“Gentlemen of Kentucky and Virginia,” began the colonel, “for six long
years have we striven on the dark and bloody ground to keep a foothold
on the inheritance we are earning for our children. For three years of
that time, our whole land has been fighting against fearful odds on the
side of the unnatural mother country. Not content with hiring Hessians
to come over and murder us, they have bribed the savages to fire our
houses and scalp women and children, from Cherry Valley to Harrodsburg.”
Here there was a growl of assent, “That’s so.” “Cuss ’em.” “We’ll get
square, some day.”
“Soldiers,” continued Clark, addressing them by the title he knew they
were most proud of, “the time has come when we must turn the tables
on the British. Saratoga has shown them that we can beat their best
troops, and all along the Atlantic States they are running like whipped
hounds!”
A tremendous yell greeted the reference.
“Now,” cried the colonel, “since we are safe on the east, let us turn
to the west. The Indians have tormented us long enough. We chase them,
and ’tis like attacking a swarm of wasps. We can not catch them. Well,
boys, what do you do when the wasps get too troublesome?”
He paused, as if to await a reply. There was an awkward silence for
near a minute. Then Daniel Boone, who stood near Clark, and out of the
ranks, observed in his clear, quiet tones:
“We hunt for the nest, and burn it up, some night, colonel.”
“Right, old comrade!” exclaimed the young leader, amid a whispered
chorus of excited comments; “_we find the nest, and burn it up_. Well,
gentlemen, these wasps come not from one nest, but _three_: and their
names are Detroit, St. Vincent’s,[2] and Kaskaskia. Detroit is a
fortified town, beyond our reach. St. Vincent’s is too strong for us as
yet. Kaskaskia, the furthest of all, is the most dangerous to Kentucky.
Secure in their distance from us, the British think they need fear
nothing. Gentlemen, I have orders from Governor Henry of Virginia _to
take Kaskaskia_ and save Kentucky forever. Who will volunteer to go
with me, and strangle the snake in his den?”
There was a deep silence following this speech, at the end of which
Captain Harrod stepped forward and made a characteristic speech:
“Colonel George Rogers Clark, _Esq_uire: Sir, I’ve be’n a-grumblin’ a
long time about these hyar _secret orders_, and, I reckon, be’n makin’
a darned jackmule of myself about it. Colonel, I take it all back,
and damme, sir, I’ll lift the ha’r off any feller as says you ain’t a
full team and two mules to spar’, with a yaller dawg hitched under the
tail-board. I’m with you, colonel, while thar’s a drop of blood in my
body, and these hyar Harrodsburg hu’sters, they travel with me, you kin
bet all the clothes you ever owned. Thar!”
A rousing cheer from Harrod’s company applauded the speech, and it was
followed by equally warm indorsement from every captain and company,
with one exception.
This was captain Dillard, whose company was raised near Harrod’s, and
entertained considerable jealousy of the others.
Captain Dillard, when questioned point-blank by Clark, before the rest,
replied:
“Waal, colonel, ef I’d knowed you war a-goin’ on any sich a wild-goose
chase as this hyar, I wouldn’t have pledged my credit to the boys, and
asked ’em to come. You’re a-goin’ a long way, and it’s more than likely
you’ll git beat. Ef so, whar are ye? Worse off than ever, a thousand
miles from hum, and no one to help ye?”
The cautious captain’s words were not without their effect in damping
the men’s spirits, and it was with great adroitness that Clark replied,
in closing the discussion:
“That’s all provided for, captain. We have bateaux enough to carry us
all down the Mississippi to New Orleans, where the Spanish and French
will be only too glad to pay us like princes to fight the Indians for
them. _But we shall not get beat._ We shall take them by surprise, kill
the British soldiers, save Kentucky, and come home worth two hundred
and fifty acres of land apiece. Governor Henry has promised it to us,
and I have the patent in my pocket. Now, gentlemen, since you’re all
agreed to follow me, disperse to your quarters. Captain Bowman, you are
officer of the day. Secure all the boats, and place sentries at the
ford. Let no man cross without my orders. I wish to see the captains in
my cabin at once. Adjutant, dismiss the parade.”
As stiffly and formally as if nothing had happened, he signified by
his manner that discussion was over. The officers returned to their
companies; the little adjutant called up the sergeants and received
reports; and finally parade was dismissed, with a ceremony rarely seen
among the rough frontiersmen.
Guards were set around the boat and at the fort, and the whole camp
was soon a buzz of conflicting voices on the prospects of the famous
expedition to Kaskaskia. Some of Dillard’s men were disposed to gloomy
prophecies, influenced by their captain, but the greater part were
light-hearted, reckless hunters, to whom the idea of a distant and
dangerous expedition acted as a charm.
These laughed at the croakers, and prognosticated great things of the
expedition, as they devoured their rations, which the foresight of
Clark had collected at the falls in large quantities. None knew better
than Clark the road through the stomach to a soldier’s heart, and none
appreciated it better.
At last all was quiet, and the fires dying away, the camp was buried in
profound slumber.
* * * * *
Two hours after midnight Colonel Clark was awakened by a touch on his
shoulder. Starting up, he saw the little adjutant before him, who spoke
at once.
“Colonel, the whole of Dillard’s men, with their first lieutenant, have
deserted, and forded the river on the way home.”
In a moment Clark was on his feet, broad awake.
“Have they taken their horses? Has any one else gone? Have the sentries
at the ford played us false?”
“Not one, sir. The scoundrels crossed higher up, leaving their horses
in camp. Dillard remains here. I only found it out five minutes ago,
while making my rounds.”
Clark laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Frank, you’re little, but you’re worth ten giants. Call the bugler and
sound to arms. I’ll send you after them, lad.”
The leader walked quickly out to the parade-ground, and inside of five
minutes the bugle sounded and the men came filing out of their bivouacs
in silence, forming with a celerity and order that veteran soldiers
could not have excelled. They were all well used to night alarms, and
expected an Indian attack at least.
When the colonel, in a few brief, nervous words, informed them of the
cowardly treachery of their comrades, and called for a party to pursue
them, there was a roar of indignation. Every man in camp clamored to
go after the “durned ornary skunks,” as they called them, and Clark
hastily selected the first score who presented themselves, mounted them
on the horses of the deserters, and sent them off with Captain Harrod
and the little adjutant, with orders to shoot all who resisted.
Away went the capturing party at full speed across the ford, and the
rest of the night was spent in excited discussion, for all were too
angry to sleep.
About an hour before noon Harrod’s party returned with seven or eight
of the captured deserters, reporting the rest as scattered to the four
winds, and the rest of the day was spent in selecting the companies to
go to Kaskaskia, while the rest were detailed to go to Kentucky and
defend the frontiers during the absence of their comrades.
Then on the next day, the 24th June, 1778, ten bateaux, carrying four
strong companies of hardy rangers, dropped down the rapids of the Ohio,
and set off on their dangerous expedition to the unknown wilds of the
Illinois country; while, as if to appall them with the terrors of
superstition, the sun passed into a total eclipse, and darkness covered
the heavens at the instant they entered the passage.[3] There let us
leave them, on their venturesome way, and turn to the great post which
they were trying to reach.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] St. Vincent’s, now Vincennes, on the Wabash between Indiana and
Illinois. Kaskaskia on the Mississippi at its junction with the
Kaskaskia river on the western border of Illinois. These three posts,
once French, had passed to England at the end of the French and Indian
war, and were the rallying points for Indian raids, to be supplied with
arms by British officers.
[3] Historical fact.