his life did he forget the sufferings of those
dreadful weeks. Utterly unused to illness, he endured agonies of
restlessness, and was like a caged lion in his wrath and furious
impatience. The old Barbadian, who had nursed many small-pox patients,
made him laugh, while in one of his worst moods, by saying, gravely:
"Barbadian nuss small-pox folks forty year. 'Ain't neber see no patient
so bad like Massa Washington."
A fear haunted him that sometimes made him smile grimly, but,
nevertheless, gave him some anxious moments. The idea of being horribly
disfigured for life was bitter to him. He saw no one but the old
Barbadian, and felt afraid to ask him; and as he said nothing about the
marks of the disease, there was room to suspect they were bad. George
had been able to sit up several days before he dared to look in the
glass. At last one day, nerving himself, he walked steadily to the
mirror and looked at himself, expecting to see a vision of horror. To
his amazement and deep relief, there was not a single permanent mark.
His skin was red, his eyes were hollow and sunken, and he was not by any
means the handsome young man who had landed on the island four weeks
before, but he was unmarked. He felt a deep thankfulness in his heart
when he was thoroughly recovered, though he was distressed to find that
his brother grew daily weaker.
Christmas amid waving palmettoes and under a tropical sky was dreary to
the two brothers, and soon after it became plain that the climate was
doing Laurence no good. One night, calling George to him, he said:
"George, I have determined to leave this island and, with Peter, go to
Bermuda. But I am homesick and heartsick for those I love, therefore I
have determined to send you back to the colony for your sister Anne, to
bring her to me. If I am compelled to be an exile, I will, at least,
have the comfort of her society, and I do not think it right, at your
age, to keep you forever tied to a sick man's chair."
George answered, with tears in his eyes, "Whatever you wish, brother,
shall be done."
It was found that a vessel was sailing for the Potomac in January, and
on her, with a heart heavier than when he came, George embarked the same
day that his brother sailed for Bermuda.
Storms instead of calms delayed this return voyage, and it was late in
February before George reached Mount Vernon. He tried to make the best
of Laurence's condition in describing it to his sister, but Mrs.
Washington, with a sad smile, stopped him.
"I know all that your kind heart, George, would make you say; but I know
also that my husband is very, very ill, and when I go to him now it will
be never to leave him again."
The _Sprightly Jane_ was to make another voyage in March, and it was
intended that George and his sister should sail on her; but she was
delayed below Mount Vernon for two weeks, waiting for a wind. One
morning late in March, George, looking out of the window on rising to
see if there were any chance of getting off that day, felt a strong wind
from the northwest; but as soon as his eyes fell on the river he saw a
frigate at anchor that had evidently come in during the night. And while
watching her he saw the Captain's gig shove off with two figures in it
that wonderfully resembled his brother Laurence and his faithful Peter.
George jumped into his clothes, and ran down stairs and to the shore to
make certain, and there in the boat, half supported by his servant, lay
Laurence, pale and ill beyond description, but with a happy light in his
weary, suffering eyes. In a few minutes Mrs. Washington came flying
down, and, with clasped hands and tears streaming down her cheeks,
awaited her husband on the end of the little wharf. The negroes flocked
after her, and shouts and cries resounded of, "Howdy, Marse Laurence!
Bless de Lord, you done come! Hi! yonder is dat ar Peter! Lordy, Peter!"
This joyous welcome, the presence of faces dear and familiar, the sight
of home, was almost too much happiness for the poor invalid. George
literally carried Laurence in his strong young arms up to the house,
while his wife clung to his hand, the old black mammy hung over him,
blessing "de Lam'" for letting him return to them, and the negroes
yah-yahed with delight.
"I could not stay away any longer," said Laurence, "and when the ship
came to Bermuda, and the kind Captain saw how hard it was for me to
stay, to die among strangers, he invited me to return with him as his
guest. I thought that you, Anne, and George might already have started
for Bermuda, but, thanks to the good God, I find you here."
All those who loved Laurence Washington saw that day that his end was
near, and within three months, with the calmness of the Christian
soldier, he gave up his life.
* * * * *
One gloomy September day, just a year from the time he had set forth
with his brother on that dreary voyage, George realized that at last he
was master of Mount Vernon, and the realization was among the most
painful moments of his life. He returned to the place from Belvoir, the
home of his sister's father, where he had left her. In vain he had
pleaded with her to continue at Mount Vernon, for Laurence in his will
had given it to her during her lifetime. But, gentle and submissive in
all else, Anne Washington would not and could not return to the home of
her brief married happiness and the spot connected with the long series
of crushing griefs that had befallen her.
