STARVATION--DRIFTING DOWN THE AMMONUSUC--FORT NO. 4, AND GOOD FORTUNE AT
LAST
At last we arrived at the Ammonusuc River, where our provisions were to
meet us, and found _nothing_.
Fires were still burning which showed us that the relief party had been
there, and had left just before we arrived. We shouted and fired our
guns, but got no response. We learned afterward that the lieutenant who
had brought the supplies had waited two days for us, and then quitted
the place two hours before we arrived, taking the provisions with him.
He heard our guns, but thought that they were fired by Indians, and kept
on his way down the river.
Our condition was terrible. We had been stumbling along, feeble, gaunt,
half crazed by hunger and fatigue. But the expectation of food, the
certainty that we should find plenty at the Ammonusuc, had nerved us up
to the effort to reach it, and now it was gone. It had been there and
was gone. We broke down completely and cried and raved. Some became
insane.
I have already said that I did not like Rogers for several good reasons.
But he was a man of tremendous nerve, energy, and resource. Though his
great strength had been wasted by starvation, so that he could hardly
walk, he still remained the leader, and said:--
"Don't lose your courage, men. I'll save all of you. It is sixty miles
from here to Fort No. 4. Bring some dry logs. Hurry up. I am going to
make a raft, and float down to No. 4 and fetch back food and help."
We brought logs and made a raft.
"You can find enough lily-roots and ground-nuts to keep you alive till I
return. If any of you do not know how to clean and cook them, Captain
Grant will show you. I promise you I will have all the food you want at
this place in ten days."
[Sidenote: STARVATION]
He got on the raft with Captain Ogden, an Indian boy and Martin, who had
been over the river before. They poled and paddled it to the middle of
the river, and drifted down the stream out of sight.
The next day two more men crept into camp and reported that the Indians
had attacked their party several days before, and had killed Lieutenant
Turner of the Rangers, Lieutenant Dunbar of Gage's light infantry, and
that of all their party they alone had escaped.
It was horrible to see the wild, haggard men stagger in, and to witness
their despair when they received nothing to eat but such lily-roots and
ground-nuts as we could find and boil. There was but little nourishment
in them.
Ben Bradley left camp with three companions. They put on their packs.
Ben looked at his compass, and said:--
"Good-by, boys. In three days we shall be at home."
They were never afterward seen alive. Several years later some hunters
from the Merrimac found a skeleton in the White Mountains. They knew it
was Bradley's from the hair, and the peculiar leather strap with which
his cue was tied.
After Rogers had been gone three days, I said to Edmund:--
"I can't stand this any longer. This place is like a mad-house. We shall
go crazy if we stay here. Let us get some logs, make a raft, and drift
down the river."
We talked it over that afternoon, and the next morning began building a
raft. It was a rickety little affair. We finished it in one day, but
were so feeble that we found it hard work. We cut a couple of saplings
for poles, and took some wood, from which we whittled a couple of
paddles.
One of the men, who had been over the river before, said:--
"Look out for a waterfall and rapids, some twenty miles down, boys.
Don't get carried over them, or you'll be lost. And there's another bad
fall and rapids below that."
We poled the raft into the current, and let it drift. Toward night we
paddled to the shore and camped there.
[Sidenote: THE RAFT IS LOST]
In the morning we shot a squirrel, and during the day got another.
Toward evening we heard the sound of the falls, and poled to the shore.
The night was cold. We had no shelter. It rained heavily. We were
drenched and almost frozen. In the morning our little strength was gone.
We got on our raft, and poled it along till we were close to the falls;
and then put in to the shore. Amos held the raft, while Edmund and I
went below, in the hope that it might not be badly broken, as it came
over, and that we could save it. We waded into the cold water, and Amos
let the raft go. It was dashed on the rocks, as it passed over the
falls, and was completely broken up. The logs drifted out of our reach.
Thoroughly chilled, exhausted, and discouraged, we climbed the bank. We
saw that fires had been made and trees burnt down, and then burnt into
lengths.
"This is some of Rogers's work," said Edmund.
"He must have lost his raft as we did, and burned the trees to get logs
of the right lengths to make a new raft."
"I hope he didn't spend much time over it. For I can't go any further,
and B-Ben is all of a shake, and looks mighty poor."
"I guess last night did for me, Amos. I've got some kind of fever coming
on. Start a fire if you can, and let us try to warm ourselves."
The ground was wet, but Amos and Edmund collected an armful of dry wood
from sheltered spots. We rubbed some gunpowder into a rag, and sprinkled
more over it. We held it near the lock of the gun, and flashed some
powder in the pan. This lighted the rag, and we covered it with fine
shavings which we had whittled, and made a fire.
"A canoe from below ought to reach here by to-morrow. I can keep up till
then."
"Hush! I heard a p-partridge, and I've g-got strength enough to go after
him." The tough, wiry fellow took his gun, and went into the woods.
[Sidenote: WELCOME VISITORS]
We heard a bang, and he came out with a partridge, which we roasted and
divided among us. It only served to sharpen our hunger.
"There must be more of these p-partridges in there. I'm g-going to try
again. I feel b-better."
"I will go too," said Edmund.
They walked into the woods, and in half an hour I heard a couple of
shots, and they came out with two birds. We roasted them, ate them, and
felt that we were saved. We kept a good fire going, built a rough
shelter of boughs, and slept quite comfortably that night, though the
fever troubled me somewhat. The next morning we made an attempt to find
more birds, but were unsuccessful. A little after noon we saw a birch
coming up the stream with three men in it. They waved their hands to us,
and landed where we were at the foot of the falls. They shook hands, and
one of them said:--
"You look pretty peaked, boys. I guess a little food and drink won't
hurt you."
We ate greedily, and the food put warmth and life into us. We asked
about Rogers.
"He's at No. 4. His raft was swept over these falls, and he and his men
had a narrow escape. Then he made a new raft and was nearly lost at the
falls below. We'd like to stop longer with you, boys, but can't. We're
carrying food to the fellows up the river."
"You must get there as quick as you can. We left about seventy men up
there, starving and going mad for want of food."
"Some more birches are to follow us in a couple of days, and you'll meet
them on your way down."
They gave us some food and then made the carry, up by the falls, and
left us. We ate and drank some more, and then slept for an hour. When we
woke up, we felt much stronger, and went to work making another raft.
The next day we completed the raft early in the morning; and drifted
down to the waterfall of which they had spoken. We kept our ears and
eyes open, and went ashore in time to avoid it. We had built a fire and
were making a shelter, when three more canoes came up, and we camped
together with the men. We had all that we could eat and it was
delightful to us to meet these clean, healthy, robust men, full of life.
[Sidenote: FORT NO. 4]
In the morning they helped us lower our raft down the fifty feet of
rapids. They gave us some nails, and we added to our raft and made it
stronger, and then poled it out into the river, and drifted down with
the current. We arrived at Fort No. 4 at sunset. It was the 9th of
November. We had spent two months in that dreadful, barren wilderness.
When we came in sight of the fort, and poled our raft to the shore, men
and women in good Christian dress came running down to meet us. Our
hearts rose up in our throats. We could not speak from our happiness.
The tears rolled down our cheeks and we sobbed from joy.
How fine they looked, those men with their clean-shaven faces, and their
hair neatly done up in cues! And how beautiful and kind the women!
Such few clothes as we still had were in rags. Our hair and beards were
long and matted together; our faces and hands black from exposure and
dirt and grime. We felt ashamed of our appearance and would gladly have
sneaked in unseen. But they made of us as if we had been three prodigal
sons. And the flesh-pots, the fatted calf, and the honey were all
offered to us.