To all of George's pleadings she had answered:
"No, George. Anywhere on earth to me is better than Mount Vernon. I
understand what you feel and have not spoken--that you do not wish to
appear to be master while I am living. But you must. I have no fear that
you will not give me my share and more of what comes from the estate;
but I would give it all up rather than go back. My father's house is the
least painful place to me now."
There was no moving her, and at last she was permitted to have her own
way.
The servants all crowded around him, and the old mammy, who was promoted
to be housekeeper, wanted him to take the rooms that had once been his
brother's; but George would not, and had his belongings placed in the
little room overlooking the river which had been his from his boyhood.
This much disgusted Billy, who thought the master of Mount Vernon quite
too modest. He spent the autumn there, varied by occasional visits to
Ferry Farm and his sister at Belvoir. He worked hard, for he regarded
himself as merely his sister's steward, and he determined never to make
her regret either his brother's or her own generosity to him. He never
thought Mount Vernon could be so dreary to him. William Fairfax, who was
then graduated from William and Mary College, came over to see him
often, but George had not the heart to return even William's visits, so
it was all on one side. His mother and Betty came to visit him, but
Madam Washington had upon her hands three growing lads, the eldest a
tall youth of seventeen, and with the vast cares and responsibilities of
the mistress of a plantation in those days, she could not be absent for
long. The only time in which there was any real brightness was once when
Betty came over and staid a whole month with him. George's affections,
like his passions, were rooted in the fibre of his being, and he felt
his brother's death with a depth of sorrow that only those who knew him
well could understand.
At Christmas he gave all the negroes their usual privileges and
presents, but closed the house and went to Ferry Farm. In the
holiday-time his coming gave the greatest joy, and the cloud upon him
began to lift a little.
Meanwhile he had received his commission as Major and Inspector-General
of the forces in his district from Governor Dinwiddie, and he entered
with enthusiasm into his work. He attended the general musters
diligently at Alexandria, and used all his influence in promoting
enlistments in the militia. He was then nineteen years old--the youngest
Major in the colonial service.
He was in constant receipt of letters from Lord Fairfax giving him news
of affairs on the frontier, which were assuming a menacing aspect. In
one of these letters Lord Fairfax wrote: "The policy of the English has
always been to keep on friendly terms with the Six Nations, and the
good-will of these great and powerful tribes is essential in the coming
conflict. But they have been tampered with by the French, and the great
chief lately sent me this message: 'Where are the Indian lands, anyway?
For the French claim all on one side of the Ohio and the English claim
all on the other.' By which you will see, my dear George, that in
diplomacy, as in war, you will find these chiefs no fools. Our honorable
Governor means well, but I think he will wait until a few men, and
perhaps women, are scalped before taking any decisive measures. I need
not say I long to see you. Let not another year pass without your coming
to Greenway Court."
All during the summer George kept up an active correspondence with the
Earl, who had special means of finding out the truth. In the early
autumn he received a very pressing message from the Governor, requiring
his presence at Williamsburg. George set off immediately, with Billy, as
usual, in charge of his saddle-bags. These sudden journeys, in which
George could ride tirelessly night and day, very much disgusted Billy,
who, as a man, was quite as fond of his ease as when a boy, but he was
obliged to start on short notice.
They arrived at Williamsburg in the evening, and George immediately sent
Billy to the palace with a letter notifying the Governor of his arrival.
In a very little while a letter came back from Governor Dinwiddie asking
Major Washington's presence at the palace at his very earliest
convenience.
George had held his commission as Major for more than a year, and at
twenty-one military titles have a captivating sound. So Major
Washington, as soon as he had got his supper, changed his
travelling-suit, and, preceded by Billy with a lantern, picked his way
through the muddy streets to the palace. Then the door opened, and Major
Washington was announced.
George's appearance, always striking, was more so from the handsome
mourning-suit he still wore, although his brother had been dead more
than a year. It showed off his blond beauty wonderfully well. His
features had become more marked as he grew older, and although his face
lacked the regular beauty of his father's, who had been thought the
handsomest man of his time, there was a piercing expression, an
indescribable look of dignity and intelligence, in George's countenance,
which marked him in every company.
The Governor, who was a fussy but well-meaning man, began, as soon as
the formal greetings were over: "Major Washington, I have work in hand
for you. I am told by my Lord Fairfax and others that you are the
fittest person in the colony for the expedition I have in hand. It
requires the discretion of an old man, but it also requires the
hardiness and strength of a young man; and you see, therefore, what a
burden I lay upon you."
George's face turned quite pale at these words. "Sir," he stammered,
"you ask more of me than I can do. I will give all my time and all my
mind to my country, but I am afraid, sir--I am very much afraid--that
you are putting me in a position that I am not capable of filling."
[Illustration: "HERE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS."]