Rogers claimed us for a short time, to get news from the camp, and told
us he was going up the next morning.
We had a supper of the best there was in the fort, and you can guess how
it looked and tasted to men who had lived for weeks on corn and leather
straps and nothing; and who had watched with greedy eyes the cutting up
of an old white owl.
They gave us a room, with soap and tubs of warm water, and we got rid of
some of the grime, cut off our beards, shaved our faces, and put on the
clothes they left for us. Amos said:--
"B-Ben, I feel as if No. 4 must be p-pretty near h-heaven."
"Yes! But it isn't up the river."
When we came out, the men crowded round to hear our adventures. Amos
started to tell the story, and when he got hung up on a word, Edmund
would go on with the tale.
[Sidenote: BEN HAS A FEVER]
I felt hot and feeble and sick. My head ached. I became dizzy, and
finally asked some one to take me to a room where I could lie down, and
I went to bed. I haven't any clear idea of what happened afterward. I
have a faint recollection of Edmund and Amos bending over me, saying
good-by. But I do remember that Indian who tried again and again to
scalp me. John Stark drove him off several times, but he kept coming
back, and at last caught me by the hair, ran his knife round my head,
braced his foot on my shoulder, pulled, and I felt my scalp go. Then I
knew nothing more till I opened my eyes, and saw the rafters above, and
the bedclothes about me.
I smelt smoke, and heard the wood snap and crackle. Beside the fireplace
a girl was seated, knitting. Such a pretty girl, the loveliest I had
ever seen. I watched her knit, and then stop and count the stitches. How
beautiful she was, with her light brown hair, the pretty side face, with
the fresh colour in it! Her figure was lithe, supple, full of grace. I
thought at once of Shakespeare's Rosalind. My heart went out to her. As
I gazed, she looked up, and turned a pair of big brown eyes at me. I had
never been in love before. But, as she rose and came over to the bed, I
said to myself:--
"This is she. This is the one for whom I have waited."
She smiled, and a little dimple came in her cheek.
"Ah! I'm glad you've come to your senses again. How do you feel?"
"Perfectly content and happy. I seem to be in a pleasant dream."
"That's good. You've had dreams enough, in the last month, that didn't
seem pleasant. You must keep quiet. I'll be back in a minute."
She returned with her mother, who gave me some medicine, and a drink of
broth, and I fell asleep. When I awoke, the pretty girl was knitting by
the fire. She got me some broth, and after I had drunk it brought a
flax-wheel and sat down by it. I was sick and weak, but the joy of
Michael Wigglesworth's saints in heaven was nothing compared to mine.
That is, until the dreadful thought occurred that she might have been
already sought and won by some one else. But I said: "Keep your courage
up, Ben. She isn't over seventeen. I'm sick, and she's here, and I won't
get well in a hurry."
[Sidenote: RUTH]
How well I remember her, sitting by the flax-wheel, spinning,--even the
pepper and salt homespun dress, the blue and white checked apron, the
little shoes with the silver buckles, and the glimpse of gray stocking.
"Will you please tell me your name?"
"Ruth. Ruth Elliot."
"Ruth? That's the sweetest name of all. It suits you too. But where am
I, and what good fortune brought me here?"
"You are at Fort No. 4, or Charlestown as they call it now. You were
with Rogers in the woods, and floated down the river with Sergeant Munro
and Amos Locke. You have been out of your head with a fever for nearly a
month."
"Yes, yes. I remember now. How many of the Rangers got back?"
"About one hundred. They came in at different places. Twelve days after
you arrived, Rogers came down with those who were at the Ammonusuc. Some
were insane, and some had died before he reached them. It was good to
see them back again. But they were terribly wasted and worn. After they
had been here a few days, they started for Crown Point, over the road
which Captain Stark has just cut through the woods."
"One hundred out of one hundred and forty-five? Well, it might have been
worse. And what news is there of General Wolfe and his army? When I last
heard of them, they were on their way up the St. Lawrence to Quebec."
"Quebec is taken."
"That's good. General Wolfe will get great praise and reward for that."
"If he were alive, he might, but there was a desperate fight, and Wolfe
was killed in it, and Montcalm too."
"Both dead? They were brave men and skilful soldiers. Cut off in their
prime like Lord Howe. And what is Amherst doing?"
[Sidenote: BEN TELLS HIS ADVENTURES]
"Amherst is rebuilding the fort at Crown Point. He will do nothing more
this year. It is too late. In the spring he will go down and take
Montreal, and end the war."
"And the Rangers--what about them?"
"Most of them have gone home. Sergeant Munro and Mr. Locke passed
through here a few days ago. They would have stopped, but the fort is
full of sick soldiers, and as they could be of no help, they went on
their way."
When she had given me the news, it was her turn to question, and mine to
answer. I had to tell her all of our adventures during the war, and she
laughed and cried over them. I grew more and more deeply in love. I was
in no haste to get well, but nature was against me. Every bit of food
she gave me seemed to have some wonderful life-giving power in it and my
health came back in bounds. After it returned, I nearly fell sick again
from the dreadful fear that I might lose her. As the time for my
departure approached, our conversation would halt and stop, and we sat
in silence. I felt down-hearted and hadn't the courage to test my fate,
till one day I saw the tears gather in her eyes and trickle down her
cheeks. Then we soon had an understanding, and our light-heartedness
came back.
"Oh, Ben, I couldn't bear to have you leave, and now I'm so happy."
But she was a wilful thing, and though her name was Ruth, she objected
to following the example of her namesake in the Bible.
"I may be Ruth, but you're not Boaz."
I stoutly asserted that I was baptized Benjamin Boaz Comee, but I could
not bring her to see that she should leave all and follow me.
"No, no, Benjamin Boaz. You're a pretender, and times have changed. I
might not like your people, and they might not like me. Father thinks a
deal of you, and mother loves you as if you were her own son. And you
repay their love by trying to steal me away from them. Is that fair to
them, Boaz? Don't you think they would miss their little girl? And that
their life would be gloomy without me? And besides, Ben, you told me
that they had all the blacksmiths in Lexington that were needed, and
that your chances would be poor. And here we're just pining for another
blacksmith. The new road through the woods puts us on the main highway
to Canada, and there's no better place for a blacksmith than this. Now
that the Indians are gone, you could take up some of that intervale land
up the river, that they talk about, and then I'm here, and if Benjamin
Boaz Comee wants Ruth, he must follow her. Ben, I like my own way."
[Sidenote: WANTED: A BLACKSMITH]
"I like your own way too, and will live wherever you please, provided it
be with you."
I returned home, and found Amos telling Davy of our adventures. For a
time Davy had little to say about his hunting stories.
I went back to No. 4, opened a blacksmith's shop, and in the fall
married Ruth. We have lived here ever since, and have prospered. Much of
my success is due to my wife's clear head and wonderful common sense.
Folks regard Colonel Comee as a very shrewd and able business man. But
my friends laugh, and say:--
"Colonel Ben's just a figure-head. He never takes an important step
without talking it over with Aunt Ruth."
John Stark and I have always remained close friends. When he was a
colonel at Bunker's Hill, I was a lieutenant in his regiment, and served
under him throughout the Revolution. He became a general, and showed the
ability that we recognized in the French War.
By the end of the Revolution I had risen to the rank of colonel. Hardly
a year has passed since that time that one of us has not made the other
a visit of a few days. He has always retained a great admiration and
tender affection for Lord Howe.
After the French War was over, Rogers was appointed to the command of
the post at Michilimackinac. His accounts did not come out right. He
always had that failing, and he went to England to explain matters.