"We must trust some one, Major Washington, and I sent not for you until
I and my council had fully determined what to do. Here are your
instructions. You will see that you are directed to set out with a
suitable escort at once for the Ohio River, and convene all the chiefs
you can at Logstown. You are to find out exactly how they stand towards
us. You are then to take such a route as you think judicious to the
nearest French post, deliver a letter from me, sealed with the great
seal of the colony, to the French commandant, and demand an answer in
the name of his Britannic Majesty. You are to find out everything
possible in regard to the number of French forts, their armament,
troops, commissariat, and where they are situated; and upon the
information you bring will depend to a great degree whether there shall
be war between England and France. When will you be ready to depart?"
"To-morrow morning, sir," answered George.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.
BY JAMES BARNES.
The first Thomas Macdonough was a Major in the Continental army, and his
three sons also possessed desires for entering the service of their
country. The oldest had been a midshipman under Commodore Truxton, but
being wounded in the action between the _Constellation_ and
_L'Insurgent_, he had to retire from the navy, owing to the amputation
of his leg. But his younger brother, Thomas Macdonough, Jun., succeeded
him, and he has rendered his name and that of Lake Champlain
inseparable; but his fearlessness and bravery were shown on many
occasions long before he was ordered to the Lakes.
In 1806 he was First Lieutenant of the _Siren_, a little sloop-of-war in
the Mediterranean service. On one occasion when Captain Smith, the
commander of the _Siren_, had gone on shore, young Lieutenant Macdonough
saw a boat from a British frigate lying in the harbor row up to an
American brig a short distance off, and afterwards put out again with
one more man in her than she had originally. This looked suspicious, and
Macdonough sent to the brig to ascertain the reason, with the result
that he found that an American had been impressed by the English
Captain's orders. Macdonough quietly lowered his own boat, and put after
the heavy cutter, which he soon overhauled. Although he had but four men
with him, he took the man out of the cutter and brought him on board the
_Siren_. When the English Captain heard, or rather saw, what had
occurred--it was right under the bow of his frigate that the affair took
place--he waxed wroth, and, calling away his gig, he rowed to the
_Siren_ to demand an explanation.
The following account of the incident is quoted from the life of
Macdonough in Frost's _Naval Biography_:
"The Englishman desired to know how Macdonough dared to take a man from
one of his Majesty's boats. The Lieutenant, with great politeness, asked
him down into the cabin; this he refused, at the same time repeating the
same demand, with abundance of threats. The Englishman threw out some
threats that he would take the man by force, and said he would haul the
frigate alongside the _Siren_ for that purpose. To this Macdonough
replied that he supposed his ship could sink the _Siren_, but as long as
she could swim he should keep the man. The English Captain said to
Macdonough:
"'You are a very young man, and a very indiscreet young man. Suppose I
had been in the boat--what would you have done?'
"'I would have taken the man or lost my life.'
"'What, sir! would you attempt to stop me, if I were now to attempt to
impress men from that brig?'
"'I would; and to convince yourself I would, you have only to make the
attempt.'
"On this the Englishman went on board his ship, and shortly afterwards
was seen bearing down in her in the direction of the American vessel.
Macdonough ordered his boat manned and armed, got into her himself, and
was in readiness for pursuit. The Englishman took a circuit around the
American brig, and returned again to the frigate. When Captain Smith
came on board he justified the conduct of Macdonough, and declared his
intention to protect the American seaman."
Although Macdonough was very young, and his rank but that of a
Lieutenant, people who knew him were not surprised to hear that he had
been appointed to take command of the little squadron on Lake Champlain.
These vessels were built of green pine, and almost without exception
constructed in a hurried fashion. They had to be of light draught, and
yet, odd to relate, their general model was the same as that of ships
that were expected to meet storms and high seas.
Macdonough was just the man for the place; as in the case of Perry, he
had a superb self-reliance, and was eager to meet the enemy.
Lake Champlain and the country that surrounds it were considered of
great importance by the English, and, descending from Canada, large
bodies of troops poured into New York State. But the American government
had, long before the war was fairly started, recognized the advantage of
keeping the water communications on the northern frontier. The English
began to build vessels on the upper part of the lake, and the small
force of ships belonging to the Americans was increased as fast as
possible. It was a race to see which could prepare the better fleet in
the shorter space of time.
In the fall of the year 1814 the English had one fair-sized frigate, the
_Confiance_, mounting 39 guns; a brig, the _Linnet_; a sloop, _Chubb_,
and the sloop _Finch_; besides which they possessed thirteen large
galleys aggregating 18 guns. In all, therefore, the English fleet
mounted 95 guns. The Americans had the _Saratoga_, sloop-of-war, 26
guns; the _Eagle_, 20; the _Ticonderoga_, 17; the _Preble_, 7; and ten
galleys carrying 16 guns; their total armament was nine guns less than
the British.