While over there, he was riding one night in a stage-coach over Hounslow
Heath, when a masked highwayman stopped the coach, and thrusting his
pistols in at the window, told the passengers to hand over their money
and watches. They were doing so, when Rogers, who was wonderfully
strong, quickly reached out, grabbed the highwayman by the collar of his
coat, pulled him into the coach, sat on him, took away his pistols, tied
him up, and delivered him over to the authorities. He was an old
offender, for whose apprehension a reward of L50 had been offered, which
Rogers claimed and received.
[Sidenote: A SURPRISED HIGHWAYMAN]
Rogers remained in England till the Revolution, and then came over here,
and after a while offered his services to Washington. He came to Stark's
headquarters at Medford, and John and I had a long talk with him.
Stark believed he would be true to us, and so did I. But he had been on
such close terms of intimacy with the British that Washington distrusted
him and would not give him a command.
Soon after he received a commission from the British, and raised the
Queen's Rangers, who were badly defeated in a fight in Connecticut.
Rogers then returned to England, and led a rather shady life; and I
believe was finally killed while fighting in Algiers. He was a curious
compound. If he had only been a man of honour, he would have become a
great man. But his tricky, unscrupulous nature was his ruin.
Edmund Munro served again at Crown Point in 1762-63, as a lieutenant,
and as adjutant of the four provincial regiments stationed there.
I met him often in the Revolution. He was captain of the Lexington
company. Poor fellow, he was killed by a cannon ball at Monmouth, at the
head of his company. He died poor, and his widow had a hard time till
the little ones grew up.
Of our old playmate, John Hancock, you have all heard, how he inherited
the wealth of his Uncle Thomas, and in his turn was the richest man in
Boston, and lived in the stone house on Beacon Hill.
You remember how he risked his great fortune and his head, and sided
with his countrymen. His bold signature heads the signers of the
Declaration of Independence. Riches and honours came to him. Year after
year he was chosen governor of Massachusetts.
[Sidenote: GOVERNOR HANCOCK]
I did not meet him from the time I went to the French War till some ten
years after the Revolution.
I called on him in Boston, and he was glad to see me, and had me up to
his house to dinner and to spend the night.
Everything was magnificent. John was kind, but condescending--something
like a great mogul receiving an inferior.
I had no favour to ask of him. I saw no reason why I should look up to
and revere him. I had played my own part in life well and boldly and
stood firm on my feet. When John found I was not in awe of his rank and
magnificence, he gave up his grand airs and was again the bright, lively
fellow I knew as a boy.
Hector and Donald Munro remained in this country. After the French War
was over, they visited their kinsmen in Lexington, and then went to
Rehoboth, where there is another branch of the family, and settled in
that town.
My old wrestling-master, Jonas Parker, was killed on the common at
Lexington, on the 19th of April, 1775. He had said in his grim way,
"Some may run from the British, but I won't budge a foot."
He was in the front rank of the minutemen. He laid his hat on the ground
before him, and in it placed his powder-horn and bullets.
When the British fired, he was wounded, and fell to his knees. He
returned their fire, and was reloading, when the regulars ran forward
and killed him with their bayonets.
Amos and Davy were in the Revolution, too. They never got over their
love for fox-hunting and pigeon-shooting.
As I finish this record, sixty years have passed since we had the pigeon
shoot on Bull Meadow Hill. Those of us who survive are old, but some of
us are still hale and hearty.
[Sidenote: AMOS HAS A STORY, TOO]
I received a letter the other day from a friend in Lexington, in which
he says:--
"About a week ago I saw your old friend, Amos Locke, ploughing in a
field which joins on to my farm. I walked over to the wall. When he saw
me, he left his plough, came to the wall, and said,--
"'Morning! M-mighty good day to go after p-pigeons. P-Puts me in mind of
the d-day I was with Weaver David and B-Ben Comee, up on Bull Meadow
Hill, and shot fifty-two p-pigeons at one shot. One for every week in
the year. I'll t-tell you about it.'"
Printed in the United States of America.
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